*
H3. IS
ENCYCLOPAEDIA BRITANNIC A
SEVENTH EDITION.
ENCYCLOPAEDIA BRITANNICA
OR
DICTIONARY
OF
ARTS, SCIENCES, AND GENERAL LITERATURE.
SEVENTH EDITION,
WITH PRELIMINARY DISSERTATIONS ON THE HISTORY OF THE SCIENCES,
AND
OTHER EXTENSIVE IMPROVEMENTS AND ADDITIONS;
INCLUDING THE LATE SUPPLEMENT,
A GENERAL INDEX,
AND NUMEROUS ENGRAVINGS.
VOLUME III.
ADAM AND CHARLES BLACK, EDINBURGH;
M.DCCC.XLII.
ENCYCLOPAEDIA BRITANNICA
COMPARATIVE ANATOMY.
PART I.
ANATOMY OF THE ORGANS OF RELATION.
CHAP. I.—COMPARATIVE OSTEOLOGY.
Compara- X) ED-BLOODED ANIMALS only can be said to pos-
tive A*' sess that assemblage of bones denominated skeleton;
and as in these the most constant part is the vertebral
' column, it furnishes the general character of Vertebrated.
The shells of the Mollusca and the Crustacea have been
generally regarded as a species of internal skeleton ; and
in the circumstance of affording mechanical support and
external protection, they indeed resemble the skeleton of
the Vertebrata. But neither in mode of developement
nor in chemical constitution can they be regarded as of
the same nature. Hence it is only in the vertebrated
classes that it is requisite to study the peculiarities of the
skeleton.
Bones ge- In general characters the bones of the Mammalia re-
nerally. semble those of the human subject. Like them, they are
white, firm, elastic, and incompressible. They consist
also of compact and reticular or cancellated tissue. In
the lower animals the latter kind of structure is in gene¬
ral coarser and looser than in man; and in the Cetacea
especially the cavities are large. In the carnivorous ani¬
mals the compact structure is exceedingly dense, and gives
the bone much greater weight than in other animals. In
the Cetacea also the acoustic or lithoid portion of the
temporal bone is of a marble hardness.
The bones of the Mammalia may, like those of man, be
distinguished, according to their mechanical form, into
long, flat, and short bones. Though the first class in ge¬
neral possess a medullary canal, this cavity is imperfect
or wholly wanting in the bones of the Cetacea and Am¬
phibia.
I he cavities denominated sinuses are much more com¬
pletely developed in several of the Mammalia than in the
human skeleton. In the pig these cavities extend into
the occipital bone ; in the elephant they not only give the
frontal bone extraordinary protuberance, but they extend
into the parietal, temporal, and even the occipital bones,
and contribute much to augment the volume of the head.
In the ox, deer, and sheep, they communicate with the
cavity of the horns.
The bones of Birds are in general whiter, firmer, and
smoother than those of the Mammalia ; and they con-
sist of a firm, compact substance, which is elastic and hard
VOL. in.
in the bones of the trunk, and extremely brittle in those Compara-
of the extremities. With the exception also of some of ^ve
the thin, flat bones, as the sternum, they consist of thin, ,^iatom.v-
compact walls, inclosing large capacious cavities, which
contain not marrow, but air, and which communicate by
one or more minute holes with the windpipe and lungs.
While these cavities, which may be regarded as the most
perfect and advanced form of sinuses, diminish consider-
ably the weight of the whole skeleton, by the density and
completely cylindrical shape, they rather augment the
strength. In the chick, and at birth, the bones are ho¬
mogeneous and without cavities; afterwards they contain
marrow; and eventually this disappears and gives place
to air.
The bones of the Reptiles are not remarkable in any
respect, unless in being void in general of medullary ca-
vity. dhe absence of this canal was originally observed
by Caldesi, and afterwards by Cuvier, in the tortoise; by
d roja in the bones of the frog and toad; and by Carus in
those of the turtle. In the crocodile, however, and in
several of the lizard family, they are large and distinct.
The bones of Reptiles also are less firm than those of Birds
and Mammals.
The bones of Fishes are remarkable for great softness,
flexibility, and elasticity. Those of the lamprey, shark,
ray or skate, and sturgeon family, are soft, flexible, sec-
tile, of a bluish white colour, translucent, and so elastic
that a cutting instrument forced into them is speedily re-
truded by the resilient nature of the bony matter. From
these characters, the bones of these families have been
regarded as cartilaginous, and the fishes themselves have
been distinguished by this character. (Pisces cartila-
ginei, PISCES chondropterygii.) In the other fishes,
the bones, though softer than those of Mammals, Birds,
and Reptiles, present a greater degree of firmness and so¬
lidity, are whiter and more opaque, and are much less
sectile, than those of the cartilaginous division. As in this
respect, therefore, they approach the genuine bone of the
Mammals, these are distinguished as fishes with osseous
skeletons. (Pisces ossei.)
The bones of both classes of fishes consist of a large
quantity of gelatine, with a small proportion of phosphate
A
ANATOMY.
In the osseous fishes, however, the latter sub-
Compara- oflime.
tive stance is most abundant. •
Anatomy. colour of the bones of fishes, though in general
whitish gray, is observed to vary in certain genera. In
the crar-pike (esox belone), for instance, they aie green,
, . • •    i-i /A/vi/»*/»/c* 'ii'iw'nr/'r'i/s). tnP
and in the viviparous
Uiiau (Bradypus didactylus). The most common number Compara-
is 12, which is that not only of man, but of the ourang- ^t.ve
outang, silky monkey (sirma mankim), patas (a. patas),      
maimon (simia maimon), macaca (sirnia cynomolgus),
baboon (s. sphynx), magot (s. inuus), mandrill (s. maimon).
Plate
XXXIV.
fiff. 1.
The spine.
Cervical
vertebrae.
   . blenny
LtJoTel Zy assumeyi green ^ nu£
colour after boiling. The causes of these vanet.es m ^ white beqar, cive,, the
cat tribe (felis), the dog, wolf and fox, the didelphis
tribe, the cavy, guinea pig and paca, the mouse tribe,
excluding the two exceptions already mentioned, the long¬
tailed manis, the stag, the antelope genus, the goat,
sheep, and ox, and the dolphin and porpoise. The num¬
ber is 14 in the gibbon, coaita, and weeping monkey, in the
colour are unknown.
SECT. I.—OSTEOLOGY OF THE MAMMIFEROUS ANIMALS.
The skeleton of the Mammalia bears a general resem¬
blance to that of the human subject, in the construction,
Shed howling ape (simia UelzeM), the tarsius, the brown bear,
recognise "ufe importance of the trunk, and especially of raccoon and coat,, the weazel gmus the porcup.ne, hog,
the°spine, in the different classes of mammiferous ani- and giraffe. It ,s 15 m the Ion, hedgehog and tenrec m
I ’ the badger, pangolin, and seal. The number is 16 in the
m The spine consists of separate vertebrae, which are con- glutton, hyena, ant-eater, American lamantin, and rnega-
veniently distinguished, as in man, into cervical, dorsal or thenum. In the horse, quagga, and dugong, iey are
costal, lumbar, sacral, and coccygeal or caudal 18 ; in the rhinoceros 19 ; in the Indian elephant and tapir
The number of cervical vertebrae is the same in animals 20 ; and m the Unau or two-toed sloth ,.3, which, as al-
with the longest and shortest necks,—in the horse, camel, ready stated, is the greatest number yet know n,
and giraffe, and in the mole and ant-eater. They are al- In the ape family the dorsal vertebrae resemble those
ways seven. The only exception is observed in the A.i or of the human subject, but then spinous piocesses are
three-toed sloth (bradypus tridactyla), which has 9 cervical long, and erect in the macaca and magot. . In the bats,
vertebrae (Cuvier); and an apparent exception is presented instead of spinous processes, which are wanting, there are
in the dolphin and porpoise, in which the first two are con¬
solidated into one; and in the cachalot or large-headed
whale, in which the last six, sometimes the whole seven,
are united or ankylosed. The last six are also united in
the ant-eater and manis (Cuvier). Even in this state,
however, the traces of the original separation are distinct.
In the ape the cervical vertebrae are distinguished from
those of man chiefly by the spinous processes being stronger
and not bifid, and in their bodies being projected more
over each other before, so as to support the head more
minute tubercles. The want of these, however, in sun¬
dry species, leaves the column comparatively smooth be¬
hind. In the proper quadrupeds these processes are larger,
straighter, and stronger, as the head is weighty or sup¬
ported on a long neck, in order to give attachment to the
strong yellow cervical ligament. This peculiarity is very
distinct in the giraffe, camel, ox, rhinoceros, and elephant.
In the dolphin they are straight, and smaller than those of
the loins.
The lumbar vertebrae vary in number still more, per-Eumbar
the cervical vertebrae are flattened from behind backwards,
and those of the atlas are very large, both for supporting
the head and giving attachment to the strong muscles
employed in defence, attacking prey, or bearing it off.
For the same purpose the spinous process of the axis is
very prominent, while the others are short and directed
towards the head. In the mole and shrew the cervical
Dorsal
vertebrae.
perfectly. In the Zoophaga the transverse processes of haps, than the cervical and dorsal; and this variety may oc- vertebraa
casionally be traced to the greater or less distinctness with
which the sacral and coccygeal are distinguished. The
smallest number is 2, which is that of the twro-toed ant-
eater, ornithorhyncus, and American lamantin; and the
greatest 9, which is that of the lori. The most frequent
number is 7, which is that of the greater part of the
monkeys, the macauco, the great bat (iioctula), the hedge-
vertebrae, which are void of spinous processes, are simple hog, shrew, raccoon ; the tiger, panther, puma, and cat, in
osseous rings, which move easily on each other, probably the feline genus; the wolf and fox in the dog; the hare and
to facilitate the frequent motions requisite in these ani- rabbit; the whole murine genus except the hamster; and in
mals in burrowing. In the hog the cervical transverse the camel and dromedary. The next number in frequency
processes are compressed and broad before, so as to ap- is 6, which is that of the horse-shoe bat, the colugo (galeo-
peai double. In the elephant the cervical vertebrae have pithecus), the white and brown bear, the coati, the weasel
shoi t single spinous processes, and the bodies projecting genus, the civet, the lion, among the feline, and the dog
over each other as in the ape. In the Ruminants the among the canine genus, the didelphis and cavy genera,
length of the spinous processes diminishes as the neck is the hamster, the stag, antelope, goat, sheep, ox, horse, and
elongated. _ Ihus they are almost wanting in the camel quagga. The gibbon, coaita, Ai, Echidna or Ornithorhyn-
and giraffe, in which the arched neck is much retro-flected; cus hystrix of English zoologists, six-banded armadillo,
and the same peculiarity is recognised m those of the and dugong, have only 3 lumbar vertebrae; the ourang-
10T?e‘ c , -s. ii I, outang, pongo, and howling ape, 4; the vampyre bat 4; the
from these facts it results that the length of the neck hyena, armadillo, Unau, and tapir, 4; the jocko, tarsier,
offiS but on ,lie lo"g,tud,nal ^~bot 5CeSer andglrn’ ,her cuT’
The doisal, thoracic, or cotta, vertebne are distinguish- chl^Sti/aKT nd
ed by forming the central fixed basis of the ribs; and rel have 8 8 ' ° 4
their number depends on that of the latter class of bones, In theQuADKUMANA and ZooeHAqA generally the outer
varies iomYl whidt tha'ofTnd ° COS“‘vert** side “f each posterior articular process'presel an apex
vtiiiLS om ii, wmen is tliat oi trie L/hiiiese rooukoy* com- turned tiapkwnrd cr» tUof * 4.* i * o
.non hat, armadillo, helmet-headed dolphin glo- the next vertebra s l£ked£^
bxeps), and Gangette dolplun, to 23, winch is that of the confine its movement much Though Ufis a^eTk fotd
ANATOMY.
3
Compara- in the Rodentia, it is there shorter; and the arrangement
live is wanting in the other tribes. The size of the transverse
Anatomy. processes indicates the strength of the loins,—a fact
which is evinced especially in the instance of the horse,
porpoise, &c.
Sacral ver- The number of sacral vertebrae is still more various,
tebrae. even in the species of the same genus. Thus, while in
several of the ape genus, in the lori, in the vampyre bat,
the colugo (galeopithecus), the coati, and two of the
didelphis, there is one sacral vertebra only, most of the
apes have sacra consisting of 2, 3, 4, 5, or 6 pieces ; the
majority of other animals have 3 sacral vertebrae; the
hedgehog, porcupine, guinea pig, paca, hare, tiger, several
of the murine genus, the ant-eater, rhinoceros, camel, dro¬
medary, chamois, goat, sheep, and ox, have 4; the ele¬
phant has 5; the Ai 6; the Unau 7; and in the mole,
white bear, and quagga, they also amount to 7. The fre¬
quency of the three sacral vertebrae in the lower animals
shows that Galen, who ascribes only 3 to the human sub¬
ject, must have derived this inference from the former.
These vertebrae are in the mammalia narrower than in
man, and their direction forms with the spine, instead of
receding backwards, a straight line ; an arrangement evi¬
dently connected with the horizontal position of the for¬
mer. The shape of the sacrum in the lower mammals is
that of an elongated triangle ; and it is further remarkable,
that in those species which occasionally assume the erect
attitude on the hind leg, as apes, bears, and sloths, the
width of the sacrum is proportionally greater. The sa¬
cral spines, which are short in man and the ape, become
longer in the ZooPHAGA,and form a continuous ridge in the
rhinoceros, most ruminants, and especially in the mole. In
the vampyre bat the sacrum forms a long compressed
cone, the extremity of which is united to the ischial tu¬
berosities, without sustaining a coccyx. The seal has two
sacral bones; but the Cetacea, e. g. the dolphin and por¬
poise, are void both of sacrum and coccyx.
The coccygeal bones constitute the tail of the lower
animals, and in many instances they are extremely nume¬
rous. The smallest number is 3, which is that of the
magot (simia sylvanus, pithecus, et inuus) or Barbary ape ;
and the greatest yet known is that of the ant-eater, in
which they amount to 40, and the long-tailed manis, in
which they amount to 45. Next to these may be placed
that of the coa'ita 32, the baboon 31, the phalanger (di-
delphis orientalis) 30, the marmoset (didelphis murind) 29,
the pangolin 28, the silky monkey {simia rosalia) and
black rat 26, the weeping monkey and howling ape 25 ; the
panther, mouse, dormouse, and elephant, 24; the lion,
beaver, water-rat, Norway rat, and field-rat, 23 ; the flying-
cat, puma, cat, dog, marmot, and rhinoceros, 22; the
otter, 21; the Chinese monkey, raccoon, civet, hare, and
rabbit, 20; the tiger and wolf, 19; the macauco, glutton,
marten, fat dormouse, dromedary, giraffe, and quagga, 18;
the tarsier, shre^V, camel, and horse, 17 ; and other genera
and species, without any determinate order, descending
so low as to 9, 8, 7, 6, and 4. The quilled duckbill {echidna,
ornithorhyncus hystrix) has only 12 caudal vertebrae, while
the common one (ornithorhyncus paradoxus') has at least
20. The gibbon and vampyre bat are the only mammifer-
ous animals, excepting the Cetacea, in which there are
no coccygeal bones. It sometimes happens that a monkey
or opossum loses a portion of its tail, when the truncated
end is converted into a knotty excrescence, sometimes
carious, always different from the taper point of the last
coccygeal vertebra; and in this case it is difficult to de¬
termine the exact species.
In the Cetacea, in which the absence of pelvis affords
no mark to distinguish the lower vertebrae into lumbar,
sacral, and coccygeal, those below the dorsal may be re-
Coccygeal
or caudal
vertebrae.
garded as lumbo-coccygeal; and their number is estimated Compara-
by deducting that of the cervical and costal from the total tive
number. The following table, which shows the number Anatomy,
of the costal, the lumbo-coccygeal, and the total number
of vertebrae, indicates that their number varies much in
various genera of this family.
d.
Lamantin 16
Dugong...... 18
Dolphin 13
Tursio ...13
D. Globiceps 11
D. Griseus 12
D. Gangeticus 11
1-c. t. d. l.c. t.
24 46 Porpoise   13 40 60
28 46 Narwal 12 35 54
47 67 Hyperoodon.... 9 29 45
38 58 Cachalot or White
37 56 Whale 14-15 39 60
42 61 Greenland Whale... 15 37 59
28 46 llorquhal 14 31 52
In general, however, if we reckon the first 2, 3, or 5 ver¬
tebrae after the costal as lumbar, it may be said that the
caudal vertebrae of the Cetacea vary from 22 or 25, which
are the numbers respectively in the lamantin and dugong,
to 34, 38, and 42, at which they may be estimated in the
dolphin. We shall see that, in the dugong at least, we are
guided in this estimate by the rudimental bones of the
pelvis.
The coccygeal or caudal vertebrae of the Mammalia
may be distinguished into two kinds; those which con¬
tain a canal in continuity with that of the vertebral co¬
lumn and sacrum, and those in which the pieces are solid.
The first, which are next the sacrum, have articular,
transverse, and spinous processes, distinct in proportion
as the animals move their tails. The latter are generally
prismatic in shape, diminish in size towards the extre¬
mity, and have only slight tubercles for muscular attach¬
ments. Animals with prehensile tails, as the American
ape (sapajous), have above, at the base of the body of
each vertebra, two small tubercles, between which pass
the tendons of the flexor muscles. By means of this
mechanism these animals can twine the tail round the
branch of a tree with sufficient force to support the weight
of the body.
The Mammalia with long mobile tails have often two
or three small supernumerary bones placed on the lower
surface of the junctions of several of the coccygeal ver¬
tebrae, from the 3d or 4th to the 7th or 8th. These
sesamoid bones give attachment to muscles. In the
beaver, which employs its tail as a trowel, the transverse
processes are remarkable for size, while the lower spinous
processes are larger than the upper ones,—an arrangement
which enables it to depress the tail forcibly when it beats
the ground.
The shape of the chest in the Mammalia varies in The chest,
general as the clavicles are present or wanting. In ani¬
mals provided with clavicles, as the Quadrumana, bats,
the squirrel, beaver, mole, ant-eater, hedgehog, and sloth,
the shape of the chest approaches to the human, or is
conoidal, and flattened before and behind. In those void
of clavicles it is compressed laterally, from the smaller in¬
curvation of the ribs; and the sternum makes a remark- The ster-
able prominence, so that the transverse or intercostal dia-num-
meter is less proportionally, and the sterno-vertebral is
greater proportionally, than in man and the claviculated
animals. In the long-legged animals, as the giraffe and
those of the stag kind, this prominence of the sternum is
sufficient to give it a keel-like appearance (thorax carina-
tus). In the carnivorous animals the chest presents its
greatest longitudinal extent.
The number and shape of the ribs varies in the differ- The ribs,
ent tribes. In number, indeed, the ribs always correspond
with that of the costal vertebrae. Thus, in the Quadruma¬
na, Zoophaga, Rodentia, Edentata,and Ruminantia,
they vary from 12 to 15 pair, with only three exceptions,
the glutton, hyena, and ant-eater. In the Chinese monkey,
common bat, and armadillo, they are a pair less than in
Compara- man. While the quilled duckbill {echidna, ornithorhyncus
tive hystrix) has only 15 ribs, the common duckbill {ornithor-
AnatQni)r. ]Lyncus paradoxus) has 17; the horse and quagga have
t]ie rhinoceros 19, the elephant and tapir 20, and in
the Unau or two-toed sloth they amount to 23, which is
the greatest known number. On the whole, the most
prevalent number is 13. In the carnivorous animals they
are narrow and dense in structure. In the herbivorous
they are large, broad, and thick. In the armadillo the
two first ribs are large compared with the others. In the
two-toed ant-eater, which has 16 pairs, they are so broad
that they are imbricated over each other like the plates of
a corslet, and render the parietes of this animal’s chest
exceedingly solid. In the two species of duckbill {orni¬
thorhyncus paradoxus and hystrix ; echidna of Cuvier), the
true ribs, in number 6, consist of two portions—a long or
vertebral joined to the spine, and a short or sternal at¬
tached to the sternum. These portions are united by
cartilage, so as to resemble the ribs of birds. The 9 or
10 false ribs terminate before in broad, flat, oval plates of
bone, which are mutually connected by elastic ligaments.
The sternum, which is broad in the ourang and pongo,
is narrow in the other species of ape, and consists of seven
or eight pieces. In the vampyre and all the bat family
it is narrow, but presents before or below rather a promi¬
nent azygous ridge or keel {carina), and an anterior ex¬
tremity, broad on the sides, like a T, for receiving the
clavicles. In the mole the clavicular extremity of the
sternum is continued before the ribs, and is flat on the
sides for receiving the two short clavicles. In the hog
the sternum is broad behind and narrow before. In the
rhinoceros, horse, and elephant, it is prolonged before and
flat on the sides. In the Cetacea it is broad and thin,
especially before.
Cranium. Though the Quadrumana have 8 cranial bones, the
sphenoid often consists of two portions, one forming the
orbitar wings and the anterior clinoid processes, the other
the temporal or large wings, the posterior clinoid processes,
and the basilar fossa. The two parietal bones are early
united into one in the Chiroptera and the other Zoo-
phaga, in which, however, the frontal remains biparted
by a middle suture. The temporal tympanum is separat¬
ed from the rest of the bone by a suture, which is seldom
obliterated in the feline, canine, and viverra genera. The
temporal tympanum is also separate in the Rodentia, and
the frontal ununited. The parietal is united in some, as the
hare, the porcupine, cabia, marmot, rat, and squirrel; se¬
parate in the mouse, fat dormouse, and rabbit. The frontal
and parietal bones of the elephant are early united with
the other cranial bones, and form a vault without trace of
suture. In the hog, tapir, and hippopotamus, the two
parietal bones form one piece, while the frontal bone is
biparted; and though in the rhinoceros both are biparted,
the frontal is early united into one portion. The sphe¬
noid bone of the animals of this tribe long consists of two
pieces, one forming the orbitar wing; the other the tem-
poial wings, which, it is to be further observed, are the
smallest, in opposition to their proportional dimensions
in man. In the Ruminants and Solidungula the frontal
remains long parted by its middle suture; but the two
panetals are represented by a single bony vault. The
tympanum is always distinct from the temporal bone.
In the seal and walrus the parietal and the frontal con¬
sist of two pieces. The lamantin has only one bony arch
representing the two parietal and the squamous part of
the temporal bones, while the temporal tympanum is de¬
tached from the rest of the bone. In the other Cetacea
the parietal bones are at an early period united to the oc¬
cipital and temporal bones, so that the five form one solid
poition. I he auditory or pyramidal bone is always de-
ANATOMY.
tached from the temporal, and adheres to the cranium by Compara.
soft parts only. The sphenoid is not only long separate, tive
but consists of several portions. > v
Though, among the Quadrumana, the cranium of the
ourang-outang approaches that of man in shape, it differs
nevertheless in the connections of the constituent bones.
The temporal wing of the sphenoid bone is very narrow,
does not reach the parietal, and touches the frontal only
by its upper extremity, so that the temporal bone is part¬
ly articulated with the frontal. The temporal suture is
not imbricated, but serrated. The same mode of connec¬
tion is observed in the mandrill, macaca {s. cynocephalus),
magot, and guenon {Cercopithecus), or tailed monkey
tribe. In the American monkey the temporal wing of
the sphenoid touches neither the frontal nor the parietal
bones ; but the temporal bone is articulated directly with
the malar by its flat portion. In the American monkeys
the frontal bone does not touch the temporal wing of the
sphenoid, and the parietal is articulated to the malar. In
the howling ape {simia beelzebul) the connections are as
in man.
The connections of the cranial bones are in the Zoo- Coimec-
phaga the same as in man. In the Rodentia the sphenoid tions.
is joined to the frontal and temporal, without touching the
parietal; and the orbitar and temporalare very small.
In the armadillo, pangolin, and sloth, the connections are
as in the Rodentia; but in the ant-eater the parietal
bone, continued below the cranium, is united to the sphe¬
noid at the posterior part of the orbito-temporal fossa.
In the elephant, though the cranial bones are at an
early period consolidated into one, the auditory is always
distinct from the temporal bone. In the hog, tapir, rhi¬
noceros, and hippopotamus, the sphenoid is united to the
parietal bone, and its temporal wings occupy a small
space only of the orbitar and temporal fossae. The orbi¬
tar wings, though larger, appear small externally. The
auditory bone, though distinct, is, however, united by its
base to the margin of the auditory canal of the temporal
bone. The sphenoid of the ruminants is articulated, as
in man, with all the cranial bones; but its orbitar wing,
which is extensive, is principally concealed within the
cerebral cavity, and covered by the orbital part of the
frontal bone. In the Cetacea generally, all the sutures
which remain after early life are squamous or imbricated.
I he outline of the frontal bone in the ourang-outang is
more irregular than in man, and the orbitar arches are
less surbased. In the American monkeys its outline is
tiiangular, and terminates in a point towards the vertex.
others of this family {Simia), this bone is almost
elliptical, and the orbitar arches are nearly straight; and
m the whole family these arches form, as in man, the an-
tenor border of the frontal bone, in consequence of the
narrowness of the root of the nose. In the makis it be¬
gins to widen, and the eyes become oblique,—a circum-
stance which gives their frontal bone a rhomboidal shape.
ie fronta. bone in the Zoophaga, and in all the subse¬
quent Mammalia, except the Cetacea, forms an irre¬
gular prismatic or cylindrical surface with three faces—a
superior, bounded before by the muzzle, behind by the
cranial convexity and two lateral, descending into the or¬
bitar and temporal fossa on each side. The hedgehog,
mole, shrew ant-eater, some of the phoca, the morse or
3 a"d thf rhinoceros, have no proper orbitar arches;
and np!rfir0n arbi01?e’it l0Ugh br°ad behind> is contracted
and nearly cylmdrica! between the orbits. In the hippo-
enl p!’ ™minants, and the one-hoofed animals, it
enlaiges, and forms a vault over each orbit. Lastly, in
blbi- a fitlpf Aflfc ;S,narow from before backward, resem-
beneatl^ he m •nhed,aCr°SS the cranium> but descends
beneath the maxillary bones to form the floor of the orbit.
ANATOMY.
Com para,
live
Anatomy
The occi¬
pital bone.
[ The tem-
joral bone.
,1’he facial
lones.
intermax¬
illary
lines.
The parietal bones of the ourang-outang differ from
those of man only in their temporal margin being nearly
straight. Those of the ape are narrower, and become more
oblique-angled as the cranium is flattened. In the Zoo-
phaga and Edentata they are almost rectangular. The
single parietal of the Rodentiais nearly quadrilateral; but
it is sometimes flat, sometimes rounded, sometimes sur¬
mounted by a crest. Of the single parietal bone of the
ruminants, that of the stag, most of the antelope genus,
the sheep and the goat, is broad, and sends on each side
a narrow process into the temporal fossa before the occi¬
pital arch; in the camel it is narrower, and bears a lon¬
gitudinal crest; and in the ox and antilope bubalus it is
placed behind the occipital crest, and resembles a fillet
surrounding the back of the head transversely. In the
Solidungula the single parietal is nearly quadrilateral,
and placed before the occipital crest.
The occipital bone in the lower mammalia is remark-
1 able for five characters. 1. The proper occipital surface,
instead of being oblique or horizontal, and inferior or ba¬
silar, becomes vertical and posterior. 2. The plane of
the occipital hole forms with that of the orbits an angle
constantly diminishing, becomes parallel to the orbitar
plane, and at length crosses it above the head. 3. The
plane of the occipital condyles, instead of being transverse
and horizontal, becomes oblique, and at length vertical.
4. The basilar or cuneiform process is not only hori¬
zontal, but forms with the occipital a right angle. And,
5. The mastoid process, which in man and the ape forms
part of the temporal, belongs in the other mammalia to
the occipital. In the polar bear, however, the mastoid
process constitutes part of the temporal bone.
From the 1st, 2d, and 3d characters, it results that the
head of quadrupeds is not balanced on the spine, but is
suspended by muscles, tendons, and ligaments, especially
the strong cervical, which connects the occipital spine to
the spinous processes of the cervical and dorsal vertebra;.
This ligament, therefore, though feeble and indistinct in
man, is strong, particularly in quadrupeds with heavy
head or long neck, in order to counteract the disadvantage
of the long lever. It is strongest in the elephant, and is
almost wholly ossified in the mole—a condition requisite
for the burrowing faculty exercised by that animal.
The temporal bone is naturally distinguished in the
Mammalia into two parts ; a fiat or proper temporal, cor¬
responding to the squamous part of the human temporal
bone, and the pyramidal, acoustic, or auditory, correspond¬
ing to the pyramidal or lithoid portion of the human sub¬
ject. The first only, which is proper to the scull, claims
attention here. In the ourang-outang and most of the
genus simia it forms a trapezium with the longest side
above, and the height of which varies with that of the
scull. In the American apes it is smallest in this direc¬
tion. In the Zoophaga the proper temporal bone is as in
the ape. Being narrow in the Rodentia behind, it is a
little rounded in the short-muzzled Edentata, the Rumi-
nantia, and Fachydei{mata.
-The ethmoid is, strictly speaking, the olfactory bone,
and shall be mentioned under the organs of sense. The
sphenoid, among other offices, may be regarded as the
essential ophthalmic bone.
I he facial bones ot the lower Mammalia differ from
those of man; first, in the number of separate pieces;
and, secondly, in the form and proportional horizontal ex¬
tent.
The difference in number consists in each superior max¬
illary bone being divided into a maxillary bone proper, and
an anterior or labial portion; which being interposed be¬
tween the proper maxillary, are commonly denominated the
intermaxillary (ossa intermaxillariaf As it bears also the
5
superior incisors, it is named by Haller the incisive bone Compara¬
tor mcisivum); but since it is found not only in the rumi- dve
nants, which, excepting the camel, are void of incisors, but Anatorny-
in the Edentata and Cetacea, this denomination is less
applicable than the former. It may be doubted whether
these should be regarded as additional bones, as they are
generally represented by zootomists ; for they are in truth
merely the incisive or anterior portion of the superior
maxillary bones. In other respects, the difference be¬
tween the human and the animal superior maxillary bone
is, that in the former each bone is in one piece, in the
latter it is in two. Even in the human foetus the trace
of the separation may be recognised ; and we have seen it
in the human scull some years after birth. Conversely,
it is early obliterated in some quadrupeds. Thus, though
distinct in the ourang-outang seen by Cuvier, it was not
found by Tyson or Daubenton, and is wanting in one pre¬
served in the Hunterian museum. In a young specimen
of the jocko also, noticed by Cuvier, no trace of the in¬
termaxillary suture was observed. It appears also to be
wanting in the perforated bat, the horse-shoe bat, and
the three-toed sloth.
Mutually united on the mesial plane, the intermaxillary
bones are united to the maxillary by sutures, which pass
from the outer angles of the latter, near the incisive holes,
towards the palate, where they intersect. In form and
size it varies in the different orders and genera. Small in
many of the Zoopkaga and the walrus, it is large in the
Rodentia, in the hippopotamus, porpoise, and cachalot,
and prominent in the wombat. In the duckbill it consists
of two unciform portions, united by a broad intermediate
cartilage.
. Tlie peculiarity of the animal face consists in the ho-Elongation
rizontal elongation of the two jaw-bones. In the monkey °f the face,
tribe this elongation is trifling; and all that is remarked
is, that the palate and maxillary bones are more elongated
in proportion to their height, and that their anterior part,
instead of being vertical, is more or less inclined forwards.
The degree of this elongation, which differs in different
genera, may be estimated by the acuteness of the facial
angle.
The narrowness of the interorbital space is another Interorbi-
character of the animal countenance. In the guenon and tal region.
American ape it is a mere septum; but in the ourang-
outang, magot, and howler, it is larger, by reason of the
nasal fossae ascending to this height. From these the
face of the Zoophaga is distinguished by the following
circumstances. 1. The breadth of the ascending maxillary
processes throws the orbits to the sides; 2. these orbitar
surfaces form the anterior wall instead of the floor of the
orbit; 3. the malar bone is united neither to the frontal
nor to the sphenoid bone, and forms only the zygomatic
arch and the lower margin of the orbit; 4. the orbit, clos¬
ed neither behind nor below, communicates freely with
the temporal fossa; and, 5. the palate bones are much
elongated and form a considerable space of the internal
wall, to which the ethmoid bone does not contribute. In
the Rodentia the interorbital space is still larger, by rea¬
son of the size of the intermaxillary bones throwing the
maxillary backwards and to the sides, where they form the
inner orbitar wall, in which the palate bones occupy only a
small space. The anterior wall is formed by a process of
the maxillary, which contributes to form the zygomatic
arch, while the malar is suspended in the middle between
the process and that of the temporal bone. Very similar
is the face of the elephant, except that the height of the
alveoli from the tusks, thrusting the nose upwards, and
shortening its bones, alters entirely the expression of the
head of this animal.
In the sloth, in which the face is short in proportion to
6
Compara¬
tive
Anatomy.
Orbits.
The lower
jaw.
ANATOMY.
the scull, the malar bone attached to the maxillary only, mvoRA.most f
^^^InS^ffSleS-idah pZfkZ'u.
ht^et’eral of the Uodentia,for instance the paca, beaver,
forms the inner wail of these fossa. The zygomatic arch, and porcupine, and the armadil o, ant-eater, and duck-
which ^interrupted in the ant-eater and pa?i|olin, is com- bill, among the Edentata In the Zoophaoa, however,
nMed in the Cape ant-eater and the armadillo. In the in which the prehensile and masticatory muscles are large
Sp r and rhinoceros the maxillary bone passes beneath and powerful, the « becomes broad, and its coronoid
the'orbit; and the nasal bones form a sort of vault, which process is extensive. The angle which the « forms
supports in the first animal the trunk, and in the second with the body of the jaw, and which is almost right m the
the horn adult human subJect’ becomes obtuse m the lower am-
In the CETACEA the maxillary and intermaxillary bones mals, nearly at the same rate at which the ramus dis-
form a sort of flattened beak, distinguished into four paral- appears ; and indeed the transition of the angle into a
tit.- iiaoal fossa is a vertical opening    , . , , r- ai i • ai
surrounded before and laterally by the intermaxillary after these parts have been seen for the last time in the
bones. The maxillary ascend in the same manner, and amphibious Mammalia. . . . _
cover that part of the frontal bone which forms the orbitar When the mammiferous cranium is considered gene-
vault, hut do not themselves contribute to the formation rally, and the relative direction and proportion of the
of this cavity. The nasal bones are two minute tubercles cranial and facial part of the head examined, we recog-
implanted on the frontal bone above the narrow aperture, nise more distinctly the characters by which the lower
The malar is in the shape of a style, suspended by cartilages orders of that class are distinguished from man. This
beneath the orbit; and the latter cavity is completed be- character consists in the position of the occipital bone and
hind by a process of the frontal, which joins the zygoma- hole, the position and direction of the facial bones in re-
tic of the temporal bone, and below which the orbitar lation to the frontal, the elongation of the former, and
and temporal fossce communicate. large size which they present in relation to the cranial.
The direction of the orbits, the shape of their base or In the human subject, it has been already observed, the
facial border, and their relation to the temporal/ossa, are
important circumstances in the animal face and cranium.
In the simice the angle of the orbitar axes is rather
smaller ; and the shape of the margin, which is quadrilate¬
ral in the jocko, becomes oval in the ourang-outang and
American monkeys. The angle of the axes enlarges in
the other Mammalia; and the base or anterior margin
becomes nearly circular in the Zoopiiaga, Rodentia,
Edentata, and Pachydermata ; but the arch is incom¬
plete behind. In the Ruminants and Solidipeda, however,
in which it is also circular, the border is complete. In
the Cetacea the orbitar vault is semicircular, their axes
are rectilineal, and there is no floor.
In the human scull the junction of the malar bone
with the frontal and.sphenoid completes the orbit exter¬
nally, and prevents it from communicating with the tem¬
poral fossa ; and the same arrangement is observed in the
simice. In the Carnivora, Rodentia, Edentata, and
Pachydermata, however, in which the malar bone is
position of the occipital bone is oblique and horizontal,
and the plane of the occipital hole is horizontal, while its
position is anterior. In most quadrupeds, while the bone
assumes a vertical position, the hole becomes posterior,
and its plane vertical or oblique, in proportion as the face
is elongated. The plane of the occipital hole forms with
that of the horizontal a considerable angle, which Dauben-
ton undertook to determine, by drawing one line through
the plane of the aperture, and another from its posterior
margin through the lower edge of the orbit. (Mem. de
VAcad, des Sciences de Paris, 1764, p. 568.) In the horse
this angle is about 90°, while in the ourang-outang it is
only 37°, and in the lemur 47°. In other respects, however,
it furnishes an imperfect result, since in most quadrupeds
which differ very much it ranges between 80° and 90°.
The direction of the face in relation to that of the Camperian
cranium, determined according to the method of Camper, line and
furnishes more accurate results. While in the human ansle*
subject it varies, according to the races, from 70° to 80°,
united neither to the frontal nor the sphenoid, the orbit in the ourang-outang it is only 65°; in the American
is not only incomplete on the external posterior border, and long-tailed monkeys about 60° ; in the macaca and
but communicates freely with the temporal/omt. In the baboon about 45° ; and, lastly, in the mandrillo, the most
Ruminants is observed an arrangement intermediate be- vicious and ferocious of the monkey tribe, only 30°. In
tween that of the Quadrumana and that of the Carni- some species in which the ear is elevated and the guttu-
vora. The malar bone, united to the frontal, completes ral fossa deep, for instance in the pongo and alouate or
^ T?' i ^ 18 T? United t0 the sPhenoid’how\er, the small size of this angle does not indicate pro-
mhii nf Hw tnl3 ^P0™1/^0communicate. The portional elongation of muzzle; and to rectify this incon-
sahS° suPeificial> that 11 can scarcely be venience, it is requisite to draw the basilaf line of the
The lower imv nf fLe ’c i i rir fac^ angle parallel to the base of the nostrils. With
from th t Of i chRflvrr ?l7S •quad-ruped dlffers thlS modification, however, the Camperian line admits of
TlTtWmla^ circumstances, correct application to the human race and Quadrumana
w R °nly’ mTwhlch the frontal ^ses are small and not promi-
r ? mostdistinct in the Caucasanrace, begins to be- nent. In quadrupeds, for instance the carnivora several
cotne faint in the negro, and is altogether lost in the monkey of the ruminants, and in the elephant the frontal sinuses
nfYho ]ln ourang-°utang’. indeed, the animal character are so large and prominent as to affect the results <dven
of the lower jaw uppears distinct in the vertical convexity by the facial anirle verv matpn'nllv I, toi
of the anterior arch of the jaw, and the retreating of its again, for hlstancf the rL^ S n other
lower margin. In the lower Quadrumana the anterior occupies so much snace that a d the.mors.emhe u°S^
rlh0Ut 4 ”"S being fr~re: "
animal characters are still more conspicuous in the Car- ^
ANATOMY.
Compara- in the Cetacea the pyramidal elevation of the cranium
tive above an elongated but flattened face renders the facial
\.natomy. ijne much more vertical than it ought to be. The follow¬
ing measurements show the angle subtended by a line
drawn parallel to the base of the nostrils, and another
passing by the anterior margin of the alveoli, and touch¬
ing the convexity of the cranium, whether the point of
contact be concealed by the face or not.
Mastiff, tangent within 31*
Hyena, without 40
Ditto, within   25
Leopard, within 28
Hare, within 30
Marmotte, within 25
Porcupine 23
Pangolin 39
Babiroussa 29
llam 30
Horse 23
Dolphin   25
European infant 90°
European adult 85
European aged ....75
Negro adult 70
Y ou ng ourang-outang 67
American monkey 65
Java monkey 57
Young mandrill 42
Coati 28
Pole-cat 31
Pug-dog 35
Mastiff, tangent without 41
vlethod of Aware of the imperfect results obtained in this method
hivier. 0f measurement, Cuvier proposes to estimate the relative
proportion of the cranial and facial part of the head, by
comparing the respective areas exhibited by a longitudi¬
nal and vertical section of both. In this section the area of
the cranium is to that of the face sometimes in a ratio of
majority, sometimes of minority, occasionally of equality.
In the European the area of the cranial section is about
four times that of the face, excluding that of the lower
jaw. In the negro the cranial area remaining the same,
that of the face augments about one fifth, whereas in
the Calmuck it augments only one tenth. In the ourang-
outang the proportion is still less. In the American ape
the facial is almost half the cranial area. The ratio is
that of equality in the mandrill and most of the Carni¬
vora, except the varieties of short-muzzled dogs, as the
pug, in which the facial is rather less than the cranial area.
In the Rodentia, Pachydermata, Ruminants, and Soli-
dungula, the facial is larger than the cranial area. Among
the Rodentia, in the hare and marmot, it is a third larger;
in the hedgehog double ; in the Ruminants almost double;
in the pig a little more than double; nearly triple in the
hippopotamus; and almost four times in the horse. In
the morse and elephant the face is rendered large by
the height of the alveoli; and it may be regarded as
augmenting the organs of the senses. The cranium of
the Cetacea is very convex, and the face very flat, and
the proportional area of the latter is thereby diminished.
The facial area of the dolphin may be a third larger than
the cranial.
The outline of the cranial section in the human subject
is oval, that of the facial section forms a triangle, with
the longest side contiguous to the cranium, and the small¬
est without, while the angle formed by the latter with
the third side or palate is the facial. In the lower ani¬
mals, this triangle, which may be named the facial, be¬
comes so much elongated, that the cranial side, which is
the longest in man, becomes the shortest of the three in
the cynocephalus and mandrill, and continues so in the
other quadrupeds.
’hepelvis. The basin (pelvis') of the Mammalia in general agrees
with that of man in forming a part common to the trunk
and the lower extremities. It differs, however, altogether
in the direction which it takes, which is obliquely back¬
wards, with its anterior opening or brim forwards and
downwards, and in the bones being smaller and much nar¬
rower ; both of which characters are connected with its
not being used in the lower animals to oppose the gravi¬
tating weight of the abdominal and pelvic viscera. In the
apes, most similar to man, the coxal bones are much
elongated; and in the Zoophaga, their superior or ilial
part is not much broader than their pubal. In the Rumi- Compara-
nants, the Pachydermata, and Solidungula, the ilial tive
portions again become broad; and in the elephant and rhi-
noceros especially, this width, combined with the length
of the ilio-pubal rami and the concave abdominal surface,
concurs to give the pelves of these animals the prodi¬
gious capacity by which they are distinguished. The
pelvis of the amphibious Mammalia differs from that of
the Zoophaga only in being narrow and elongated, and
in the pubis being thrown behind. In the ant-eater,
mole, and shrew, the pubal junction is open as in birds;
and in the two latter genera, the bones are so narrow that
the sexual and urinary organs are placed without its cir¬
cumference. In the sloth genera, e. g. the Ai and Unau,
the pelvis is wide, the cotyloid cavities turned upwards,
and the ischial tuberosity is united with the sacrum, so as
to convert the ischiatic notch into a hole. This sacro-
ischial junction is also observed in others of the Edentata,
as the ant-eater and armadillo, and in the phascoloma
(didelphis ursind). The marsupial animals present two
minute bones, one on each side, connected by movable
articulation to the pubis, and which are employed to sus¬
tain the mammillary pouch (marsupium) or nipple-bag,
in which the young are reared after exclusion from the
uterus. These bones, which are distinguished by the name
of marsupial (ossa marsupialia), are oblong and flattened.
Lastly, in the Cetacea, in which the pelvic extremities
are wanting (Plate XXXIV. fig. 2), the pelvis is also so
far deficient, that instead of consisting of the sacrum and
coxal bones, it is represented by a small bony appendage,
suspended in the soft parts on each side of the anus, and
which, meeting at angles on the mesial plane so as to form
a bone like the letter V, are merely a rudiment of the
ischial bones.
The shoulder of the Mammalia generally differs from
that of man by the absence or the proportions of the collar¬
bone, and by the shape of the scapula.
The collar-bone exists in the Quadrumana nearly as The collar-
in man ; but it is wholly wanting in the three orders of UN-bone.
gulata—Pachydermata, the Ruminants, and the Soli¬
dungula—and in all the Cetacea. Between these ex¬
tremes it is found in various forms in the intermediate or¬
ders of the Unguiculata. Among the Zoophaga it
exists in the Chiroptera, especially the bats proper, in
which it is strong and large; the Insectivora, as the
hedgehog, shrew, and mole genera ; and in the didelphis or
opossum among the marsupial animals. In the others of this
order, as the bear, raccoon, coati, weasel, otter, dog, cat,
and seal, the collar-bone is represented by clavicular bones,
suspended among the muscles, touching neither the ster¬
num nor acromion; and in some species it is altogether
wanting. The Rodentia may be distinguished into two
subdivisions, as they are provided with or void of collar¬
bones. The first comprehends the squirrel, beaver, and
mouse, with the helamys, marmot, and aye-aye or cheiro-
mys genera. The second consists of the porcupine, hare,
and cavy genera, as the guinea-pig and paca, in which
the collar-bone is rudimental only, suspended among the
soft parts. It exists in most of the Edentata, as the sloth,
armadillo, ant-eater, and the gigantic fossil animal named
megatherium ; but it is wanting in the pangolin, and was
believed to be wanting in the echidna and duckbill till
Cuvier demonstrated its existence. In the Cetacea there
is no vestige of collar-bone.
From these facts it results that the clavicle exists in
all animals, the fore legs of which are frequently or habi¬
tually protruded, either to seize, as apes and the Roden¬
tia ; or to fly, as bats ; or to dig and burrow, as the mole; or
to rake the ground, as the hedgehog and ant-eater. In the
mole particularly, the collar-bone, instead of being long, is
8
Compara- a broad, thick, short, quadrangular bone; and while it is
tive connected to the acromion by a ligament, it is articulat-
Anatomy. e[j jjie ilumerus l>y a large facette. The collar-bone
of the echidna and ornithorhyncus is very singular. It
consists of a broad central bone, surmounted by two trans¬
verse branches spreading out on each side, so as to give
the whole bone some resemblance to the letter T, but
sinuated so as to make the diverging branches like the
Greek v. In young animals this bone consists of three
portions. The two diverging branches are genuine collar¬
bones, and may be regarded as a bifurcated bone; while
the middle is supported on the sternum, and has articu¬
lated to each side a part of the scapula, corresponding to
the coracoid process. The collar-bone, indeed, is a power¬
ful buttress, which prevents the arm-bone from being
thrust too much forward.
The shoul- Of the shoulder-blade or scapida, which is present in all
der-blade. red-blooded animals with thoracic extremities, and hence
in all the Mammalia, the principal point is to remark the
varieties which its shape presents. Though in man, most
of the Quadrumana, the Chiroptera, and the elephant,
the vertebral margin or base of several authors on human
anatomy is the longest, it becomes the shortest in most
quadrupeds, especially those which, like the Ruminants and
the Solidungula, have long legs and narrow chest. In
most of them, also, this margin, instead of being straight, is
rounded, as in the Carnivora and Rodentia. In the Car¬
nivora without collar-bone, the hedgehog and didelphis,
the acromion is less prominent; there is another eminence
directed backwards, almost perpendicular to the spine.
The coracoid process, also, which is present in the Chi¬
roptera, the hedgehog, and didelphis genus, is wanting in
most ot the zoophagous tribe. In the hare the acromion
terminates in a long slender process, rising at right angles
and bending backwards, which may be named the recur¬
rent. In the Ruminantsand SoLiDUNGULA,notonlyare this
and the acromion, but even the coracoid, wanting. The
scapula, again, of the hog and rhinoceros is remarkable for
the disappearance ot the spine at the glenoid angle ; while
from its middle proceeds a prominent process towards
the costal or inferior margin. In the mole the scapula is
long and narrow, like a cylindrical bone, placed parallel
to the spine,—an arrangement which, together with the
shoitness and thickness of the clavicle, already mentioned,
is evidently connected with the burrowing habits of this
animal. Lastly, in the echidna and ornithorhyncus, which
in so many characters of organization approach the Am¬
phibia on the one side, and the Birds on the other, the
scapula is a single sinuous bone, attached by one extre¬
mity to the sternum and middle part of the clavicular
bone, with the other loose ; and in the middle an articular
cayHy, m which the head of the humerus is placed, and
winch evidently corresponds to the glenoid. In this in¬
stance, therefore, the clavicle and scapula may be regarded
as united into a single bone.
Thehume. The humerus, which exists in all the animals with tho¬
racic extremities, undergoes considerable variations. In
the lower animals generally it is much shorter than in man •
and it is invariably shorter in proportion as the metacar¬
pus is elongated. I hus, in animals with what is named a
camwn bone, that is, one metacarpal, as in the horse and
the ruminants, the humerus is so short that it is conceal¬
ed m the soft parts as far as the cubit. In the Cetacea it
may be said to attain its maximum of brevity. In the bat
and sloth it is long in proportion to the rest of the body
dina v fST ;';,m0le is ^rl,aPs tlle extraor-
i , ' , 16 mamn“ferous animals. Not only
IS it articulated with the scapula by a small head hut It
.S connected with a facette of the clavicle by another be
longtng to the great tuberosity, and between which and
ANATOMY.
the head is a deep pit. The crest of the small tuberosity Compara.
is so large, that it represents a square placed vertically, tive
so that the linea aspena is above. The rest of the body^j^^
of the bone, which is very short, is arched above, so that
the cubital extremity is directed upwards. From this
arrangement it results that the cubit is elevated above the
shoulder while the palm is turned downwards,—a disposi¬
tion necessary for the burrowing habits of the animal.
In the simice the radius and ulna are arranged as in Radius and
man, except that in the cynocephalus, mandrill, magot, and ulna,
guenon, the coronoid process of the ulna is narrower,
and the radial facette deeper. In the other Mammalia
the idna very generally disappears or becomes rudimentary
only. In the bat family and the colugo (galeopithecus)
the ulna is wanting or is represented by a slender style
placed below the radius. These animals are therefore des¬
titute of the power of pronation and supination. In the
Zoophaga, the radius and ulna, though separate, are
void of rotatory motion; and the olecranon is compressed,
and continued farther back than in man. In the Pachy-
dermata the radius is before and the ulna behind, and,
though distinct, there is no rotation. In several of the
Rodentia, for instance the marmot, porcupine, &c. the
coronoid process is small, and in others, e. g. the cavy,
hare, and mouse family, it is altogether effaced. In the
Ruminants the ulna is united immovably to the radius ;
and in the Solidungula it is represented by an olecranon
adhering to the posterior surface of that bone. In the
Cetacea, though both bones are present, they are much
flattened.
The carpus of the ape genus contains one bone more Carpus,
than that of man, situate between the pyramidal and large
bone, and which seems to result from the trapezium be¬
ing divided into two parts. Conversely, in the Zoophaga,
but especially in the dog, cat, hedgehog, shrew, bear, and
seal, the scaphoid and semilunar are united into one large
bone. Those which have a vestige of thumb, as the
hyena and glutton, have the trapezium very small. The
mole has not only 9 carpal bones, as the ape, but a large
sickje-shaped bone, which is attached to the radial mar¬
gin of the fore paw, and which gives it the shape proper
to the habits of the animal, ffhe toes are further very
short. Ot the Rodentia, the hare resembles the ape; but
in the beaver, marmot, squirrel, and cat, the scaphoid and
semilunar make one bone; while in the porcupine the su-
pei numciary bone is between the pisiform and metacarpal
oi the fifth toe. In the two-toed ant-eater there are only
6 caipal bones, 4 in the first row and two in the second;
m the three-toed sloth there are only 5, 3 in the first row
and 2 in the second; the pangolin has 7; the cachecame
8 and a rudimental small toe; the elephant 8, 7 wedge-
shaped and one elongated, corresponding to the pisiform ;
and the other Pachydermata 8. In the rhinoceros, which
las only 3 toes, the trapezium only is wanting; but there
is a supernumerary bone on the margin of the scaphoid,
and on that of the unciform, as in the porcupine. The first
range consists, in the Ruminants and Solidungula, of 4
hones; m the former, excepting the camel, the second
consists of 2, and the latter of 3. Those of the Cetacea,
which are much flattened, are 3 in the first row and 2 in
the second.
hnnil6 IV!AMM.tLI^ Senerally have as many metacarpal Metacar-
bones as toes, that is never fewer than 3 or more than 5,pus.
are in e C^tlon 01 ^ Ruminants, in which these bones
hone I 7 •lfe coHsohdated into one named the cannon
wldch ie SI * WhlGh Walk on the tjPs the toes, or
Minch use them as organs of prehension, the metacarpal
the^^mT r^/0 ^ ^ ? -d henceTn ^l!
^ mefacxarlms 18 erroneously named the
oie leg, and therefore it has been imagined, that in several
ANATOMY.
9
Compare- of our domestic animals the different parts of the lower ex- the single toe which constitutes the foot are distinguished Compara¬
tive tremity are articulated in opposite directions to those of as the pastern bone, which is the first phalanx ; the coro- tive
- 1 r J_._ .1 net, wj1icj1 is t]le middle or second; and the coffinbom, Anatomy.
Anatomy.
Fore toes.
man. Thus the fore leg of the horse, deer, sheep, and
dog are in truth the metacarpus of these animals ; and what
is vulgarly named the fore knee or cannon bone of the
horse, is actually the carpus or wrist-joint. It is there¬
fore convex on the dorsal, and concave and inflected on
the palmar aspect, exactly as the carpus of the human
subject.
In the three-toed sloth, the three bones of which the
metacarpus consists are mutually consolidated at the base
and with the rudiment of a fourth toe. In the Cetacea,
the metacarpal bones, which are much flattened, are also
mutually united.
In the Mammalia generally, if we include imperfect or
rudimental phalanges concealed in the skin, there are never
fewer than 3, nor more than 5. The Unguiculated ani¬
mals generally have 5, perfect and imperfect- The cha¬
racter of the perfect fore toe or finger is to consist of 3
rows or phalanges, excepting the first of the radial side,
which has only 2. In the Quad rum an a this is separate,
and opposable to the other toes, constituting a thumb,
and giving this tribe of animals a prehensible organ en¬
titled to the epithet of hand. It is, however, shorter and
less perfect in other respects than the genuine thumb of
the human hand. In the codita (simia paniscus) it is con¬
verted into a rudimental bone, concealed under the skin.
In the Zoophaga, which have no power of grasping mi¬
nute objects, the thumb or first toe is parallel to the others,
and, though equal in length to these in the ursine family,
it is shorter in the mustela, viverra, canine and feline ge¬
nera. In the latter, which have the power of erecting the
claws, to prevent them from being blunted in walking, the
shape of the middle and unguinal phalanx is remark¬
able. The former is triangular prismatic, with two late¬
ral and a plantar or palmar inferior surface. The third
which is the third or unguinal phalanx, which has the'
shape of the hoof, rounded before, convex above, and flat
below. To the back of the pastern joint are connected
two sesamoid bones; and to the coffin bone is attached
another, named the shuttle bone. In the Cetacea, all the
phalanges, which are flattened, and often cartilaginous,
are united in the fin or paddle.
The thigh-bone, which is single in all the classes, fol-Thigh-
lows the type of that of the human frame in general figure bone,
and parts. In the Mammalia it is, however, proportion¬
ally shorter, and its length diminishes as that of the me¬
tatarsus augments. In the Ruminants and Solidungula,
for instance, it is so short that it is concealed by muscles
against the belly; and hence it is too often overlooked
and confounded with the leg. In other respects the ge¬
neral characters are, that it is not arched ; that, excepting
in the bear and some of the simia genus, e. g. the ourang-
outang, it is shorter than the leg-bones; that its neck is
very short, and more perpendicular to the axis of the
diaphysis than in man; and that the great trochanter is
raised above the head, which is directed inwards. In the
simice it is quite cylindrical, and void of linea aspera. In
the tapir the middle part is found flattened; and at the
external margin there is a prominent crest, terminating
in an unciform process. In the rhinoceros the great tro¬
chanter and the unciform process are so elongated as to
unite almost, and form a hole between them and the dia¬
physis. The unciform process is observed also in the
horse, beaver, and armadillo. The thigh-bone of the seal
is so short, that the half of its length consists of the two
articular extremities.
Though the leg-bones of the Mammalia bear a general Leg-bones.
similitude to those of man, the tibia alone is constant; and
or unguinal phalanx is shaped like a hook, consisting of the fibula, after becoming unusually slender, and chang
the fore
nnon
one.
two parts. One, directed forwards, sharp and pointed,
receives the nail or claw, in a long groove like a sheath.
The second part of the hook, which is behind, rises verti¬
cally from the lower part by which it is articulated, and
is produced into two processes, to which are attached the
erecting muscles of the claw, which are flexors of the
phalanx.
Among the Rodentia there is a perfect but short thumb
in the hare, beaver, and jerbois ; a two-phalanx but conceal¬
ed one in the squirrel, mouse, and rat family, porcupine,
paca, agouti; and a one-phalanx concealed one in the
cavy, guinea-pig, marmot, &c. In the Edentata the
number of fore toes varies much; in the Tamanoir, and
Tamandua or four-toed ant-eater, the thumb-toe is oblite¬
rated ; in the Ai or three-toed sloth, both that and the fifth
toe are obliterated; and in the two-toed ant-eater, and
Unau or two-toed sloth, these, with the second toe also,
are obliterated.
The elephant has 5 perfect toes, all concealed under
the thick, callous hide of the foot. In hoofed animals with
4 toes, for instance the hog, tapir, and hippopotamus, the
thumb-toe is in the shape of a Small rudimental bone.
In the Ruminants the single metacarpal bone (Chesel-
den’s figure of the Deer, Plate I.) is articulated with two
digital phalanges, which constitute one of the distinguish¬
ing characters of this order—the cloven foot. In some
genera, at the root of these two perfect toes are two small
bones, often covered with horn, which represent two other
toes. The last or unguinal phalanx is always trilateral
in shape. In the horse and the Solidungula generally,
the two lateral toes are represented only by two bony
styles, named the splint bones, situate on the two sides of
the metacarpal or cannon bone. The three phalanges of
VOL. m.
ing its position from the outside to the posterior part of
the tibia, is converted into a mere appendage, and at
length disappears entirely. Thus, though it is distinct,
and occupies its usual position in the simice, in the Chirop-
tera it is extremely slender; and since the femora are
directed backward, the fibulae are turned towards each
other. In several of the Edentata, for instance the pha-
tagin, armadillo, and sloth, it is large, curved, and remote
from the tibia. In the dog family and the Rodentia it is
altogether behind the tibia. In the mole and murine genus
it is consolidated to the lower third of the tibia, leaving
an empty trilateral space above. In the rhinoceros, ele¬
phant, and hog, the fibula is flattened and united to the
whole length of the tibia. In the ruminants it is repre¬
sented by a small bony appendage, placed on the outer
margin of the astragalus, below the tibia, and forming the
external or fibular ankle. Lastly, in the horse and Soli-
dungul a, thefibula is reduced to a styloid rudimental pro¬
cess, which is firmly consolidated in the adult animal to
the upper part of the tibia.
Between the tarsus of man and that of the other Mam¬
malia the following are the principal differences.
In the simice the fibular facette of the astragalus is The tar-
nearly vertical, and the tibial is very oblique; and thesus*
calcaneum wants the tuberosity, except in the pongo. In
the ordinary bat family the calcaneum is elongated into
a styloid process, concealed in the substance of the mem¬
branous ubiform expansions; but in the roussette (jptero-
pus) the tuberosity projects beneath the foot.
In the Rodentia the calcaneum is produced consider¬
ably backwards, while the scaphoid, which consists of two
parts, forms a tubercle on the sole. Among the Eden¬
tata the three-toed sloth is peculiar in having a tarsus.
10
Compara¬
tive
Anatomy.
ANATOM Y.
consisting of four bones only, the astragalus, calcaneum, and perfect toes; the bog 4 ytl|e^1|'an^[hin^^1°sSaf
two cuneiform bones, the first of which is articulated not Ruminants have two perfect toes on une metataisa bone Anatomv
only with the tibia, fibula, and calcaneum, but with the and two small ones attached behmdite^
large cuneiform bone, without any intermediate scaphoid lidungula have one perfect toe, ^ ’ni^ T
bone. Its connection with the tibia is by means of a con- are reduced to a single styloid b,°f •
vex articular surface, which rolls on the external part of the body is supported in walkl^ ^ th^f- not ^
the tarsal end of the tibia. From this mode of articular phalanx alone; and hence the term foot is ot c the
tion it results that the foot of the sloth admits neither of same import as m the human subject and animals simi-
being elevated nor depressed, but simply of performing larly constructed. While indeed man supports his person
lateral motions of adduction and abduction, to which it in progression on the os ca/cis and the postenor or meta-
owes the power of clasping the trunks of trees and climb- tarsal phalanges, m the other mammiferous animals the
imr but which renders "progression difficult and laborious, former bone touches not the ground, but is always elevated
The hog has a scaphoid with three ordinary cuneiform above it a considerable height. All the zoophagous or
bones, and a rudimental great-toe bone beneath the first, unguiculated animals, excepting the plantigrade, support
In the tapir and rhinoceros there are only two cuneiform themselves chiefly on the unguinal and middle phalanges
bones. All the animals already enumerated have the both of the fore and hind foot; and neither the posterior
same number of metatarsal bones as of toes. phalanges nor the calcaneum touch the ground, as is easi-
In the Ruminants the cuboid and scaphoid bones are ly demonstrated on observing the gait of the hedgehog,
united, unless in the camel, in which they are distinct, dog, fox, cat, or similar individuals of the same family. The
At the outer margin of the pulley of the astragalus is a animals distinguished by the name of Plantigrade are
bone which represents the lower head of the fibula, and believed to support themselves on the entire foot. But
which is farther articulated to the upper surface of the though the foot is certainly spread on the ground more
os calcis. In this side also there are only two cuneiform freely than in those already mentioned, by the bear,
bones, which are united in the giraffe. The two meta- glutton, badger, and others, it appears that not the heel,
tarsal bones are always united, as in the metacarpus, into but the metatarsus, is allowed to touch the ground in pro-
one, which forms a posterior cannon bone. The Soli- gression. In the Ruminants and Solidungula, as already
dungula resemble the camel in this, that the scaphoid is mentioned, the only part of the foot which is applied to
distinct from the cuboid bone, and that there are two the ground is the unguinal phalanx; and it is well known
that the horse supports himself on the plantar surface of
the coffin bone only.
Lastly, in the Amphibious Mammals, while the extreme
brevity of the humerus and femur unfit them for progression
on land without extreme awkwardness and difficulty, the
expanded shape and oblique position of the metacarpal
Third can¬
non bine.
Hind toes.
cuneiform bones, while the peroneal rudiment and the
corresponding articular surface of the calcaneum are want¬
ing. The metacarpal are also consolidated into a single
piece, named the hinder cannon bone, each side of which
is provided with a minute bony style.
The toes of the Quadrumana and the Marsupialia
are longer than those of man ; but the great toe is shorter bones and phalanges, the length of the tibia and fibula, and
than the others, and its metatarsal bone is susceptible of the greater length of the first and last than the middle
separation and opposition, as the thumb or thumb-toe of metatarsal phalanges, all concur to give these animals
the hand. Hence Cuvier, in his first classification, dis
tinguished the latter by the name of Pedimana. The
Aie-aie among the Rodentia appears to possess the same
faculty. Among the Zoophaga the great toe remains
always conjoined with and parallel to the others; and in the
canine and feline genera it is obliterated. Among the
Rodentia, that of the beaver is nearly equal to the other
toes; those of the marmot, porcupine, and the murine
genus, are shorter; in the paca it is almost obliterated;
it is reduced to a single bone in the Cape gerboa; and
the leporine genus have no trace of it. In the cavy,
agouti, and guinea-pig, the great and small toes are each
great facility in swimming. (Cuvier, Ossemens Fossiles,
tome v. partie i. septieme partie.) In the Cetacea, again,
while the total want of pelvic extremities renders motion
on land quite impracticable, the fin-like disposition of the
metacarpus and metacarpal phalanges, with the great
strength of the lumbar, and the length of the coccygeal
vertebrae, peculiarly qualify them for locomotion in the
waters.
SECT. II. OSTEOLOGY OF BIRDS. Plate
The number of vertebrae of which the different regions
of the spine consist, is not less variable in Birds than in ’
by Cuvier.
in the following table
Species.
Vertebra?
of Neck.
V ertebra? Sacral
of Back. Vertebrae-
Vultur. V ulture 
Falco fulvus. Eagle 
— halia'ctus. Bald buzzard
— biiteo. Buzzard 
— nisus. Sparrow hawk 
— milvus. Kite 
Strix bubo. Efigle owl 
Strix ulula. Brown owl 
Mutcicapa grisola. Fly-catcher
Turdus merula. Blackbird..,
Tanugra tatao. Tanagra 
Corvus corone. Crow 
 pica. Magpie  
 glandarius. Jay 
Stumus vulgaris. Starling...
Loxia coccothraustes. Grosbeak
— pyrrhula. Bullfinch...
13
13
14
11
11
12
13
11
10
11
10
13
13
12
10
10
10
Coccygeal
Vertebrae.
reduced to one bone. In the gerbon (nius jaculus) and m An, at, a c • i c o ■ ,
alactaga (mus sagitta) the three middle metatarsal bones from th T* ld^K.0/,these.va”atl0ns may>
are united into a single one similar to the cannon bone of ^ fr0m the nUmber exhlblted
the Ruminants and Solidungula ; and while the two la¬
teral toes are distinct, though short, in the former animal,
they are obliterated altogether in the latter.
Among the Edentata, the ant-eater, orycteropus, pan¬
golin, and armadillo, have five toes, of which the great is
the shortest in all. In the sloth the great and small toe
are reduced to one small bone. The other metatarsal
bones are umted at their base. The toes have only two
phalanges, of which the unguinal are the largest.
In the subsequent families the metatarsal bones de¬
serve particular attention. In the elephant and Pachyder-
mata, their tarsal extremity has a flat surface, and the
phalangeal consists ot a convex tubercle, which presents
below a prominent line in the middle of the bone. In
the feoLiDUNGULA this line is above and below both. In
the Ruminants, in which the cannon bone consists of the
two metatarsal bones, the line of union is represented by
a deep line like the tract of a saw. The elephant has 5
11
17
11
10
11
11
12
11
10
10
9
13
13
11
10
12
11
Spim
ANATOMY.
11
Compara¬
tive
' Anatomy.
Kervi.'al
Wei-tebne,
Jorsal
ertebrae.
lock.
Fringilla domestica. Sparrow...
 cardaelis. Goldfinch
Parus major. Titmouse 
Alaiida arvensis. Lark  
Motacilla nubecula. Ited-breast
Hirundo urbica. Swallow...
Species. .
Caprimulgus Europceus. Goat¬
sucker 
Trochilus pella. Colibri 
Upupa epops. Hoopoe 
Alcedo ispida. King’s fisher...
Picus viridis. Woodpecker.
Ramphastos. Toucan 
Psittacus erithacus. Parrot..
Columba cenas. Stockdove..
Pavo cristatus. Peacock 
Phasianus colchicus. Pheasant
Meleagris gallopavo. Turkey...
Crax nigra. Curassow bird. )
Hocco j
Struthio Camelus. Ostrich 
 Casuarius. Cassowary...
Phcenicopterus. Flamingo 
Ardea cinerea. Heron 
- alba. Stork 
- gnus. Crane 
Platalea A'iaia. Spoonbill 
Rccurvirostra. Avoset 
Charadrius pluvialis. Plover...
Tringa vanellus. Lapwing 
Scolopax ruslicola. Woodcock...
 arquata. Curlew....
Hcematopus. Oyster-catcher...
Rallus crex. Hail 
Fulica atra. Coot 
Parra. Jacana.... 
Vertebras
of Neck
Pelicanus onocrotalus. Pelican...
 carbo. Cormorant...
Sterna hirundo. Sea swallow...
Larus. Gull 
Procellaria. Petrel 
Anas cygnus. Swan 
- anser. Goose 
- bernicla. Bernacle 
- boschas. Duck 
- tadorna. Sheldrake 
- nigra. Black diver 
Mergus merganser. Merganser
Colymbus cristatus. Grebe 
9
11
11
11
10
11
11
12
12
12
12
12
12
13
14
13
15
15
18
15
18
18
19
19
17
14
15
14
18
13
12
13
15
14
1C»
16
14
12
14
23
15
18
14
16
15
15
14
Vertebrae
of Back.
9
7
7
8
8
9
7
7
7
7
8
8
11
7
7
7
9
7
9
8
8
7
8
9
8
9
8
7
9
8
8
8
11
10
10
8
11
9
8
10
Sacral
Vertebrae
10
11
11
10
10
11
11
9
10
8
10
12
11
13
12
15
10
10
20
19
12
10
11
12
14
10
10
10
13
10
15
13
7
12
14
14
10
11
14
14
14
15
11
14
13
13
Coccygeal
Vertebra:.
8
7
7
9
7
8+
7
8
In this table the most remarkable circumstance is the
great number of dervical vertebra, which are much more
numerous than in the Mammalia. They vary from 9,
the number in the sparrow, to 23, which is that of the
cervical vertebra of the swan. The most common num¬
ber is 11, which is that of 10 genera. The next most fre¬
quent is 12, 13, and 14, which are equally the numbers
of 9 genera. The next is 15, which is that of 8; 10 oc¬
curs in 6, 18 in 4, and 16 in 3. In the stork and crane
they are 19.
The next remarkable circumstance is, that the dorsal
or costal vertebra are greatly fewer than in the Mam¬
malia, never exceeding the number of 11, and being more
frequently about 7 or 8. Thus, while they are 11 in the
cassowary, swan, and sheldrake, 10 in the goose, bernacle,
and grebe, and 9 in the sparrow, lark, humming-bird,
parrot, crane, avoset, oyster-catcher, cormorant, and black-
diver, they are 7 or 8 in all the other genera, and only
6 in the bullfinch.
There are no lumbar vertebra strictly so named, for
those which extend from the chest to the tail are con¬
solidated into one piece with the iliac bones. The tail,
which is short, consists of from 7 to 9 vertebra.
Ihe part most variable in proportional length is the
neck. It is so much longer as the feet are elevated, ex-
Anatmny,
cept in some of the swimmers, in which it is greatly Compara-
longer, because they require to seek their food below the tive
surface of the waters on which they float.
The bodies of the cervical vertebra are articulated not'
by plane facettes, which would admit obscure motion only,
but by portions of cylinders, which allow extensive mo¬
tion. The 3d, 4th, or 5th superior vertebra allow of an¬
terior inflection only, and the others of posterior inflection.
This gives the necks of birds an alternate serpentine in¬
flection ; and it is by rendering the two arches, of which
this curvature consists, straight or convex, that the ani¬
mal elongates or shortens his neck. The articular pro¬
cesses of the superior vertebra are directed upwards and
downwards; those of the lower are turned anteriorly and
posteriorly.
Instead of transverse processes, the cervical vertebra of
birds are provided with a tubercle above, and the anterior
extremity of which terminates in a narrow style, descend¬
ing parallel to the body of the vertebra.
Only the most superior and inferior vertebra have dis¬
tinct spinous processes, and these have anterior as well as
posterior ones. The middle ones have before two crests,
which form a half-canal, and.behind a tubercle, often bifid,
or, when they are elongated, two rough lines. The atlas,
which is articulated with the occipital bone by a single
facette, has the shape of a minute ring.
As the neck of birds is movable, the back is fixed. The Back,
spinous processes of these vertebras are in mutual contact,
and they are connected by strong ligaments. Most of
these processes are generally consolidated into a single
continuous crest, extending along the whole back. The
extremities of the transverse processes terminate in two
apices, one directed forwards, the other backwards; and
occasionally they are consolidated into a continuous mass
like the spinous. That this arrangement is requisite for
the trunk to remain fixed during the violent motions which
take place in flying, is rendered probable by the fact, that
in birds which do not fly, as the ostrich and cassowary,
the spinal column retains its mobility.
The last dorsal vertebra are often placed on the crest
of the iliac bones, and they are then united, as the lumbar,
on the large piece of the iliac bones, from which it re¬
sults that the number of vertebra can often be estimated
in no other mode than by that of the holes of the nerves
which issue from the chord.
The caudal vertebra are most numerous in the species Caudal
which move the tail with most energy; for instance, the vertebrae
magpie and swallow. They have spinous processes be¬
low as well as above, and very long transverse processes.
The last of all, to which the pinions are attached, is long¬
est, and has the shape of a ploughshare or a compressed
quoit. In the cassowary, which has no visible tail, the
last bone is conical; in the peacock, on the contrary it
has the shape of an oval plate, situate horizontally.
It was early observed by the original zoologist and tra- Cranium,
veller Pierre Belon, that the crania of birds were void of
sutures; and that in a few only Avere these lines of dis¬
tinction into separate bones recognised. The explanation
of this peculiarity is found in the history of the ossifica¬
tion of the head in young birds, which shows that the
cranium consists at that period of separate bones, corre¬
sponding in number and situation to those of quadrupeds.
Thus, there are two frontal bones, which are continued
fonvards to form the vault of the orbits ; two small parie¬
tal bones behind the frontal; a temporal bone on each
side of the scull; a sphenoid united to the occipital, even
in subjects in which the other sutures are distinct; or a
spheno-occipital bone, which is early united with the tem¬
poral.
These sutures, however, are distinctly seen only in
ANATOMY.
12
Compara- young birds and those recently hatched; for the bones
tiye are very early united, and in the adult bird the cranial
'Anatomy.^ sutures are invariably obliterated. Thus, in the domestic
fowl and turkey the scull is one piece ; and the only trace
of suture that remains is a linear depression in the mid¬
dle of the frontal bone, indicating the original formation
in two halves. In the recently hatched bird, also, the
sphenoid is separated from the occipital bone by a trans¬
verse suture, extending from the one ear to the other.
The occipital bone is at the same time a ring, consisting
of four parts; a superior, two lateral, and an inferior
which is small. The sphenoid, which forms the greater
part of the base of the cranium, is nearly trilateral, with
a small anterior process, to which the palatine arches are
articulated. It has no pterygoid processes, and does not
touch the posterior aperture of the nostrils. The tem¬
poral bone, though void of zygomatic process, has a
pointed style, which contributes to form the posterior
margin of the orbit. The frontal bone, after covering
part of the cranium, is continued forwards in a broad, thin
plate, which forms the vault of the orbits, while these ca¬
vities are separated by a thin vertical bony plate which
descends at right angles from the frontal bone, and is con¬
nected behind with the sphenoid. The long eminences
observed on the heads of the cassowary, curlew, pintado,
and some species of hocco, are produced from this supra¬
orbital part of the frontal bone; and their interior, which
consists of loose diploe, communicates with that of the
same bone.
Facial The face in birds is rarely so firmly consolidated as the
bones. cranium. It is composed of two lacrymal bones, forming
the anterior margins of the orbits, and united on the me¬
sial plane; two nasal bones anterior to the lacrymal; two
bones corresponding to the superior maxillary, and form¬
ing the external lateral parts of the upper half of the bill;
two inter-maxillary bones; two anterior palate bones, cor¬
responding to those of the Mammalia ; two posterior pa¬
late bones corresponding to the pterygoid processes of the
sphenoid ; and the lower jaw a paraboloid bone, consisting
of two rdmi united before, where they are covered by the
horn of the lower half of the bill. Besides these, there is in
The quad- the whole class an irregular-shaped bone, common to the
rilateral cranium and lower jaw, and connecting these two together.
This bone, which has been rather improperly named the
square, quadrangular, or quadrilateral bone {os quadratum),
consists of a body with curvilinear hollow margins, termi¬
nating in two elevated and rather pointed processes, one
of which is connected with the cavity named tympanum,
while the other, projecting into the orbit, affords attach¬
ment to several muscles. The anomalous character of
this bone has perplexed several of the most distinguished
zootomists; and while Geoffroy gives it the name of os
Tympano-styloideum, Spix considers it analogous to the
annular process of the temporal bone, which in the human
foetus is separate; and Carus regards it as representing
the incus, to which it bears a remote resemblance in shape
and in one of its connections.
Maxillary Both maxillae are void of teeth; but the hard, horny
bones. matter of the bill covering the margins and extremities
of each jaw, and constituting the mandibles {mandibula),
is manifestly constructed to perform for Birds what teeth
do for the Mammalia. But the most remarkable pe¬
culiarity of the, facial bones of this class is, that the
upper jaw admits of more or less motion. In the majo¬
rity of instances this is effected by the jaw being united
to the cranium by means of thin, flexible, elastic, bony
plates; but in the parrot family the upper jaw is entirely
distinct, and is connected by a proper articulation.
The base of the palatine surface of the upper jaw is
divided into 4 branches, which diverge backwards. The
two external ones, which correspond to the zygomatic Compara- (
arches of the Mammalia, and which are very slender, tive
are articulated to the quadrangular bone which moves on |
the temporal before the ear. The two intermediate ones,
which have been already stated to correspond to the pte¬
rygoid processes, and which are parallel, are placed beneath
the septum of the orbits, and are articulated by their pos¬
terior extremities with a small bone, variable in shape,
but named omoid by Herissant, which is also articulated !
with the quadrilateral. From this arrangement results
a singular species of broken lever, not dissimilar to the
parallel joint of the piston and lever of the steam-engine,
and the effect of which is, that whenever the lower jaw
is depressed by its proper muscles, it necessarily causes
the quadrilateral bone to perform a slight rotatory mo¬
tion, in consequence of which, by means of the omoid
bone, the upper jaw is at the same time elevated on the ]
elastic plates; and as soon as the lower jaw is raised, the
elasticity of these plates forces down the superior one.
The upper jaw is immovable in a few instances only,
and of these the calao or rhinoceros bird is one.
The breast bone {sternum) is a trilateral, boat-shaped Sternum
bone, concave internally, convex with a middle longi- °r breast- f
tudinal crest externally, with the base of the triangle bone‘
above, and the apex, which is also incurvated backwards,
below. The middle longitudinal crest, which is occa¬
sionally named the keel {carina), is shaped something
like a spherical triangle, with the broadest side above, the
base before, and the apex behind; and its prominence
forms large spaces on each side for the attachment of the
pectoral and other muscles used in flight. In the male
wild swan {anas cygnus), in some species of curlew, in the
crane, and in the guinea-fowl, this crest forms a cavi¬
ty for the reception of the windpipe. In the ostrich and
cassowary, which do not fly, the sternum is void of crest,
and is merely arched strongly.
The ribs, which rarely exceed 10 pairs, may be distin-The ribs. ;
guished into sterno-vertebral and vertebral. Though the
latter are generally before, they are sometimes also be¬
hind. The vertebral end terminates in two diverging pro¬
cesses, one of which is articulated with the vertebral body,
the other with the transverse process. The sternal extre¬
mity consists of a bony process, which performs the part of
the sterno-costal cartilages of the Mammalia by uniting
the rib to the sternum. The ribs of birds, however, are
further distinguished by presenting near their middle a
flat long process, projecting from the rib backwards at an
acute angle, and resting on the rib immediately below, so
that each rib is supported not only on the vertebrae and
sternum, or the vertebrae alone, but on the next rib below.
These processes are obliterated in the lower ribs.
The coxal bones constitute one piece with the sacrum Basin or
and lumbar vertebrae. The ischial portion is united with Pelvis-
the sacrum, and the ischiatic notch is converted into a
hole. The part which corresponds to the os pubis of the
Mammalia is not consolidated before so as to form a
symphysis, but proceeding directly backwards, terminates
in a styloid process, variable in length and slenderness.
The only exception to this mode of structure occurs in the
ostrich, in which the pubal bones are united below. The
infra-pubal or oval hole is present in the whole class not- 1
withstanding. It is worthy of remark, however, that in
young birds this and the ischial aperture are still notches,
in consequence of the deficient ossification of the parts.
The direction of the pelvis in birds is nearly that of
the spine, that is, obliquely backwards, and deviating but
little from the horizontal line.
The wings or thoracic extremities are connected to the
trunk by three bones, the collar-bone or clavicle, the sea- Collar-
pula, and the bifurcated bone. The collar-bones, which bone.
ANATOMY.
13
s- ’ompara- are straight, strong, and cylindrical, are articulated by a
tive large head with the anterior and lateral part of the ster-
j Anatomy. numj jn jts motion is rather limited. It forms be-
fore and laterally two short processes, one anterior-infe¬
rior and internal, articulated with the bifurcated bone;
the other posterior-superior and external, uniting with the
scapula, and forming a cavity, in which the head of the
humerus is lodged. •
■boulder- The scapula is a long bone, flattened, but narrow, and
lade. slightly incurvated, with the convex side turned towards
the spine, to which it is nearly parallel in position. The
head or anterior extremity is thick and extensive, oblique
from before backwards, and is articulated behind with the
clavicle, before with the humerus. The free extremity is
thin, flattened, and sharp. The whole bone is not dissi-
rtiilar in shape to a scimitar.
lifurcated Besides these, which Birds possess in common with the
one, or Mammalia, we find an azygous bone, situate on the mesial
urcula. plane, denominated in ordinary language the Merry thought,
and, from its shape, the fork-like or bifurcated bone. It
consists of two long, rounded, converging branches, united
at an acute angle, and forming a broad process, flat in
the vertical direction, and by which it is articulated to
(the anterior extremity of the crest or carinated part of
the breast-bone. To the posterior or free extremities of
the divergent branches are articulated the humeral ends
of the collar-bones, which are thus enabled to sustain
the violent motions of the humerus during flight. The
branches of the bifurcated bone are separate in the os¬
trich, and each is united with the clavicle and scapula
of the same side, so that the three bones form only one,
much flattened, and with a hole towards the sternal ex-
Itremity. In the cassowary the bifurcated bone is re¬
duced to a mere rudimental process at the inner margin
of the head of the clavicle. From these facts it results,
that the bifurcated bone is particularly useful in the ener¬
getic and continued efforts of the wings in flight, and not
only serves to keep the clavicles apart, but, by lengthen¬
ing the distance between the collar-bones and sternum,
enables the animal to use a longer lever. It is freest,
strongest, and most elastic in the birds which fly best.
In birds which do not fly, and which use the wings mere¬
ly to sustain the equilibrium, as the ostrich and casso¬
wary, it is reduced to almost nothing, or it is in such a
rudimental and imperfect form, that it cannot keep the
collar-bones apart.
rhoracic The bones of the thoracic extremities, or those of the
ixtremi- wings, correspond in general to those of the Mammalia.
They consist of a single cylindrical humerus, articulated
with the scapula and collar-bone above, two bones of the
fore wing corresponding to the ulna and radius, two bones
of the carpus, two of the metacarpus, consolidated by their
extremities, one styloid bone as a thumb, a long finger con¬
sisting of two phalanges, and a short one consisting of one.
The thumb supports the bastard pinions, the large finger
and metacarpus the primaries, while the small one, which
is covered by the skin, is destitute. In several of the web¬
footed divers, for instance the duck and penguin {alca im-
pennis and spheniscus), these bones are flattened like thin
plates. r
elvic In the pelvic extremities the thigh-bone is provided with
Ktremi- one trochanter only, is shorter than that of the leg, and
is almost invariably straight; and is arched only in the
cormorant, duck, and dobchick. In the ostrich its dia¬
meter is about four times that of the humerus. The tibia
! differs from that of the Mammalia chiefly at its lower
extremity. M' bile the fibula adheres to it like a slender
appendage as far as the middle, the tarsal extremity ter¬
minates in two trochlear condyles, with an intermediate
pulley-like groove. The tarsus and metatarsus are repre¬
sented by a single bone of considerable length, and the Compara-
head or tibial end of which consists of a middle promi- tive
nence and two lateral depressions, and which, therefore, Anatomy,
moves in cardinal opposition, but does not admit of exten-
sion beyond the straight line. Though variable in pro¬
portion to the length in different orders, this bone is very
long in the order Grall^: (Grallatores). It termi¬
nates below in 3 pulley-shaped processes, to which are
attached the bones of the 3 anterior toes, with an inter¬
nal margin for that of the great toe. In the ostrich there
are 2 processes only, corresponding to the two toes. In
the penguin tribe, however, the tarsus and metatarsus con¬
sist of 3 bones, separate from each other in the middle,
but united at the tibial and digital extremities. To the
tarso-metatarsal bone of the cock, and others of the Galli¬
naceous tribe, is attached the spur, a conical pointed ex¬
crescence of hard horny matter.
SECT. III.—OSTEOLOGY OF THE REPTILES.
The number of vertebrae, and all the other attributes of
the spinal column, vary more in this class than in all the
others.
In the Cheloniad or Tortoise family there are 7 cer-Vertebra?,
vical, 8 dorsal, connected with the shell in an immovable
piece, so as to have neither processes nor articular facettes;
from 3 to 5 lumbar and sacral, consolidated in like manner ;
and about 20 caudal or coccygeal. (Plate XXXIV. fig. 5.)
In the Saurial or Lizard tribe, the number 7 predomi¬
nates in the cervical, being that of the crocodile and most
lizards. In several, however, there are 8, as in two of
the monitor genus, the American safeguard, the lizard of
Fontainebleau, the dragon, the iguana, the anolis, and the
gecko and seine; and in a few, as the Nilotic monitor,
and an undetermined species of monitor, they amount to
9. In the chameleon there are only 5 cervical vertebras.
Here, however, a singular peculiarity is observed. Instead
of the cervical vertebras being, as in the Mammalia,
distinguished by being unconnected with ribs, to those,
from the third to the seventh inclusive, short ribs, un¬
connected with the sternum, are attached. The atlas and
axis, therefore, alone are proper cervical vertebrae; but
the general analogy is observed in the cervical ribs being
exceedingly short and almost rudimental. The dorsal vary
from 11, which is that of the crocodile and iguana, to 29
and 30, which are the numbers in the New Holland seine
and Nilotic monitor. In the American safeguard, cordy-
lus, stellio, crested basilisk, dragon, guana, and great ano¬
lis, they are 16 ; in the chameleon, black safeguard, and
ameiva, 17 ; in the tupinambis, spotted gecko, and golden
seine, 18; in the green lizard and spotted guana (poly-
chrus) 19; in the Fontainebleau and gray lizard 20; 21
in the Levant seine and undetermined monitor; and 22
in the Java and New Holland monitor.
TheBATRACHOiD or Ranine reptiles are void of ribs,
and it is impossible therefore to distinguish the first three
orders of vertebrae from each other. In general, however,
there are from the nape to the pelvis 8 vertebrae, all provid¬
ed with long transverse processes, and which are longest in
the last. The sacrum is represented by a long flattened but
pointed bone, without coccyx. In the Surinam toad (rana
pipa) the last vertebra is consolidated with this bone; and
the transverse processes of the second and third vertebrae
are so much larger than the others, that they resemble ru¬
dimental ribs. In the Salamander family there are from
the head to the sacrum 14 vertebrae, all alike in shape ex¬
cept the first, which receives the occipital bone, and the
last, which is articulated with the sacrum. These two are
distinguished by wanting rudimental ribs, which are small
elongated bones, movable, and articulated with the trans-
ANATOMY.
14
Compara- verse processes, which are directed backwards. The arti-
tive cular processes are large and imbricated, the posterior
Anatomy. resting on the anterior, so as to resist the motion of the
spine backwards. The sacrum consists of one vertebra
only, but the coccyx or tail is composed of 27.
In the Serpentine tribe the vertebrae may be said to
attain the most extensive numerical developement. With
the exception of the head and rudimental ribs, they con¬
stitute the whole skeleton. (Fig. 3.) From the head to the
tail their shape is the same, and may be distinguished into
body, articular and transverse spinous processes. In some
species, for instance the boa, the spinous processes of the
back are so much separated as to allow mutual motion to a
considerable extent. In others, conversely, for instance
the rattlesnake, these processes are so long and broad as
to touch each other, while the oblique processes, which
form their bases, are imbricated over each other. In con¬
sequence of this arrangement the motion of the spine is
limited behind, but more extensive on the ventral sur¬
face. The vertebral bodies, which move easily on each
other, are provided with a sharp spine directed towards
the tail, which somewhat limits motion in this direction.
The first vertebra differs from those of the rest of the
body in supporting short or rudimental ribs ; there are
therefore no cervical vertebrse and no proper neck in the
serpent family. The caudal vertebrae are distinguished by
not supporting ribs, and by their spines both dorsal and
ventral being double, and forming two rows of tubercles.
The articulation of the bodies of these vertebrae is pecu¬
liar. On the anterior part of the body is a round hemi¬
spherical tubercle, while the posterior presents a corre¬
sponding cavity, so that each vertebra forms a cup and
ball joint with the following one.
The number of costal vertebrae varies from 32, which
is that of the blind worm (Angiiis fragilis), to 204 in the
ringed snake ( Coluber natrix), 244 in the snake, and 252 in
the Boa constrictor, and which is perhaps the greatest
known number. Of intermediate numbers, the Amphisbama
has 54, the viper {Coluber berus) has 139, the rattlesnake
175, and the cobra di capello 192. The caudal vertebrae
vary in number from 7, which is that of the Amphisbcena,
to 112, which is that of the Coluber natrix. Of interme¬
diate numbers, the blind worm has 17, the rattlesnake 26,
the boa 52, the viper 55, and the cobra 63; from which
it appears that the number of the caudal is not in pro¬
portion to that of the costal vertebrae.
Cranium. Of the heads of the Cheloniads, the most remarkable
characters are, that the facial line is horizontal, and quite
continuous with the cranial line; that the orbits, though
complete without, are continuous behind with the temporal
fossae ; that the parietal and occipital bones are compressed
laterally, while the latter terminates above in a sharp
spine, projecting behind. The occipito-parietal and occi-
pito-temporal sutures are distinct. The cranial cavity is
small compared with the volume of the scull.
These characters are not less remarkable in the Saurial
or Lacertine Reptiles. The cranium of a crocodile mea¬
suring from 13 to 14 feet is scarcely capacious enough to
admit the thumb ; and Cuvier estimates the area of the
cranial section, which is oblong, at about of that of the
whole head. In these animals, indeed, the bones of the
superior and inferior jaws are so much prolonged, and oc¬
cupy so large a proportion of the head, that small space
is left for the proper cranial cavity, which indeed is an
immediate continuation of the vertebral. In these ani¬
mals, also, the anatomist can trace, much more distinctly
than in the more perfect, the resemblance between the
cranial bones and the vertebral. In the Cheloniads, and
Saurial especially, the occipital bone is very distinctly a
cephalic vertebra.
Still more manifest is this arrangement in the Ranine Compara,
or Batrachoid and Serpentine or Ophidial Reptiles. tlve
In the former, as exemplified in the frog, the occipital bone,
which forms the posterior cranial vertebra, consists of four
pieces, and has two articular processes. The middle cra¬
nial vertebra is represented by the parietal bones above
and the posterior part of the sphenoid below, while be¬
tween it and the occipital or posterior is contained the
temporal as the organ of hearing. The third or anterior
cranial vertebra is represented by the anterior part of
the sphenoid bone below and the two narrow frontal
bones above. The face, which may be regarded as the
organ of the senses, is elongated anterior to the head,
somewhat after the manner of the Cheloniad family;
while an approximation to the Birds is indicated in the
articulation of the lower jaw, which is connected to the
head by the intervention of a quadrilateral bone.
In the Serpentine family, the cranium of which is very
similar in other respects, the most remarkable deviation
is in the want of ethmoid bone. .The lower jaw is con¬
nected to the cranium by an intermediate bone, corre¬
sponding to the quadrilateral, but of an oblong shape, and
something like a collar-bone.
The chest of the Reptile class varies much in the Chest,
mode of formation. While true ribs are recognised in the
Saurial family only, the Batrachoid reptiles have a
sternum without ribs, the Serpentine ribs without ster¬
num, and the Cheloniad ribs united into the dorsal shell,
and a sternum expanded into the abdominal one.
In the Saurial family the ribs correspond in number Ribs,
to that of the costal vertebrae already mentioned, that is,
12 in the crocodile and iguana, two of which are not con¬
nected to the sternum, 17 in the chameleon, 18 in the
tupinambis, and 27 in the monitor. The Saurial rep¬
tiles, however, are peculiar in having from 1 to 6 ribs at¬
tached to the cervical vertebrae, and the opposite ends of
which are not connected to the sternum. These, which
have been named cervical ribs, form a transition to the
rudimental ribs of the Serpentine family, which are
larger in the neck than elsewhere. The sternum of the
crocodile consists of two parts,—an anterior or thoracic,
which is osseous, supporting the two collar-bones,—and a
posterior or abdominal, which is cartilaginous, and extends
to the pubis, and furnishing to the abdominal parietes
eight cylindrical cartilages. In the East India crocodile
it appears that these lateral processes are converted into
a single broad piece of cartilage on each side. (Fig. 4.)
The ribs of the Cheloniad family are represented by Dorsal and
the dorsal shell, which consists of eight broad incurvated sterno-ab-
plates, identified behind with the dorsal vertebra;, and
terminating before in the margin of the shell, and which
are doubtless genuine ribs. In the ordinary land-tortoise
( Testudo Or (tea) these are seen in the shape of elevated
bony ridges, proceeding from the head of each rib in a trans¬
verse concave bend to the margin of the dorsal shell. On
each side of these ridges the bone is depressed, and is
united at its lowest point by a genuine suture with the ad¬
joining ones. These sutures, however, are not continuous
with those of the sterno-abdominal shell, but meet it in
the intermediate points. (Fig. 5.) The sterno-abdominal
shell consists, in like manner, of several transverse pieces
consolidated into one. The ordinary number is eight on
each side of the mesial plane, and a ninth azygous, gene¬
rally placed in the centre of the shell. In a specimen,
however, of the tabular tortoise ( Testudo tabulata), in our
possession, the number of the sterno-abdominal pieces is
11, of which 8 are in pairs, united on the mesial line from
before backwards, and 3 azygous at the posterior tip of the
shell. In young animals it is easy to recognise the unions
of these constituent bones, which consist of sutures ex-
ANATOM Y. 15
‘ompara- actly similar to those of the cranium in the Mammalia.
tive So feeble is the union, that it often happens that the ab-
inatomy. s]ieu especially separates at the lines of junction,
in the attempt to detach it from the dorsal.
The Batrachoid Reptiles, though void of ribs, are
provided with a sternum, which before is a cartilaginous
process, terminating on a disc placed below the larynx,
where it receives the collar-bones, and forms behind a
broad plate placed below the abdomen, and giving attach¬
ment to the muscles. In the Salamander tribe, which are
without sternum, the ribs consist of twelve pair of small
rudimental processes, articulated with the vertebrae, but
admitting of very limited motion.
Lastly, in the Serpentine family, though there is no
sternum, the upper vertebrae are provided with costal
processes, quite rudimental. The great number of these
costal rudiments, amounting in the rattlesnake to 175, in
the cobra di capello to 192, in the coluber natrix to 204,
and in the boa constrictor to 252, and the freedom of
their anterior extremities, enable the animals of this tribe,
wdiich are destitute of locomotive members, thoracic or
abdominal, to employ the spinal column and the ribs as
organs of progressive motion. On this point the reader
will find some interesting observations by Sir Everard
Home (Phil. Trans. 1812, p. 163). In the region of the
neck, where the ribs acquire peculiar length, they are
employed in erecting that region, and producing the ex¬
pansive swelling peculiar to this tribe of animals. It is
an important link in the same series of facts, that in the
animal absurdly named the flying lizard (draco volans), the
five posterior ribs are recurvated and elongated to form the
bony skeleton of the membranous sails by which the ani¬
mal supports itself in its desultory flight from tree to tree,
rhoracic It is in the Saurial family that the locomotive extre-
Ixtremi- mities of Reptiles ought first to be studied. In these we
find an elongated scapula without spine, and one short flat
bone, constituting the clavicle, united to the sternum. In
the iguana and chameleon this bone is broad and nearly
quadrilateral, while in the tupinambis it is large and oval¬
shaped, with its greatest length from before backwards,
■and with two unossified points.
In the Ranine tribe, while the scapida consists of two
articulated pieces, the upper towards the spine, each
shoulder is provided with two collar-bones attached to the
two extremities of the sternum, and the two anterior of
which correspond to the bifurcated bone of birds. The
sternum, collar-bone, and first part of the scapula, form
one piece. In the salamander, in which the same conso¬
lidation is observed, the scapular portion is most distinct
and directed to the spine, while of the clavicular portion
the part connected to the sternum stretches below the
chest, but, without uniting with that of the opposite side,
the right glides over the left,—an arrangement which fa¬
cilitates the dilatation of the chest during inspiration.
A nearer approach still to the bifurcated bone than is
seen in the Ranine may be recognised in the Cheloniad
family. In these animals three bones are united to form
the humeral cavity. The first is a flat, trilateral bone,
situate below the abdominal and thoracic viscera, close to
the abdominal shell, and which, notwithstanding its situa¬
tion, is evidently the scapula. The second is a bone about
the same length, flat, and like the feather of an oar at one
extremity, which is free, round in the middle, and flatten¬
ed in the opposite direction at the other end, which is
firmly united at a right angle to a long slender cylindrical
bone. At the angle of union of these two bones is part
of the glenoid cavity, which is complete in the small end
of the scapula. The first of the two bones is the collar¬
bone proper; the second is the lateral branch of the bone,
which forms the bifurcated, and which is occasionally
united with its fellow. (Plate XXXIV. fig. 5.) The abdo- Compara-
minal shell we have already stated to represent the ster- tive
num or breast-bone. Anatomy.
The humerus in the Saurial and Cheloniad family
is arched and incurvated in a serpentine direction. It is
articulated with a radius and uhia, which are succeeded
by three rows of carpal bones, one row of four metacarpal
bones and digital phalanges, varying in number in differ¬
ent genera. In the skeleton of a fossil animal belonging
to the Saurial tribe, originally delineated by Collini, and Fossil ske-
afterwards by Cuvier, and named by him the Pierodac- }e.ton
tyle or Wingtoe (Pterodactylus, Ossemens Fossiles, tome^11^
v.), the metacarpal bone and phalanges of the index are '" J “
prolonged to about twenty times the ordinary length, for
the purpose, apparently, of giving attachment to the mem¬
branous web by which the animal occasionally elevated it¬
self into the atmosphere. This animal, which, like the dra¬
gon (draco volans) of modern times, must have combined
the contradictory characters of a flying reptile, may be re¬
garded as forming the link between the Reptiles and
Birds, as the Ichthyosaurus does between Reptiles and
Fishes.
In the pelvis of the Cheloniad family it is remarkable Pelvis,
that the pubal and iliac bones appear to change places.
Thus the ilium on each side is a narrow bone proceeding
backwards to the sacral part of the spine, which is re¬
ceived between its posterior aperture; while theap¬
pears in the shape of a broad, trilateral, flat bone, uniting
before With its fellow on the mesial plane, behind with the
ilium, and below with a flat, thin, quadrilateral bone, cor- •
responding to the ischium, with which it forms the oval
aperture. The inner of these three bones presents, as
usual, the cotyloid cavity. It is further to be observed,
that the two iliac bones, and consequently the whole pel¬
vis, are movable on the vertebral column. (Plate XXXIV.
fig. 5.)
In the Saurial Reptiles the pelvic bones are arranged Pelvic ex-
and shaped nearly as in the Cheloniad. In the Ranine tremiues.
the iliac bones are much elongated, and the pubal and
ischial are consolidated into one piece, the symphysis of
which forms a rounded crest.
The femur is short, thick, and incurvated sinuously, with
the convexity before towards the tibial end, and the con¬
cavity towards the pelvic. Trochanters, though present
in the Cheloniad, are wanting in the Saurial and Ra¬
nine Reptiles. In the leg we find both tibia and fibula
distinct, and of nearly equal size, in the Cheloniad and
Saurial family, but conjoined in the Ranine family.
The tarsus consists of five bones, and sustains four or five
metatarsal ones, on which are supported three rows of
phalanges. The metatarsal bones, which vary in length,
are longest in the crocodile and others of the Lacertine
tribe. In the Ranine, again, the astragalus and calca-
neum are the bones of greatest proportional length.
The anatomical characters now enumerated are proper
to the skeletons of Reptiles at present existing on the
surface of the earth or in its waters ; and in these we find
a gradual transition from the Saurial and Cheloniad,
by means of the Serpentine, to the finny inhabitants of
the ocean. Even the Batrachoid Reptiles, in the early
period of their existence while tadpoles, we shall have
occasion to see, approach to the Fishes ; and in one sin¬
gular genus, if not two, the Proteus anguinus and Siren
Lacertina, the characters of the Reptile are combined
with those of the Fish, in having at once lungs or internal
respiratory cells, and gills or external ciliated branchiae.
The transition thus indicated is still more strongly de¬
monstrated in the osteological characters of two Genera
of animals now extinct, so far as is yet known,—the Ich¬
thyosaurus and the Plesiosaurus.
16 ANATOMY.
Compara* From the specimens of the Ichthyosaurus hitherto dis-
tive covered, it appears that the number of vertebrae varies from
. on^i 80 to 90 or more; in one entire specimen they amounted
to 104 (Conybeare and De la Beche); that they are flat-
cal pecifli- tened, with the transverse diameter greater than the longi-
arities of tudinal, and the two articulating surfaces of the bodies
the Ich- calycoid or cup-shaped as in Fishes. Though the annular
thyosaurus part is distinct from the body, it is united to its sides. The
spinous processes, which are long and prominent, form a
continuous ridge above the spine, and are connected to
each other by a process from the front of the one spine,
which is inserted into a pit in the back of the other. In¬
stead of proper transverse process, a certain number of
the vertebrae are provided with two tubercles on each
side of the body, of which the superior, convex, is articu¬
lated to the tubercle of the rib, while the other, which is
concave, receives the head. In the inferior part of the
vertebral column, these two tubercles, after approximat¬
ing, are eventually identified into one.
The ribs, which are numerous, and extend from the
occiput to the pelvis, are slender and trilateral in shape,
bifurcated above, and attached to the vertebrae by a head
and tubercle. In the perfect specimen of Mr de laBeche
they amount to 31, and of these 17 appear to be cervical
or anterior false ribs, with single tubercles; thus affording
another mark of resemblance to the Saurial family in
osteological characters.
The bones of the head, distinguished by the extraordi¬
nary size of the orbit, are similar to those of the Saurial
Reptiles. The sternum, collar-bone, and scapula, though
also similar to those of this family, bear a much closer re¬
semblance to the figure of these parts in the Echidna and
Ornithorhyncus. The humerus is short, thick, and sinuat-
ed; the bones of the fore arm flat, and probably constitut¬
ing part of the fore or thoracic fin. The Carpus consists
of three rows, the first containing three bones, the other
two, four each. These are followed by five or six rows of
flattened, irregularly cuboidal bones, gradually diminishing
in size and number to the tips, and which represent at once
the metacarpus and phalanges of the fore paw, used appa¬
rently chiefly as a fin or paddle. The pelvic extremities
appear to have been less strong and perfectly construct¬
ed than the thoracic. The femur is smaller and shorter
than the humerus ; the tibia and fibula are flattened like
the ulna and radius ; the tarsus consists of two rows only,
the first containing three, and the second five bones ; and
this in like manner terminates in five ranges of flattened
bones, gradually diminishing in size, and which represent
the metatarsus and metatarsal phalanges of the hind naw
or paddle.
and Pie- From the specimens hitherto discovered of the Plesiosau-
siosaurus. ^ jt appearS that the total number of vertebra? amounts
to 90, of which 35 appear to be cervical, while the other
55 are dorsal and caudal, the regions of which are propor¬
tionally short. The head of this animal also is small and
compressed, nor has it the large orbit of the Ichthyosau¬
rus. Each rib consists of a vertebral and sternal portion,
united at an obtuse angle, the former articulated by a
single head to the transverse process, and the latter con¬
nected with its fellow by a transverse slip, so that the
lower or abdominal ribs appear to have surrounded the
abdomen with a complete cincture. The anterior part of
the chest is occupied by two trilateral bones uniting in
the middle, which, from their connection with the scapula,
are believed to be the coracoid bones; and above these
is a transverse piece, with a middle notch and lateral
sinuated elevations, which is regarded as the sternum;
while the scapula extends on each side like a buttress be¬
tween the two. It is. not improbable, nevertheless, that
the middle portions named coracoid bones are the ster¬
num, and the transverse bone the clavicles; and it is Companj "
worthy of remark, that not only this bone, but the middle tive ^
piece, closely resembles in figure and disposition those of Anatom1f
the Echidna and Ornithorhyncus. The pelvis consists of'
three bones, a vertebral or superior, corresponding to the
ilium, narrow and slightly incurvated ; an anterior, ascend¬
ing forwards, and broad, separating the pubis ; and a pos¬
terior, short, forming the ischium. The humerus and femur
are longer than in the Ichthyosaurus. There is a very
short radius and ulna, and tibia and fibula, articulated
with five carpal and tarsal bones; and the rest of both
paddles consists of successive rows of flattened but long
bones, contracted in the middle, and expanded at the ex¬
tremities, representing the metacarpal and metatarsal di¬
gital phalanges. (Home, Phil. Trans. 1816, 1818, 1819,
1820; De la Beche and Conybeare, Geological Transac¬
tions, vol. v. p. 559 ; and Cuvier, Ossemens Fossiles, vol. v. I
part ii.) I r;
SECT. IV. OSTEOLOGY OF THE FISHES.
' The Serpentine or Ophiad Reptiles present in their
osteological characters an approximative transition to
those of Fishes. While in the former order the skeleton
is reduced to the spinal column, ribs, and head, in the
latter class the spine and head only are left; and in some
tribes the transition is still more distinctly marked by
the presence of ribs.
The vertebra of a fish is distinguished from that of any Vertebra
other animal by the shape of its body. The cephalic and
caudal, or anterior and posterior surfaces, are hollow cup¬
like cones, so that the union of each two vertebrae forms
a double conical cavity, united by the base, containing a
substance composed of concentric fibro-cartilaginous layers,
with intermediate albuminous or gelatinous matter. By
this cartilage the vertebral bodies are united; and on this
the motions of the spine are effected. This motion, how¬
ever, is chiefly lateral; for the spinous processes are so
long, and the articulation so complex, that antero-poste-
rior inflection or extension is nearly impracticable.
In the cartilaginous fishes, for instance the shark, stur¬
geon, and lamprey, the vertebral bodies form simple tubes,
which, from the extreme elasticity of the constituent car¬
tilage, propel the contained fluid to a considerable dis¬
tance. Thus Sir E. Home saw the fluid projected to the
height of four feet from the intervertebral cavities of the
shark. {Phil. Trans. 1809.) In this order, also, the
spine is infinitely more flexible, and its resilient power,
when bent by the muscles, is almost incredible. On each T'01
side, also, the vertebrae are excavated, to form a canal for
lodging the large blood-vessels.
Ihe vertebrae of fishes are numerous, and not easily
distinguished into classes. They may, however, be dis¬
tinguished into two, according as the spinous process is
above only, or above and below at once. Those with the
dorsal spine only are denominated dorsal or abdominal verte¬
bra, and have commonly at the sides transverse processes |>e
for the attachment of the ribs. Those with the dorsal
and ventral spines are distinguished as the caudal verte¬
bra. The last caudal vertebra is generally trilateral, flat¬
tened in the vertical direction; and its tip is marked with
articular pits, which indicate the attachment of the small
elongated bones which sustain the caudal fins.
Ihe number of vertebrae varies. In the uranoscopus
or star-gazer there are only 25, in the balista 17, and in
the four-spined trunk-fish (ostracion) only 13; while in
the sturgeon the number is 84, in the eel 115, and in the
shark 207.
Though Fishes have no chest, and require none, since
their respiratory organs are gills, all of them are not void
of ribs. The ray, shark, syngnathus, tetraodon, diodon, cy-
ive
Otti
V\
ebrs
■arj
ANATOMY.
17
ompara-
tive
natomy.
clopterus, jistularia, «Src. have indeed no vestige of rib.
But in the sturgeon, balista, eel, uranoscopus, pleuronectes,
sea-wolf, and dory, they are in the shape of short rudi-
mental processes; in the trigla and loricaria their sides are
|ie head,
anium.
posterior margin of their aperture. This belt consists of Compara-
a single bone on each side, articulated to the posterior- tive
superior angle of the cranium, and uniting below the Anatomy,
breast with that of the opposite side. This bone, which
horizontal; in the perch, carp, pike, and chetodon, they may be regarded as a scapula, varies in shape and the f^ctoral
encompass nearly the whole upper region of the abdomi- angle which it forms with its fellow in different species. '
nal cavity ; and, lastly, in the silver-fish {zeus vomer), the In fishes flattened vertically, the angle of union is acute;
herring, rhomboidal salmon, &c. they are united to a in those which are depressed, the angle is so obtuse as to
sternum. In the little animal named sea-horse (syngna- form nearly a straight line. In many fishes, especially
thus hippocampus), several series of osseous tubercles of those of the order Thoracici, e.g. pleuronectes, coitus, zeus,
the skin, surrounding the body like belts, are supposed to chetodon, perch, &c., in the small unicorn (balista), and
others, the superior part forms a large spine, which de¬
scends immediately behind the fin, and to which the ad¬
ductor muscles are attached. This spine, which is mov¬
able, has been improperly named a clavicle.
The rays by which the membrane is supported are not
represent false ribs. The sternum is limited to a small
number of Fishes. Besides those already mentioned, in
the dory there is a series of minute flat bones disseminat¬
ed along the lower edge of the belly, which is supposed
to represent a rudimental sternum
In size and number the ribs vary, though in the silurus, directly articulated to this belt, but are connected by a
carp, and chetodon they are of largest proportional size ; row of minute flat bones, which may be compared to the
in the herring they are as fine as hairs. carpus in the other three classes. When the first ray of
The head in the finny tribes is more an object of zoolo- the pectoral fin, however, is thorny, as in the harness-fish
gical than anatomical description. The chief points to be (loricaria), and some species of silurus, it is articulated di-
remarked are, that the cranium forms but a small part of rectly with an osseous belt; and it is remarkable that some
the head; that the orbits are separated by a some- fishes, as the silurus and stickle-back, have the power of
times membranous, occasionally, as in the wolf-fish, bony; retaining this spinous ray erected against the body as a
and that there is on each side a large movable bone, cor¬
responding to the quadrilateral of Birds, not square,
however, but oblong, which supports not only the lower
jaw and palatine arches, but the gill-cover. In the car¬
tilaginous fishes the sutures are early obliterated, and the
cranium consists of an inseparable mass of cartilage. In
the bony fishes the cranium is separable into numerous
pieces, and in the perch they amount to 80. In the cra¬
nium of fishes the anatomist recognises more distinctly
than in the superior orders the formation according to the
vertebral type. Small in proportion to the whole head,
the cranium appears like a direct continuation of the ver¬
tebral column. In the osseous division of the class es¬
pecially, the cranium may be distinguished into the occi¬
pital or posterior vertebra, the spheno-parietal or middle,
means of defence. This is effected by a cylindrical tu¬
bercle, on which the spinous ray is articulated by a hol¬
low, bounded before and behind by an elevated process.
When the spine is erected, the anterior process, entering
a hole in the cylindrical tubercle, is locked in it by the
spine revolving slightly on its axis, so that it cannot be
inflected unless by the spine revolving in the opposite di¬
rection.
The pectoral fins are so long that they answer the pur- Pterygoid
pose of wings in several species of trigla, the trigla hi- pectoral
rundo, the flying gurnard (trigla volitans), the springing ^ns-
gurnard (trigla evolans,) in the scorpcena volitans, the
tropical flying fish (exoccetus volitans), and some others.
Their situation also is liable
Icomo-
jRe mem-
l(j-s or fins.
to vary. In the exoccetus
_ they are near the gills, but in the blennius and others they
and the frontal or facial vertebra. I he cavity thus formed are remote. Lastly, they are totally wanting in a small
is very small; yet small as it is, it is not exactly filled by number only, as the lamprey (petromyzon), the hag-fish
the brain, between which and the bones there is inter- (myxine, Lin.; gastrobranchus), the murcenu, the eel genus,
posed a pellucid fluid, contained in fine cellular tissue, the sphagobranchus, &c.
I he cranium of the osseous fishes also is widest between The abdominal or ventral fins, which correspond to the Abdominal
the ears, because the organ of hearing is contained within pelvic extremities of the other classes, are so denominated or ventral
its cavity with the brain. In the cartilaginous it is quite because in the majority of fishes they are situate below
different. the belly, and nearer the anal outlet than the pectoral. By
1 hough Fishes are destitute of extremities similar to this circumstance a numerous order are distinguished by
the name of Abdominal Fishes (Abdominales).
In a small number of fishes, comprehending the gadus,
blennius, kurtus, callionymus, trachinus, and uranosco-
those possessed by the other three classes of the Verte-
brata, they are not, however, without locomotive mem¬
bers. The thoracic extremities are represented by the
Ihtoral
f
pectoral fins, and the pelvic by the ventral. In short, pus, the ventral fins are placed under the throat, below
it may be said that the bones of the thoracic and abdomi- the aperture of the gills, and before the pectoral fins,
nal extremities are converted into osseous rays in the This order is therefore distinguished by the name of Ju-
finny tribes. gulares.
In the Ray genus, in which the wing-like disposition of In the most numerous order of all, the ventral fins are
the pectoral fins gives the body a rhomboidal shape, they situate behind and below the pectoral fins. These have
consist of numerous radiating cartilaginous lines, all at- therefore been denominated Thoracic Fishes (Thora-
taehed to a cartilage parallel to the spine, divisible into
two or three others, and articulated above to another ad¬
herent to the spine. Below there is a strong transverse
bar common to the cartilages of both fins, and separat¬
ing at once the sternum and clavicle. This transverse
bar is also seen in the shark tribe ; but their pectoral
fins, which are much smaller, are not articulated with the
spine
cici).
The ventral fins consist of two parts—one formed of
rays covered by a double membrane, apparent externally,
and constituting the proper ventral fin ; the other internal,
representing the coxal bones of the pelvis, always support¬
ing the pinnal rays, and often articulated with the bones
of the trunk. It is never articulated^ however, with the
spine, nor does it form an osseous belt round the abdo-
Iq the osseous fishes, and in many others usually re- men. The bones of which it consists are generally flat
ferred to the cartilaginous division, e. g. the balista, the - tened, varying in shape, and in mutual contact by the in¬
pectoral fins are fixed to an osseous belt, which sur- ternal margin. In the shark and ray genera only is there
rounds the body behind the gills, and which supports the a single transverse bone, nearly cylindrical, to the extre-
vol. in. c
18
ANATOM Y.
Compara- mities of which the fins are attached. The direction of
tiye the pelvic plane to the walls of the abdomen varies ac-
^Anatomy. corc|jng shape of the body of the fish. In the fiat
Ventral ^iey are directed obliquely, and their inner margin
fins. forms the keel of the belly. In fishes with a broad or cy¬
lindrical belly they form a plane more or less horizontal.
In the Jugular and Thoracic Fishes, the pelvic
bones are always articulated with the base of the belt
which sustains the pectoral fins; and they vary much in
shape and situation.
In the trachinus, uranoscopus, cottm, scicena, chetodon,
and perch, these two bones are united by their inner mar¬
gin. In the cuckoo-gurnard, in which they are united by
the posterior tip only of their internal margin, they are
broad, flat, and oval. In the sole and flounder genus (pleu-
ronectes), in which the fins are attached to their anterior
tip, they are united in a quadrangular pyramid, the apex
of which is directed backwards and upwards, and the
base forwards. In some of the stickle-backs these bones
are altogether separate, and being long, receive in their
middle a movable spine, which supplies the place of the
ventral fin. In the dory (zeus faber, L.) they are flat and
triangular, in mutual contact by their whole surface. In
the silver-fish (zeus vomer) they are small and cylindrical.
In the whole of the Abdominal order, on the contrary,
the pelvic bones are equally unconnected with the bones
of the shoulder and with the osseous belt of the pectoral
fins, and are confined to the middle-inferior part of the
belly, not far from the anus. In general these two bones
are separate from each other, and are retained in their si¬
tuation by ligaments. In the carp, in which they are
elongated, they touch only by their posterior third. In the
herring, in which they are small and approximated, they
are continuous with the minute bones of the sternum. In
the pike they are broad and trilateral, approximated by
their anterior tips, separate behind where the fin is at¬
tached. In the silurus, in which they are united, they
form a round and often spinous shield before, while the
fins are attached to the exterior-posterior margin. Last¬
ly, in the cuirassier or harness-fish (loricaria), the pelvic
bones are united in one piece, the posterior notch of which
forms the anal aperture, while the fins are attached to its
external margin.
The proper fin consists of a certain number of osseous
rays, simple or bifid, supported by one or two rows of mi¬
nute bones placed between them and the pelvic bones.
On these small bones the constituent rays move, diverging
or converging like the rods of a fan, while the whole fin
may be inflected or extended by the minute bones moving
on the pelvic, so as to adduct or abduct the fin.
In the cartilaginous fishes the structure is different. To
the tip of each pelvic bone are articulated two principal
cartilages, one external, forming a kind of toe with seven
or eight joints; the other internal, supporting all the other
rays of the fin, which often exceed thirty in number.
Analogy or If we suppose these bones, like the minute ones of the
unity of pectoral fin, to represent the tarsus of the other three
Principle in c]asseS) must follow that, in the locomotive extremi ties,
3msa- the humerus, with the ulna and radius, and the femur,
with the tibia and fibula, are obliterated. It is not un¬
important to observe, that the general structure of the
Vertebrata tends through various transitions to this ter¬
mination. In the Amphibia the long bones of the extre¬
mities are shortened by removing the diaphysis, and leaving
their articulating ends only. In the Cetacea the pelvic
extremities are removed altogether. In the Cheloniad
and Saurial Reptiles the same long bones of the extre¬
mities are much abridged; and in the Ichthyoid Rep¬
tiles, now extinct, but sharing by their structure a form
of animal existence partaking of the reptile and fish at
once, and perhaps intermediate between the two, this ab- Compara. t
breviation is carried perhaps to its greatest possible degree, bve
in leaving the articular ends only of the four locomotive '^nat0U1^ A
extremities. Lastly, this reduction is merely prepara-P
tory to that exhibited in the whole class of Fishes, in
which the three longitudinal bones so conspicuous in the
higher classes of animals are completely obliterated, and
those representing the hand or forepaw and foot are arti- v
culated directly to the shoulder and pelvic bones. L
Besides the bones already mentioned as constituting ti
the skeleton, there are observed in the osseous fishes n
minute bones, generally fork-like in shape, disseminated
through all the muscular parts of the body. The purpose
of these bones, which, as being totally insulated from the
other parts of the skeleton, are denominated ossicula mus¬
culorum, is chiefly to afford points of support; and they
are probably to be regarded as rudimental representatives
of osseous parts, more completely developed in the higher
animals.
It is further a curious circumstance, that the skeleton, Violation
which is so symmetrical in all the other classes and orders, of the law
begins to exhibit a deviation from this first in the skele-
ton of the finny tribes. In the Sole genus (Pleuronectes)
this deviation is very conspicuous. Both eyes are placed
on the same side of the mesial plane; and the side on
which the eyes are placed is broader than the opposite
one. The former is bounded by a convex margin, the lat¬
ter by a concave one. The orbit towards the former is
large, the other small and imperfect. Conversely, it is to
be observed, that in the latter the maxillary and intermax¬
illary bones are larger than in the former. The sides of
the inferior jaw are less discordant; and though in the
Sole and Plaice those of the eyeless side are more straight
and elongated than those of the other, in the Turbot (Pku-
ronectes maximus) they are nearly symmetrical.
CHAP. II.—COMPARATIVE MYOLOGY.
Though this is the proper place to consider the pecu¬
liarities of the muscular system of animals, the limits as¬
signed to this sketch will not allow us to enter into de¬
tails. We shall merely, therefore, take a cursory view of
those points in which the myology of the lower animals
differs from that of the human subject.
In general, in the lower animals, especially the Mam¬
malia, Birds, and Reptiles, the muscles correspond in
situation to those of the human subject; and whatever
modifications they undergo consist in changes of figure,
and in some few instances in changes in attachment. The
former kind of changes may be in all cases pretty accu¬
rately estimated by the osteological characters of the class,
order, or genus; for when the position, shape, or direc¬
tion of a bone is altered, in the same proportion nearly
are the attached muscles altered in their attributes.
Though in the lower animals, however, the zootomist Deficiencr
traces muscles in general quite analogous to those of the in number,
human subject, in several instances this analogy ceases to
be observed. In general the muscles of the lower animals
are less numerous than those of the human subject; and
this deficiency in number, though not much observed in
the Quadrumana, is very remarkable in all the inferior
orders of the Mammalia, and still more in the Birds
and Reptiles. In general, also, these variations are most
conspicuous in the locomotive extremities. Thus the
small pectoral muscle, which is present in the Quadru¬
mana, is wanting in the Carnivora and the whole of
the Ungulated Animals and the Reptiles. The short
supinator is present in the Canine and Feline genera, but
the long is wanting; and both are absent in the Chirop-
tera, Rodentia, Pachydermata, Ruminantia, and
M
IF
iir
II
ANATOMY.
19
)]«n
v\
)1
il
0
ion
la«
m.
«
ii
n
Jompara- Solidungula, and in the whole class of Birds. Both
tivc pronators (teres and qimdratus) are present in the Qua-
drum ana and Carnivora, but wanting in the Chirop-
tera, Ruminants, and Solidungula. The Rabbit, and
perhaps the Rodentia generally, have the pronator teres ;
but as the radius is not very movable, its influence is
trifling.
fyological In the mole the rhomboideus is inserted into the cervi-
pculiari- cal ligament, which is ossified; and it therefore elevates
esofthe head and neck on the scapula with singular force.
,0 e‘ This is effected still more remarkably by the occipital
part of the rhomboideus, the fibres of which being parallel
to the spine, pass below the proper rhomboideus to be
attached to the transverse ligament and the middle of the
cranium. The strong, thick, quadrangular collar-bone has
two muscles, a supradavius and a subclavius. The large
pectoral is very thick, and nearly as large as in birds.
The common extensor of the fingers or fore toes is the
only muscle which is common to man and all the quadru¬
peds. Of the proper extensors the horse has two on the
side of the common extensor, but acting as an extensor
of the fore pastern ; another between the common exten¬
sor and the extensor of the pastern, and which seems
merely an appendage to the former. The proper extensor
of the index is wanting in the Rodentia, Ruminants,
and Solidungula ; and while the two latter orders are
destitute of the long and short extensors of the thumb,
and the feline, canine, ursine, and leporine have the
former, they are destitute of the latter. Lastly, the lower
animals are wholly destitute of the short muscles of the
hand, which in man produce flection, abduction, adduc¬
tion, and opposition. In the Ghiroptera only is there
one extensor, and flexors of the fore toes.
Among the muscles of the pelvic extremities the glu-
tmus maximus, or large muscle of the buttock in man, di¬
minishes much in the Quadrumana ; and in the other
orders is reduced to a very small size. The buttock in
the Mammalia generally consists chiefly of the glutceus
mediiis and minimus ; and while the glutceus maximus is in
the horse in a great part aponeurotic, the g. medius is so
large as to produce those forcible and sudden extensions
of the hind leg which constitute the kick.
In the leg the sartorius of the horse, the animal in
which the muscles have been most studied, is large, and
is distinguished by the name of the long adductor, in op¬
position to the gracilis, which constitutes the short ad¬
ductor. The muscle representing the biceps of man is in
all quadrupeds a uniceps, and the single head is attached
to the ischium only. In the horse and dog it has been
denominated the vastus longus.
The gastrocnemius externus etinternus (gemellus), which
constitute the calf of the human subject, diminish consi¬
derably in the lower animals; and the solceus, which is
placed belotv them, also becomes small, and is particu¬
larly slender in the Ruminants and Solidungula.
luscles The following muscles are wanting in the whole class
■ birds! ®IRDS• The diaphragm, the recti abdominis, and the
T ‘ pyramidales; the muscles of the dorsal part of the spine,
the splenitis, the brachialis externus, or third head of the
triceps ; the supinators of the fore arm or wing, as already
mentioned, all those corresponding to the short muscles
of the hand and fingers; the quadratus lumborum, the
psoas parvus, the psoas magnus, iliacus internus, obturator
externus, and the extensor longus pollieis pedis.
Two muscles, which occupy the situation of the prona¬
tors, act as flexors, showing the connection between the
actions of inflection and pronation, and the occasional
substitution of the latter for the former.
In tins class, also, the glutccus maximus is of a pyra¬
midal shape, while the true pyriforinis is wanting. The
glutceus minimus, which is attached to the anterior edge Cotnpara-
of the iliac bones, is the iliacus. In place of the pectineus tive
there is a slender muscle, which extends to the knee, Anatomy.
over which its tendon passes, and gliding behind the leg,
its tendon is bifurcated, one slip going back to be inserted
into the posterior part of the metatarsus, the other to be
united to the perforated flexor of the first and last toe.
This muscle, which is named the accessory femoral flexor,
is the one by which birds are enabled to clasp a perch
during sleep.
In Birds the great pectoral is a remarkable muscle in Muscles
point of size. It consists indeed of three muscles, thelis^hi
large pectoral, the middle, and the small, which occupy 'in£’
the sides of the vertical crest of the sternum, and consti¬
tute what is named the breast of the animal; and which
are chiefly employed in the energetic motion of the wings
in flying. These muscles are sometimes so large that
they weigh more than all the other muscles of the animal
together. In birds which fly much they are dark coloured
and firm; in those which fly little, as the domestic poul¬
try, they are white coloured, and in general soft. The
same distinction is observed in the muscles of the two ex¬
tremities. In birds much on the wing these muscles are
dark coloured and firm, while those of the legs are com¬
paratively lighter and more tender; and, conversely, in
birds little on the wing and mostly on the legs, as the
domestic poultry and many of the Grallce, the waders,
swimmers, &c. the muscles of the wings are light coloured
and tender, while those of the legs are dark coloured, firm,
and strong.
The flexor muscles of the leg and toes of Birds merit Mecha-
notice. They consist of muscles corresponding to thenism f
long flexors, which are divided into three masses. Thefiercain«'
first consists of five portions, three of which may be re¬
garded as constituting a single common perforated flexor.
It rises by two bellies, one attached to the external con¬
dyle of the femur, forming a perforated tendon, which
receives one of those of the muscle corresponding to the
peronceus; the other to the posterior surface of the fe¬
mur, forming the tendons of the index and small toe.
This muscle is further connected by intermediate fibres
with the accessory femoral flexor,—a muscle placed on
the internal surface of the thigh, and sending its tendon
over the knee; and as the tendons are inserted into the
unguinal phalanges, when the accessory femoral bends
the thigh the flexors of the toes inflect them also, and
retain them in the inflected position. By means of this
arrangement birds are enabled to clasp a perch or other
small body when roosting, without continued muscular
effort, and thereby to sleep on the perch. This mode of
explanation, which was originally given by Borelli, has
been controverted by Vicq d’Azyr; but apparently not
On good grounds.
Among the class of Reptiles, while the muscles of the
Ophidial family are confined to those of the vertebra:
and rudimental ribs, in the Cheloniad these are oblite¬
rated, and the muscles of the neck, head, and tail, and
those of the locomotive extremities alone, are left. In
the other two classes of reptiles the muscles are in gene¬
ral analogous to those of the Mammalia.
There are nut many instances of muscles which, though Cutaneous
unknown in man, are found in the lower animals. Ofmuscle.
these the most remarkable are the cutaneous muscle (pan-
niculus carnosus), and the suspensory of the eye. The
former was absurdly maintained to exist in the human
subject, especially by Nicolaus Massa ; but it is manifest
that the assertion was derived from the dissection of the
lower animals only. It was not long after demonstrated
by Charles Etienne, that no fleshy pannicle or cutaneous
muscle exists, sUch as is found in the lower animals; ami
ANATOMY.
20
Compara- tlmt the only cutaneous muscles in man are the latis-
Uve simus colli, the epicranius or scalp-muscle, and those
Anatomy, are attached to the face, and which by their mo-
tion give expression to the countenance. The cutaneous
muscle even is not found in the Quadrumana, nor does
it exist in the pig. In various other animals, however,
it is found in different degrees of distinctness. It is
very well marked in the hedgehog and porcupine;—by its
means they have the power of erecting their spines, and
rolling themselves up;—and in the armadillo and the ant-
eater tribe. In the mole, also, we have seen it pretty well
marked.
Suspen- It is an interesting fact, that Galen originally observed
sory mus- that the lower animals possess a seventh muscle of the
cle of the eyej or one more than man. The suspensory or infundi-
to certain1 hular muscle (musculus choanoides), as it has been named,
animals. fr°m its shape, especially in the Ruminants and Soli-
dungula, has the apex fixed to the margin of the optic
hole, and its base inserted a little behind the four straight
muscles. In the Zoophaga and Cetacea it consists of
four parts, so that these orders appear to be provided
with 8 straight muscles. In the rhinoceros it consists of
two portions.
Tail, There is yet another part, the muscles of which can
scarcely be said to exist in the human subject, but which
attain a very great degree of developement in the lower
animals. The coccyx of the human subject is expanded
in the lower animals into a highly flexible prolongation
denominated the tail (cauda), variable in length, but al¬
ways consisting of separate vertebrae, articulated and
movable on each other. While the coccyx of the human
subject possesses two muscles only, the ischio-coccygeus
and sacro-coccygeas, which are so insignificant in size that
they scarcely serve to move the part, the caudal verte¬
brae of the lower animals are moved by muscles greatly
larger, more numerous, and more powerful.
The tail is to animals a much more useful and power¬
ful organ than the coccyx to man. It is a member which
peculiarly belongs to them; and though in ordinary cir¬
cumstances pendulous, it is made to assume a variety of
motions of which no other organ is susceptible, and to
perform duties which would be otherwise impracticable.
With many, as the long-tailed monkeys, the sloths, the
ant-eater, and the squirrel tribes, it is indispensable as an
organ of prehension. The majority of animals, as the
Ruminants, Solidungula, &c. use it as a whip or lash to
drive away insects. The lion, tiger, and others of the
feline tribe, lash their sides with it when enraged. The
Cetaceous swimmers employ it as a rudder and oar in the
waters. The beaver uses it as a trowel, to enable him to
construct his clay-built dwelling. An organ employed
so variously must consist of a muscular apparatus rather
complex.
and caudal The different motions of which the tail of the Mamma-
muscles. lia is susceptible may be referred to three heads,—one
by which it is extended or elevated, another by which it
is inflected or depressed, and a third by which it is made
to beat the sides. The combination or succession of these
motions gives rise to secondary ones more complex in
character. It may be twisted on its axis, or turned in a
spiral direction. These motions are effected by three
classes of muscles.
ls£, The muscles which raise the tail are situate above ;
they are muscidi sacro-coccygcei superiores. Commenc¬
ing at the base of the articular processes of the 3 or 4
last lumbar vertebrae, or those of the sacrum and the cau¬
dal vertebrae, by fleshy slips, they are connected to ten¬
dons, which are inserted into the base of the first of the
caudal vertebrae, which are void of articular processes.
The second tendon goes to the next following vertebra,
and so on to the 13th, each contained in a ligamentous Conipara-
groove, which forms an investment. The muscles of both tive
sides acting together, elevate or incurvate the tail up-
wards.
The interspinalis and spinalis obliquus or lumbo-sacro-
coccygeal are the continuations of the interspinales dorsi
et lumborum. The spinous processes, however, becoming
indistinct, or being represented by two tubercles, the at¬
tachments vary.
2d, The muscles which depress or inflect the tail down¬
wards take their origin within the pelvis, and are pro¬
longed to various extents along the inferior surface of
the tail. Of these there are four pairs, the ileo-coccygeal
of Vicq d’Azyr, the inferior sacro-coccygeal, the inter-coc¬
cygeal muscles, and the pubo-coccygeal of the same author.
The insertions of these muscles vary in different genera,
according to the number of vertebrae of which the tail
consists. The pubo-coccygeal is wanting in the raccoon,
but it is distinct in the dog and opossum. The effect of
the ileo-coccygeal and it, is to depress the tail and apply
it forcibly to the anus.
3d, There are only two muscles which carry the tail to
the sides of the animal—the ischio-coccygceus externus, and
the intertransversalis of Vicq d’Azyr; the former proceed¬
ing from the pelvic surface of the ischium below and be¬
hind the acetabidum, to the transverse processes of the cau¬
dal vertebrae, the second extending in a continued band
between all the transverse processes.
The tail, therefore, in the Mammalia, consists of a
series of successively decreasing vertebrae, moved by eight
pairs of muscles.
In Fishes it is not easy to trace any analogy between
the muscles and those of the other classes. Though the
spine, head and fins, have appropriate muscular bundles,
the natural or fascial distinctions are less evident than in
the other three classes. It is important, however, to re¬
mark, that while the muscles which move the spinal co¬
lumn are placed in these classes, partly before, and chief¬
ly behind the vertebrae, those of Fishes are placed on
each side. Hence the lateral motion of the spine, which
is inconsiderable in Mammiferous animals, Birds, and
Reptiles, becomes very conspicuous in the finny tribes,
especially in the motion of swimming, while the antero¬
posterior inflection or extension is altogether insignificant.
It is almost superfluous to remark, that, in the greater
part of the finny tribes, the muscles are white or pale
coloured. In a few only, for instance the salmon, trout,
gwiniad (coregonus'), herring (ciupea harengus), carp (cy-
prinus), and some others, are the muscular fibres of a pale
flesh red. The circumstances on which these differences
depend are not known; but it is supposed that in the
latter sorts the proportion of oleo-albuminous matter is
more abundant than in the former. The proportion of
albumen, however, in the muscles of fish, seems in general
to be small. They abound in gelatine and isinglass; and
in some of the cartilaginous fishes especially, the greater
part of the muscles seem to consist chiefly of gelatine in
various degrees of consistence. This is particularly the
case with the lamprey, the hag-fish (myxine glutinosd),
and even with the sturgeon. The sterlet especially (aci-
penser Ruthenus), a small species of sturgeon found in the
rivers of Russia, both European and Asiatic, abounds in
gelatine ; and the presence of this principle enables the
inhabitants to use it in the preparation of a species of
soup, the sterlet, which is esteemed a great delicacy. In
some of the genus Pleuronectes this principle is also very
abundant. Thus the Plaice {Pleuronectes Platessd), sole
(P. iSb/m), and especially the turbot (P. Maximus), con¬
tain a considerable proportion of gelatine. On the pro¬
portion of this principle depends the quality of fish used
CL. ^
ANATOMY. 21
Cmpara- as an article of food in nourishing without exciting. All
tive fishes which abound in gelatine uncombined with oleo-al-
atomy, buminous matter may be safely used as articles of food;
while those in which the latter ingredients predominate
are invariably eaten with the risk of disordering the sto¬
mach and producing indigestion.
CHAP. III.—COMPARATIVE iESTHIOLOGY, OR THE COM¬
PARATIVE ANATOMY OF THE ORGANS OF SENSATION.
SECT. I. THE ORGAN OF SMELL.
The organ of smell consists of the nasal cavities, those
of the ethmoidal and turbinated bones, and the frontal,
sphenoidal, and superior maxillary sinuses, all of which
communicate with the nasal. The whole of these parts
are invested by fine periosteum, lined by mucous mem¬
brane. The ethmoid bone is the essential organ of smell;
and the others appear simply to multiply the extent of
the membrane.
The ethmoid bone consists of a perforated plate, with
a middle vertical one attached at right angles to it, and
lateral portions composed of thin bony plates convoluted
with various degrees of complexity and minuteness in
Ipmoid different orders and genera of animals. These convoluted
c4s. plates form what are denominated the ethmoidal cells.
They may be represented as numerous tortuous canals,
proceeding from the perforated plate forwards and out¬
wards, approximating mutually, and forming numerous
communicating cavities. Such nearly is the structure of
these plates in the Edentata, Ruminantia, Solidun-
gula, Pachydermata, and Carnivora, the last of
which have more complicated cells than the first. In the
dog they are numerous and extensive. In the Rodentia,
for instance the porcupine, they are few—not above 3 or
4 on each side.
In Birds the internal side of each nostril is occupied
by three orders of plates; the inferior turbinated or
spongy bone; the middle, consisting of one plate convo¬
luted on itself two turns and a half; and the upper, shaped
like a bell, adhering to the frontal and lacrymal bones.
These form three tortuous passages, varying in size and
tortuosity in different genera. Though generally carti¬
laginous, these turbinated bones are membranous in the
cassowary and albatross, and bony in the calao and
toucan.
In the nostrils of Reptiles there are convoluted pro¬
minent plates, which, however, are merely membranous
productions, unsupported by any bone.
In the Fishes, in like manner, there are membranous
folds, the disposition of which is tortuous. They are,
however, more regularly arranged than in the other
classes. In the cartilaginous fishes they consist of semi¬
lunar folds placed in parallel tracts on each side of a
broad plate, which divides the one side of the nasal cavity
from the other. In the sturgeon, however, they are ar¬
ranged in diverging plates, which are subdivided into
more minute ones, like the branches of a tree. In the
osseous fishes generally they consist of radiating plates
disposed round a prominent central tubercle.
In these three classes the olfactory nerve is distributed
to the membrane much in the same manner. This nerve,
however, does not proceed farther than the superior tur¬
binated bones; and the middle and inferior appear to be
supplied with filaments of the fifth pair, the naso-oph-
thalmic branch of which is distributed to the nose in all
the vertebrated animals. In the Mammalia, further, the
spheno-palatine ganglion sends several filaments to the
posterior part of the narine membrane.
By most zootomical authors the trunk of the elephant
has been described as an organ of smell peculiar to that
animal. We are satisfied, however, from observing the mo- Compara-
tions of this body in the living animal, that it is an organ, tive
not of smell, but of prehension. Cuvier, after adopting ^natomy-
the ordinary view, has relinquished it, and, on the ground
of personal inspection, admits that the sense of smell in
the elephant is confined, as in other animals, to that por¬
tion of the nasal cavities which is contained within the
bones of the head. The trunk of the elephant, therefore,
will with greater propriety be noticed under a subsequent
head.
The nasal cavities of the Cetaceous animals are not
so much organs of smell as channels of respiration, and
must also be noticed afterwards. It is sufficient here to
remark, that in these animals the part of the cranium cor¬
responding to the ethmoid bone is penetrated by no aper¬
ture, or, in other words, is not an ethmoid bone. It has
therefore been asserted that the Cetacea have no olfac¬
tory nerve, and no sense of smell. This, however, is by
no means established. Blainville and Jacobsen have ob¬
served in the dolphin nerves which they regard as olfacient;
and Treviranus delineates nerves of the same character.
By Otto and Rudolph!, on the contrary, who have had
frequent opportunities of dissecting the dolphin and whale,
the existence of these nerves is denied.
Though almost all the invertebrated animals give proofs Smell in
of the existence of the sense of smell, in none of them do inverte-
we find any organ in which this sensation appears with brated uni-
certainty to be exercised. That these animals possessmals’
the faculty of smell, is inferred from the fact, that insects
recognise their food at a distance; that male butterflies
scent the female even when inclosed in cages ; and that
the ordinary flesh-fly deposits her eggs on tainted meat,
and occasionally on fetid plants, in the belief that they
are the proper nidus, though in the latter case the larvce
perish for want of the necessary sustenance.
Since odorous particles are evidently applied to the ol¬
factory membrane of all aeropnoic animals by the me¬
dium of the atmosphere, and since the organ of smell is
therefore situate in connection with the wind-pipe, it was
conjectured by Raster, that, in insects at least, the organ
of smell is situate at the entrance of the tracheae or air-
tubes. This conjecture derives some probability from the
fact, that the inner tracheal membrane in these animals is
soft and moist, and that those in which it is expanded
into convoluted lacunae and tortuous vesicles, for instance
beetles, flies, and bees, are remarkable for the nicety of
their sense of smell.
The antennae, in which this sense has been placed by
some anatomists, appear to be rather organs of touch than
of smell.
In the Mollusca the whole cutaneous covering seems
to combine the character of an organ of touch or tact,
and of smell. Like an extensive pituitary membrane, it
is soft, villous, moist, and liberally supplied with nerves.
The Articulata and Zoophytes seem much in the same
state. But on all these points information is rather con¬
jectural than positive.
SECT. II. THE EYES ; THE ORGANS OF VISION.
All red-blooded animals, without exception, are pro¬
vided with two movable eyes, consisting of the same es¬
sential parts as those of man, forming globular organs, and
placed in the cranio-facial cavities named orbits. In none
are there more or fewer; and the exceptions to the general
rule, either in relation to the presence of these organs,
or number, are only apparent. Among the Mammalia, Blind
indeed, there are two instances of blindness,—in the though not
or blind rat (Mus typhlus, Lin.; Spalax typhlus, Pall.), and eyeless
the golden mole (Talpa Asiatica, Lin.; Chrysochloris,aniITials-
Lacep. and Cuvier). But in neither of these animals are
22
ANATOMY.
Anatomy.
Compara- the eyes absolutely wanting; they are merely very mi-
tire nute, and covered by a thin fold of hairy skin, in which
there is said to be no aperture. Much in the same man¬
ner the murmna coecilia, and the hag-fish (inyxine, Lin.,
gastrobranchus emeus), though provided with eyes, are de¬
prived of the use of these organs by the opacity of the con¬
junctiva. In the Anableps (Cobitis Anableps, Lin.), the
cornea and iris are biparted by transverse bands, so as to
give the animal the appearance of having two pupils in
each eye, though the crystalline lens, vitreous humour,
and retina, are single. This animal affords the only ex¬
ample of this structure among the vertebrated animals;
but a similar arrangement is observed in the Cephalopo-
dous Mollusca and cuttle-fish family.
The general shape of the eye depends on the medium
in which the animal lives. It is nearly spherical, or ap¬
proaching the spherical shape, in man and the quadrupeds
moving along the surface of the earth; that is, in the
lowest and most dense region of the atmosphere. The
cornea merely forms a slight convexity, in consequence of
being the segment of a smaller sphere than the rest of
the eyeball; yet in the porcupine, opossum, &c., this
difference is inconsiderable. To show the degree of this
convexity, it is merely requisite to compare the axis or
antero-posterior diameter with the transverse diameter of
the ball, as exhibited in the following table:—
Figure of
the eye-
hall.
Axis and
diameter.
Axis. Tr. Diam.
Whale  C 11
Porpoise  2....  3
Owl 13 12
Vulture 13 16
Man and ape 137 136
Dog  24  25
Horse  24  25
Ox  20  21
According to the measurements of the younger Soem¬
mering, the axis of the human eye, taken in a beautiful
Tyrolese girl of 20, is to the transverse diameter as 100
to 95; that of the eye of the magot (simia inuus) as 85
to 84 ; and that of the bat (vespertilio auritus) as 12 to 11.
In the raccoon (ursns lotor) and lynx (fells lynx') alone the
axis is exactly equal to the diameter. In all the other ver¬
tebrated animals, it is, as in the measurements of Cuvier,
less than the transverse diameter at the rate of from 9 to
33 or 45 per cent. In the horse it is as 186 to 212, in
the seal as 130 to 142, in the Indian elephant as 135 to
180, and in the black whale (balocna mysticetus) as 20 to
29. In the owl it is as 17 to 18, in the golden falcon as
14^ to 16, in the ostrich as 18 to 19^, and in the swan as
7 to 10. In the Reptiles and Fishes it is always less at
the rate of from 3 to nearly 10 per cent. In the cuttle-fish,
which may be taken as a general example of the inverte-
brated classes, it is much greater, the axis being to the
diameter as 80 to 57. (D. W. Soemmering de Oculorum
Hominis Animaliumque Sectione Horizontali Commentatio.
Goetting. 1818, fob)
In Fishes and the Cetacea which inhabit the sea, the
anterior part of the eyeball is much more flattened, and
in many fishes it resembles a hemisphere with the plane
surface before and the convex behind. In the ray genus
the superior part is also flat, so as to give the eye the ap¬
pearance of the quadrant of a sphere, cut through two
large circles perpendicular to each other. In some fishes,
especially the burbot ( Gadus Lotaj, the cornea is convex.
In Birds which occupy the elevated regions of the at¬
mosphere, the deviation from the spherical shape is in the
direction opposite to that of fishes. On the anterior part,
which is sometimes flat, sometimes shaped like a truncat¬
ed cone, is chased a short cylinder, closed by a very con¬
vex, and occasionally hemispherical cornea, always be-
longing to a much smaller sphere than the posterior con¬
vexity. bonoiJaom vkuoiymo ad) ni fiedt !■ H •
Aqueous These differences in shape depend on the proportion be-
humour. tween the density of the medium in which the animals live
and that of the aqueous humour. In the higher regions of Compara.
the atmosphere, in which the air is very much rarefied, the tive
refracting power of the aqueous humour is much more con- ^ato^7;
siderable than at the surface, occupied by quadrupeds; ^
and hence it is more abundant in the former than in the
latter class. Its refracting power, however, would be
almost extinguished in a watery medium, from which it
could differ but little in density ; and hence it is either
trifling or absolutely wanting in the inhabitants of the
deep. In the cuttle-fish family it is entirely wanting.
The crystalline lens in Fishes, which is nearly spheri¬
cal, projects through the pupil, and leaves little room for
the aqueous humour. The lens is also very convex in the
Cetacea, the Amphibious Mammalia, the diving birds,
as the cormorant, and the marine and aquatic Reptiles.
Affecting the oblate spheroidal shape in the Mamma¬
lia, it becomes extremely so in man, and still more in
Birds. Its consistence is greatest in animals in which it
is most convex ; and hence it is matter of common obser¬
vation, that the crystalline of fishes is particularly firm.
It also contains rather more albumen than the lens of the
Mammalia. The crystalline lens occupies least propor¬
tional space of the eyeball in man, and most in fishes.
The comparative spaces occupied by each of the hu¬
mours may be understood from the following table, in
which the axis of the eye, or the space occupied by the
whole three humours, is represented by unity.
Aqueous
Humour.
Crystalline
Humour.
Vitreous
Humour.
•37
T?
•if
Man     
Log ..sV— 58t,.........
OX       Ml
Sbeep t? T7--  
Horse    y.........
Owl 8 II 8
VJVV1 57   57   57
Herring   £  f    *
On the proportion of the total volume occupied by each
of the three transparent parts there are few accurate facts.
It may be remarked, however, that the human eye among
the Mammalia is that in which the vitreous humour
is proportionally most abundant. It is estimated to be
twenty times more copious than the aqueous. In the ox
it is only ten times, and in the sheep nine times the
quantity of the aqueous.
In the Mammalia generally, the sclerotic is compa-Sclerotic,
ratively elastic, soft, and yielding ; but in all animals in
which the eye deviates from the spherical shape, as the
Cetacea, Fishes, and Birds, this membrane is strength¬
ened by greater solidity and thickness of tissue, or sup¬
ported by accessory parts of a hard unyielding structure.
In the eye of the whale these two parts, the hard and
soft, are naturally distinguished in a very striking mariner.
The lateral parts of the sclerotic are nearly an inch thick,
and very hard. The posterior part is about one and a half
inch thick, and softer, because the spaces between the
firm fibres are filled with oily substance. The posterior
part presents for the optic nerve a canal one and a half
inch long, the walls of whiph are formed chiefly by fibres
in direct continuity with the dura mater,—-the only fact,
it may be observed, which favours the statement of the
ancient anatomists, that the sclerotic is derived from the
dura mater. The sclerotic of the porpoise, though only
two or three lines thick, has the same structure as that
of the whale. In the seal it is thick before and thicker
behind, but the middle zone is thin and flexible.
^ The sclerotic m Birds is thin, flexible, and elastic be-Osseous
hind, with a bluish glistening aspect, and without distinct zone of
fibres. The optic nerve enters, riot by a hole, but an ob-bhris?
lique cqnal. The anterior part consists of two plates, be¬
tween which is enchased a zone of thin, hard, oblong, OSse-
’'it'
ANATOMY.
23
Ompara-
tive
Jiatomy.
ail rep-
KS.
fl rnea.
(.meal
ii) usijunc-
t n.
Cioroid
ci'-nt and
liyschian
Wembrane.
ous scales, varying in number from 11 or 12 to 14 or 15,
imbricated over each other so as to give the anterior part
of the eyeball a great degree of hardness, and a figure
unsusceptible of change. Though these plates are nearly
flat in most birds, and form an annular zone slightly con¬
vex, they are broad, arched, and concave internally in the
owl gmus, and form a bell-shaped tube, with the posterior
aperture oval and the anterior round. This may be de¬
nominated the osseous ring {annulus osseus, zona ossea).
In the ostrich it is narrow and flat.
Among the Reptiles, the Cheloniads possess an osse¬
ous zone, consisting of plates inclosed in the membrane
without being continuous with its substance. They are
also found at the lateral part of the sclerotic in the cha¬
meleon and some of the Saurial Reptiles, as the Croco-
dilus Sclerops and Lucius, the monitor, and the iguana (D.
W. Soemmering). It is also an important character in the
structure of the eye of the Ichthyosaurus, which indicates
the connection of that animal with the Saurial tribe,
that its sclerotic was provided with an osseous zone, con¬
sisting, as in these, of 13 separate pieces.
In Fishes the sclerotic is cartilaginous, homogeneous,
semi-translucent, elastic, and, though thin, firm enough not
to collapse. In the ray it is expanded into a tubercle, by
which the eye is attached to a peduncle or stalk. The
sclerotic of the sturgeon is so thick that it resembles a
cartilaginous sphere, with the external part hollowed for
the humours and membranes.
In the Cephalopodous Mollusca it forms behind a
truncated cone, with the apex at the bottom of the orbit
containing the gangliform swelling of the optic nerve, and
several glandular parts, with the eye before.
The cornea has often been represented to be merely a
continuation of the sclerotic; and though this is easily
disproved by accurate dissection of the human eye and
that of our ordinary domestic animals, its inaccuracy is
much more manifestly demonstrated in the animal world
at large. In the whale and rhinoceros the margins of the
two membranes penetrate reciprocally. In man and the
ox the corneal margin is enchased within the sharp im¬
bricated edge of the sclerotic. In the tope-fish {squalus
milandra, Lin.; galeus, Cuv.) the cornea is observed dis¬
tinctly passing within the sclerotic in the manner of im¬
brication. The cuttle-fish is destitute of cornea ; and as
there is no aqueous humour, the crystalline lens is cover¬
ed by a fine thin membrane, extended beneath the con¬
junctiva.
In all animals provided with eyelids, the mucous mem¬
brane, after being folded behind the eyelids, is reflected
forwards over the sclerotic and cornea, in the form of a
thin, transparent membrane. In those void of eyelids, as
most fishes are, the skin, passing into mucous membrane,
is continued directly over the cornea, without forming
any angular fold, and adheres strongly. This is very dis¬
tinct in the eel, which may be flayed without leaving any
trace at the site of the eyes, except a round, translucent
spot. The same peculiarity is remarked in Serpents
and in the cuttle-fish family. In the zemni, golden mole,
blind eel, and hag-fish, it has been already stated that the
cornea is covered by opaque mucous membrane.
The choroid coat exists in all animals yet examined. It
is always very vascular. The inner layer, which has been
distinguished by the name of tunica Ringschiana, can scarce¬
ly be said to exist in man, small quadrupeds, and birds.
In the large quadrupeds, however, especially the Cetace¬
ous animals, it appears in the form of a distinct simple
membrane like epidermis. The lateral and anterior parts
of the membrane are always invested by a semifluid, viscid
substance, of different shades of black or brown black {pig-
mentum nigrum); chocolate brown in the hare, rabbit, and
pig; deep red brown in some birds; and purple red in Coropara-
the calmar. The absence of this dark-coloured pigment, dve
which is not unfrequent, is observed in albinos, both hu- ^riatomy.
man and animal, for instance white rabbits and white mice.
The transparency of the Ruyschian membrane then shows
the choroid of its natural red colour ; and the pupil is red
and contracted, and the eye intolerant of light.
In the Zoophaga, Ruminantia, Pachydermata, So- The ta-
lidungula, and Cetacea, the concave or inner surface PetuI?. or
of the Ruyschian membrane is diversified with colours
metallic lustre, more or less brilliant and something irides¬
cent. In the ox it is of bright metallic green, changing
to sky-blue; in the horse, buck, buffalo, and stag, it is a
silvery blue passing to violet; in the sheep of a pale golden
green, sometimes bluish ; in the lion, cat, bear, and dol¬
phin, of a pale gold yellow; and in the dog, wolf, and
badger, of a pure white, surrounded by blue. This
coloured part of the inner choroid surface, which occupies
chiefly the side opposite to that on which the optic nerve
enters, is named the tapetum. The use of it is by no
means obvious. The explanation of Monro in reference
to the tapetum of the ox, that it represents more distinct¬
ly to that animal the colour of his natural food, is not only
frivolous, but inapplicable to the other genera.
The tapetum is wanting in all Birds and Fishes, ex¬
cepting the ray, in which there is at the bottom of the eye
a beautiful silvery-coloured space, produced by the trans¬
parency of the Ruyschian tunic, through which the tint
of the choroid is seen.
In Fishes generally the choroid consists of two dis-Thecho-
tinct separable membranes; the external, the proper cho- glarul
roid, white, silvery, or golden, very thin and not vascular ;° s 1Ch'
and the inner or Ruyschian, black, and consisting of a net¬
work of vessels. Between these two membranes is a body
of a bright red colour, consisting of numerous tortuous
vessels, convoluted and inclosed in pulpy filamentous
tissue. Its general shape is that of a thin cylinder, en¬
compassing the optic nerve like a ring, which, however, is
incomplete at one side. This is the choroid gland,—a
body about Avhich there has been some difference of opi¬
nion, but which appears to be glandular rather than any
thing else. Its vascular structure is well seen in the
globe-fish, perca labrax, and cod, in which they are very
large, and form numerous anastomotic communications.
They are genei’ally covered by a white, opaque, viscid fluid.
The choroid gland is wanting in the Cartilaginous
Fishes, the eye of which approaches more nearly to that of
the Mammalia in this as in other circumstances. The
choroid of the ray and shark genera is a threefold tissue
of vessels, thick and consistent; the tunica Ruyschiana
is very thin and semi-transparent; and between these is a
layer of silvery matter with metallic lustre.
In the cuttle-fish genus, though between the sclerotic
and choroid there are several glandular bodies, there are
none between the choroid and Ruyschian tunic. The
choroid is thick, soft, and vascular; the Ruyschian thin,
firm, and dry; and though there is no tapetum, the whole
interior surface of the eye is covered by deep purple, semi¬
fluid, viscid varnish.
Ciliary processes are found in all the Mammalia, Birds, Ciliary
several Reptiles, and even in the cuttle-fish among theProce?ses
Mollusca ; but they are wanting in almost all fishes. an< ciic
The indented border of these processes is more dis¬
tinct, and is converted into a genuine fringe in the large
animals, as the ox, horse, rhinoceros, and whale, in which
the angle applied to the capsule is more acuminated than
in other animals. In the Carnivora, particularly the
lion, the base of the plates is shorter in proportion to the
other sides than in the previously mentioned animals, so
that the opposite angle is more prominent; nor is the
24
ANATOMY.
Compara¬
tive
Anatomy.
The iris
and uvea.
border indented. In all the species every third or fourth
plate is shorter than the others, but without determinate
order.
The ciliary plates of Birds are mere serrated striai,
without sufficient prominence to make them undulate in
fluid. In the owl they are fine, closely set, and nume¬
rous ; in the ostrich they are larger and more numerous;
and ill all, their extremities adhere firmly to the capsule
of the lens.
In the tortoise the ciliary processes are so short that
they are recognised only by the impression left on the vi¬
treous humour; in the crocodile, however, they are dis¬
tinct, and terminate each by an angle nearly right. They
are indistinct in the toad, and imperceptible in the ordi¬
nary lizards and serpents.
The ciliary body and processes are large and distinct
in the tope-fish; but if they are seen in any other of the car¬
tilaginous fishes, they are wholly wanting in the osseous, in
which the Ruyschian tunic is directly continuous with the
uvea.
The utility of these processes in retaining the lens in
its position is nowhere so distinctly seen as in the eye of
the cuttle-fish family, and especially the many-feet of the
ancients {polypus octopodd). In these the ciliary pro¬
cesses form a large diaphragm or zone, in the aperture of
which the crystalline lens is truly chased. They pene¬
trate a deep annular furrow which surrounds the lens,
dividing it in two unequal hemispheres, and cannot be de¬
tached without laceration.
The iris, of the same intimate structure as in man, is
of a deep tawny or brown in the Mammalia, and marked
with fewer coloured strice than the human iris. In Birds
it is of a uniform lustreless colour, varying according to
the species, bright yellow, red, or clear blue. In the
microscope it appears like a net-work formed by the in¬
tersection of numerous very minute fibres. The uvea is
so fine that when the viscid varnish is removed it be¬
comes transparent, and the iris appears of the same colour
on both sides. In Fishes, conversely, the iris is so thin
and transparent that the uvea is seen through it, of a
golden or silvery brilliance, showing its direct connection
with the choroid. Intermediate in metallic splendour is
the iris of the Reptiles. The vessels, however, are
greatly more conspicuous, especially in the crocodile.
The central aperture or pupil, though round in man, the
Quadrumana, many of the Carnivora, and Birds, is
not of that shape when contracted in all animals. In the
feline family it consists of two elliptical ^ogments, which
form angles above and below, and which approach mutu¬
ally so as to form a slit nearly vertical. In the Ruminants
it is oblong transversely, and forms at its greatest contrac¬
tion an oblong or transverse slit. In the horse, in which it
is also transverse, its upper margin is distinguished by a
five-pointed festoon. In the whale it is oblong transverse¬
ly, and in the dolphin it is heart-shaped. The pupil of the
crocodile resembles that of the cat; in the frog and gecko
it is rhomboidal; and round in the tortoise, chameleon,
and common lizards. In the ray among Fishes the upper
margin forms several radiating slips like the branches of
the palm-tree, gold-coloured without, dark within. In
the dilated state these slips are folded backwards between
the upper margin of the pupil and the vitreous humour;
but when the eye is pressed they are erected, and close
the pupil like a blind.
The motion of the pupil is voluntary in the parroquet,
and is indistinct in most of the Fishes.
The pupillary membrane is well known to exist in the
foetuses of all the Mammalia ; but it is not determined
whether it is found in the chick of birds.
On the subject of the retina in the lower animals the
most important point is the structure of the melanoplectic Compara-
or pectiniform membrane {pecten, marsupium nigrurn) of five
Birds. In this class the optic nerve forms not a round disk Anatoinv.
as in the Mammalia, but a narrow white line, the margins
and extremity of which are in continuity with the n A
Along this line is suspended a plicated or convoluted membrane
membrane, very fine and vascular in structure, like the or mamu. ’
choroid, from which, however, it is quite distinct, and en-fuim, ni.
tering a depression of the vitreous humour almost like afr"’?’ an(l
wedge. Its vessels, which proceed from a proper branchlts *0 ( s'
of the ophthalmic artery, are distributed in a minute arbo¬
rescent form, among the folds of which the marsupium con¬
sists; and from these vessels the black viscid pigment with
which its folds are covered appears to be secreted. The
plicae or membranous folds vary in number. In the casso¬
wary they are only 4; in the brown owl ( S. aluco) 5; in the
common owl, ostrich, Guiana macaw, and merganser, they
are 7 ; in the flamingo 9 ; in the falcon and swan 11; in the
vulture and goose 12 ; in the duck, large heron, woodcock,
and coot, 13; in the stork and partridge 15; in the crane
17 ; in the pheasant 20; in the turkey 22 ; in the jackdaw
25 ; and in the thrush 28. According to the observations
of the elder Soemmering, to whom we are indebted for
these numbers, the number of folds, though variable in
different species, is the same in the same. In most birds
the folds are arranged in a pectiniform order. On the use
of this organ different opinions have been entertained by
Petit, Haller, and Home ; but all of them are conjectural.
In the Reptiles and many Fishes, between the optic
nerve and the retina is a small tubercle, from the margins of
which the latter membrane appears to rise ; and radiating
fibres are perceived more distinctly than in most quadru¬
peds. In many other Fishes the connection of the reti¬
na with the optic nerves resembles that of Birds. Thus,
in the salmon, trout, herring, mackarel, cod, dory, and
moon-fish, the optic nerve, after passing through the
Ruyschian tunic, appears to be parted into two long white
processes, which, following the outline of this membrane
parallel but not contiguous to each other, are connected
with the retina by their opposite margins.
In all animals provided with ciliary processes the retina
terminates at and is connected with the gray pulpy zone
denominated ciliary ligament. In those without ciliary
processes, as the Fishes, it terminates suddenly at the
attached or large margin of the uvea.
In several of the reptiles the retina presents the yelloAv
spot of Soemmering. The principal peculiarities of the
humours have been already mentioned.
Of the appendages the most important are the lacrymal
gland and nictitating membrane.
In the Ruminants the lacrymal gland consists of two or Lacrymal
three bodies, each composed of granules, each provided glanii-
with a separate short excretory duct. In the hare and
rabbit, in which the gland is large, there appears to be
only one excretory duct, which perforates the upper eye¬
lid near its posterior angle.
A gland peculiar to certain species, and wanting in
man, that of Harder, is situate at the external or nasal
angle, and presents an aperture under the third or nicti¬
tating eyelid, from which issues a thick viscid fluid. It
is found in the Ruminants, the Rodentia, the Pachy-
dermata, and in the sloth genus.
The caruncle exists in the Ruminants as in man, and
appears to consist of numerous aggregated follicles. It is
wanting in the Rodentia.
In the Cetacea, as in most animals which live under
water, there is neither gland nor lacrymal passages; and
they are represented apparently by lacunae below the up¬
per eyelid, which discharge a thick mucilaginous fluid.
Birds, though destitute of caruncle, have both lacry-
1
'
ANA'
4>mpara- mal gland and that of Harder, the latter large, oblong,
tive and flesh-coloured, placed betwixt the levator and adductor,
inatomy. an(j discharging by a single canal, opening at the inner
surface of the third eyelid, a thick yellow fluid. The la-
2*ucipa- crymal, which is small, round, and very red, is provided
Wis Mil- in general with two or three canals, which, though small,
are distinct. In most of the Orally and Palmiped
Birds there is, in place of the lacrymal gland, a hard
granular body, occupying the upper part of the orbit, and
following in situation the curvature of the eye. It has,
nevertheless, no visible excretory duct.
In the turtle there is a reddish granular lobulated body,
of considerable size, extending beneath the temporal vault.
In the tortoise, frog, and toad, there are two small blackish
glands without apparent excretory ducts. Neither in
Serpents nor Fishes has any glandular apparatus in the
eye been recognised.
He third Though in man and the monkey tribe the eyelids
ei lid or consist of two semilunar cutaneo-muscular folds, with a
ndilating minute mucous duplicature at the nasal angle, the latter
nnnbrane.acqUjres sucfl a developement in the lower animals as to
constitute a genuine third eyelid, often distinguished by
the name of nictitating membrane. This duplicature is semi¬
lunar in shape in the Ruminants, Edentata, and Pachy-
dermata. In the rhinoceros it is thick and fleshy; but
of this the Cetacea present no trace. In the Birds, on
the contrary, in which the eye is covered by the eleva¬
tion of the lower eyelid, which is also the largest, the
third eyelid is large, and covers the eye like a blind drawn
before it; yet it is in some degree translucent, for it is
evident that birds see objects through the membrane. In
the owl and goatsucker the eye is closed by the depres¬
sion of the upper as well as the elevation of the lower
eyelid.
Though the Serpentine reptiles are void of eyelids en¬
tirely, in the crocodile, tortoise, and Batrachoid, there
are three, as in birds, the third being vertical in the two
former orders, and horizontal in the latter. In the Saurial
and Cheloniad,also, the third, which is translucent,moves
from before backwards by means of a single muscle, and
may cover the whole eye. In the lizard genus the eyelids
consist of a circular veil drawn before the orbit, and per¬
forated by a horizontal fissure, which is shut by a sphinc¬
ter, and opened by a levator and depressor. The gecko has
no movable eyelid.
Cenpound In insects, the eye consists of innumerable hexagonal
of the surfaces, slightly convex, and mutually separated by mi-
Anricu- nute furrows, containing fine hairs variable in length.
Each of these hexagonal surfaces, which constitute a hard,
elastic, very transparent membrane, may be regarded as
a cornea or crystalline lens, convex externally, concave
within, and thicker in the centre than on the margins.
Immediately behind is an opaque, viscid coating, varying
!in colour in the different species, analogous to the choroid
pigment of the vertebrated animals, and completely ob¬
structing the transmission of light. Beneath this varnish
are short, whitish filaments, corresponding in number to
the corneal surfaces, and mutually joined like mosaic or
tessellated pavement, separated only by the dark-coloured
pigment, and which appear to correspond to the retina of
the Vertebrata. Behind these again is a delicate, dark-
coloured membrane, which appears to correspond to the
choroid; and exterior to this is a membrane continuous
with the optic nerve, and which seems to be a general re¬
tina, forming, by subdivision of its parts on the anterior
part of the choroid, the divided or multiplied retina. This
is the structure of what are named compound eyes. That
of the simple eyes of insects is too minute to be accurate-
ly demonstrated; but analogy gives probability to the in¬
ference that they are not dissimilar.
VOL. in.
O M Y. 25
sect. hi.—the EAR. Compara¬
tive
In warm-blooded animals generally, that is, in the Mam-
malia and Birds, the labyrinth or essential part of the
organ consists of three semicircular canals, with a globular
enlargement to each {ampulla), a cavity common to these
canals named vestibule {vestibulum), and a conical taper¬
ing canal, divided into two compartments by a longitudi¬
nal septum. This may be named the bilocular cone (conus
bilocular is). These parts consist of membranous substance
inclosed in the bony walls of the pyramidal or auditory bone.
In all the Mammalia the bilocular conical canal is convo¬
luted in a spiral form, and hence is denominated, as in man,
the cochlea—a name, however, which is applicable to it in
this class only.
The organ of hearing in the Mammalia consists of the
same parts nearly as in man. In some; indeed, for in¬
stance the guinea-pig (cabiai), and porcupine, the cochlea Cochlea
makes three turns and a half; and, conversely, in the Cfi-and canals.
tacea only one and a half. In most of the Zoophaga,
and in the hog, elephant, and horse, the cochlea is much
larger in proportion than the semicircular canals ; but in
the hare it is small, and in the mole very small. In the
Cetacea, while the cochlea is very large and fully deve¬
loped, its spiral is on the same plane throughout; and the
semicircular canals are so small, that their existence was
long denied by Camper, till they were demonstrated by
Cuvier in a foetal whale. In general the labyrinth of the
Mammalia is greatly smaller in proportion to the head
than in Birds.
This part, which is membranous, is inclosed in the solid
compact substance of the temporal pyramid, so closely that
its existence appears to be identified with the latter. Re¬
searches, however, on the labyrinth in the foetus of the
Mammalia, and especially in those of whales, demonstrate
the fact that it is in a completely membranous form, dis¬
tinct from the bony inclosure; that in shape and consti¬
tuent parts it exists previous to the bony inclosure ; and
that the latter is afterwards moulded round the different
parts as they acquire their full developement. It is also to
be observed, that in the mole the semicircular canals are
seen within the cranium without preparation, and the
cochlea is merely inclosed in fine cellular tissue. In the
bat family, also, both parts are seen without bony inclo¬
sure.
The tympanum forms a cylindrical or spheroidal cavity in Tympa-
most of the Mammalia. In most of the Digitata the num.
mastoid process consists of a slight prominence of the tym¬
panum only as it is identified with the latter; but in the
cabiai, guinea-pig, hog, the Ruminants, and Solidungula,
it is represented by a long process of the occipital bone. In
most of the Zoophaga and Rodentia the parietes of this
protuberance, which are thin and hard, form by their se¬
paration a large cavity. In the hog only it is occupied
by a firm cancellated structure.
All the Mammalia, except the ornithorhyncus, have the Tympanal
tympanal bones as in man; the hammer (malleus), anvil bones.
(incus), orbicular bone and stirrup (stapes). The lenti¬
cular bone, which is rarely found in the adult, is probably
only an epiphysis of the anvil. They are articulated with
each other so as to admit of motion, and are moved by
the same muscles as in the human subject—the internus
mallei, externus mallei, laxator tytnpani, and stapedius. In
the ornithorhyncus, however, there are only two tympanal
bones.
In all the Mammalia, except the Cetaceous, the ear External
is provided with a bony external canal (meatus); and aperture,
most of the Mammalia, except the Cetaceous, have a
cartilaginous funnel-shaped opening (concha) attached to
the outer margin of the bony meatus, and which serves to
x>
26
ANATOMY.
Compara- collect the sonorous vibrations, and direct them to the
tive meatus. The other exceptions are among the Insecti-
Anatomy. V0RA? the mole, and some of the shrew genus; among
the Rodentia, the zemni or blind rat, and some of the rat-
mole genus; among the Edentata, the pangolin or scaly
ant-eater; and among the Amphibia, the morse and se¬
veral species of seal; and the ornithorhyncus paradoxus.
The tympanum of the Cetacea is peculiar. It con¬
sists of a bony plate, convoluted on itself like a buccinum,
unless that the thick side, instead of containing a spiral
cavity, is entirely solid. The opposite side is thin, with
an irregular margin. The anterior extremity of the tym¬
panum is open, and there commences the Eustachian
tube, which ascends along the pterygoid process, and, pe¬
netrating the maxillary bone, terminates at the upper part
of the nose. This direction of the tube and position of
its orifice is so much more necessary, because, since these
animals have no external bony meatus, and the ear-hole
scarcely admits a pin, the vibrations of the air reach
their organ of hearing entirely by the Eustachian tube,
and because the Eustachian tube also in these animals
conveys odorous impressions to the part in which the
sense of smell appears to reside. The aperture by which
it communicates with the nose is provided with a mem¬
branous valve, which prevents the water from entering
when the animal expels it by his nostrils.
In Birds, of the three semicircular canals the vertical
is largest, and obliquely directed forwards and outwards;
the second is horizontal and turned outwards; and the
third, which, like the first, is vertical, crosses the second,
and is turned in the direction opposite to that of the first.
Bilocular The vestibule is small and nearly spherical. The bilocu-
cone no iar cone, which is obtuse at the apex, is situate obliquely
longer spi- backwards and outwards below the inferior part of the
cranium. The longitudinal septum consists of two nar¬
row cartilaginous plates connected by a thin membrane.
The posterior canal is short, and, as in the Mammalia,
is separated from the tympanal cavity by the membrane
of the fenestra rotunda; while the anterior, which is
larger, communicates directly with the vestibule. The
whole of these parts are inclosed, as in the Mammalia,
in the compact bone of the pyramid.
The posterior and inferior ^walls of the tympanal cavity
are formed by part of the occipital bone ; the lateral aper¬
ture is large, and the cavity superficial; and its anterior
part is closed by the posterior superior cornu of the quad¬
rilateral bone and a membrane. The inner wall presents
the two apertures—the oval or vestibular, and the round
or cochlear. In this class, however, while the upper is
round or triangular, the lower is distinctly elliptical,—a
disposition the reverse of what is observed in man. The
Tympanal Eustachian tube or tympano-guttural canal is entirely os-
bones dis- seous. The tympanal cavity contains only one ossiculum,
appearing consisting of two branches ; the first attached to the tym-
fied10 '*' panum, corresponding to the malleus ; the second closing
by an oval or triangular plate the vestibular aperture, and
therefore corresponding to the stapes of the Mammalia.
By Carus the incus is supposed to be represented by the
quadrilateral bone.
The external meatus is short, and opened by a simple
aperture, while the absence of external ear is compensat¬
ed by a ring or zone of fine elastic feathers with thin
barbs, between which the air passes very easily. In the
owl tribe it terminates in a large cavity, the margins of
which are covered by a smooth valvular fold of skin.
Bilocular The ear of the Reptiles is remarkable for the last ap-
cone disap-pearance of the bilocular cone, and the first of the sac-
pears. cular apparatus which is found in the Fishes. In the cro¬
codile and lizard this part appears, as in Birds, in the shape
of a conical tube, divided by a cartilaginous partition into a
double canal, one separated by the membrane of the round Compara. ,
hole from the tympanal cavity, the other communicating tive
with a membranous sac containing three very small friable .
stones, not harder than starch. There are also three semi- '
circular canals of considerable size, each forming a large
circumference. In the frog and toad, while the three canals Lithopho. '
form almost a complete circle, the sac contains an amyla-rous sacs
ceous friable stone; but the bilocular cone is no longeramy-
observed. In the salamander, also, in which the three ^nesS
canals form together a sort of equilateral triangle, the sac appear.
which is below contains a single amylaceous stone. The
same arrangement is observed in the Cartilaginous Fishes,
unless that the sac contains two amylaceous stones, near¬
ly oval in shape, suspended in a gelatinous semifluid pulp.
In the Osseous Fishes it is a little different. The three
semicircular canals terminate in a membranous sac, which
is divided by septa into compartments v/hich contain one,
two, or three small stones suspended in gelatinous fluid.
These minute stones, however, instead of being soft, fri¬
able, and amylaceous, as in Reptiles and cartilaginous
Fishes, are as hard as rock, and white as porcelain. These
parts are situate on the sides of the cranial cavity, and
are fixed to it by cellular tissue, vessels, and osseous or
cartilaginous processes. This sac, in the fluid of which
the extremities of the auditory nerve are distributed, is
believed to correspond to the bilocular cone of the higher
classes.
These membranous cavities are contained, in the bony
fishes, in the general cavity of the cranium; and while only
the middle of the canals is inclosed in the bone of the
cranium, the extremities and the sac are quite free. The
sturgeon, which belongs to the cartilaginous order, is the
first in which the canals are entirely inclosed in the cra¬
nial cartilage; but even in this a membrane is interposed
between the cranium and sac, which is free. In the ray
and shark genera, again, these organs are entirely in¬
closed in the cartilage of the head.
The tympanal cavity, in like manner, is modified, and
eventually disappears as we descend in the scale. Though
present in the tortoise, crocodile, and lizard tribe, it is
superficial and open; it becomes membranous behind in
the Ranine tribe, and communicates directly with the
back of the mouth; and in the Serpentine reptiles it
entirely disappears, so that the handle of the osseous plate
by which the oval aperture is closed is suspended in the
soft parts with its free extremity below the skin, near the
articulation of the lower jaw. In the lizard tribe, also, Cochlear ,
the round or cochlear aperture is seen for the last time, aperture j
In the Cheloniad, for instance, the Batrachoid, and the c^saPPeaB
Serpentine, this aperture disappears, and the oval or ves¬
tibular alone is left; and in the salamander both disap-Vestibula:
pear, and there is no communication between the external aperture
part of the cranium and the labyrinth. This arrangement (hsaPl)eaB
is continued in the fishes.
In the molluscous animals the labyrinthine membrane
is a simple sac, globular or ovoidal, containing pulpy matter,
in which is suspended a small body, which is osseous in
the sepia and amylaceous in the many-feet (polypus'), in
which the filaments of the auditory nerve are distributed.
Our limits do not allow us to enter into the detailed
description of the organ in the other Invertebrated
animals.
SECT. IV. THE ORGAN OF TASTE.
Though the sense of taste is seated chiefly in the
tongue in animals, yet that organ performs, in all the
classes, so important a part as an instrument of prehen¬
sion, that it cannot with much justice be distinguished by
the former title only. In the present section, therefore,
we must regard it as one of prehension as well as of taste.
ANATOMY.
27
«3
r;«
;]IIf
0
IB
lompara- In the Mammalia and Birds the tongue is a muscular
tive organ invested by mucous papillated membrane, supported
Jan atomy. ^ a proper bone, the hyoid, which serves as a point of
support in its various motions. In the Ranine Reptiles
t mue. it is aiso muscular, attached to the margin of the lower
n jaw. In the salamander, however, it is attached as far as
the tip, and is movable on the sides only. In the croco¬
dile it is attached so generally, both by tip and margins,
that it was long asserted that the animal was tongueless.
In the stellio and iguana it is as movable as in the Mam¬
malia ; and in the seine and gecko to this property is
added that of being bifid, or divided by a longitudinal
notch into two pointed tips. In the ordinary lizard, tu-
pinambis, monitor, &c. the tongue is remarkable for its
great extensibility, and terminates in two long, flexible
though semi-cartilaginous extremities. That of the cha¬
meleon is still more extensible, and forms, by a peculiar
arrangement of vessels, a cup-like extremity. The tongue
of the blind worm (anguis fragilis) and amphisbeena is also
bifid at the tip. The cartilaginous fishes are void of
tongue, while in the bony division of the class this organ
is represented by a hard protuberance, attached to the
middle branchial bone.
In some of the Mammalia, however, the tongue is
not exclusively muscular. In the singularly long, extensi¬
ble, and tortuous tongue of the giraffe, Sir Everard Home
describes a peculiar arrangement of vessels, which he re-
I-ectile presents as a substitute for muscular motion. Though Sir
arange- Everard does not appear to understand the exact nature of
*?nt in this arrangement of vessels, all the circumstances tend to
He tongue sjlow tbat denominated erectile. These vessels,
(].je from the account given, are large, numerous, and com¬
municate freely; and it would be impossible to discover
the reason of such a vascular system, unless for some
purpose of this description. (Phil. Trans. Comp. Anat.)
When the tongue is protruded it becomes perfectly black
or bluish-black, evidently from the injection and detention
of the blood in its elongated and anastomosing veins. By
means of this mechanism the giraffe not only elongates
the tongue to the distance of about twenty inches or two
feet beyond the mouth, but twists it round the soft leafy
twigs of the trees on which he feeds. It is not improba¬
ble that a similar vascular arrangement exists, though in
less degree, in the tongue of the deer, and in the long
projectile tongue of the animals of the ant-eater tribe, as
the Tamanoir, Tamandua, &c.
Id of the The erectile arrangement is still more distinctly pre-
oiameleon. sented in the tongue of the chameleon. The researches
of Mr Houston of Dublin show that the tongue of this
animal consists of two parts,—a prehensile, which is ante¬
rior, and provided with a glandular apparatus for secret¬
ing the viscid fluid by which its tip is covered, and in¬
sects are entangled; and an erectile, which is posterior
between the prehensile and the hyoid bone, in the form of
a trellis-work of innumerable minute anastomosing blood¬
vessels, not very dissimilar to those of the cavernous body
in animals generally, and inclosing a central tube connect¬
ing the prehensile portion to the hyoid bone. The effect
of this arrangement is, that when the vascular network is
injected with blood, the anterior part of the tongue is ra¬
pidly darted out at the insects on which the animal lives.
The injection of these vessels, and the consequent pro¬
jection of the tongue, is not independent altogether of the
will of the animal; for the veins by which the blood is
returned pass through a slit in the tendon of the internal
cerato-maxillary muscles, which are always contracted in
order to protrude the hyoid style, and thereby tend, by
compressing the veins, to inject the erectile part, and pro¬
ject the tongue. ( Trans. R. I. Acad. 1828, and Dublin
Hospital Reports, vol. v. p. 487.) The same arrangement
is in all probability found in several of the lizards, the Compara-
tongues of which, like that of the chameleon, are darted tive
out suddenly, and become of a dark-blue colour at the Anatomy,
moment of projection.
In all the Mammalia the tongue is invested by a pa-Papilke.
pillated muco-villous membrane, in which the papillae are
of the same general characters as in man—granular, mush¬
room-like, or fungiform, tubercular or calycoid, and conical
or acuminated. The only differences consist in the size
and abundance of the fungiform papillce, in the number of
the calycoid and the mode of their arrangement, and in
the shape of the conical papillae and the mode of their
termination. In the Ruminants especially, the conical
papillae are numerous, long, slightly incurvated, and each
terminating in a horny but flexible style slightly incur¬
vated backwards. The tongue of the dolphin and por¬
poise, examined even by the microscope, presents no dis¬
tinct conical papillae, but is covered by minute eminences,
each penetrated by a small aperture.
In the tongue of the dog genus there is a ligamentous Worm of
substance extended longitudinally from the hyoid bone to the dog; its
the tip of the member. This, which has been vulgarly
distinguished by the name of worm of the tongue, and
has been absurdly supposed to be the seat of hydrophobic
rabies, is merely a central pillar of support for the mus¬
cular fibres to act with greater steadiness and effect, and
which enables the animal to protrude and expand the tongue
in lapping water or other fluids better than he could have
otherwise done. A similar central ligament is found in
the opossum.
The tongue of Birds is generally more or less horny,
and almost cartilaginous. That of the woodpecker and
wryneck is peculiar in consisting of two parts,—a basilar
or posterior, loose and fleshy; and an anterior projec¬
tile, long, smooth, acuminated, and covered laterally with
four or five stiff spines directed backwards, which make
the organ a sort of barbed arrow. The soft, loose, or
basilar part of the tongue contains the aperture of the
glottis; and the surface is covered with minute spines
pointed backwards, and each of which is placed in the
centre of a fleshy papilla.
As a prehensile organ of very singular construction, Trunk of
the trunk of the elephant deserves particular notice ; and A16 ele-
it cannot be more conveniently introduced than under the phant"
present section, since it is used not only to convey food,
but drink, into the mouth. The trunk may be described
as a cylindrical tubular organ, consisting of integument,
a sort of fibro-cartilage, muscles, fat, and a membrane of
villous character internally. This tube contains two long
canals continued from the nostrils, parallel to the axis of
the trunk, and separated throughout by a partition of adi¬
pose substance about two fifths of an inch thick. From
the extremity to the middle part of the intermaxillary
bone, in which the tusks are fixed, these canals are nearer
the anterior-superior than the posterior-inferior part of the
tube, the latter wall being thickest; and their diameter is
the same throughout. At this part they undergo a sudden
incurvation, approaching the anterior surface of the inter¬
maxillary bone, and form a semicircular bend with the
convexity turned forwards. Here also they are so narrow
that, without a muscular effort on the part of the animal
to dilate them, fluids could not ascend beyond this point;
and hence this forms the only valvular contrivance, either
to impede the progress of fluids upwards, or to propel
them downwards, at the will of the animal.
Above this curvature each canal is dilated before the
upper part of the intermaxillary bone, and again is con¬
tracted where it bends back to enter the bony nostril; and
the curvature is protected before by the nasal cartilage,
which is oval, convex in the male, and flat in the female.
28
ANATOMY.
Compara- Both canals are lined by a dry, greenish-yellow coloured
tlve membrane, marked with superficial intersections {ruga:),
^closing rhomboidal spaces, and some venous branches.
Muscular Though the muscular fasciculi of the trunk are nume-
apparatus rous, they may be referred to two orders,—those forming
of the the substance or inner part of the organ, and those by
trunk which it is invested. The former, which are transverse,
highly an(j cu). |.jle axjs jn different directions, consist of nume-
Ca * rous smaii muscular packets proceeding in various direc¬
tions, some running from the inner membrane to the cir¬
cumference of the tube, others directly from right to left,
and others crossing the two former obliquely. All these
little muscles are inclosed in cellular tissue, containing
white homogeneous fat; and all of them terminate in slen¬
der tendons, some of which cross the layers of the longi¬
tudinal muscles in their course to the external covering,
while others are attached to the internal membrane.
Cuvier calculates the number of these minute transverse
muscles in the trunk of the elephant to be not fewer than
30,000 or 40,000. (Plate XXXVII. fig. 13.)
The longitudinal muscles, which are external, may be
distinguished into anterior, posterior, and lateral bundles.
The first extend from the anterior surface of the frontal
bone, above the nasal bones and cartilages, in parallel
bundles, connected by tendinous intersections downwards
on the trunk. The posterior extend from the posterior
surface and inferior margin of the intermaxillary bones,
and form two layers which meet on the median line along
the lower surface of the trunk. The lateral muscles form
two pairs, one of which, descending between the anterior
and posterior muscles to the middle of the trunk, may be
regarded as a continuation of the orbicular muscle of the
lips, or the representative of the nasalis labii superioris ;
while the other, which is attached to the anterior margin
of the orbit, and is expanded over the root of the former,
may be supposed to correspond to the levator of the
upper lip.
The whole of these muscles are supplied by a very
large branch of the infraorbital or second branch of the tri¬
facial nerve, which, entering on each side between the
lateral and superior muscle, is distributed to the whole of
the trunk.
With such a construction, it is not difficult to under¬
stand the numerous motions of the elephant’s trunk.
While the longitudinal muscles are employed either to
shorten the tube, to bend it upwards or downwards or to
the side, or by means of the tendinous intersections to
give it peculiar inflections, it is manifest that the trans¬
verse ones, which act as antagonists to the longitudinal,
may also either dilate or close the canals, or incurvate or
alter the direction of particular parts.
Vacuefy- The foot of the Lacerta Gecko and the house-fly pre-
ing appa- sents a prehensile apparatus of peculiar construction for
the1 feet 0fw.alkinS along surfaces, in opposition to the action of gra-
certain vity‘ 1° the former animal the plantar surface of each
animals, toe presents sixteen transverse slits, leading into an equal
number of pouches, which by means of appropriate mus¬
cles are capable of forming an equal number of vacua, so
that the atmospheric pressure is employed with muscular
effort to support the animal in his unnatural position. A
similar apparatus is found in the upper surface of the head
of the sucking fish {echeneis remora); and something ap¬
proaching to it, though less distinctly, in the foot of the
walrus. (Home, Phil. Trans. 1816.)
CHAP. IV.—COMPAKATIVE ANATOMY OF THE ORGANS OF
VOICE.
_ Under this head our limits allow us to mention very few
circumstances.
In the American long-tailed monkeys {sapajous) the
cuneiform cartilages form, by means of adipose cellular Compara. 31
tissue, before the upper extremity of the ventricle of the
glottis, a large cushion like a spherical segment, which, ^
touching that of the opposite side, causes the air to whistle
through the canal in its course to the mouth, and occa¬
sions the flute-like voice of some of these animals, as the
weeper {s. apella) and the capuchin {s. capucina). In the Voice of j
howler {s. seniculus), so remarkable for its morning and the howler
evening yelling, though the larynx is similar in general aPe>
characters to that of the common sapajou, in having the
two rounded cushions before the ventricles, the hyoid
bone is arched in the form of a spherical chamber, with
a large quadrilateral aperture, and each ventricle opens
into a membranous sac, lying between the epiglottis and
the adjoining wing of the thyroid cartilage. The air, which
passes between the vocal chords, is therefore partly im¬
pelled into this osseous and elastic cavity of the hyoid
bone, and probably by its resonance in this situation gives
the voice of these animals the deep-toned howl by which
they are known in the American forests.
Among the Zoophaga, in the dog the cuneiform carti¬
lages are large, the arytenoid small, the vocal chords well
marked, and the ventricles deep. In the feline tribe the
anterior ligaments, though destitute of cuneiform carti¬
lages, are thick, and separated from the back of the epi¬
glottis by a broad, deep furrow. The posterior ligaments,
though neither free nor sharp-edged, are distinguished
from the anterior by an appearance of greater firmness,
more regular fibres, and by an intermediate furrow. The
approximation of the anterior ligaments towards the gloU
tis forms a sonorous vault, in which the air may be forci- r
bly vibrated by the posterior. In the bear the cuneiform
cartilages assume the shape of styles, and their posterior
extremity forms a distinct eminence, not above, but with¬
out the arytenoid cartilages, while the ventricles are merely
deep fissures.
The kangaroo has neither cuneiform cartilage, anterior
ligament, nor ventricle; and it may even be said to be
void of vocal chord, while the margins of the glottis are
much separated in the middle. This arrangement appears
to indicate that the animal is almost destitute of voice.
In the opossum, in which there is merely a small infe¬
rior ligament susceptible of tension, voice is limited to a
whistling sound.
In the Solidungula, in which the cuneiform cartilages
are completely concealed by the mucous membrane, there
is neither superior ligament nor proper ventricle; but an
aperture in the lateral wall of the laryngeal membrane,
above the vocal chord, leads into a large, oblong, sinuous
cavity, situate between this membrane and the thyroid
cartilage, and covered chiefly by the thyro-arytenoid
muscles, by which it may be compressed; and above the
anterior commissure of the vocal chords, or below the
base of the epiglottis, is an aperture on the mesial plane,
leading into a cavity below the vault formed by the ante¬
rior margin of the thyroid cartilage. This cavity, which
may be named the infrathyroid, is superficial in the horse, of the ass,
and its aperture is large; while in the ass, with a small,
round aperture, the cavity is large, capacious, and globular
in every direction, and allows the latter animal to make
his voice re-echo in the singularly harsh sound denominated
the bray. Conversely, though the lateral cavities are
equally large in both animals, the apertures in those of
the ass are small, round, and situate nearer the epiglottis
than the vocal chord, while those of the horse are large,
oblong, and situate immediately above the vocal chord on and horse,
each side. On the latter peculiarity appears to depend
the neigh of the horse.
In the Cetacea we recognise neither vocal chords
nor glottis, that is to say, an aperture variable in size ao
ANATOMY. 29
Ciipara- cording to the will of the animal; but the superior part
j,1 ‘ve of the trachea, which represents the larynx, forms a hollow
'n pyramid or funnel, rising into the posterior part of the
' nostrils, in which only it opens, while on the sides is left
a passage for the food. This pyramidal funnel is formed
by an elongated triangular cartilage, corresponding to the
of epiglottis, attached by membrane to the arytenoid carti¬
lages, which also take the shape of scalene triangles, with
the small side connected to the cricoid cartilage. Strictly
speaking, therefore, the Cetacea have no larynx, and
probably no vocal organ; and the superior part of the
trachea, with the nostrils, serves merely to admit the at¬
mospheric air for the purposes of respiration.
Birds are distinguished by possessing not only a glot¬
tis or laryngeal aperture similar to that of the Mamma¬
lia at the upper end of the trachea, but a second, deno¬
minated the inferior glottis or larynx, at the lower end,
near its bifurcation. The former, which is composed of
four cartilages, or six, according as the cricoid consists of
one or three pieces, on the middle of the posterior part of
which is a small round bone, articulated with two oblong
longitudinal bones, parallel, and forming between them in
the posterior wall of the windpipe a longitudinal slit, sus¬
ceptible of approximation by means of muscles, is intend¬
ed merely to regulate the admission of air into the wind¬
pipe, or its expulsion from that tube, and to close more or
less accurately its superior orifice.
: Inirior The inferior larynx consists of a membrane projecting
l 0<1|U" from each s‘de ^ie inferior aperture of the trachea.
[ ' This aperture is divided into two, occasionally by an os-
seous anterior-posterior middle bar, occasionally by the
angle at which the two bronchial tubes unite. Since the
first bronchial arc has the same curvature as the last tra¬
cheal ring, the second and third, which are arcs of larger
circles, are less convex without, but more prominent with¬
in, than the former. Over this prominence the tracheo¬
bronchial membrane forms a fold, which, half closing on
each side the inferior tracheal aperture, forms a plate sus¬
ceptible of vibrating by the motion of the air, and produc¬
ing sound. This apparatus, which constituteswhat is named
the inferior larynx, or rather glottis, is of two kinds, one void
of proper muscles, the other provided with muscles.
In the former kind of larynx the state of the glottis is
altered only by those muscles which depress and elevate
the trachea. The depressors are two pairs, the sterno¬
tracheal and the glosso-tracheal, the latter attached to
the bifurcated bone and trachea. There are no proper
elevators; but the windpipe is raised by the mylo-hyoid
muscle through the ligaments which connect the hyoid
bone to the superior larynx. In the quiescent or relaxed
state, and while the trachea is depressed, the bronchial
rings approximate, and the second and third even gliding
below the first, the glottis may be elongated. When the
trachea is elevated by these pairs of muscles, the bronchi
are at the same time dragged upwards, and the second and
third arcs are separated from the first; and while the ex¬
ternal prominence of the glottidal membrane diminishes in
length, its tension is augmented. These forms of larynx
without proper muscles may yet be subdivided into two
sorts, as they have or have not lateral pouches, membra¬
nous or osseous. These are observed in the male duck
{anas) and the merganser (mergus), but never in the fe¬
male ; and to this perhaps the harsh and deep tone of
the voice of the male bird is to be ascribed. The larynx
without muscles and without pouch is observed in all the
gallinaceous order without exception.
The forms of larynx provided with proper muscles may
be distinguished into three subdivisions.
The first, which has only one proper muscle on each
side, is observed in the whole of the falcon genus, e. g. the
eagle, hawk, falcon, buzzard, sparrow-hawk, and goss- Compara-
hawk; in the owl genus and the majority of the waders tiv6
and swimmers, as the heron, bustard, woodcock, lapwing, Anatomy,
rail, coot, gull, cormorant, and some of the passerine birds.
In these birds, in which the motions of the lower larynx
are necessarily limited, the voice is not variable or exten¬
sive in its notes.
The second form of larynx has three pair of proper
muscles, a constrictor of the glottis, an auxiliary constric¬
tor, and a laxator or opener of the glottis. This kind of
larynx is observed in the whole of the parrot genus and
psittacoid birds generally, as the toucan, macaw, calao, &c.
In the third kind of musculo-membranous larynx there
are no fewer than five pair of muscles, the longitudinal
levator of the demiannular cartilages, the posterior le¬
vator of the same cartilages, the small levator, the ob¬
lique levator, and the transverse levator. This quinque-
muscular larynx is found not only in all the birds proper¬
ly named whistlers or warblers, as the nightingale, hedge-
sparrow, blackbird, thrush, goldfinch, lark, linnet, canary,
chaffinch, &c., but in others whose tones are more mono¬
tonous, as the swallow, sparrow, stork, crossbill, &c., and
even in some the tones of which are harsh and positive¬
ly disagreeable, e.g. the jay, magpie, crow, raven, &e.
The differences remarked in the notes of these three
divisions of birds with the quinque-muscular larynx de¬
pend not so much on anatomical peculiarities as on the
timbre of their larynx, and on the mobility of the trachea
in relation to the larynx, and on the tracheal membrane
having dilatations and contractions.
On the whole, the inferior larynx of birds is to be re¬
garded in three lights: Is#, As the reed of a wind-instru¬
ment, like a hautboy or clarionet, in which the notes
vary as the lower glottis varies in its position to the wind¬
pipe ; 2d, as an instrument susceptible of uttering differ¬
ent tones, according to the distance between the mouth¬
piece and vent, or as the windpipe is elongated or short¬
ened ; and, 3d, as an instrument capable of uttering dif¬
ferent notes by varying the diameter of the mouth-piece,
or as the superior glottis is widened or contracted.
The only bird in which the inferior larynx is wanting is
the vulture.
The vocal organ of the Reptiles consists of the supe¬
rior larynx only, analogous to that of the Mammalia.
This is a cartilaginous apparatus, composed in general of
five distinct pieces at least in the large individuals of the
Saurial genera, as the crocodile and alligator, and form¬
ing a broad cavity behind, before a narrow slit, bounded
by two vertical pillars. The glottis, however, is entirely
membranous; and there are neither vocal chords nor ven¬
tricles. There are nevertheless two muscles, one for
opening and another for shutting the glottis. When these
act, and the air is made to vibrate against the anterior
pillars, it gives a slight whistling sound only. In the
iguana, tupinambis, lizard, tortoise, and serpent, the ar¬
rangement of parts is nearly the same ; and these animals,
therefore, can utter only slight hissing sounds. In the
chameleon the pillars are furnished with a tense, vibrating
membrane, a fleshy tubercle which contracts the glottis,
and a membranous pouch opening below, between the
lower laryngeal cartilage and the first tracheal ring. In
the frog tribe, so remarkable for their croaking noise, the
vocal chords are large and prominent. The males have
also two membranous pouches, opening by a small aper¬
ture, not in the larynx, but deep in the lateral part of the
mouth. When the frog croaks these pouches are inflated,
and swell the skin on each side below the ear. Though
these sacs are wanting in the female frog, and toad both
male and female, as well as the tree-frog, there is beneath
the throat a single pouch on the median plane.
ANATOMY.
30
Compara- CHAP. V.—COMPARATIVE NEUROLOGY,
txve
Anatomy. ^ general view of the nervous systems in different
classes of animals shows that the only common part is an
azygous tubercle, situate at the anterior extremity of the
spinal chord, connected by means of two lateral bundles
or peduncles to the rest of the system. This mass, which
corresponds to what is denominated the cerebellum in man,
is connected in the vertebrated red-blooded animals with
several pairs of tubercles, forming generally a larger mass
than itself, and connected to the rest of the system by
two longitudinal bundles or limbs, which mingle with and
intersect those of the cerebellum. These anterior-supe¬
rior tubercles, which constitute the brain proper, present
numerous modifications in figure, disposition, and magni¬
tude, and even in presence, in the different orders of the
animal world.
In the vertebrated animals the brain or central part of
the nervous system consists of the vertebral or funicular
portion, named the spinal chord, and the cranial or cepha¬
lic portion, properly denominated the brain.
Spinal The funicular portion has the shape of a cylinder flat-
chord. tened on its superior or dorsal and inferior or sternal
surfaces. It consists of two similar chordiform produc¬
tions, united on the mesial plane, and marked at the line
of junction by linear longitudinal furrows, of which the
superior is most deep and distinct. This, however, which
was observed by Blasius in several animals, is denied by
Bellingeri, who asserts, from various observations, that
though in some parts the superior furrow penetrates more
deeply than the inferior, in the general course of the chord
the latter is the deepest. ( De Medulla Spmali Annota-
tiones Anatomico-Physiologicce. Auctore C. F. Bellingeri,
Aug. Taurinorum, 1823.) This discordance appears to
depend on the circumstance that the sternal or inferior
furrow is in truth deeper and more distinct in man, the
monkey tribe, and a few Mammalia, than the dorsal;
whereas in most others* as the coati, raccoon, horse, &c.
the dorsal furrow is of the same depth as the sternal; and
. in the mole, murine, and leporine genera, it is deeper and
more distinct than the sternal. In Birds and the carti¬
laginous Fishes the sternal furrow is deepest; in Rep¬
tiles the dorsal and sternal are nearly equally deep ; and in
the osseous Fishes the dorsal is the deepest. On each side
of the chord, also, there is a slight longitudinal depression
commonly called the lateral (sulcus lateralis).
The breadth and thickness of the spinal chord vary in dif¬
ferent regions. The lower cervical portion is in general the
broadest and thickest; at the upper dorsal region it is some¬
what more slender, becoming thicker again at the lower dor¬
sal region; and after again becoming more slender in the
lumbar region, it is expanded into a filamentous brush-like
termination of different lengths in different classes, and even
in different orders. These enlargements at the superior
dorsal and lumbar regions are believed by Serres to cor¬
respond with the origins of the thoracic and pelvic extre¬
mities ; and each swelling he represents to predominate
over the other, as the animal habitually employs the one
or the other kind of members. It is remarkable in illus¬
tration of this principle, that in the Cetacea, which are
void of pelvic extremities, the lumbar enlargement is
wanting; and in the amphibious Mammalia, the pelvic
extremities of which are feeble, this enlargement is also
inconsiderable.
The spinal or funicular brain consists of white cerebral
matter on the surface and gray matter in the centre, the
former being most abundant, unless in the sacral region,
where both are nearly equal in quantity, or the gray rather
predominates. In the Mammalia the gray matter is in
greater proportion to the white than in the other three
classes, in which the white matter progressively aug- Compara.!
ments. t've
The sternal and dorsal longitudinal lines indicate the J
original formation of the chord in two lateral portions, ^ *
with an intermediate cavity denominated the spinal canal.
This exists only during the formation of the chord in the
human foetus, in some of the Mammalia when adult, and
in the other three classes. Its disappearance in the hu¬
man foetus, and in that of various Mammalia, is repre¬
sented by Serres to depend on the progressive deposition
of gray cerebral matter on the inner or central surfaces
of the component pillars of the chord. Though obliterated
in man, in whom the gray matter is abundant, it is not
hermetically sealed in the monkey tribe, in which some
traces of it are left. In the Amphibia and Cetacea it is
larger than in the monkey tribe; its diameter augments
in the Carnivora, feline, canine, and ursine, in which the
gray matter is thinner than in the former; and in the
Rodentia it is said to be largest of all among the Mam¬
malia. Lastly, in the birds, reptiles, and fishes general¬
ly, in which the gray matter is scanty and the white pre¬
dominates, the spinal canal is large and distinct.
The lateral regions of the spinal chord are connected
with a double series of nerves by means of two rows of ner¬
vous filaments, an anterior and posterior, separated by a
longitudinal membrane of fine white tissue, with a serrat¬
ed or festooned border. This membrane, which is named
the denticulate, is the same in the Mammalia and Birds.
That these nerves do not issue from the spinal chord, must
be inferred not only from the phenomena attending the
original developement of the nervous system, but especial¬
ly from what is observed of their comparative size, and
that of the chord in the inferior classes. In that of fishes
especially, while the chord is small and slender, and by
no means fills the vertebral canal, it is remarkable that
the nerves which supply the voluntary muscles are ex¬
ceedingly large. Thus, in many both of the cartilagi¬
nous and osseous divisions, as the sturgeon, dog-fish, ray,
wolf-fish, cod, &c. the nerves which supply the pectoral
fins are large, broad chords, two or three of which seem
to contain more substance than the whole spinal chord
itself.
The chord is expanded at its cephalic end into a thick Bulb oftlf
eminence denominated the spinal bulb, the surface ofch°rd. j ,
which presents three pairs of eminences. These eminences
are developed in various degrees in the different classes
and orders. In some of the Mammalia the anterior
pyramids or pyramidal bodies are more distinct than in
man, for instance the ape tribe, the Cetacea, Carnivora,
Ruminants, and Rodentia. They are small in most
Birds, all the Reptiles, and the Cartilaginous Fishes. In
the osseous division they assume the appearance of two
parallel chords at the base of the brain. The olivary
bodies, less prominent in the ape than in man, are still less
so in the Cetacea, and progressively through the Amphi¬
bia, Carnivora, Ruminantia, Rodentia, and Insecti-
vora, and the other three great classes of vertebrated ani¬
mals. Conversely, the restiform bodies or posterior pyra¬
midal eminences, from man through the ape tribe, the
Cetacea, Amphibia, to the Ruminants, Carnivora,
and Rodentia, increase in size.
Though the brain of the Mammalia presents the same
parts, and is arranged nearly in the same order, as that of
man, it varies in its proportions to the rest of the body;
in its proportions to the cerebellum and spinal bulb ; in ge¬
neral figure; in the presence, absence, and number of con¬
volutions ; in the configuration of its central surface; in
the communication of its central with its external surface ;
and in the manner of its connections with the cerebral
nerves. As it is impossible in this sketch to examine all
1
ANATOMY.
31
live
jiiatomy.
On para- these circumstances fully, we shall confine our attention
to the notice of a few only.
It is not easy to ascertain the proportion of the mass of
the brain to that of the rest of the body. Excluding as
much as possible the ordinary sources of fallacy, in small
animals the brain is proportionally larger; yet in this
respect man is surpassed only by a small number of ani¬
mals, habitually lean, and with little muscle, as bats, small
birds, &c. While the proportion of brain in man to that
of the whole person varies from a 22d to a 35th part,
that of the monkey tribe varies from a 22d to a 42d part;
and in the baboon it is only the 104th part of the body.
Among the Mammalia, the Rodentia have in general
the largest proportion of brain, and the Pachydermata
the smallest; and while the hare has a brain about the
300th part of the size of the body, that of the elephant,
the most sagacious of animals, is about the 500th part the
size of his body. It is also remarkable, that while the brain
of the horse is only a 400th part of the size of his body,
that of the ass amounts to a 254th part. The Reptile brain
becomes excessively small, that of the turtle being rather
more than the 5000th part the size of his body; and
in some of the Fishes, not all, it appears to attain the
maximum of decreasing proportion, that of the tunny be¬
ing so small as the 37,000th part of his body, while the
brain of the carp is so large as to approach the proportion
’ of the elephant. It may be doubted whether, under such
circumstances, any precise conclusions can be drawn from
results so variable and so little to be expected.
The proportional weight of the brain to that of the cere¬
bellum is, excepting in the case of one species of ape, the
saimiri, greater in man than in any other animal. The
ox is equal to man in this respect, and the dog approaches
him. The animals most remote are the Rodentia, as
the beaver, rat, and mouse, &c.
The convolutions, which are so numerous and so deep
in man, diminish both in number and size in the Quad-
rumana and Carnivora, and are nearly obliterated in
the Rodentia. In the Ungulated animals, however,
and especially in the Ruminants and the horse, the con¬
volutions are numerous; and even in the dolphin among
the Cetacea, they are numerous and deep. In all the
Mammalia the cerebellum is foliated.
On the whole, the peculiar character of the brain of
man and the ape family consists in the existence of the
posterior lobe and digital cavity. The brain of the Zoo-
phaga is remarkable for the small size of the nates or
anterior pair of the bigeminous eminences in proportion
to the testes or posterior pair. In the Rodentia the or¬
gan is distinguished for the large size of the nates, and
the want or superficial nature of the convolutions. In the
Ungulated division ,of animals, i. e. Pachydermata,
Ruminantia, and Solidungula, the brain is remark¬
able for the large size of the nates combined with the
number and depth of the convolutions; while that of the
Cetacea is remarkable for its height and breadth, and
the want of olfactory nerves. It is further to be observed
as a general distinction between herbivorous and carni¬
vorous or zoophagous animals, that in the former the nates
are larger than the testes, whereas in the latter the testes
are largest. Lastly, Man and the Quadrumana are the
only animals which possess genuine olfactory nerves. In
the other quadrupeds they are represented by the mam¬
millary processes of the ancients; and in the Cetacea
they have not yet been unequivocally demonstrated.
The brain of Birds is at once recognised by consisting
of six distinct tubercles, two representing the cerebral
hemispheres, two representing the optic eminences, one
the cerebellum, and one the bulb of the chord. The
hemispheres are void of convolutions, but the cerebellum
is marked by transverse parallel striae corresponding to Compara-
the lamince of the mammiferous brain. There is neither tive
middle band (corpus callosum), vault, nor septum. The ^natorny-
ceiling or vault of the aqueduct or passage from the third
to the fourth ventricle is not, as in the Mammalia, sur¬
mounted by the bigeminous eminences, but is merely a
thin plate corresponding to the valve. Each optic emi¬
nence contains a cavity communicating with the others
by the Sylvian aqueduct. The anterior eminences (cor-
pora striata) are not striated with alternate white and gray
matter, as in the Mammalia. Between the anterior and
the optic eminences are four rounded tubercles, best seen
in the ostrich, which are to be regarded as entirely hete¬
rologous to the structure of the mammiferous brain, and
connecting the cerebral structure of Birds with that of
Reptiles and Fishes, in which also these tubercles are ob¬
served.
The Reptile brain is smooth and unconvoluted. The
optic eminences, which are situate behind the hemispheres,
are uncovered, and contain a ventricle communicating
with the third. At the extremities of the latter are the
anterior and posterior commissures, but there is neither
soft commissure nor bigeminous eminences. The hemi¬
sphere presents an anterior eminence, which, however, in
the brain of Birds is unstriated. The cerebral valve is,
like that of Birds, unsurmounted by bigeminous emi¬
nences.
In the class of Fishes the structure becomes still more
simple. The tubercles of which the brain consists are
placed in a row; and their increase in number only de¬
monstrates the decomposition of the organ, and its reso¬
lution into simple integrant parts. The two representing
the hemispheres are ovoidal, unconvoluted, and contain a
ventricle, in which is seen the eminence analogous to the
striated bodies. The optic eminences, situate beneath
the hemispheres, though small, contain each a cavity, as
in the two oviparous classes already noticed. Lastly,
there are in several genera, under the common vault of
the hemispheres, occasionally two, occasionally four tu¬
bercles, variable in shape and proportions, but which
would be analogous to the bigeminous eminences, were
they not, like those already mentioned in Birds, situate
before and above the optic chambers. In the cartilagi¬
nous fishes, in which these tubercles are not observed,
the anterior or striated eminences are obliterated. The
cerebellum does not cover the fourth ventricle.
Behind the cerebellum are two tubercles, which in the
ray give origin to the fifth pair, and are very distinct in
the pike, trout, salmon, and perch. These tubercles are
peculiar to this class.
The cavities in the interior of the optic eminences in
Birds, Reptiles, and Fishes, are observed in the foetal
brain of the Mammalia during its early growth.
It is almost superfluous to mention, that, in the two
warm-blooded classes, Mammalia and Birds, the brain,
with its investments, fills completely the cranial and verte¬
bral cavities. In the Reptiles, however, in which the brain
does not approach the cranial walls, we remark the first
departure from this arrangement; and in the Fishes it is so
completely violated that the brain and chord occupy but a
small proportion of the cranio-vertebral cavity; and be¬
tween the former and the osseous walls there is a quantity
of fine but very loose filamentous tissue, containing in its
cells a large quantity of pellucid fluid. Though this ar¬
rangement gives this the appearance of a white jelly-like
substance, it is not gelatinous, as is generally represented,
but merely a pellucid fluid, sometimes pale straw-coloured,
occasionally with a reddish tint, contained in numerous
communicating cavities of a tissue which appears to repre¬
sent the arachnoid of the warm-blooded animals.
ANATOMY.
32
Compara- The pia mater in the reptiles and fishes is reduced to a
t^ve filamento-vascular web, accompanying the blood-vessels.
The dura mater undergoes some peculiar modifications
jn difFerent orders. In the duckbill a bony plate is con¬
tained between the laminae of the falx; and the same
structure is found in the porpoise, perhaps in the other
Cetacea. An osseous tentorium with a quadrangular
aperture is found in the coa'ita and marten, and the feline
and ursine families; and an osseous partition consisting of
three parts is found in the dog, horse, Cape ant-eater (pryc-
teropus), the wombat, and the seal. The bony tentorium
is also found in the woodcock and others of the feathered
class. In the red but cold-blooded animals the dura mater
forms neither falciform nor tentorial process.
On the nerves or ramified chords of the nervous system
a few words must suffice. In fishes the tenth or pneu-
mogastric consists not of a common trunk, but of three
orders of filaments, the first and largest of which are dis¬
tributed to the gills, and correspond to the pulmonary
nerves of the Mammalia ; the second, slender, are dis- Com pan '
tributed to the muscles of the tongue and the surface of tive
the oesophagus; and the third terminate in a large nerve
which traverses the body longitudinally immediately be¬
neath the lateral line. The phrenic nerve is wanting in
birds, reptiles, and fishes.
In the Mollusca the nervous system consists of a
number of whitish cerebral masses distributed in different
parts of the body, with one or two more conspicuous than
the rest, and supposed therefore to represent the brain,
placed transversely over the oesophagus, which it encom¬
passes with a nervous collar.
In the Articulata the nervous system consists of
two long chords extending along the belly, and expanded
at various intervals into gangliform knots or enlargements.
The first of these, which is situate on the oesophagus,
rarely exceeds the others in size. Among the Zoophytes
hitherto examined the nervous system assumes either a
radiated or an arborescent form.
PART II.
comparative anatomy of the entrophic organs.
CHAP. I. THE LIMITROPHIC ORGANS. SECT. I.
Though genuine teeth are found in three classes of ani¬
mals only, viz. the Mammalia, the Reptiles, and the
Fishes, yet all the orders of these classes are not provid¬
ed with teeth. Thus, among the first class, the ant-eater
tribe, the pangolin, the echidna and ornithorhyncus, and
the whales—among the second the cheloniads—and among
the third the sturgeon—are altogether destitute of these
organs. In all the invertebrated classes, the jaws, when
present, are provided with notches varying in number.
The echinodermata alone have genuine teeth, inserted in
a mechanical apparatus very different from ordinary jaws.
Though in general structure the teeth of the lower ani¬
mals resemble those of man, in some respects they differ
considerably. These varieties consist either in some
change or modification of the constituent parts of the
teeth, or in the addition of some other substance to those
parts.
The first variety to be noticed is of the former descrip¬
tion.
Bone of Though in the Quadrumana and Zoophaga the bony
tooth. matter of the teeth is quite similar to that of man, in
other orders this substance appears in the form of a very
hard, compact, and more regularly fibrous substance than
bone, and to which the name of ivory (ebur) is applied.
It is chiefly in the canine or tearing teeth that this sub¬
stance is found to represent the bony pillar of the teeth ;
and it is principally among the Pachydermata, and some
of the Amphibia and Cetacea, that this change is ob¬
served.
Ivory of The ivory of the elephant is the most tender, and that
different which most rapidly becomes yellow on exposure to air.
anxma s. jt jg reacjj]y distinguished from the ivory of other animals
by the curve lines which radiate from the centre to the
circumference of the tooth in various directions, and which
form by intersection regular curvilinear lozenges.
The ivory of the hippopotamus is greatly harder and
whiter, and is on that account preferably employed for
the preparation of artificial teeth. A transverse section
of this substance shows since extremely delicate and re¬
gular. In this animal, also, not only the canine but the
incisor teeth consist of this substance. The tusks of the
Ethiopian boar (sus JEthiopicus) consist of ivory similar to
that of the hippopotamus. In those of the ordinary boar,
though no stria are recognised, there is sometimes a mix-
the organs of bigestion.—§ 1. the teeth.
ture of brown substance disposed in layers. The ivory of
the teeth of the morse, though void of since, is compact
and susceptible of polish nearly as brilliant as that of the
hippopotamus; and its character is, that the central pillar
of the tooth consists of minute round grains, indiscrimi¬
nately aggregated, like pebbles in puddingstone. The
axis or pillar of the molar teeth of this animal, which are
without internal cavity, consists of similar minute grains.
The ivory of the dugong is homogeneous and without
striae. That of the teeth of the white whale or cachalot
resembles the bone of human teeth in its satin-like ap¬
pearance. The ivory of the tusk of the narwal is very
compact and homogeneous in appearance.
The most singular structure of teeth among quadrupeds
is observed in those of the Cape ant-eater {prycteropus').
The teeth of this animal, which have the appearance of
two cylinders conjoined, consist of an infinite number of
minute straight parallel tubes, so that their transverse
section resembles that of a rush. As these tubes are
closed only at the triturating surface, it is there only that
the tissue of the tooth is compact; and when the enamel
is worn, the upper orifices of these tubes begin to be
exposed. There is, therefore, no general cavity in the in¬
terior of the tooth. These teeth are also void of root. A
similar tubular structure is observed in the two molar teeth
of the ornithorhyncus, and in the teeth of some fishes.
The enamel {lamella vitrea, cortex striatus) presents Enamel
peculiarities in the lower animals, as well as the bone of
the tooth.
While the enamel of the human tooth is confined to
the crown, in several of the lower animals, as the morse,
it envelopes the tooth all round; and in the molar teeth
of this animal, which, indeed, are void of cavity, it is
thicker under the root than at the crown. A similar ar¬
rangement is observed in the old or adult teeth of the
cachalot, which, when their cavity is obliterated by the
full deposition of osseous substance, are also covered with
enamel below.
The texture or constitution of the enamel is best seen
in the grinders of the elephant. The section of a tooth
in the germ exhibits fibres similar to those of asbestos or
fine velvet. The fracture of the enamel is more dis¬
tinctly fibrous than that of the bone, and the fibres are
everywhere perpendicular, or nearly so, to the surface of
ANATOMY.
33
‘H 0it>para- the tooth. The hardness of this substance may be in-
ive ferred from the fact that it strikes fire with steel. These
tomy. component fibres, however, are not always rectilineal.
Most frequently they describe curves with the convexity
of incurvation towards the crown and the concavity to¬
wards the root. This arrangement at least is observed
in the ruminants. The distinction between the enamel
and bony matter is recognised by a gray line, and another
whiter which belongs to the latter substance.
The enamel varies chiefly in thickness in different ani¬
mals. The tusks which project from the mouth are ge¬
nerally observed to be less white, less hard, and more
similar to bone or ivory than the other teeth; and on this
account, probably, the existence of enamel has been de¬
nied in the tusks of the elephant. It is nevertheless cer¬
tain that the external layer of these tusks presents radiat¬
ing fibres, though it is by no means so hard, or possesses
the same grain, as the enamel of the other teeth. Enamel
is more apparent, though thinner, in the tusks of the
morse, dugong, and boar; and it is quite as distinct in
those of the hippopotamus as in the other teeth of that
animal. Lastly, the enamel of the teeth of the cachalot,
which is very thick, shows in its section only stria parallel
to the surface of the osseous substance.
Teeth may be distinguished according to the mode in
which their component tissues are arranged into three
sorts. ls£, When the enamel invests the axis all round,
and does not penetrate the latter, the tooth is said to
be simple (dens simplex). Such is the character of the
human teeth, and those of the Quadrumana and Zoo-
phaga, and several other animals, and all the reptiles,
pound 2d, When the enamel is folded as it were round the bony
part, but without inclosing it, so that the latter forms a
continuous band several times folded on itself, and sec¬
tions of the tooth in every direction divide repeatedly the
component substances, the tooth is said to be compound
or complex (dens multiplex vel compositus). A good exam¬
ple of this structure is seen in the grinders of the ele¬
phant. 3c?, When the base or root of the tooth is simple,
and the folds of the enamel and bone penetrate only to a
certain depth, they are said to be semicompound. Ex¬
amples of this modification of arrangement are seen in
the grinders of the ruminating animals.
In the compound, and part of the semicompound teeth,
the enamel is covered by a third substance; and as the
latter is arranged, especially in the former sort, so as to
leave intervals between it and the next layer of enamel,
this substance serves to fill all these intervals, and conso¬
lidates the component lobes of the tooth even before their
osseous parts are united below. This substance, which is
denominated by Cuvier cement, by Tenon cortex osseus,
and by Blake crusta petrosa, though less firm than either
bone or enamel, is dissolved by acids more slowly than
the former, and sooner becomes black in the fire. In the
teeth of the elephant and cabiai it forms half their mass
at least. In most genera it presents no apparent organiza¬
tion, and resembles a sort of crystalline tartar incrusted
on the tooth. In the cabiai, however, it presents nume¬
rous pores very regularly arranged. Tenon was of opi¬
nion that it arose from ossification of the membrane which
enveloped the tooth ; blake ascribed it to deposition from
the opposite surface of the enamel membrane; but Cuvier
ascertained that it is deposited by the same membrane
and the same surface as the enamel. This accurate
observer found, on inspecting the germs of the teeth
of the elephant, that when the internal membrane of the
dental capsule has deposited the enamel, it undergoes a
change of structure, and becomes thick, spongy, opaque,
and reddish, to furnish the cement, which is then deposit¬
ed, not in regular crystalline fibres, but in random drops.
VOL. m.
t ce¬
lt or
The teeth of the Reptiles consist of hard, compact, os- Compara-
seous matter, invested by a thin covering of enamel, and tive
without cement. Anatomy.
The teeth of Fishes vary much in structure. They are oj..
either simple or compound. The simple teeth are those fishes.
which consist of bone invested by enamel. They may be
distinguished into two species, according to their mode of
attachment. The first are the simple teeth, which are not
implanted in alveoli, but merely attached to the gum, or
fixed by articulation to the jaw, as those of the shark
tribe ; the second are simple teeth growing in alveolar
cavities, as is observed in the majority of fishes, the pike,
dory, &c. The simple teeth attached to the gum are
chiefly distinguished by their fibres intersecting in the
manner of the cancellated tissue of bones, and being
therefore at first light, porous, and spongy, and becoming
afterwards uniformly hard and compact like ivory.
The compound teeth, which consist of an infinite num¬
ber of minute tubes mutually aggregated and invested by
a common covering of enamel, form plates of different
sizes, adhering to the bones of the jaws or palate by an
intermediate membrane only. In some they affect the
disposition of the quincunx; in others they occupy the
whole breadth of the upper jaw at least, as in the ray as
seen on the small scale, and in the same manner in larger
fishes ; others are in straight transverse bars ; others as¬
sume the shape of a circular segment, or the figure in
heraldry denominated the chevron.
In the wolf-fish the jaws are provided with eminences
composed of fibres or tubes proceeding from the base to
the circumference, and which are connected to the jaw
by a substance more spongy than the rest of the bone.
After their first formation the teeth retain nearly their Mechani-
original shape in the Zoophaga, man, and the Quad-cal detri-
rumana. In the two latter only their crowns begin to be the
worn, rendering the incisor and canine less pointed by thetee
use of food partly vegetable; but in the zoophagous tribes
they undergo no detrition whatever. In the herbivorous
animals, however, the crown begins to undergo detrition
more or less rapidly; and in no long time the superior
layer of enamel is entirely worn off, and the surface of
the tooth exposes the succession of bone or ivory, enamel,
and cement. These substances are well seen in the teeth
of the Rodentia, for instance the hare; those of the
Pachydermata, as the elephant; the Ruminants, as the
stag, sheep, and ox ; and the Solidungula, as the horse.
In all these animals the enamel, which is hardest, forms
prominent lines or ridges; while the bone and cement are
indicated by depressions.
This detrition, which is purely mechanical, might pro¬
ceed to such an extent in the herbivorous quadrupeds
as to destroy the whole of the crown of the tooth,'and
leave the process of mastication to be performed by the
jaws only. It appears to be chiefly to obviate this incon¬
venience that the dentition of the elephant, the Ethiopian Successive
boar, and perhaps all the Pachydermata, is conducted dentition
in a successive manner through a series of six or eight0: !e
sets of teeth at least. In the former animal, in which 1
this process has been best observed, and was ably explain¬
ed many years ago by Mr John Corse Scott (Phil. Trans.
1799), each half-jaw, whatever it contains, exhibits at
one time only one complete grinder and part of another
behind it, the prominent parts of which are placed ob¬
liquely to the horizon, forming an inclined plane, so that
the anterior parts are worn before the posterior. The
anterior complete one, which is employed in mastication,
undergoes progressive detrition till its anterior portion is
worn down to the level of the jaw. In this state the fangs
of the anterior part of the tooth begin to diminish, render¬
ing the tooth narrow before; while the crown of the poste-
E
ANATOMY.
34
Compara- rior begins to be worn, and undergoing the same detri-
tive tion, the posterior fangs also begin to give way. While
Anatomy, procesSj however, is advancing, the posterior tooth,
'i of which only the anterior part was appearing above the
gum, gradually rises, with its crown forming a plane in¬
clined from before backwards, similar to that of the ante¬
rior grinder. When this posterior tooth has been raised
sufficiently to allow its anterior margin to be used in mas¬
tication, the residue of the anterior tooth drops out al¬
together, and the posterior one continues to rise and ad¬
vance rapidly, until it is completed, when it is found to be
much larger than the previous tooth, and to consist of a
greater number of plates of ivory and enamel (denticuli).
In no long time this new tooth, which undergoes the
same process of detrition, is succeeded by another one,
the anterior margin of which rises first behind the poste¬
rior one of its predecessor, and which passes through the
same stages of growth, detrition, and shedding. This pro¬
cess is repeated at least seven or eight times, and each
succeeding tooth is larger, and contains a greater number
of ivory and enamel plates than its predecessor. The
elephant has thus 7 or 8 grinders in each half-jaw, or 28
or 32 grinders respectively; yet there are never more
than one tooth and part of another, or at most two, that
is, eight teeth in the upper and lower jaws, at the same
time. Though the disappearance of the fangs of the an¬
terior tooth is ascribed to absorption—which indeed is
a good general name—yet the true reason is the fact that
the maxillary or dental vessels of the elephant are unable
to sustain more than one tooth in each half-jaw at once;
and that since these vessels gradually transfer their
blood to the new tooth, while those of the old one shrink
and are obliterated, the new tooth grows as the old one
is actually dehematised or atrophied. The order in which
the teeth of the elephant succeed each other is nearly
the following. The first or milk grinder, composed of 4
eburneo-vitreous plates {denticuli), cuts the gum eight
or ten days after birth, is well formed in six weeks, and
completely out in three months. The second, which con¬
sists of 8 or 9 plates, is completely exposed at the age of
two years; the third, consisting of 12 or 13 plates, at
six years. The fourth to the eighth grinder consist of
plates varying in number from 15 to 23; but the period
at which these teeth appear has not yet been determined.
This process has been shown to have taken place also in
the gigantic fossil animal named the mastodon.
A similar process of displacement and renovation takes
place in the poison-teeth of serpents, and in the teeth of
the shark, ctiodon, and tetraodon tribes. In the wolf¬
fish {anarrhicas lupus) the teeth are shed along with the
spongy membrane in which they are contained, exactly
as the horns of the stag.
Dentition In the horse, in which the process of dentition has been
of the carefully observed, it is usefully employed to determine
horse. ^}ie age 0f (;]ie animal. The milk incisors appear at the
end of 15 days; the four middle ones, or the nippers,
are shed at 30 months; the four following ones at 42
months; and the four external, or the corner teeth, at 54
months. The permanent corner teeth do not grow so
quickly as the other incisors ; and by these especially the
age of the horse is determined. At first they scarcely
rise above the jaw. Their middle then presents a hollow
filled with blackish tartar, the margins of which are worn
down as the tooth rises from the gum, and is rubbed
against the corresponding one; and it diminishes pro¬
gressively from 54 months to 8 years, when it is alto¬
gether obliterated. The hollow of the other incisors is
obliterated at a later period than that of the corner ones;
and the age of the animal is then estimated from the
length of the incisors, which continue to increase.
The first two molar teeth appear in each jaw and on
each side about the 8th day, the next at the 20th, and Compara.
the complementary or small anterior grinder about the five
5th or 6th month. The first posterior molar appears Anatomy,
about the 11th month, and the second in the 20th. At
the 30th or 32d month the first two milk grinders are
shed, the third in the 3d year; and about the 5th or 6th
year the last posterior grinder appears. The milk grinders
are longer from before backwards than the permanent
ones, which are themselves contracted in this direction,
as they are pressed by the posterior grinders; from which
it results that the dental crowns of young horses are ob¬
long, while those of the old are quadrangular.
In the Mammalia the teeth are always implanted in
the jaw-bones, and never, as in other animals, in the
tongue, palate, &c. The only exception to this rule is the
echidna.
The three kinds of teeth, incisor, tearing, and grinder, Arrange,
are found together only in Man, the Quadrumana, thementof
Zoophaga, the Pachydermata except the elephant^
and two-horned rhinoceros, in the hornless Ruminants,
and in the Solidungula ; but, of all these animals, in
man only are the three forms of teeth arranged in an unin¬
terrupted series, and in such a manner that those of the
lower jaw are applied to those of the upper. In one other
animal only, now extinct, the anoplotherium, is this conti¬
nuity of arrangement observed.
In the Quadrumana and Zoophaga, and all those in
which the canine are larger than the other teeth, there is
a gap on each side of the jaw to receive the canine of the
opposite one. In the ursine genus there is a large empty
space behind each canine tooth. In the hedgehog, shrew,
phalanger, and tarsier, in which the canine are shorter than
the other teeth, a space is left between them and those
opposite. In the maki tribe, proper bat, colugo, and camel,
there is a large interval between the upper incisors. Last¬
ly, the Ruminants want the incisors of the upper jaw, and
the morse those of the lower.
Some animals provided with the three classes of teeth
lose the incisors at a certain age; for instance several of
the bat tribe, and the Ethiopian hog. Other Mammalia
have only two sorts of teeth, for instance incisors and
grinders, separated by an interval without canine, as the
wombat and all the Rodentia, in which there are only
2 incisors in each jaw; the kangaroo, which has two be¬
low and 6 or 8 above; and the cavy or hyrax genus,
which have 2 above and 4 below. The elephant has grind¬
ers and two tusks planted in the superior intermaxillary
bone, but no inferior incisors or canine teeth.
Animals may possess grinders and canine teeth with¬
out incisors, as the sloth tribe and the dugong. The
grinders, which are most essential, are most rarely want¬
ing ; and when others are deficient these are present, as in
the armadillo tribe, the orycteropus, the ornithorhyncus,
two-horned rhinoceros, and lamantin. The jaws of the
dolphin are provided with uniform conical teeth all round,
while the cachalot or white whale has them in the lower jaw
only. In the narwal there are only two long spiral tusks
implanted in the intermaxillary bone, and of these one is
often wanting.
Lastly, teeth are entirely wanting in the ant-eater tribe, Absence of
pangolin, and echidna, which are therefore arranged among the teeth,
the Edentata. In the whale the teeth are represented
by plates of the laminated, fibrous, bluish substance dis¬
tinguished by the name of whale-hone.
§ 2. ORGANS OF INSALIVATION.
Under this head ought to be noticed the modification
which the salivary glands undergo in the lower animals.
Our limited space, however, obliges us to proceed imme¬
diately to notice the peculiarities of the other divisions of
the alimentary canal.
I
^ St:nach.
J S'i ple
c stcnach.
i Blcular
i. stonach.
ANATOMY.
3o
§ 3. CESOPHAGUS, STOMACH, AND INTESTINAL TUBE.
The muscular tissue of the oesophagus consists, in most
of the Mammalia, of spiral fibres twisted in two opposite
directions, the external from before backwards, the inter¬
nal from behind forwards. This arrangement, which was
first observed in the Ruminantia, was supposed to ex¬
plain the process of rumination. This opinion, however,
is refuted by the fact that the arrangement is not con¬
fined to this order, but is very general among the zoopha-
fous and other animals which do not ruminate. In the
angaroo the direction of these fibres is, as in man, trans¬
verse in the internal layer, and longitudinal in the external.
The cesophageal mucous membrane is covered by epi¬
dermis, which extends to the cardiac opening of the
stomach in man, the Quadrumana, and all the Zoopha-
ga. This membrane, as well as the mucous, is thrown, by
the action of the muscular tunic, into longitudinal folds,
which are effaced only when the oesophagus is distended.
In the tiger, lion, and lynx, there are large transverse val¬
vular folds, and smaller ones in the civet and couguar—
an arrangement connected probably with the carnivorous
habit.
The stomachs of the lower animals vary considerably in
shape, in the insertion of the oesophagus, in the disposi¬
tion of their muscular tunics, and in the simplicity or
complication of their cavities. These characters it is im¬
possible in such a sketch as the present to consider in de¬
tail ; and we shall confine our attention to those peculiari¬
ties which are most striking in the digestive organs of the
animal world.
The stomachs of the Mammalia may be distinguished
into the simple and compound. Those of man, the Quad¬
rumana, zoophagous and most of the herbivorous tribes,
belong to the former order. This simple form of stomach,
however, may be generally distinguished into two parts,
a cardiac and a pyloric, more or less separated from its
other by a central transverse contraction of its annular
muscular fibres. This is particularly seen in the horse,
man, murine family, and many other animals which occa¬
sionally feed both on animal and vegetable matter. In
the human stomach this contraction is represented in
Plate XXXVI. fig. 4. In the porcupine, however, there
are three pouches. This contraction depends on a strong
annular band of muscular fibres at this part of the organ.
In the pure carnivorous animals, however, as the feline
family, the annular fibres, which are very thick, are nearly
equally so from the cardiac to the pyloric end.
The compound stomachs, or those which contain more
cavities than one, are found in the sloths, and the ruminant
and cetaceous animals chiefly.
In the first tribe the stomach of the Unau, or two-toed
sloth, is two-fold. The first cavity is large and globular,
but tapering behind into a conical appendage, separated
by a semilunar fold; while a large cul de sac on the left of
the cardia opens into a canal which proceeds at first back¬
wards, and then turning to the right, enters the second
cavity by a narrow aperture. The second, which is small,
tubular, and folded under the former from left to right, is
distinguished by a semilunar fold into two halves, the first
of which opens into a small cul de sac on the right side of
the first cavity. The inner membrane of both cavities is
smooth, and without villi. A similar arrangement is found
in the Ai, or three-toed sloth, with this exception, that
the appendage of the second gastric cavity is divided into
three compartments by two longitudinal bands. This ca¬
nal seems analogous to the arrangement of the ruminating
stomachs, in so far as it may allow the alimentary matters
to pass occasionally from the oesophagus directly into the
second stomach.
The stomach of the hyrax, ashkoko, or Cape cavy, also
consists of two pouches, separated by a middle partition, Compa,ra-
in which there is an aperture for mutual communication. tive
In the hippopotamus the cardia communicates with three Anatomy,
pouches, two of which only are cognizable without, and ''“■’''V'’-''
with a long tubular bowel, the interior of which is divided
across by several valvular folds.
In the kangaroo the stomach receives the oesophagus
near its left extremity, which is small and bifid (Plate
XXXV. fig. 8); and forming a larger cavity on the right,
passes upwards, making a turn, and crosses to the left be¬
fore the oesophagus, makes another turn, and again crosses
the mesial plane to the right, where it terminates in a ta¬
pering cavity at the pylorus. In this course it presents
internally a longitudinal band (l, l, l), extending all round
to near the pyloric end, and crossed by valvular membra¬
nous folds, which divide the cavity into cells not unlike
those of the colon, especially in the horse. The mucous
epidermis is continued from the oesophagus over the space
marked c, c.
The stomach of the Ruminants consists of four distinct Quadrilo-
but communicating cavities. The first, denominated the cular sto-
Paunch (xo/X/a, rumen, penida, ingluvies; la pause, Vherbier, ™ach of
la double), is a large bag occupying the left side of the ^a®^gumi*
abdomen chiefly, marked externally by two saccular appen¬
dages, and separated within into four parts. (Plate XXXV.
fig. 1, a, a, A, a.) Its inner surface, upon which the epider¬
mis is continued, is occupied by flat papillce. By a
pretty wide aperture (b, b), with rounded margins, this
communicates with the second cavity named the Kings-
hood (xsxpu<pa\os, reticulum, le bonnet), which is distinguish¬
ed by the rhomboidal and polygonal cells, into which its
inner membrane is moulded. An aperture at the further
end of this (c) leads into the third or smallest cavity,
termed the Maniplies (£%/vog, omasum, lefeuillet), from the
numerous concentric crescentic folds formed by its inner
membrane (fig. 2, c and p). These folds amount to about
40 in the sheep and 100 in the ox. The smallest of them,
between the aperture from the second into the third ca¬
vity, are puckered or collected towards their further end
by a transverse membranous fold, which acts as a valve to
the aperture between this and the fourth cavity. This one,
generally named the Red (rjvvtfrgov, abomasum, la caillette),
is of an elongated pyriform shape, slightly incurvated on
itself (fig. 2, d), and is marked internally by longitudinal
folds (p) incurvated according to the curvature of the ca¬
vity itself, and terminating near the pyloric end in rugae
or irregular duplicatures (r). This is the structure of the
gastric cavities in the ox.
In the camel, dromedary, and lama, the stomach is
equally complicated, though the structure is a little differ¬
ent. In the first of these animals, which may be taken
as an example of the others, the Paunch or first cavity is
a large bag, divided into two compartments on the pos¬
terior part,' by a strong band passing from the right side
of the cardiac orifice longitudinally downwards (l,l, fig. 3),
and forming one border of a groove leading to the orifice
of the second. From the left margin of this band pro¬
ceed eight muscular bands, nearly at right angles, and
intersecting with others, form cellular cavities on the left
side of the paunch (n) ; while on the right side there
are similar cells, though smaller, and wholly uncon¬
nected with the longitudinal band. From the left mar¬
gin of the cardia, in like manner, proceeds a broad
muscular band (m, fig. 3) to the aperture (b) of the
Paunch into the Kingshood, after which it takes another
direction (m, fig. 4) towards the Maniplies or third ca¬
vity, within the orifice of which it terminates (c, fig. 4).
The Red or fourth chamber is much the same as that of the
bullock (d, p, r, fig. 5), and the only peculiarity is, that
after terminating in (n) the pylorus, it opens in a small
cavity (o) which leads into the duodenum (A).
36
ANATOMY.
Compara- From this description, for the particulars of which we
tive are indebted to the accurate account of Sir E. Home, it
results that the stomach of the camel differs from that of
Water- t^e .ox anc^ other horned ruminants chiefly in the pos-
cells of the session of the quadrilateral cells in the second stomach
Quadrilo-
cular sto-
Crop of
birds.
camel. Into these the water is conveyed by the animal when
drinking, and in these it remains. By the action of the
muscular band (m), the aperture between the Paunch and
Kingshood is opened, and the w^ater is directed into it so
as to fill its cells. When these are filled the surplus runs
off into those of the first stomach, where at least those on
the left side of the long band may be regarded as part of
the general cellular structure. These cells are represent¬
ed of a large size in fig. 5, in which they appear like ob¬
longs with rounded corners. They are always larger on
the left side of the band, in the Paunch, than those in the
second stomach.
Both in the bullock and in the camel, and in all the
Ruminants, the first and second stomachs only are covered
by mucous epidermis.
In the Cetaceous animals similar complication of the
gastric cavities is observed. In the bottle-nose porpoise,
Cetacea whidi may be taken as an example, the oesophagus, which
AL “is large and capacious, terminates in a spheroidal or ovoi-
dal flask-like bag (fig. 6, a, a) with an aperture a little be¬
low the cardiac, consisting of rose-like annular folds, and
leading into a second cavity. This, which corresponds
to the ruminant kingshood, is nearly spherical in shape
(fig. 7, b), and presents valvular folds more circular than in
the ruminants, and intersected by others so as to give it
the honeycomb appearance characteristic of this cavity.
From this another aperture leads into the smallest cavity
of the three (c, fig. 7) ; and thence into the fourth, which
is long, cylindrical, and slightly incurvated. The third
cavity is remarkable for presenting in its inner membrane
numerous apertures of mucous glands.
_ Birds are distinguished by possessing a stomach con¬
sisting of three cavities. The first is the crop, which may
be regarded as a mere expansion of the oesophagus, and
confined chiefly to land birds. It is filled not only with
food, but with small stones; and its chief purpose seems,
by mechanical comminution, to supply the place of the
teeth in dividing the granular aliment, and bruising or
killing the animals swallowed. It is found chiefly in the
granivorous birds. It is wanting in the ostrich, in the
piscivorous birds, and most of the Gralla:.
Ihe second is the glandular crop or subsidiary stomach
(ventriculus succenturialus, bulbus glandulosus), a mem-
brano-glandular sac, which may be also regarded as an
oesophageal dilatation. It is larger when the crop is want¬
ing ; and though, when conjoined with it, it is always very
glandular, and may be therefore regarded as a chemical
solvent of alimentary substances, it appears to supply the
want of the crop, which is certainly chiefly a mechanical
apparatus. The glandular crop or subsidiary stomach .is
remarkable for the number and size of the glandular bodies
contained between its mucous and muscular tunics. These
glands, though variable in shape, are generally conical;
and some consist of several glands conjoined in one com¬
mon peduncle (Plate XXXVI. fig. 3). All of them are hol¬
low, and secrete a fluid which is discharged by one or
more minute apertures, and which is ofessential importance
in the solution of the food. In some instances, as in the
American ostrich (fig. 2), they are few in number, and oc¬
cupy only a small part of the posterior wall of the oesophagus.
Gizzard. The gizzard or proper stomach of birds may be consi¬
dered as a horny mucous membrane, somewhat cartilagi¬
nous, continuous with that of the oesophagus, and covered
by two strong thick muscles, the fibres of which converge
to a point. (Plate XXXVI. fig. 1.) In the carnivorous and
piscivorous genera of birds, especially those in which the
Glandular
crop.
crop is wanting, the gizzard loses its muscular character, Compara.
and is converted into a membranous pouch. tive
The stomach of Reptiles does not present those dila- Xnatomy,
tations observed in Birds; and when it changes its dia-
meter or capacity, it is only progressively and ^sensibly.g^^^
Its general diameter, nevertheless, is proportionally larger
than in the two classes already noticed. Most generally
without cul de sac, its shape is spheroidal, more or less ob¬
long ; its membranous walls are thin and transparent; its
muscular layer almost imperceptible; the cellular identified
with the mucous tissue ; the situation of the cardia indeter¬
minate ; and the pylorus, without valve, is distinguished
by a simple tapering contraction of the gastric walls, and
the appearance of the structure proper to the intestines.
In this class of animals, further, digestion appears to
be less regulated by fixed principles than in the other
two. It is evidently not confined exclusively to the sto¬
mach. The oesophagus of the turtle is provided with
numerous large, firm, pointed processes, which in all
probability contribute to the mechanical division of the
food, so much the more requisite as the Cheloniad Rep¬
tiles are toothless. Except in the crocodile, the Sau-
rial Reptiles are destitute of large arch or proper car¬
diac cavity. In the Ophidial or Serpentine Reptiles
the stomach has the figure merely of a dilated sac be¬
tween the oesophagus and intestines, and presents no cur¬
vature. It is probably in connection with this modifica¬
tion of structure that we find animals remain for days in
the oesophagus of serpents; and this tube appears to be
to a certain extent capable of digesting aliment as much
as the stomach. The best mark of distinction in such
circumstances is the cessation of epidermis.
In no class of animals does the stomach vary more in Stomach
shape, structure, and situation, than in Fishes; and per-of fishes,
haps the general character of the alimentary canal in this
class is most justly given by representing it as deviating
from those attributes of regularity which we find in the
higher classes. While in the Mammalia and Birds it is
always distinguished by its spheroidal or pyriform enlarge¬
ment between two tapering extremities, and by being
much more dilated than any other part of the alimentary
canal, in the Reptile class it begins to part with this cha¬
racter ; and it loses it altogether in the Fishes. In most
of the finny tribes it is often not more capacious than the
oesophagus; and it is distinguished from this tube only by
the villous character of its internal membrane. In gene¬
ral, also, the situation of this pyriform dilated sac is trans¬
versely across the body in the Mammiferous class. In
the feathered tribes this character also is slightly set
aside, and partly from the alteration in shape, partly from
that of position, the stomach occupies less of the trans¬
verse diameter than of the longitudinal extent of the
body. Among the Reptiles this character, though still
retained in the Cheloniad, and even in the Saurial, is
gradually enfeebled in the Ophidial ; and in the Fishes
it may be said to be entirely obliterated, since the organ
occupies much more longitudinal extent than transverse
width of the body.
Th§ first character of the alimentary tube of fishes is
the width or capacity combined with shortness of the oeso¬
phagus. Ihe latter character is manifestly associated
with the absence of lungs and consequent want of chest;
so that between the throat and abdominal cavity, the in¬
terval, which corresponds only to the space occupied by
the heart, is extremely abridged. The oesophagus con¬
sists, as in the other classes, of a mucous membrane sur¬
rounded by a muscular tunic; but the mucous mem¬
brane is distinguished by the firmness and whiteness of its
corion, which in some genera approaches to the consistence
of horn or cartilage, and by the presence of conical par-
pilla, sometimes of great hardness, and which appear to
ANATOMY.
37
para-
Cnpara- act meclianically on the food. It is almost superfluous to
ive notice the facility which the large capacity of this tube
, Aiitomy. affords fishes for swallowing their prey. Most of them
are voracious in the extreme ; and it is not uncommon to
find the stomach and oesophagus crammed to the throat.
The figure and position of the stomach of Fishes are
so variable, that it is difficult to give a character of gene¬
ral application. Though in many genera, especially of the
Jugulares, it consists of a cylindrical sac with a slight
dilatation immediately below the cardia, in others it is
oblong ovoidal, as the ray and shark tribe ; and in others,
as the sole, dory, and flat fishes generally, it is orbicular.
In the sturgeon it consists of a cylindrical tube incurvated
twice on itself. In none is there more than one cul de sac,
the depth of which varies as the part corresponding to
the pylorus is more or less remote from \he fundus. When
the limits of the stomach are indistinct, the situation of
the cardia is equally so. In the lamprey (petromyzon)
and pen-fish (syngnathus pelagicus) the whole tube is of
a Ainiform size from the mouth to the anus; and much
the same may be said of the carp genus. The genera in
which it forms a distinct dilatation or cul de sac are
chiefly the following; the eel (gnurcena anguilld), conger
(m. conger}, the bullhead genus (coitus), the scorpeena hor-
rida, labrus genus, perch, cuckoo gurnard, mackerel, her¬
ring, salmon, mormyrus genus, mullet, and sllurus Bagre.
In the anableps the dilatation disappears; and in the
chcetodon ciliaris and some others it is a large sac incur¬
vated in an arch-like bend.
The intestinal canal in most of the Mammalia is very
similar to that of man ; and the chief differences of differ¬
ent orders and genera are found in the difference of lon¬
gitudinal extent either of the whole intestinal tube or
the comparative lengths of its several parts.
From the time of Grew to that of Cuvier, and most
y length modern anatomists, it has been a point of some importance
to determine the length of the intestinal tube in relation
to that of the body. This comparative length, which is
greatest in the Mammalia, diminishes successively in the
Birds, Reptiles, and Fishes. It has been occasionally
stated by different anatomists, that the intestinal tube is
longer, cceteris paribus, in granivorous than in carnivorous
animals, and conversely. When we come, however, to com¬
pare the different lengths of this tube in the several tribes,
we find that this statement demands modification. In the
ape family its length varies from 5 to 8 times that of the
body; in several of the lemur tribe from 4 to 6 times, the
smaller length being in this case compensated by the size
of the caecum ; and in others of the lemur tribe, e. g. the
lori, the intestine is only three times the length of the
body. Among the Chiroptera there are two examples
of very great contrast in this respect. While the intes¬
tine of the noctula or great bat (yespertilio noctula, Lin.)
is the shortest of all the Mammalia, and scarcely does
more than exceed the length of the animal’s body, that of
the roussette (pteropus) or East India bat, which lives
chiefly on vegetable matter, is at least 7 times longer than
its body. A similar instance of the meeting of extremes
is found in the Marsupial order, in which the marmoset
and cayopollin have intestines only 2^ times longer than
the body, while that of the phalanger is more than 11
times longer. In the plantigrade or ursine family, which
occasionally live on vegetable matters, the proportional
length approaches to that of the ape.
In the carnivorous animals the intestine, though gene¬
rally short, varies from 3 times to 8 times the length of
the body. The former is the proportion in the lion, wild
cat, ocelot, couguar, and weasel; and the latter in the
hyena. Some of them also vary among themselves. Thus
the intestine of the wild cat is greatly less than that of
the domestic animal. The proportion is very great among
.t
of l .e in-
t osine to
t hoody.
the Rodentia, in several of which it is 8, 10,12, or 16 times Comp^ra-
longer, as in the agouti, than the body of the animal. Among tive
the murine tribe, however, it undergoes a diminution, ^mitomy.
Among the Edentata, again, especially the sloth tribe, it
diminishes very much, being only about 3% times longer
than the body in the Ai and Unau. This brevity is so
much the more extraordinary that these animals are void
of caecum, and live on vegetable matters; but, in all pro¬
bability, the duplicature of the gastric cavities- in some
degree compensates this deficiency.
The intestinal tube attains its greatest proportional
length in the Ruminant animals, being at least 11 times
longer than the body, as in the goat, and 28 times longer
in the i'am. This immense length is supposed to compen¬
sate the absence of dilatation in the large intestines, and
the small size of the caecum. In the Solidungula, again,
which are remarkable for the large size*of the caecum, the
length of the intestine diminishes much, being 8 times
longer than the body in the zebra, 9 times in the ass, and
10 times in the horse.
Lastly, it is a singular circumstance, that in different
species of the same genus the comparative length varies
much. We have already noticed the difference between
the length of the intestine in the wild and in the domestic
cat. The wild and tame boar is a similar instance of the
same, the intestine being only 9 times longer than the
body in the former, and so much as 131 times in the lat¬
ter. It is possible that such difterences may depend on
the different habits of the animal in his wild and domestic
condition. This explanation, however, is totally inade¬
quate to account for the difference in the comparative
length of the intestinal tube in the Asiatic and African
elephant, being 10 times longer than the body in the
former species, and only 7 times in the latter. The same
may be observed of two animals very closely allied, if not
of the same genus, the echidna and ornithorhyncus. The
intestine of the former animal is 7 times longer than his
body, while that of the latter is only 5 times.
In Birds generally the intestine is shortest among those
genera which prey on animals and fish; it varies from
twice to five times the length of the body. In the galli¬
naceous and passerine birds, which live on grains, it is
always longer and more capacious than in those which
live on animal substances. In the cassowary, which is
granivorous with a short intestine, the intestine is di¬
vided by contractions into distinct pouches, to compen¬
sate for the brevity of the tube. It must be remarked,
nevertheless, that in several birds which prey on fishes,
the intestinal tube is proportionally longer than in those
which feed only on grain; and the proportional length
is not diminished in birds living indiscriminately on ani¬
mal and vegetable aliment.
The intestinal tube of the Reptiles is still shorter than
that of Birds, and often it does not exceed twice the
length of the body. It is longest in the Cheloniad, and
shortest in the Ranine and Serpent tribe. In the tad¬
pole, however, a singular peculiarity is observed. The
intestinal tube of the tadpole of a frog is nearly ten times
longer than the space between the muzzle and the vent
(anus); whereas, after the animal has become a frog, the
intestine is only twice as long as this space.
In the class of Fishes the intestinal tube is still shorter
and more direct in its course to the vent or outlet. In
a few which live chiefly on marine vegetables, for instance
some of the chcetodon genus, it is about six times longer
than the body of the animal; and in a few of the carp genus
(viz. cyprinus capceta) it amounts to ten or twelve times
longer than the body. In others, however, of the same
genus, for instance the cyprinus mursa, it is scarcely as
long again, showing here once more an instance of the
conjunction of extremes not easily explained.
38
ANATOMY.
Compara- In most vertebrated animals the intestinal tube may be
dve distinguished by natural marks into two divisions, one ex-
Anatomy. ten(jjng between the pyloric end of the stomach to a part
^22^ of the tube, where it becomes wider and more capacious;
into ileum the other from this to the vent or outlet. In some instances,
and colon, however, this distinction is very obscurely and imperfectly
marked. In the Mammalia, in which the distinction is
observed, it is indicated by one or more appendages,
which, if large, are denominated cceca, and if slender and
long, are termed vermiform processes. Man, the ourang,
and the wombat (phascolomys), are the only animals
which are possessed at once of caecum and vermiform ap¬
pendage. In the other genera of the ape tribe, in the
maki of the lemur, in the colugo among the Chiroptera,
the ichneumon, many of the carnivorous tribe, the opossum
and kangaroo, the Rodentia except the dormouse, the
Cape ant-eater, the Pachydermata except the hyrax,
the Ruminants, Solidungula, and Amphibia, there is
only a caecum without vermiform process. The caecum is
wanting in the sloths, the bat tribe, the Ursine except the
ichneumon, the marten, pine-marten, weasel, &c. the dor¬
mouse, and all the Cetaceous animals.
The presence of caecum or vermiform process, however,
is not necessary to distinguish the canal into two portions.
The inner or mucous surface of the ileum is always villous
and uniform; and the whole intestine, except its supe¬
rior or pyloric portion, is convoluted in proportion to its
length, and moves about freely in the abdominal cavity;
whereas the colon is more or less fixed at different points,
it is shorter and more capacious, and its inner membrane
is merely mucous without long villi. A mark equally
general is the semilunar duplicature of mucous membrane
placed between the ileum and colon, and named the ileo¬
colic valve. In the sloth and armadillo tribes, which want
caecum and vermiform process, this and the slight differ¬
ence of diameter are the only marks of distinction between
the ileum and colon. In all the other Mammalia which
are destitute of caecum the whole tube is of the same
calibre, occasionally diminished towards the vent; and the
division into ileum and colon is no longer cognizable.
In all the Mammalia with one caecum, it appears in
the form of a production from the large intestine beyond
the part at which it receives the ileum; and though va¬
riable in its diameter and structure, it bears a general re¬
semblance to the colon in these respects. In herbivorous
animals, and even in some that are omnivorous, as the ape
and lemur tribes, it is generally large and puckered by
tendinous bands. To this, however, an exception is ob¬
served in the Ruminants, in which the caecum is mode¬
rate in size and unpuckered. It is small and unpuckered
in the kangaroo-rat and wombat; while, conversely, in the
colugo and brown phalanger, which are believed to be
chiefly zoophagous, it is very large and puckered.
In the zoophagous animals generally both the colon and
caecum are of small calibre, little different from that of the
ileum ; and both the colon and caecum are destitute of
cells or compartments. In herbivorous and several om¬
nivorous animals, on the contrary, the inner surface of the
colon is divided by longitudinal and transverse bands into
a number of cells or compartments. . From this rule, how¬
ever, there is an exception in the wombat, kangaroo, and
the Ruminants. In the Rodentia the colon is cellular at
its commencement only.
In birds the canal is provided with two cceca, one on
each side, not far from the vent. In the omnivorous and
granivorous these caeca are generally long and capacious.
While they are very large in the nocturnal predatory
birds, they are either obliterated or wanting in the diur¬
nal predatory birds, in the green woodpecker, the lark,
and the cormorant. In the heron, bustard, and grebe,
there is a single small one; in the cassowary two very
slender; and in the merganser, diver, &c. they are short Compara.
and thick. tive
In all birds tbe short bowel between the insertion of the
cceca and the cloaca is a little wider and more capacious than^^^^
those between the pylorus and the caeca ; and this is the
only circumstance which indicates in this class the dis¬
tinction of the tube into ileum and colon.
In the reptiles the intestinal tube is generally void of
caeca or appendage; and the only distinction consists in the
one part of the tube, which is long and slender, being joined
to another which is short and thick, and in the presence
of a semilunar membranous fold at the point of insertion.
In the iguana alone has a genuine caecum been observed.
The distinction into small and large intestine, or ileum
and colon, is still less obviously observed in the class of
fishes. It sometimes happens that the difference of capa¬
city is inverted, and that the calibre of the portion which
terminates at the vent is actually smaller than that of the
part connected with the stomach. This arrangement is
observed in the ray, shark, sturgeon, and even the bichir;
in the syngnathus, trunk-fish, and balista. In other in¬
stances the diameter is the same throughout; and the
only distinction is derived from the anatomical characters
of the inner membrane. In the lamprey, sea-devil, rough
star-gazer, radiated sole, holocentrus sago, carp tribe, mor-
myrus, and mullet, it is impossible to distinguish the intes¬
tine into large and small.
Fishes resemble Reptiles in being destitute of etpesm Pyloricaj
at the junction of the small and large bowel. In many ofP^^S681
them, howe^r, there is attached to the intestine, some-oi “she8,
where below the pylorus, a variable number of small intes¬
tines terminating in blind ends, similar in size and struc¬
ture to the intestine with which they communicate. These
tubes, which have been not very happily named pyloric
appendages {appendices pyloricce), in so far as they are
most frequently connected rather with the part of the
bowel corresponding to the duodenum, vary in number
from 2, 4, 6, or 8, to 80 or 180 in some genera, and even
their number is not the same in different species of the
same genus. Thus, while there are 6 in the smelt {salmo
eperlanus), there are 68 in the s. lacustris, and 70 in the
salmon {s. salar). In like manner, though there are 18
in the anchovy, {clupea encrasicolus'), there are 24 in the
herring (c. harengus), and fourscore in the shad (c. alosa).
In some, as the cod and pollach, they consist of several
large trunks ramified into numerous small ones.
These appendages, however, are wanting in the carti-Peculiar
laginous fishes with free branchiae, in most of those withformo^
fixed branchiae, in the Apodes, and in several of the tho- aPPen* |
racic and abdominal order. In the sturgeon and some *
others they are represented by a series of communicating
cavities inclosed in the intestinal membrane, which is
covered by a cellulo-muscular tunic and peritoneum (Plate
XXXVI. fig. 5), and which assumes the external appear¬
ance of a pancreas.
Among the cartilaginous fishes the brevity and direct-The spm
ness of the intestinal tube is compensated by a peculiar dis-ot
position of the intestinal mucous membrane. This consists115 es‘
in part of the membrane projecting like a broad fold or pro¬
cess from the inner surface of the intestine, and winding
round from the pyloric to the anal or lower extremity
(fig. 7 and 8). This, which is denominated the spiral valve,
may be easily understood from these figures, which repre¬
sent the arrangement as it is observed in the shark. In
the sturgeon, in which it is found in the last portion of in¬
testine (fig. 6), its peculiarities have been described by
the writer of this article in the Wernerian Transactions,
vol. vi.
In all the Mammalia the intestinal tube terminates/fretws-
in a distinct bowel denominated the rectum, the mucous
membrane of which is continuous with the skin at the
0
ANATOMY.
39
anus. This rule can scarcely be said to be violated in
the case of the echidna and ornithorhyncus, in which there
is an aperture at the lower part for the urine and the
semen of the male and the ova of the female. These
anomalous and singular animals form a transition to the
mode in which the intestinal tube terminates in the three
genuine oviparous classes. In Birds, Reptiles, and most
of the cartilaginous Fishes, the intestinal tube terminates
in an outlet common to it with the urinary organs, denomi¬
nated generally the cloaca. In the sturgeon, however, it has
been shown, in the paper already mentioned, that there is
a distinct urinary outlet; and that consequently this ani¬
mal cannot be said to have a cloaca. In the greater part
of fishes, while there is one vent for the excrement, there
is another common one for the urine, the ova, and the
spawn.
On the subject of the liver, spleen, and pancreas, it is
impossible to enter with any interest in this sketch.
CHAP. II. SECT. I. THE HEMATROPHIC ORGANS.
The Mammalia and Birds agree in having a heart con¬
sisting of two pairs of chambers, a venous auricle and
ventricle, and an arterial auricle and ventricle. The
Eustachian valve is often wanting in the Mammalia. It is
wanting, for instance, in the lion, bear, and porcupine;
while it is broad and muscular in the seal, and assumes a
spiral direction along the upper walls of the right auricu¬
lar sinus in the elephant.
It was at one time imagined that the aquatic Mamma¬
lia were distinguished from the terrestrial by the foramen
ovale being open and forming a communication between
the two auricles. This, however, is a mistake, at least in
the adult animal; for neither in the otter, the seal, nor
the porpoise or dolphin, did Cuvier find this aperture per¬
vious ; and it may be inferred, that when it is open, it is
an anormal remain of the fetal structure. In the orni¬
thorhyncus, also, according to Sir Everard Home, it is im¬
pervious. In the porcupine and elephant, in which there
are two anterior vence cavce, the blood of the left anterior
cava, which opens in the sinus near the aurico-ventricular
aperture, is conveyed directly into the right ventricle.
The reptile heart, the first in the cold-blooded division,
varies somewhat in the several tribes. In the first three,
the Cheloniad, Saurial, and Ophidial, it consists of
two auricles and one ventricle, divided in some instances
into communicating chambers. In the Batrachoid family,
on the contrary, it always consists of one auricle and one
ventricle, the interior of which is unilocular or undivid¬
ed. In several of the Turtle tribe, among the first family,
the ventricle consists of a pulmonary chamber, in which
the blood is more particularly directed to the pulmonary
artery, and a general or aortic chamber, which is above,
and from which the blood is conveyed into the aorta. In
the crocodile the ventricle is divided into three chambers,
communicating by several apertures. One is inferior and
to the right, and communicates with the right auricle by
a large aperture provided with two valves. On the left,
and before, is the second chamber, receiving the orifice of
the left descending aorta. Behind is an aperture leading
into the smallest chamber of the three, situate at the mid¬
dle of the base of the heart, and receiving the common
trunk of the pulmonary arteries. The left chamber is
above. In the Ophidial or Serpentine family the ven¬
tricle is divided into two chambers, a superior and infe¬
rior, separated by an imperfect partition, which allows the
two to communicate.
The heart of the finny tribes is as simple as that of the
Ranine reptiles, which indeed constitutes the preparatory
step in the descending scale of organic forms. It consists,
as in these animals, of two chambers only, an auricle and
ventricle. The former receives the blood from the body
at large, and transmits it to the ventricle, which is almost Compara-
in all cases unilocular. From this a single vessel conveys ^ve
it, not to the body at large, but to the gills, from which it Anatomy.
is again collected by several branchial veins. n*
Of the blood-vessels of the four vertebrated classes it
is superfluous to speak in any detail.
The most remarkable circumstances are the minute
subdivisions which in some classes the arteries undergo
previous to final distribution. In the Ruminants, and se¬
veral of the Pachydermata, the branches of the carotid
artery, instead of uniting by the communicating vessels, are
subdivided into a great number of minute vessels, which
form round the pituitary gland a communicating plexus,
denominated by the ancients JRete mirabile.
In the slow lemur (lemur tardigradus') Sir A. Carlisle
found the subclavian artery, after entering the axilla, di¬
vide into 23 arterial cylinders of equal size, and the iliac
on the brim of the pelvis into at least 20 equal-sized tubes,
which in both cases surrounded the principal artery, redu¬
ced to a small vessel, and, proceeding along the extremity,
were distributed chiefly to the muscles. (Phil. Trans.
1800.) A similar arrangement, carried to a still greater ex¬
tent, was found in the ^Ai or three-toed sloth, in which the
axillarv and iliac arteries were divided into about 60 or 65
cylindrical parallel tubes. In the slender lemur (Lemur
laris') these vessels are subdivided into 4 or 5 only.
In Fishes in which the unilocular ventricle sends its
blood to the gills only, the heart is pulmonarj^, and the
arterial system is destitute of central impulsive organ.
In the sturgeon, which is one of the best examples of the
distribution of the arterial system in the finny tribes, the
blood, which is distributed in the branchice by the large
artery, is collected in numerous vessels, which may be
regarded as analogous to the pulmonary veins of the
warm-blooded classes, but which have thick parietes like
arteries; and these uniting, form a large vessel, which is
lodged in a cartilaginous canal formed by the continuous
bodies of the vertebrce. This vessel is further void of com¬
pressive or elastic tunics, and the blood moves through it
as through an immovable and inelastic tube. From its
sides, however, a series of arterial vessels issue, which
forthwith assume the usual characters of arterial tubes. In
many other fishes the parietes of the large artery adhere
in part to the semi-osseous canal in which it is lodged.
SECT. II. THE ORGANS OF AERATING CIRCULATION.
The lungs of the Mammalia are in all essential points
perfectly similar to those of the human subject.
The lungs of Birds differ chiefly in not presenting dis¬
tinct lobules, in having the air-vessels larger and more dis¬
tinct, in the branchial tubes not becoming quite so small,
and in terminating not alone in the pulmonic vesicles, but
in perforated parts of the surface of the lungs, which lead
into large air-sacs, communicating with all parts of the
body, and forming an accessory lung. In the ostrich,
which may be taken as a general example, there are four
of these cells or aerolabous sacs. The first, which is
anterior, extends from the apex of the chest to the iliac
bones, between the first ribs and heart above, and between
the lower ribs and a cell which surrounds the intestines.
It is divided into four chambers, the first two communicat¬
ing with the lungs by large apertures, while the fourth opens
in the iliac bones. Behind this large sac are two small ones,
between the iliac bones and the peritoneal sac. Before it
is another small one occupying the lateral regions of the
apex of the chest, and communicating with sacs in the axil-
ice and neck. Besides these, the stomach, liver, heart, and
intestines are surrounded by sacs. All of these communi¬
cate by saccular processes with the cavities of the bones.
By this peculiar arrangement Birds possess the greatest
extent of respiratory surface of all classes of animals.
40
ANATOMY.
Tempo-
rarv gills
Compara- The lungs of Reptiles are distinguished by consisting of
Anatom - ^ar^e SaCS’ sul)4iv*cle^ by membranous partitions into poly-
'Ji- g°n^ cells, which again are subdivided by smaller slips
into smaller cells. In these cells the bronchial tubes
are not ramified, but divide abruptly in them at the sur¬
face of the lung. Some idea of this arrangement may
be obtained from the lung of the ordinary land-tortoise
(Testudo Grceca, Plate XXXVII. fig. 1). The sacs or
large cells are smaller and more numerous in the turtle
(fig. 2); but the general disposition is much the same.
The young of the Batrachoid family, and several of
of flTt 1 the water"lizard tribe> are Provided with fimbriated or
pole!6 aa" cibated processes attached to the neck, and which are in
all respects sinv'lar to the gills of fishes. These gills dis¬
appear as the animal grows; and wdien it assumes the true
ranine or reptile character, vesicular lungs like those of
other reptiles, and which had continued in a hitherto
latent and rudimental state, are developed, and the ani¬
mal breathes as others of the same tribe.
A peculiar form of respiratory organ is found in the
lamprey or seven eyes, and the two species of hag-fish,
(Myxine, Lin.; Gastrobranchus, Bl.; and Gastrobranchus
Dombey). The former has on each side seven apertures
leading into cylindrical tubes, in which the branchiae are
contained. (Plate XXXVII. fig. 3.) In the two species
of hag these tubes are dilated into ovoidal cavities, in
which the water is received, and on the membrane of
which the branchial vessels are distributed. In this re¬
spect, therefore, the hag-fish approaches to the mode
of respiration among the cephalopodous Mollusca, in
which the bratichice are inclosed in a cavity. Lastly, in
the Aphrodite aculeata, which may be taken as an example
of the respiration of worms, there is a series of tubes like
tracheae and bronchi, proceeding from the surface to the
interior, and in which the water containing the air requi¬
site for respiration is received. (Fig. 6.)
the erectile movable tubular fangs. Fig. 15 is the head of Compaq
the innocuous, and 16 of the poisonous serpent. five'
Anatom
PART III.—REPRODUCTIVE ORGANS.
Under this head we mention only the nipple-bag (marsu-
pium mammillare), or secondary uterus of the Marsupial
animals (Plate XXXVII. fig. 7); the nipples (fig. 8); and
the manner in which the foetal animal, in a very imperfect
and embryal form, becomes attached by the mouth to the
nipples (fig. 10). The Marsupium, therefore, ought to be re¬
garded, not as a mere pouch in which the young may take
refuge after they are grown, but as a subsidiary uterus, com¬
bining the character of the Mammae of the other orders.*
The Mammalia are peculiar in possessing a uterus. In
the other classes this organ is withdrawn, and the ovary
(fig. 11) and oviduct alone are left. In the ovo-viviparous
animals, as the ovo-viviparous shark, the oviduct (fig. 12)
resembles that of the common fowl. In the lower classes
the ova are hatched out of the body entirely.
Urinary
organs of
the ovi¬
parous
classes.
Poison
gland and
fangs of
serpents.
SECT. III. SECRETORY ORGANS.
Under this head ought to be described the urinary or¬
gans of the four vertebrated classes. Those of the Mam¬
malia agree in consisting of kidneys more or less lobu-
lated, ureters or excretory tubes, a reservoir or urinary
bladder, and a urethra opening on the same mucous sur¬
face with the organs of generation. In the three oviparous
classes considerable changes are made. Though in Birds
and Reptiles the glandular organs denominated kidneys
are left in the shape of aggregated glands with the two
excietoiy tubes, the bladder is withdrawn, and the ureters
open in the cloaca. The only apparent exceptions are
the ostrich and cassowary, in which the cloaca is so orga¬
nized that it may serve as a bladder or temporary recep¬
tacle of the urinary secretion. In the Reptiles the pre¬
sence of this organ is variable, being found in the Che-
loniad and Batrachoid ; and the iguana, tupinambis,
chameleon, stellio, and dragon, among the Saurial tribe ;
but wanting in the crocodile, lizard, agami, gecko, and the
whole Ophidial tribe. In Fishes it is not less variable.
While the ray and shark tribe are destitute of bladder,
and the ureters terminate in a cloaca, this receptacle
exists in the sea-devil, lump-fish, globe-fish, and others
of the cartilaginous division.
A peculiar secreting organ, deserving notice, is the poi¬
son gland of the poisonous serpents. It is a glandular body
situate on each side above the upper jaw, behind and be¬
low the eyes, with a considerable cavity, which opens into
a long excretory tube, lying along the outer surface of the
upper jaw, and opening in the tubular tooth, represented
at fig. 17 and 18; and which is movable in an articulation,
and may be erected, as in fig. 18, or depressed, as in 16, at
the will of the animal. The poisonous serpents are there¬
fore distinguished from the innocuous by the presence of
In the space assigned to this article, it was impos¬
sible to treat fully of a subject so extensive as the struc¬
ture of the animal world; and while the author has ar¬
ranged its divisions in such a manner as to show in what
order it may be most easily and advantageously studied,
he has introduced only those topics which are most indis¬
pensable, and most require illustration. For more com¬
plete details, therefore, he rfefers the reader to the follow¬
ing works.
1. Lemons d'Anatornie Comparee de G. Cuvier, Membre
de 1 Institut National, &c.; recueillies et publiees sous
ses yeux par C. Dumeril, chef des Travaux Anatomiques,
&c. Cinq tomes. Paris, tome i. 1799;—tome v. 1805.
2. Blumenbach’s Manual of Comparative Anatomy ; with
additional Notes by William Lawrence, Esq. F\ R. S. Se¬
cond edition, revised and augmented by William Coulson.
Lond. 1827, 8vo. The notes are derived chiefly from
the work of Cuvier and the papers of Sir E. Home in the
Philosophical Transactions. 3. Gore’s Translation of Ca-
rus’s Introduction to the Comparative Anatomy of Animals.
Lond. 1827, 2 vols. 8vo. The arrangement of this work,
in which the author examines the forms of organs as they
ascend, from the lowest to the highest classes, diminishes
its general interest. 4. Lectures on Comparative Anato¬
my, in which are explained the Preparations in the Hunte¬
rian Museum. By Sir Everard Home, Bart. Lond. 1823,
6 vols. 4to. This work consists of the papers read by
the author at the Royal Society, and published in their
Iransactions. Though entitled, therefore, Lectures on
Comparative Anatomy, it embraces a much more exten¬
sive field, and contains a great number of physiological
and pathological papers. This renders it at once rather
desultory and prolix. It contains, nevertheless, a-great
number of facts illustrative of peculiarities of structure in
the animal world; and it is particularly valuable by the
number of engravings with which it is embellished. It
can scarcely be said to possess any arrangement whatever.
5. Recherches sur les Ossemens Possiles, oil Von retablit les
characleres de plusieurs animaux dont les Revolutions da
Globe ont detruit les especes. Par M.le Bar. G. Cuvier, &c.
Nouvelle edition. Tome i. 1822, Osteology of the Elephant,
Hippopotamus; tome ii. partie i. 1822, Osteology of the
Rhinoceros, Horse, Hog, Daman, and Tapir; tome iv.
1823, Osteology of the Deer and Ox, the Bear, Hyena,
Lion, Glutton, Wolf, and Dog; tome v. partie i. 1823,
Osteology of the Reptiles, the Ichthyosaurus and the
Plesiosaurus; partie ii. 1823, Rodentia, Edentata,
Monotrema, Amphibia, and Cetacea. Paris, 1824.
I hese papers contain much accurate osteological descrip-
tion. (v.)
41
VEGETABLE ANATOMY.
Int 'iluc- All the plants which collectively form the vegetable
fry kingdom have been arranged under two great divisions.
Kearks. 'i'|lose which possess visible organs of reproduction, as
stamens and pistils, have been termed phcenogamous, and
constitute the first 23 classes in the sexual system of
Linnaeus; while those in which the reproductive organs
are either obscure or have not yet been discovered, have
been termed cryptogamous, and form the 24th class of that
system. Humboldt estimates the total number of known
species at 44,000; of which 38,000 belong to the former
division, and 6000 to the latter. M. Brogniart, jun. sup¬
poses the present known Flora to embrace 50,350 species,
of which 10,200 may be considered as cryptogamous, and
40,150 species as belonging to the phaenogamous division.
On the present occasion we propose to describe the struc¬
ture of those plants only whici. are included in the division
of phaenogamous plants.
Of the vast number of plants which cover the surface of
our globe, it belongs to the botanist to describe the exter¬
nal forms in such manner as may serve to discriminate
species, and assign to each its place in a methodical sys¬
tem of arrangement: it is the province of the anatomist
to demonstrate, by dissection, their internal structure, so
as to prepare the way for a rational explanation of their
functions. In pursuing this object we may examine suc¬
cessively each of the parts as they severally present them¬
selves to view; or we may, in the first place, study the
elementary organs common to all plants, and then consi¬
der how their combinations form the different parts of
vegetables. The former method is the analytic, and was
necessarily that of the first observers ; but, now that all
the different parts are recognised as being formed out of
the same elementary organs, we gain, both in conciseness
and clearness, by adopting the latter or synthetic mode.
We shall accordingly describe, first, the elementary
organs, and the primary textures which they form; and
proceed afterwards to the consideration of the individual
members and more complex organs of the plant. These
elementary organs have been denominated vessels and
cells; and they form, either singly or conjointly, what
are called the vascular system and cellular tissue of
plants. Their combination gives rise to certain textures,
which appear in the well-known forms of skin, of bark,
and of wood. On these we shall bestow the appellation
of common textures, and exhibit a general view of their
structure and disposition in the several parts of the ve¬
getable body. A brief description of some minuter parts,
as of hairs and glands, will terminate this division of the
subject.
In the second part we shall begin with a description of
the general structure of seeds, and afterwards treat more
particularly of those bodies under the two great divisions
of monocotyledonous and dicotyledonous seeds, tracing also
the changes of form and of structure which they exhibit
in their evolution and progress to the state of the mature
plant. The structure of the mature plant itself will next
claim our attention ; and we shall accordingly exhibit the
anatomy of its several members, as of the trunk, the branch,
and the root, in their more remarkable varieties and forms.
After this, the structure of the organs that spring from
these several members, as buds and bulbs, leaves, flowers,
and fruits, will be separately and distinctly examined;
and having thus followed the progressive changes of form
and of structure exhibited in the several stages of vege-
VOL. in.
table existence, we shall terminate our descriptions by Introduc-
anatomical representations of the organs in which the tory
seed was produced, and the series of appearances succes- Bemarks.
sively displayed in its formation.
Through the whole of the descriptive detail we shall
adhere as closely as we can to the language of demon¬
stration ; supporting and illustrating our representations
of structure by continual reference to figures, selected in
great part from authors of repute, and in some instances
from dissections made by ourselves. We are aware, that
of many reputed anatomical facts very different represen¬
tations have been given, all equally professing to rest on
microscopical observation. In such circumstances, we
can do no more than report concisely the statements of
different observers; but shall dwell chiefly on those de¬
scriptions and representations which seem best entitled to
credit, and appear most conformable to the analogies of
other organized structures.
When we consider the immense number of species that
compose the vegetable kingdom, and call to mind that in
form, in size, and in structure, each species differs from
every other through every period of its existence, it must
appear altogether impracticable to describe and delineate
any considerable number. Fortunately, however, these
diversities arise not from differences in the elementary
organs, but chiefly from their varied proportion, disposi¬
tion, and texture. In numerous species the disposition of
the internal organs is very similar, where the external
form and texture widely differ. In other instances the
arrangement and composition of the internal parts vary
not less than that of the external figure. Of these varie¬
ties we shall exhibit different examples.
In describing individual parts or organs, we might have
brought many concurring examples, and exhibited many
similar representations, to confirm the views of structure
under consideration; but, in general, we have dwelt only
on one or two examples, and these we have selected from
plants which are either important in themselves, or whose
structure has been most satisfactorily displayed, or which
seemed to afford the best illustration of the peculiarities
we were engaged in describing. From one example clear¬
ly given, the reader will readily apprehend the nature of
analogous structures, and escape the perplexity and fatigue
which unnecessary repetitions might occasion.
Instead, also, of describing the vegetable at one or two
stationary points of its existence, in some of which its size
is so minute as to be scarcely capable of demonstration,
we have followed it through the several stages of its
growth. In this way we really study it as a living body,
continually exerting its vegetative powers, and daily ex¬
hibiting the most striking variations in external form, and
frequently in internal structure. We hope thus to have
conferred an interest on the descriptive part, which may
in some measure relieve the unavoidable dryness of ana¬
tomical details; to have exhibited, in some instances,
clearer views of vegetable organization; and to have given
a continuity to the subject which isolated dissections, at a
few stated periods, could not alone have bestowed.
It remains only to add a few remarks on the nomencla¬
ture employed in the present article.
In the description of external parts we have adhered
chiefly to the Linnaean nomenclature; but some of the
terms employed by Linnaeus, in relation to anatomical
structure, are exceedingly vague and inappropriate; others
ANATOMY, VEGETABLE.
42
Introduc- are manifestly erroneous, and, however well suited to the
tory purposes of botany, are not at all to be tolerated in any
Remarks. thjng that aspires to correct anatomical description.
In the anatomy of seeds we have adopted many of the
terms employed by Gsertner, in his excellent work De
Ffuctibus et Seminibus Plantarum, most of which had pre¬
viously been used by Malpighi and Grew.
Thus, in every instance, we have exercised our own
judgment in the selection of terms, and, where it seemed
necessary, have subjoined the synonyms of different wri¬
ters. Though we presume not to say that we have uni¬
formly chosen the best, we trust they will always clearly
express the idea we designed to convey; and that, in ge- Introduc. j
neral, they have been used in one and the same sense, and tory ]
in no other. Except in one or two trivial instances, we RemarH ,
have not ventured to introduce new terms, but have stu-V'^vv
diously sought to avoid it, retaining even an inappropriate
expression, sanctioned by use, if it did not, at the same
time, lead to ambiguity, or convey an idea evidently false ;
and we have in general resisted that torrent of new and
barbarous terms, founded often on fancied refinements and
pretended discoveries, with which several continental
writers have of late attempted to deluge this branch of
science.
PART I.
OF THE ANATOMY IN GENERAL OF THE ELEMENTARY ORGANS AND COMMON TEXTURES OF VEGETABLES.
CHAP. I.
OF THE ELEMENTARY ORGANS.
Prelimi- Before we proceed to describe the structure of the
nary ob- individual parts of vegetables, it may be useful to exhibit
beivations. a genera| view 0f the elementary organs of which they
seem to be composed. Such a view will prepare the
reader for understanding more clearly the descriptive lan¬
guage hereafter to be employed, and will even much
abridge the extent to which that description must other¬
wise be carried.
Every one is familiar with the natural division of
plants into herbs and trees, and is aware that, how differ¬
ent soever they may appear in form and texture, they all
possess, in common, certain parts or members which we
name the root, the trunk, and the branches, from which
proceed the leaves, the flowers, the fruits, and seeds.
Infinitely varied as these several parts are, in figure, size,
and texture, they all originate from a few constituent or
elementary organs, whose situation, proportions, and com¬
bination, give rise to all the diversity that we see. “ Up¬
on the anatomical analysis of all the parts of a plant,”
says Grew, “ I have certainly found, that in all plants
there are two, and only two, organical parts essentially
distinct, viz. the pithy part and the ligneous part.” (Ana¬
tomy of Plants, p. 19.) “ And as every part hath two,
so the whole vegetable, taken together,” he adds, “ is a
composition of two only, and no more. All properly
woody parts, strings, and fibres, are one body; all simple
barks, piths, parenchymas, and pulps, and, as to their sub¬
stantial nature, peels and skins, are all likewise but one
body; the several parts of a vegetable differing from each
other only by the various proportions and mixtures, and
variated pores and structure, of these two bodies.” (Ibid.
p. 47.) In the anatomical descriptions of Malpighi, the
compound structure is resolved, in like manner, into two
constituent parts, called by him the ligneous and utricu¬
lar portions. To these parts may be assigned the gene¬
ral appellations of the Vascular System and Cellular
Tissue of plants, the description of which shall form the
first subjects of consideration.
Section I.
Of the Vascular System.
Art. I.— General Characters of the Vessels.
Definition. By the vascular system may be understood, in a ge¬
neral sense, all those parts of a plant which do not exhi¬
bit the form either of membrane or of cells. It consti¬
tutes almost the entire bulk of the more solid parts of
trees, and by Grew and Malpighi was denominated the
ligneous body, in contradistinction to the cellular tissue
which accompanies it, and which forms by far the largest
portion of many herbaceous plants. To common observa¬
tion, a piece of dry wood appears to be a mass of solid
fibres, that is, a series of particles arranged in a filiform
figure, and destitute of any continuous canal. Thus
Tournefort and others considered the ligneous parts of a
plant to be a mass of minute solid filaments, placed paral¬
lel to each other, like the threads in a skein of silk, be¬
tween the interstices of which the sap ascended; but the
anatomical researches of Grew conducted him to a differ¬
ent conclusion. “ If it he asked,” says he, “ what all
that part of a plant, whether herb or tree, which is pro¬
perly called the woody part—what all that is ? I suppose
that it is nothing else but a cluster of innumerable and
most extraordinary small vessels or concave fibres.” (Anat.
of Plants, p. 20.) Malpighi held similar opinions con¬
cerning the vascularity of plants, which was farther at¬
tested by the microscopical observations of Hooke and
Leeuwenhoeck. Du Hamel, though he admits that, un¬
der maceration, the parts of plants seem capable of inde¬
finite subdivision, yet, from many circumstances, avows
his conviction of their vascularity; and Hedwig maintains
that the oldest and most compact plant is but a congeries
of vessels and cells, which have nothing of the character
of a fibrous solid, except in the thin membranous coats
by which they are formed. (De Fibrce Veyetab. Ortu,
p.17.)
Few circumstances have contributed more to per-Names of
plex and retard our knowledge of the structure of plants,
than the vague and erroneous nomenclature that has been
employed to designate their constituent organs, more par¬
ticularly in relation to the vascular system. Thus the
several terms filaments, fibres, strings, threads, and nerves,
which, in their ordinary acceptation, are understood to
express a solid substance, have been constantly made use
of in describing the tubes or vessels of plants. The
same organs, however, even by the same writers, are fre¬
quently called tubular bodies, ligneous tubes, concave
fibres, ducts, canals, arteries, veins, and vessels. In our
future descriptions we shall employ the term vessel in a
generic sense, to express all the diversity of names just
enumerated ; and the different kinds or species of vessels
we shall hereafter attempt to discriminate by appropriate
appellations.
Vessels, as -we have said, exist in almost every part
of a plant. In the higher orders of animals the fluids
contained in the vessels are conveyed to a central reser¬
voir called the heart, from which they are again sent out
to all parts of the body. Near to this reservoir the ves-
ANATOMY, VEGETABLE, 43
n;; ikientarysels are few in number and large in size ; and they gra-
([gans. dually lessen in size and increase in number as they re-
r cede from it. In plants there is no such reservoir, but
the fluids which enter by innumerable mouths at the root
(are at once distributed equally through all parts of the
vegetable that are fitted to receive them. Hence in
plants there is little variation in the diameter of the ves¬
sels ; and their general figure is therefore cylindrical,
ir size. From the extreme minuteness of the vessels, it is
scarcely possible to compute their number with accuracy.
By driving off their fluids without destroying their figure,
as is done in the preparation of charcoal, Hooke number¬
ed in a line, ygth part of an inch long, not fewer than 150
vessels; therefore, in a line an inch long, there must be
2700, and in a surface of a square inch, 7,290,000 vessels ;
“ which would seem incredible,” says he, “ were not every
one left to believe his own eyes.” These facts he ve¬
rified by other observations on decayed wood, in which
the vessels were empty; and also on petrifactions of ligne¬
ous bodies, in which the places of the vessels were very
conspicuous. In very close and dense wood, as that of
guaiacum, the vessels were still more minute than in the
examples just quoted. (Micrographia, p. 101, 108.) In
a piece of oak of the size of about Ygth part of a
square inch, Leeuwenhoeck reckoned 20,000 vessels; so
that in an oak-tree of no more than one foot in circum¬
ference, or about four inches in diameter, there will be
found, according to his computation, 200,000,000 of such
I vessels. (Select Works, translated by Hoole, vol. i. p. 3.)
The largest vessel observed by Hedwig (De Vegetab.
Ortu, p. 26) in the stem of the gourd appeared through
his microscope about j^th of an inch in diameter; and as
his instrument magnified 290 times, the true diameter
must be reckoned the 3480th part of an inch, which
would give for the square inch 12,110,400 vessels. In
certain plants, however, the vessels are large enough to
be discerned by the naked eye, and in some cases they
acquire a large size.
■“I ji d(n fas- The vessels of plants do not, like those of animais,
cicri. exist single, but are collected into fasciculi or bundles,
which, however, have often the appearance of single ves¬
sels. In the stems of herbs, and in roots, Grew discover¬
ed each small fasciculus to be composed of from 30 to 100,
or sometimes many hundred vessels. (Anatomy of Plants,
p. 20.) The direction of these fasciculi in the trunk is
generally perpendicular, but in other parts their course is
often oblique, and in their smaller ramifications they pro¬
duce all sorts of figures. In herbs the fasciculi are more
or less numerous, and placed often at considerable dis¬
tances from each other, exhibiting the appearance of small
columns dispersed through the cellular tissue: in other
instances they are much more numerous, but destitute of
any symmetrical arrangement; while, in trees, they are
disposed regularly around the axis, presenting in their
transverse section the well-known appearance of concen¬
tric circles in the wood.
fy, llaiify. In some parts, where the fasciculi stand at a distance
from each other, some vessels often quit one parcel to
unite with another, and return afterwards to that which
they had previously left. In this manner they are said
to ramify, and frequently, by their ramification, a reticu¬
lated appearance is produced, as occurs especially in the
bark and leaves. In the wood of the trunk, where they
stand collaterally in a perpendicular direction, they very
seldom, if ever, run into one another, but keep, says Grew,
like so many several vessels, all along distinct; as, by
cutting, and so following any one fasciculus, may be ob¬
served. (Anatomy of Plants, p. 20.) In branches and
roots, though the direction of the fasciculi be changed,
they seem only to break into smaller parcels, and run Elementary
side by side, never inosculating with each other, nor being Organs,
ramified, so as to be successively propagated one fromv^v^w/
another, as in the vessels of animals. Neither, adds he,
are they wound together like threads in a rope, but are
only contiguous or simply tangent, like the several cords
in the braces of a drum. (Anatomy of Plants, p. 66.)
Even in the leaf, where the vessels seem to ramify out of
greater into less, as in the arteries of animals, yet, if the
skin and pulp of the leaf be removed, and the vessels laid
bare, it will appear that they are all of the same size
everywhere in the leaf, and all continued through it, as
distinct tubes, like the several threads in a skein of silk.
The distribution of the vessels is not effected, therefore,
by their ramifying out of greater into less, but by the di¬
vision of a greater fasciculus into several smaller fasciculi,
till at last they come to be single. (Anatomy of Plants,
p. 155.)
It may be doubted whether, when the vessels of dif- Do not
ferent fasciculi come into contact, they ever actuallyanasto-
unite and are lost in each other, forming that kind of con-111080,
nection which is called inosculation or anastomosis. Grew
strenuously contends against any such connection of the
vessels in any part of the plant. “ On a superficial view,
indeed, the vessels of the leaf,” says he, “ seem to be inos¬
culated, not only side to side, but the ends of some into
the sides of others: but neither is this ever really done,
the lesser fasciculi being only so far diducted as to stand
at right angles with the greater; but they are never in¬
osculated, except end to end, or mouth to mouth, after
they are come at last to their final distribution.” (Ana¬
tomy of Plants, p. 155.) Malpighi, however, from the fact
of the alternate separation and conjunction of the vessels,
and from analogy with what occurs in the animal system,
speaks always of the anastomosis of the vessels, but he
nowhere gives us any thing like proof of the fact; and Du
Hamel, from actual dissection of several fasciculi, regards
them in their union as resembling more the nerves than
the blood-vessels of animals. When, indeed, we consider
the extraordinary minuteness of the vessels, and the cir¬
cumstance of their possessing nearly the same size in
every part, there is no room for that continual ramification
out of one into another, and consequent diminution of
diameter, that occur in the vessels of animals; and the im¬
mensity of their number, together with the endless sepa¬
rations and re-unions which their fasciculi make, seems cal¬
culated to fulfil the purposes of less general distribution
in the plant, which successive division and perpetual anas¬
tomosis effect in the animal system.
Another general circumstance in the vessels of plants Have no
is, that we do not discover in them any structure which valves,
has the true nature and use of valves, similar to what is
met with in the veins and absorbent vessels of animals.
Dr Hooke could never observe in their canal any thing
that had the appearance of valves. (Micrographia,
p. 116.) Did such a structure exist, the absorption of
nutrient matter from the lobes of the seed, and its con¬
veyance, in a backward course, to the embryo, could not,
says Grew, have place; neither could the root, as it often
does, grow upward and downward both at once. (Anatomy
of Plants.) If the piece of a root of elm-tree be cut in
autumn, the juices, says Du Hamel, are found to escape
indifferently at either end, as the one or the other is al¬
ternately held downward; a circumstance, he observes,
inconsistent with the opinion of Mariotte, who maintained
the existence of valves. (Phys. des Arbres, tom. i. p. 56.)
It is well known, also, that many plants may be made to
grow in an inverted position, so as to put forth leaves
and flowers from their roots; and large trees have been
44
ANATOMY, VEGETABLE.
Elementary nourished by juices received through the extremities of
Organs, their ingrafted branches, after all connection between
the earth and the roots had been cut off. In general, in¬
deed, the extreme minuteness of the vessels seems almost
to preclude the possible existence of valves in their ca¬
nal ; but in some instances, where the vessels in aged
trees have become enlarged, membranous productions
have been found to occupy their cavities, which some have
alleged to perform the office of valves. They occur, how¬
ever, only at an advanced period of growth, and form no
necessary part of the structure of the vessel, and, instead
of promoting, contribute only to obstruct the course of
the fluids.
Thus far with regard to the general nature of the ves¬
sels of plants: let us next .discriminate their several spe¬
cies or kinds.
Art. II.—Of the Common Sap-Vessels.
Sap.ves- To ascertain the kinds and situation of the vessels
sels. 0f plants, various means have been employed. The plant
has been dissected both in its dry and recent state; the
natural qualities and movements of its fluids have been
observed; and its vessels have been filled with coloured
liquors, by causing it to vegetate in them. By the com¬
bined use of these several means, many important parti¬
culars have been ascertained; but it must be acknow¬
ledged that the question is still beset with doubts and dif¬
ficulties, and that, with relation to it, great diversity of
opinion continues to prevail. A concise statement of the
facts ascertained with respect to the movements of the
vegetable fluids may perhaps contribute to define the
situation and kinds of the vessels that convey them.
Course of It has been proved that, early in spring, before the
the sap. leaves appear, a watery fluid rises abundantly in the
woody part of the trunk of trees, and continues visibly to
ascend to the very extremity of the branches, until the
leaves are developed, when, to appearance, it ceases to
flow, and can no longer be collected by perforating or tap¬
ping the tree. This fluid has been shown to ascend
through the wood, and to rise, in general, most abundant¬
ly through its youngest or outmost circle; but in trees
whose vessels have not been obstructed from age or other
causes, it rises through every circle to the very pith, and,
as far as can be judged, in all the vessels that compose
those circles. At this early period of vegetation no fluid
is found in the bark, nor between it and the wood, nor in
the pith; but the vessels of the bark are perfectly dry.
These facts are deducible from observations on the natu¬
ral flow of the fluids by Grew, Du Hamel, Walker, and
others; and are supported by various experiments of M.
de la Baisse, Bonnet, Reichel, and others, made by caus¬
ing plants and parts of plants to grow in coloured liquors,
in which the vessels of the wood alone became filled; but
no tinge of colour was communicated to those of the bark.
To these vessels the several names of lymph-ducts, sap-
vessels, ligneous tubes, ascending and adducent vessels,
have been applied: we shall in future denominate them
sap-vessels.
Kinds of The vessels which thus form the mass of wood have
sap-ves- by some writers been distributed into different kinds,
sds. an{] supposed to exercise very different functions. At
certain periods of vegetation they appear empty; and
hence Malpighi supposed two species of vessels to exist
in the wood, one destined to carry sap, and the other to
convey air: to these latter, from their supposed office, he
gave the name of tracheae, and from their structure called
them spiral vessels. {Anatom. Plantar. Idea, p. 3.) Grew
also believed these empty tubes to be air-vessels, but ad¬
mitted that at certain seasons they carried sap. At an Element^U
early period, however, Ray maintained that the vessels Organ»
thus supposed to convey air were truly sap-vessels; andv^v>
Du Hamel, in common with Grew, admitted that they
carried sap in spring. Hill considered them altogether as
sap-vessels; and Reichel, Hedwig, and others, by filling
them with coloured fluids, proved that such was their
true office. On the other hand, no experiments, says
Ludwig, have yet shown that there exist in vegetables
vessels destined to convey only air; and in this opinion
subsequent writers, with few exceptions, have acquiesced.
It will, however, be convenient to treat of their general
nature and form under the distinct appellations of sap-
vessels and spiral vessels, by which they are commonly
known.
By Grew and Malpighi the common sap-vessels were Opinion
regarded as entire tubes, having no apertures but in of Grew
the direction of their length. Grew represents a single
vessel as having the appearance exhibited in fig. 1, Plate
XXXVIII., the aperture or canal of which is not visible un¬
less highly magnified, as in fig. 2. According to Malpighi of Mai.
these vessels send off numerous capillary filaments to the pighi,
cellular tissue, so that the cells are surrounded by a
plexus of vessels, as is particularly seen in the pith of
elder and some others; and these ramifications, he adds,
spring probably from the perpendicular vessels both in the
bark and wood. {Anatom. Plantar, p. 29. Lugd. Bat.
1688.) These lateral ramifications were observed also
by Leeuwenhoeck in a piece of fir-wood newly felled. Of0fLeeu.
this wood he procured a longitudinal section, so extreme- wenhoscl
ly thin that he could see distinctly the particles of fluid
moving in the vessels, as represented in the upper portion
of fig. 3, Plate XXXVIII.; while lower down, on many
parts of these vessels, small points or dots were visible,
which he at length discovered to be round apertures; and
as he did not see these apertures in any other parts than
those in which he had separated the horizontal cellular
tissue from the perpendicular vessels, he concluded that,
at these points, these two organs were connected. He
farther separated two of the vessels from the remainder,
and through the microscope they appeared as in fig. 4;
but the “ engraver,” he adds, “ said that he could not
possibly draw all the jagged parts that he saw; and we
both of us perceived, in the broken membrane or coat of
the tube, many excessively minute vessels, which, by rea¬
son of their smallness, he was unable to express in the
drawing.” {Select Works of Leeuwenhoeck, by Hoole, vol. i.
p. 12.) # -
It may however be said, that this communication be¬
tween the vessels and cells is maintained not by rami¬
fications from the vessels, but through apertures or pores
in their sides; and, accordingly, many appearances have
been remarked as existing on the sides of the vessels, of
which different authors have given very different repre¬
sentations, and which some have regarded as pores. Thus,
on the vessels of the fir Malpighi observed certain dotted
appearances, which he describes as roundish tubercles,
and which were so numerous that they appeared to cover
the vessels. On the vessels of the elm, the beech, and
the willow, Leeuwenhoeck saw similar particles, which re¬
sembled small globules. {SelectWorks,\o\. 'n.Tp. \f Dr Hill of Hill,
describes the vessels of the alburnum, or newly formed
wood of the willow, as connected with each other by a
flocculent interstitial matter. When, by long maceration,
this matter is detached, the vessels then exhibit a dotted
appearance; and, if examined by a highly magnifying
power, these dots, according to him, are so many oval
swellings, and each has, as it were, a mouth. Through
these mouths, which he represents as innumerable, and
ANATOMY, VEGETABLE.
45
Cletentary existing on all parts of the vessels, he conceives the fluids
< tons, to he discharged into the cellular tissue. (On the Con-
struction of Timber, p. 18.) In fig. 5, Plate XXXVIII., is a
representation of these vessels connected by flocculent mat¬
ter, with their extremities collapsed from the escape of
their juices, and their sides sprinkled with the little mouths
which he mentions. These mouths, If they exist at all,
are probably not pores in the sides of the vessels, but the
little apertures seen by Leeuwenhoeck, and produced by
the separation of the cellular tissue while the parts are
still young and tender. The same author, speaking of
the vessels of the mature wood of the pear, states them
to be close canals, as in fig. 6, with no lateral apertures
in them.
>p i m A still later writer, M. Mirbel, declares, that not
I ^I'bel, fewcr than fjve species of vessels are to be found in the
woody part of plants. These he denominates porous tubes,
cleft tubes, tracheae, mixed tubes, and vessels en chapelet,
from their supposed resemblance to a string of beads. Of
these several species we have given representations in
figures 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, and 12, Plate XXXVIII. The first
species, or porous tubes, according to this writer, exist in
every part of the plant where the sap moves with free¬
dom. Their sides are covered with small eminences or
projections, in the centre of which is to be found a small
pore. (Exposition de la Theorie de V Organisation Vegetale,
p. 107.) Improving a little on Hill, he represents these
pores not as promiscuously placed, but as ranged in trans¬
verse lines (fig. 7); and through them he conceives the
fluids of the plant to percolate, not, however, into the
cells only, but out of one layer of tubes into another, in a
lateral direction. In this manner he conducts the fluids
from the centre to the circumference of the wood, and at
length, by a route not so easily followed, contrives to get
them into the vessels of the bark, the sides of which he
declares to be perfectly entire, and alike destitute of pores
and clefts. (Ibid. p. 297.)
Several writers have sought to discover these al-
nd nhers. leged pores in the sides of the vessels. With Malpighi,
some regard the appearances observed not as pores, but as
elevations on the surface of the vessels; others, as par¬
ticles contained within them. Under a very highly mag¬
nifying power, Kieser thinks he has, in some vessels, de¬
tected the existence of pores; while M. Dutrochet pro¬
nounces the same objects to be corpuscles, filled with
nervous matter; and De Candolle suggests the probabi¬
lity of their being small glands, destined in some way to
contribute to the nutrition of the plant. These different
opinions, formed on viewing the same objects, sufficiently
manifest the difficulty and uncertainty of microscopical
observations made with highly magnifying powers, as was
long since pointed out by Hooke, who first applied the
microscope to the examination of the structure of plants.
“ Of such minute objects,” says he, “ there is much more
difficulty to discover the true shape by an instrument
than by the naked eye; the same object quite differing
in one position to the light, from what it really is and may
be shown to be in another. In some objects,” he adds,
“ it is exceedingly difficult to distinguish between a pro¬
minency and a depression, between a shadow and a black
stain, or a reflection and a whiteness in the colour; and
the transparency of most objects renders them yet more
difficult than if they were opaque.” (Micrographia, Preface.)
>e.sc
ion.
Art. III.—Of the Spiral Vessels.
Various as have been the opinions of writers respect¬
ing the common sap-vessels of plants, they have dif¬
fered yet more in their views concerning the position,
number, size, structure, and uses of those which have Elementary
been denominated spiral The common fathers of Vege- Organs,
table Anatomy, Grew and Malpighi, who at the same'^,^v^*^
time, but in different countries, prosecuted their inquiries
without any knowledge of or communication with each
other, are nearly of one opinion on all the more impor¬
tant points in relation to these vessels. Later writers
have differed alike from them, and from each other, on
almost every point. As the subject is of fundamental im¬
portance in the economy of vegetables, we shall endeavour
to set before the reader the leading facts and opinions
concerning it; to canvass their relative merits; and de¬
duce from the whole such conclusions as seem most nearly
to approach the truth.
Malpighi describes spiral vessels as existing in the Opinion of
ligneous parts of all plants. He called them spiral Malpighi,
because, when extended, they were resolved, not into se¬
parate rings, but into a single zone, which might be drawn
out to a great length. In general they form continuous
tubes, but are sometimes contracted at regular distances,
so as to resemble somewhat a series of oblong cells. One of
these contracted spiral vessels, as delineated by Malpighi,
is represented in fig. 17, Plate XXXVIII., at the extremity
of which the spiral filament is in part drawn out; and si¬
milar appearances of the spiral structure are exhibited in
figures 9 and 10, by Mirbel. In herbs, according to Mal¬
pighi, these spiral vessels constantly accompany the com¬
mon sap-vessels, and are ensheathed by them; in shrubs,
they occur in every part of the wood, single or in clusters;
and in trees, an intermixture of spiral vessels with the
common sap-vessels is observed in every part of the wood.
In the fir, they are found immediately beneath the bark,
and are so numerous as to constitute the chief bulk of the
wood. They exist with the sap-vessels in the petioles
and ribs of the leaf, and likewise in the petals of the
flower. In the roots they are also met with, and in some
roots are so abundant, as to exceed in bulk all the other
parts. They exist, he adds, in every part of the plant ex¬
cept the bark; and are annually formed with the alburn-
ous vessels of trees. (Anatom. Plantar, passim.)
From the writings of Grew we collect also that of Grew,
spiral vessels exist in every part of a plant except the
bark. In the root they are numerous, of very various
size, and their bore is generally larger than that of the
common sap-vessels. In the trunks both of herbs and
trees they are equally visible, and in position, size, and
number, subject to great variation. Sometimes they are
collected into fasciculi, at other times they are disposed
in rays, and in other instances they are arranged in a cir¬
cular form: they stand sometimes next to the pith, in
other instances next to the bark, and in other cases again
they alternate with the common sap-vessels in every part
of the wood. They have a more ample bore than the
common vessels, and vary in size to at least twenty differ¬
ent degrees. In the leaf they always accompany the
sap-vessels, and both in its petiole and ribs are constant¬
ly surrounded or ensheathed by them. They have a
similar position in the petals of the flower, and in the vas¬
cular parts of the fruit. (Anatomy of Plants, passim.)
Hence, then, it appears, from the dissections of Malpighi
and Grew, that, in every plant in which vessels are to be
seen, and almost in every part of it, spiral vessels abound;
they exist, however, only in the ligneous portion, or that
part in which the sap ascends, and are never to be found
in the bark.
By Du Hamel, the spiral vessels, supposed to con-of Du Ha-
vey air, are described as existing in the leaves and the “el-
flowers, the petals of which are almost wholly composed
of them. In the herbaceous portion of young branches
46 ANATOMY, VEGETABLE.
Elementary they are also well seen; which portion afterwards be-
Organs. comes ligneous; so that it cannot be doubted that they
exist in the wood, though he could never discover them
but in young branches. (Phys. des Arbres, tom. i. p. 42.)
If, however, all the empty vessels seen in a transverse
section of the wood be deemed air-vessels, and all air-
vessels have a spiral structure, then, says this author,
they would, in many plants, form a great part of the lig¬
neous body. From these large vessels, however, he has
seen, in autumn, fluids to escape; so that they are not
properly air-vessels, or, as Grew observed, they sometimes
carry sap. They are not to be found in the bark.
Opinion Under the common name of sap-vessels, Hill deli-
of Hill, neates all the varieties of vessels that constitute the wood;
they are largest in the outer circles, smaller in the others ;
they contain, says he, in spring and at midsummer, a
limpid liquor; but at all other seasons they appear emp¬
ty, and have therefore been erroneously deemed air-
vessels. He says nothing of their spiral construction;
but describes the vessels which form the chief mass of
the wood as possessing solid and firm coats, forming an
arrangement of plain and simple tubes, as in fig. 6,
Plate XXXVIII., resembling those of the alburnum, except
that they have no mouths in their sides. (On the Con¬
struction of Timber, p. 8 and 19.)
ofReichel, M. Reichel maintains the existence of spiral ves¬
sels in almost all parts of the plant. By causing plants
to vegetate in coloured fluids, he traced them from the
roots, through the trunk and branches, to the extremity
of the leaves, and into all parts of the flower,—as the
calyx, the petals, the style, the stamens, and the anthers.
In fruits and in seeds, and in the radicle and plume of
the latter, they were equally apparent. The coloured
liquors, as they rose, communicated a tinge to the cellu¬
lar tissue of the wood, as was previously observed by De
la Baisse ; but no trace of colour was ever observed either
in the bark or pith, which therefore contain no spiral ves¬
sels. He considered the spiral vessels as the organs
everywhere conveying nutrient matter to the plant, and
as having no title to the appellation of air-vessels. (En-
cyclop. Methodique, article Physiol. Veget. p. 288.) Si¬
milar experiments of Hedwig and others confirm these
facts as to the general distribution of the spiral vessels,
and their bearing to every part the fluids absorbed by the
roots.
of Mirbel, We have already enumerated the five different spe¬
cies of vessels which Mirbel regards as constituting the
woody part of plants. According to him, true spiral
vessels (which he continues to denominate tracheae) are
not to be found in the root, but only in the trunk and the
parts which are produced from it. Even in the trunk
they are to be found only around the pith, and never in
the exterior ligneous layers. He admits that they exist
in all soft and succulent parts, and that coloured fluids
rise in them as well as in the other varieties of vessels;
but they never are to be found either in the bark or pith.
{Exposition de la Theorie de l Organisation Vegetale,
p. 74, 78.)
of Kieser. According to M. Kieser, spiral vessels are found in all
the more perfect plants, from the earliest period of their
existence; and in all parts of them, except the bark and
pith. They vary much in size, and in aged plants are
frequently obstructed by a species of vesicle, which ori¬
ginates from the interior sides of the vessels. According
to him, nothing but air is found in their cavity, though,
in the wood of guaiacum, he has seen all the spiral vessels,
in common with the cellular tissue, completely filled with
resinous matter. He does not know the anatomical rela¬
tion subsisting between the spiral vessels and the other
organs; but thinks it proved that no direct commumca-Element,•'I
tion exists between them and the cells. {Mem. sur F Or- Organ!
ganisation des Plantes, 1814, p. 116, 117.) Lastly, M. de
Candolle admits the existence of spiral vessels in the wood
of the trunk, but not of the roots; and, with Kieser, re¬
gards them as conveying only air. {Organographie
Vegetale, tome i. p. 39.)
From the combined observations of all the preced¬
ing writers, with the exception of MM. Mirbel and
de Candolle, we learn that spiral vessels exist not only in
every part of the trunk, but in the root, and in every other
part of the plant except the bark and the pith. From the
actual presence of sap in these vessels early in spring, and
again in autumn, and from the entrance of coloured fluids
at all seasons, we also learn, that their true office is not to
convey air, as Malpighi and others formerly, and Kieser
and others more recently, maintain; but to carry sap.
Are we therefore to regard them as a species distinct
from the common sap-vessels, or are both to be held
merely as varieties of one common kind ? This question
may receive some illustration from a little farther inquiry
into the formation and structure of the sap and spiral
vessels.
Art. IV.— Of the Structure of the Sap and Spiral Vessels.
Malpighi seems to have regarded the common sap-Structu:
vessels as being formed of a series of small vesicles or of sap.\
cells, mutually opening into each other. {Anat. Plantar.^5,
p. 28.) In this instance he appears either to have mis¬
taken a series of elongated cells for vessels, or to have
conceived that the contractions, occasionally formed in
the vessels themselves, afforded evidence of their having
been constructed originally by cells. Grew, on the other
hand, considered these vessels to be composed of straight
fibres, placed parallel to each other, so as to form a cylin¬
drical tube. {Anat. of Plants, p. 112.) Leeuwenhoeck
held them to be composed of two fine transparent coats,
formed of other vessels excessively minute. ( Select Worhs,
vol. i. p. 11.) And Du Hamel, by submitting thin layers
of wood to long maceration, obtained bundles of longitu¬
dinal fibres of extreme minuteness, by which he consi¬
dered the lymphatic vessels of the wood to be formed.
{Phys. des Arbres, tome i. p. 32.) Hill describes the al-
burnous vessels as being formed of the same material as
the cells, and to collapse when emptied of their fluids. In
one instance, where a strong light was made to penetrate
the vessel, it appeared as if composed of numerous cells;
but on farther examination, these seeming divisions al¬
tered their places, and were found to proceed from por¬
tions of watery sap still retained in the vessel. This ap¬
pearance, as he properly observes, may be a very neces¬
sary lesson against hasty judgments. {Construction of
Timber, p. 33.)
According to M. Mirbel, “ the entire mass of the
plant is nothing but cellular tissue, the cells of which
differ only in form and dimensions.” The cells and ves¬
sels are thus considered to be formed out of one and the
same membranous tissue. In forming cells, this mem¬
brane is supposed to dilate in every direction: in pro¬
ducing vessels, it increases only in length. {Exposition
de la Theorie de F Organisation Vegetale.) The manner in
which he supposes the vessels to be formed out of the pri¬
mitive membrane is very fanciful; and he is probably
right in thinking that “ no one before himself had formed
a similar conception of vegetable organization.”
Concerning the structure of the spiral vessels, opin-Structu
ions have varied still more than in relation to those justofspira
considered. Malpighi describes them as composed of'resse,s’
met
| sap,
.s,h|
ANATOMY, VEGETABLE.
47
fffiiilaentarya thin pellucid plate, of a silvery colour, somewhat broad,
JjLans. and which, being placed spirally, and united at its edges,
v»LX~y-constructs a tube. When this tube is drawn out, it does not
)p !oa °f separate into distinct rings, but is resolved into a continu-
ous gpjrai zone. At particular places these vessels are
sometimes contracted, so as to exhibit the appearance of
oblong cells opening into each other, as in fig. 17, Plate
XXXVIII. In size they greatly surpass the ordinary sap-
vessels ; and their canal is then frequently occupied by
membranous vesicles, which nearly fill their cavity. (Anat.
Plantar, p. 3-26.) These vesicles were also observed by
Leeuwenhoeck, and their appearance, in the transverse
section of an enlarged vessel, is represented in fig. 25.
f rew, According to Grew, the thin plate that forms the spiral
vessel is not flat, and, instead of being single, consists of
two or more round filaments or threads, placed collate¬
rally, but perfectly distinct. These component filaments he
regards as united by other smaller transverse filaments, and
the thin plates which they form by their connection
constitute the spiral vessel,—“ as if we should imagine,”
he adds, “ a piece of fine narrow riband to be wound
spirally, and edge to edge, round a stick, and the stick
being drawn out, the riband to be left in the figure of a
tube, answerable to a spiral vessel.” As, however, the
riband is composed of numerous threads, placed parallel
to each other, so is the plate that forms the spiral vessel;
and it is according to the greater or less delicacy of the
vessel examined, and the manner of its dissection, that it
appears to be constituted either of a flat plate or a round
filament. The spiration of the filaments he considered to
be made in the root from right to left, and in the trunk
from left to right. (Anat. of Plants, p. 73 and 117.)
u Ha- The opinion of Du Hamel with respect to the con¬
struction of these vessels was very similar to that of
Grew, and he employed the same analogy of a riband
edwig, twisted round a stick to illustrate it. Hedwig gave a
very different account of them. Reconsidered the spiral
vessel to be composed of two distinct parts ; one a mem¬
branous canal conveying air, and the other a spiral tube
rolled round it, by which the fluids were conveyed. The
spires of the tube, in some instances, are represented as
close; in others they are separated, and the intervening
portions of the membranous canal exhibit a dotted appear¬
ance. He considered all the sap-vessels, from their first
formation, to possess this compound structure, and, by a
series of changes, which he professes to describe, to be
ultimately transformed into the solid fibre of the wood.
(De Fibrce Vegetal). Ortu, p. 25.) Others, also, have
believed the spiral vessel to be formed of a membranous
tube, but have denied that it conveyed air; and the spiral
tube of Hedwig they have regarded as a solid filament.
From the different appearances which they exhibit, MM.
Treviranus and Bernhardi distinguish several varieties of
spiral vessels; as does also M. Kieser, whose account of
these vessels is not only the most elaborate, but that
probably which approaches nearest to truth. We shall
therefore subjoin a brief abstract of his observations on
the structure of these vessels, and more particularly on
the series of transformations which they seem to undergo.
The construction of these vessels M. Kieser professes
to have studied with the greatest care, and to have esta¬
blished incontestably the following points. Sometimes,
says he, only one fibre, sometimes many, go to form the
spire ot a vessel. These fibres are commonly round, some¬
times a little flattened, and are twisted spirally about an
empty space, so as to form a tube. The spiral fibres in
young plants, and sometimes in mature ones, are in close
contact; in other instances they are separated, and the
interstices are then occupied by a dotted or punctuated
membrane, as is very frequent in trees; or sometimes Elementary
they are connected by ramifications which proceed from Organs,
the spiral fibres themselves. From the minuteness of the'
spiral fibre, it is difficult to decide whether it is a solid or
tubular body, and often, from the same cause, to pronounce
whether it is round or flattened.. It is transparent, has
considerable consistence and tenacity, and in some plants
appears to possess elasticity.
The number of fibres that form the spire of a vessel is
very various ; sometimes, as before remarked, there is only
one, but more often several, which are twisted in the same
plane and the same direction. He has seen nine fibres
thus united; and when unrolled, the spires of the vessels
then seem to form a kind of riband. When many fibres
are employed to form a spire, they always run parallel,
and do not cross ; so that the side of the vessel has never
more than the thickness of a single fibre. At their first
formation the fibres are not united; it is only in more
advanced age that they become united, either by ramifica¬
tions from their edges, or by a peculiar membrane. The
direction of the fibre in twisting is sometimes from right
to left, and sometimes the contrary. The size also is very
various. In young plants it is very small, so that a milli¬
metre comprises the diameter of 2600 of these fibres ; and
in some instances they have little more than half that size.
In older vessels they have a larger size. Between the
knots of the trunk they are simple, and do not ramify;
but in the knots they undergo great changes of form, and
are variously ramified and combined.
Art. V.— Of the Transformations of the Spiral Vessels.
It was the opinion of Grew, that the “ common sap- Opinion of
vessels begin to be formed in spring, but the spiral ves- Grew,
sels not till the end of summer, at least not till about that
time do they appear.” (Anat. of Plants, p. 131.) Malpighi
also describes these vessels as gradually appearing in the
alburnum, and augmenting in size in every successive ring
of wood ; an observation made also by Grew, who describes
the “ spiral vessels as being amplified in each annual ring,
so as to form a vessel of a wider bore.” These facts in¬
dicate that the spiral vessels, after their formation, under¬
go considerable changes in the progress of vegetation, or,
to use the language of Grew, that “ they are postnate, and
seem produced by some alteration in the quality, position,
and texture of their fibres.”
In treating of the transformations or metamorphoses of of Kieser.
the spiral vessels, M. Kieser illustrates his ideas by a
series of dissections of the stem and root of the gourd
(cucurbita pepo), made apparently with great care. These
designs occupy several plates of his work ; and being
taken from different parts of the same plant, at different
stages of its growth, and viewed with the same magnify¬
ing power, they show the progressive changes in form
and appearance of these vessels as the plant increases in
age. M. Kieser exhibits corresponding vertical and ho¬
rizontal sections of the same parts; but our object will be
answered by copying only certain portions of the vertical
sections.
The ligneous portion of the stem of the gourd possesses
ten bundles of vessels, symmetrically disposed around the
pith, and standing at unequal distances between it and
the bark. In fig. 13, Plate XXXVIIL, we have copied the
representation of a vertical section of the vessels in one of
these bundles, taken from a portion of the plant near the
summit of its stem, and made with the aid of a micro¬
scope magnifying 130 times. The number of vessels in
each bundle at this period is said to vary from three to
five. They are constructed of one or more fibres, placed
ANATOMY, VEGETABLE.
48
Elementary contiguous to each other, and twisted into a spiral form,
Organs, producing a round cavity within. These are called simple
spirals. They are found in every young plant, and in the
spiral6 newly formed parts of old ones. Their size is smaller
P ' than that of the other varieties to which they give origin.
The number of fibres in each spire varies from one to
nine ; and they are the only variety met with in some of
the inferior vegetables.
The next figure (fig. 14, Plate XXXVIII.) exhibits a simi¬
lar section of the vessels of the same plant at the internodial
space below. Of the four vessels contained in this bundle,
the outer one, «, is larger than the rest, but its spires are
contiguous, as in those of the former figure: the inner
one, is formed of a series of rings, disposed in a per¬
pendicular line. These rings are very like the spires of
the preceding variety, and often combined with them in
the same vessel. They are sometimes separated from
each other only by a space equal to their own diameter;
in other instances to eight or ten times that distance,
forming then the substratum of the next variety. In their
Annular present form they constitute the annular spiral; and in
spiral. herbaceous plants occupy frequently the same position as
the simple spiral, that is, next to the pith.
From the two simple varieties of form just described,
other more complex forms are produced, as the plant ad¬
vances in age. In the next section, made still lower down
on the same plant, the vessels exhibit the forms represented
in fig. 15 of the same plate, which brings the third varie¬
ty of spiral vessel into view. The exterior vessel, b, of
this fasciculus, or that nearest to the bark, is of much
larger size: its spires, represented by the white lines in
the figure, are separated to nearly equal distances from
each other, and the intervening spaces are filled up with a
membrane, sprinkled over with small obscure points or
Punctuat- dots, constituting the punctuated spiral vessel. In this
ed spiral. variety the rings are never contiguous. Such vessels oc¬
cur only in the more advanced age of herbaceous plants,
but are said to be original formations in the alburnum of
trees: they acquire a much greater size than the two for¬
mer varieties, especially in the stem ; but do not become
so large in the root. In herbs they occupy a position ex¬
terior to that of the two preceding varieties ; but in trees
the largest vessels of the annual layers are nearer to the
pith. The three other vessels in this figure are simple
spirals, in part unrolled.
The spiral fibre in these vessels is of various size, be¬
ing largest in the greatest vessels: it is sometimes so
small as to be scarcely visible. It is often difficult to de¬
termine whether its form is spiral or annular: for the
most part it is spiral in herbs, and annular in trees. The
membrane which connects the spires or rings in this va¬
riety is not visible in young vessels, but appears in more
mature age. It is at first transparent, but becomes opaque
from age. In this punctuated variety of vessel the spires
cannot be unrolled without tearing the connecting mem¬
brane. As to the points or dots observed on this mem¬
brane, they have been taken by some for pores on its
surface; by others for clefts produced by the joining of
the spires. They are clearly not clefts, says M. Kieser,
and it is against the supposition of their being pores that
their position has a relation always to the spires, and not
to the adjoining cells. In the vessels of some plants, as
in those of the French bean, when magnified 400 times,
these points, fig. 21, a, seem as if pierced by a hole ex¬
ceedingly small; but in other instances they are quite
dark, and similar to those found on the membranous
productions that fill the cavity of aged vessels, where
there is not the smallest reason for considering them as
pores. There seems a great analogy between these con¬
necting membranes and those which thus fill the cavity of Element ,
aged vessels. In some instances the size of the dots is OfgMi [
large, and they appear transparent at the centre; in .
others the dots are extremely small. Their form is ob¬
long, and they are ranged generally in determined lines,
parallel to the direction of the spires.
In the next vertical section of a fasciculus of vessels,
taken from about the middle of the stem of the same plant,
all the peculiarities of size and form are still more dis¬
tinctly seen. Of the twenty-three vessels which appeared
in the horizontal section of a fasciculus at this period of
growth, six only were apparent in the vertical section, and
are exhibited together in fig. 16, Plate XXXVIII. Of these,
the first two, or outer ones, are by much the largest, and
belong to the punctuated variety. A portion of the an¬
terior wall of these two vessels has been removed by the
sections at /, l, so that the inner surface of the posterior
wall is brought into view; and in the former vessel, d, a
portion of the posterior wall itself has also been carried
away. In both vessels the spiral fibre, indicated by the
white line, is prominent in the section ; and in the second,
e, it is unrolled at m, n,—where, at m, it is seen single,
transparent, and round, while at n it is united with the
punctuated membrane that connects the spires, and has
a flat or riband-like form. The third vessel, f, of this
fasciculus is also of the punctuated class, and the three
last, g, h, i, are simple spirals ; the last of all, i, being
in the progress of formation, and its spires not yet brought
into a state of contiguity.
There is a fourth variety of vessel that is said to have
the same origin as the last, being formed in part by spires
or rings, but the separations between which are filled up,
not by membrane, but by small productions or ramifica¬
tions from the spires or rings themselves; and these ra¬
mifications are often so implicated as to form a net-work;
whence the names of ramified and reticulated spiral vessels. Ramifielr
Like the former variety, they do not exist in the young spiral' \
plant, but are formed gradually in a more mature age,
and by the same series of actions ; that is, the spires or
rings, which were at first contiguous, separate at a later
period, and the intervals are filled up by ramifications
from the spires themselves. At first these ramifications
are few, as in the vessel, a, fig. 21, when they are term¬
ed ramified spirals; and as these ramifications increase,
the vessel becomes reticulated, as exhibited at the letter Reticuk ^
c, fig. 20. They are found but in few plants, and ap- e4
pear to differ from the punctuated variety chiefly in the
position of the rings, which are more or less obliquely
placed, and at diflerent points send off one or more
branches.
In his ninth plate, M. Kieser has given similar repre¬
sentations of the vessels of the same plant, as they appear
from sections made near the root. The fasciculus at this
part of the stem contained twenty-nine vessels, as seen in
the horizontal section, of which only eight were visible in
the vertical section. These retained nearly the characters
of those given in the preceding section, fig. 16; but ex¬
ceeded them in number and size. The large ones, situ¬
ated next the bark, were of the punctuated class, while
the smaller ones, next the pith, were simple spirals. In
fig. 18 we have copied the three smaller vessels. In one
of these, o, which belongs to the punctuated variety, the
interior of the vessel is nearly filled up with small portions
of punctuated membrane, produced from the inner wall
of the vessel itself, as is still more clearly seen in horizon¬
tal sections of similar vessels in fig. 25. The two vessels
p, q, of fig. 18, are the youngest, and consist only of
the simple spiral fibre ; the last, it is said, being composed
of two such fibres, which, in consequence of the transpa-
ANATOMY, VEGETABLE.
49
Spills of
theoot.
Ehsentary rency of the posterior wall of the vessel, appear to cross
Cj^ans. each other.
But M. Kieser has not confined his examination to the
stem of this plant. In his tenth plate he has given simi¬
lar sections of a portion of the root. The piece of root
he examined presented, in the horizontal section, four fas¬
ciculi, each of which contained about thirty-seven vessels,
varying in size; the larger ones being placed exteriorly,
and the smaller ones towards the centre of the root. The
cells of this part were small, and nearly of the same size
and form throughout, differing much from the varying
size and form of the cells in the stem. Of the thirty-seven
vessels before mentioned, only ten were retained in the
• vertical section, all of which belonged to the punctuated
variety. Of these, two had united so as to form but one
cavity ; and two others were filled up with membrane. In
fig. 19 we have copied the appearance of three of these
vessels. One of these, indicated by the letter r, is from
the middle of the figure, and its size is intermediate be¬
tween those on each side of it. A portion of its anterior
wall has been carried away in three places, which brings
the inner side of the posterior wall into view. The vessels
a t of the same figure are the smallest, and situated at the
centre of the root: all the three belong to the punctuat¬
ed variety, no simple or annular spirals being found at
this period in the root.
In the knots of plants the vessels undergo great changes
of form, the larger vessels being contracted in different
parts, and giving off productions or ramifications which
form new vessels, and give to the whole a very irregular
appearance, as may be seen in the upper part of fig. 20,
taken from the appearance of the vessels in the knot of
the balsam (Impatiens Balsamina L.). In this figure
M. Kieser has also given an ideal representation of
the various metamorphoses already described, viz. of the
annular vessel into the simple spiral, and of that into the
other varieties: thus the letter a represents the rings
of the annular vessel, which at b begin to form the
spiral: at c the simple spiral passes into the ramified
variety, and this again, at d, into the reticulated vessel:
at e the vessel becomes contracted at different parts,
as previously observed by Malpighi, fig. 17, and by Mir-
bel, fig. 11 and 12. This latter author called this the
repls en vessel en chapelet, from its resemblance to a string of
beads. From these vessels go off the branches /y f, to
form the ramified spirals of the knot. In fig. 12 of the
same plate M. Mirbel has given a similar ideal represen¬
tation of the five species delineated by him in figs. 7, 8, 9,
10, and 11; but they do not carry with them the same
evidence of accurate observation as the several varieties
indicated in the alleged transformations of Kieser.
Such is the account given by M. Kieser, of the deve¬
lopment and appearances of the vessels in herbaceous
plants, and of the successive changes in character which,
in the progress of growth, they undergo. All the figures
except the last are taken from dissections of the same
plant, beginning with that part of the stem which was of
latest growth, and proceeding in succession to the parts
of earlier growth, or older formation. At first the vessels
are comparatively few in number, of nearly uniform size,
and belong to the varieties of annular and simple spiral:
at a later period those first formed become augmented in
size, and assume the characters of punctuated and ramir
fied vessels ; they are now also removed farther from the
centre, and their place is supplied by new vessels of
simpler forms. With the age of the plant, they all con¬
tinue to increase in size and number, and to acquire the
new characters which distinguish the several varieties in
the manner already described.
VOL. m.
In the early growth of trees, the formation and develop-Elementary
ment of vessels go on at the centre, adjacent to the pith, in Organs,
the same manner as in herbs ; but at a later period, whenv^"v^s^y/
the additional growth is made at the circumference of the
tree, the first formation of vessels must occur in the albur¬
num, and the subsequent changes of character be effected in
the several layers of wood; which accords with the fact that
spiral vessels are rarely to be detected in the alburnum, but
are found with all their different characters, and of all sizes,
in the several layers of wood, as may be seen in all the trans¬
verse sections of wood delineated by Grew, Malpighi, and
others. In truth, the descriptions of Kieser with respect
to the structure and transformations of the spiral vessels
accord, in most respects, with the opinions of Grew, as
briefly stated, page 47 of this article, and as may be far¬
ther seen by referring to pages 73 and 177 of Grew’s
Anatomy of Plants.
It is further to be remarked that, in these representa¬
tions of Kieser, which exhibit all the vessels visible in all
parts of the stem and root of this plant, only one kind of
vessel is described, which at different periods of growth
assumes different forms ; that no vessel answering to the
common or lymphatic vessel of authors is mentioned;
and consequently, that all the vessels described, however
differing in size and external character, are in truth but
varieties of one common kind. Calling to mind also that,
in the earliest production of leaves and of flowers, and
even of stamens and pistils, vessels either possessing the
spiral character, or capable of assuming it, are everywhere
met with,—that they occur also in the stem adjacent to
the pith in succulent plants, and in the alburnum of trees,
and every successive ring of wood produced from it—in
short, in every part and portion of the plant, except the
bark and pith,—and believing, as we do, in those changes
of form suggested by Grew, and subsequently demonstrat¬
ed by Kieser,—we are led to the general conclusion that
only one kind of vessel exists in the ligneous portion ofOnly one
other plants, as well as in that of the gourd; and that °fsaP-
different plants, and in different circumstances and condi-vesse^'
tions of vegetation, this vessel is capable of assuming the
different forms, sizes, and characters, which have led
many writers to describe these organs as constituting dif¬
ferent species, and serving different uses.
M. de Candolle, in his late work on the Organography Opinion of
of Plants, seems also to reject the separate existence of^e ^an*
the ordinary sap-vessels or lymph-ducts of authors, and todolle‘
consider, with Kieser, all the vessels collectively to pos¬
sess a spiral character, which appears under five different
forms in the vessels severally named tracheae or simple
spirals, annular spirals, punctuated and reticidated spirals,
and the vessels en chapelet. (Oryanographie Vegetale,
tome i. p. 32.) Without deciding positively in favour of
Kieser’s views, he admits that the different orders of ves¬
sels have among them very intimate relations; and in fa¬
vour of the opinion that they are really modifications of
each other, he alleges that almost all these orders exist
together in certain classes of plants, and are wanting alto¬
gether in others. Still, though he has no theoretical ob¬
jection to make to these alleged transitions of form, he
has never been able to verify them by actual observation,
and thinks the facts require further investigation. (fLbid.
p. 48, 51.) With respect to the existence of pores in the
spiral vessels, as alleged generally by Mirbel, and even
occasionally by Kieser, but denied by a great number of
observers, M. de Candolle has been led by his own ob¬
servation to entertain doubts, and to believe that what
has been regarded as a pore is a luminous point, such as
is exhibited by bubbles of air in water, when placed under
the microscope. (Jibid. p. 55.)
G
50 ANATOMY, VEGETABLE.
Elementary The late opinions of M. Dutrochet on the structure of
Organs. plants seem to us to have drawn attention more from their
novelty than their value. He criticises the opinions of
ofDutro Mirbel in relation to the structure of the vessels, and says
diet. that those denominated by that author jootws tubes, are
altogether destitute of pores, but have corpuscles adhering
to, or rather implanted in their sides, on which account he
calls them corpusculiferous tubes. (JElecherches Anatom, sur
la Structure des Vegetaux, &c. p. 23.) In like manner the
tracheae are said to have similar corpuscles attached to their
sides, but which adhere only weakly, and form no necessary
part of the organization. (Ibid.) With respect to the
uses of these two kinds of vessels in the wood, he con¬
siders the corpusculiferous tubes to be the canals by which
the sap ascends from the roots; while the spiral vessels,
or tracheae, convey not air, but a diaphanous liquid, pre¬
pared in the leaves, and which descends, by the spiral
vessels, to impart its vivifying influence to all parts of the
plant, (ifo'e?. p.29-31.) No direct communication, it is said,
exists between the cells and vessels which compose the
vegetable texture; they are only contiguous. Fluids,
nevertheless, are transmitted from one to the other; not
however through holes or passages expressly designed for
that purpose, as Mirbel contends, but through intermole-
cular spaces, left between the integrant globular mole¬
cules, of which the organic solids are composed. (Ibid.
p. 47, 48.)
Such is an outline of the different opinions that have
been held regarding the structure of the sap-vessels. Dif¬
ferences not less great still continue to exist with regard
to their uses. Our reasons have been already given for
coinciding in opinion with those who hold the vessels to
be the proper channels in which the sap is conveyed. M.
Kieser, however, contends that the spiral vessels of the
wood are always empty, or contain only air, and considers
them, with Malpighi, to be organs by which air is convey¬
ed. To this opinion M. de Candolle also inclines, though
he admits that in some cases they may convey lymph.
(Organog. Veget. tome i. p. 61.)
Those physiologists who thus oppose the opinion that
the vessels carry fluids, suppose the sap to be conveyed
by certain minute channels, said to exist between the cells.
The place of these alleged channels is marked out in a sec¬
tion of cellular tissue (fig. 29, Plate XXXVIII.) taken from
M. Kieser, in which the black points at the angular junc¬
tions of the cells are said to denote them : from their po-
Intercellu- sition they have obtained the name of intercellular canals.
lar canals, gy many, however, the existence of such spaces at the
angles of the cells is denied; and, indeed, when we con¬
template the various size and form of the cells, the dif¬
ferent degrees in which they are filled with fluid or so¬
lid matters, and consequently the greater or less degree
of compression which these alleged intercellular spaces
must undergo, we can hardly admit the sufficiency of such
minute, tortuous, and precarious channels to convey the
ascending sap with that force and velocity which the ex¬
periments of Hales and others have proved it to possess.
On the other hand, no direct communication between the
spiral vessels of plants and the external atmosphere, si¬
milar to that which occurs between the tracheae of insects
and the air, has been shown to exist; and the total ab¬
sence of spiral vessels in the bark, where they would be
near to the atmosphere, and their presence in the root,
where they are almost beyond its influence, are alike re¬
pugnant to the notion that they exercise a respiratory
function. Lastly, the absence of sap in these vessels at
certain seasons, on which alone the notion of their being
tracheae or air-vessels was founded, depends, as we have
seen, on the period at which the examination is made;
for at certain periods they have been found filled with Elementarj
sap; and at all periods, when in active vegetation, they Organs. ^
will absorb and convey coloured fluids. It should also beV-''~v“^ J
borne in mind that the respiratory function in vegetables is 1
performed, not by the trunk, but by the leaves.of the plant. d
Dismissing then these notions concerning the uses of vl
the spiral vessels, and adhering to the opinion, that in d
all their variety they serve the office of conveying sap I
through the plant, we shall conclude this branch of the
subject with a brief notice of their modes of termination.
If we begin at the root, we may consider these vessels Termina.
as terminating at that part, by continuation of canal, intionsoftlK
the capillary absorbents of the rootlet. As, further, thevesse^s'
vessels of plants, like those of animals, are the only organs
which convey the materials out of which not only the
fluid, but the solid parts of the plant are formed, it may,
in a general sense, be said that their modes of termina¬
tion are as numerous as the kinds of distinct parts or or¬
gans which the vegetable system contains. Hence, there¬
fore, as the cellular tissue of plants contains various mat¬
ters often precisely similar to those which exist in the
vessels, it may be inferred that the vessels have a termi¬
nation in those organs; and this inference may perhaps
carry more weight with many than the attempts before
related of Malpighi and Leeuwenhoeck to demonstrate it
anatomically. Another termination of these vessels must
be in certain minute and ill-defined organs called glands,
which separate from the mass of fluids peculiar secre¬
tions ; and a fourth mode may, in the leaves, be in other
vessels which carry back the juices from those organs.
The last and fifth mode of termination is into transpiring
or exhalent organs, by which a certain portion of the con¬
tents of the vessels is discharged: so that in plants the
sap-vessels terminate externally at one extremity in ab¬
sorbents, by which fluids are received; and at the other
in exhalents, by which these fluids are in part discharged.
Art. VI.— Of the Proper Vessels.
By observation of the natural flow of the sap, com¬
bined with the results of experiments made with coloured
liquors, we have endeavoured to determine the situation
and kinds of vessels by which it is conveyed in the wood.
The same method will best assist us in ascertaining the
nature and place of the vessels met with in the bark. . t'l
It was before stated, that, early in spring, the sap Course of t«
of plants rises through the wood alone, and that no fluid the sap in
whatever is then to be found in the bark. At a later^16"00^
period, however, the case is completely reversed; for the
vessels of the wood no longer appear to carry sap, and
those of the bark then become abundantly supplied with
it. This difference is very clearly and concisely stated
by Grew. “ The sap,” says he, “ in many plants, as the
vine, ascends visibly through the wood for a month, in
March and April, and rises through every ring of wood
to the very centre, yet at the same time there ariseth
no sap at all out of the bark, nor between it and the
wood.’ “ But late in spring,” he continues, “ and in
summer, the sap is no longer visible in the wood, but is
abundant in the bark, in the inner margin adjacent to the
wood.” Du Flame!, too, remarks, that when the lymph
rises abundantly through the wood in spring, the bark is in ^
dry, and adheres to the wood, and no sap then issues from’
it, nor from between it and the wood; but, later in the
season, he adds, the bark yields abundance of sap. These
statements have been verified by the multiplied observa¬
tions of various subsequent authors.
But why is the sap thus present only in the wood
at its first rising in spring ? Why at a later period does
ANATOMY, VEGETABLE.
51
ir!:;ie|jnrary it cease to be visible in that part? And how and why
' >r|ms. does it afterwards find a passage into the bark? Some
-TT^ observations of Du Hamel, Hales, and Walker, point, we
ClfL think, to the true cause. In spring, says Du Hamel,
vlwncnt" when tlie saP rises vigorously, the buds have not appeared ;
,f A when they begin to open, the sap then flows less freely ;
ea*; and when the leaves are fully developed, then the flow
of sap entirely ceases. Dr Hales also remarks, that, to¬
wards the end of April, when the young shoots come
forth, and the surface of the vine is greatly increased by
the expansion of the leaves, the sap then ceases to flow
in a visible manner till the return of the next spring. All
bleeding trees, he adds, cease to bleed as soon as the
young leaves begin to expand enough to perspire plenti¬
fully, and draw off the redundant sap. The bark of oak,
too, separates easily when lubricated with sap; but be¬
fore the leaves appear and perspire, the bark will no
longer run (as they term it), but adheres most firmly to
the wood. ( Vegetable Statics, 3d edit. p. 126.) In like
manner, in an experiment of Dr Walker, a birch-tree
bled from every perforation in its trunk, and from every
cut extremity of its branches, until vernation or budding
began ; then the bleeding was almost immediately checked;
and when the young leaves had pushed beyond the //?/-
bernaculum, the bleeding entirely ceased. (Edin. Phil.
Trans, vol. i. p. 31.)
It is however certain, that though the sap was no longer
visible in the wood after the leaves were developed, it
continued nevertheless to rise through it; for in no other
way could the leaves obtain the large portion of fluid
which it is known that they constantly discharge by
transpiration ; and coloured fluids manifest their presence
in the vessels of the wood, as well after as before the de¬
velopment of the leaves. The leaves, therefore, must be
regarded as the organs which, by their perspiration, draw
off, as Dr Hales observes, the redundant sap; and hence,
in an experiment where a notch was cut two or three
feet above the lower end of a stem, though a great quan¬
tity of sap passed by the notch, yet was it perfectly dry;
because, stfys he, “ the attraction of the perspiring leaves
was greater than the force of trusion from the column of
water.” {Vegetable Statics, p. 111.)
as*t Not only, however, does the development of the leaves
render the sap no longer visible in the wood, but they
htyre" also appear to be the organs by or through which it
0 finds its way to the bark. In all the experiments just re¬
cited, the bark continued dry until the sap disappeared
from the wood; in other words, until it was drawn off by
the leaves; and then, and not till then, the bark became
moist, and continued laden with sap through the rest of
the summer. Now, as it has been before shown that no
sap enters the bark by the roots, nor gets into it directly
from the wood, there is no other known channel by which it
can be conveyed, except through the leaves; and these,
therefore, necessarily appear to be the organs by which it
is apparently carried off from the wood, and by or through
which it at the same time finds its way to the bark.
This inference appears to follow, not only from the fact
of the bark continuing dry until the leaves are developed,
but from the circumstance that it is again rendered dry af¬
ter having become moist, if these same leaves be removed.
If, says Du Hamel, we remove the leaves of a young tree
when in full sap, and whose bark is easily detached, in a few
days after the same bark will adhere as closely to the wood
as it commonly does during winter. This direct connection
between the leaves and bark is also well illustrated in an
experiment of Hales, employed by him for a very different
purpose. From two thriving shoots of a pear-tree he cut,
in several places, half an inch of the bark off all round.
All the ringlets of bark between these incisions had a Elementary
leaf-bud upon them except one, and all but this one ring- Organs,
let grew and swelled at their bottoms till August; andv-^v^“*>'
the larger and more thriving the leaf-bud was, so much
the more did the adjoining bark swell. ( Veg. Statics,
p. 149.) Mr Knight also found the bark of the vine to
become shrivelled and dry when the leaves were stripped
off; but in those parts in which it communicated directly
with the leaves, it continued moist and flourishing. {Phil.
Trans. 1801, p. 335.)
By connecting, therefore, the circumstances attending
the flow of sap with the development of the leaves, we
gain satisfactory reasons for all the apparent anomalies
observed to attend its course. Early in spring, before the
appearance of the leaves, no natural outlet for the escape
of the rising sap exists, and therefore, when the vessels
are cut or perforated, they readily pour out their sap,
or bleed; but late in spring, and in summer, when the
leaves are developed, the more watery parts of the sap
are thrown off by transpiration; and while this process
proceeds, the fluids do not accumulate in such quan¬
tity in the minute vessels of the trunk as to be effused
or bleed through their cut or perforated sides. A cold
day, however, or a moist and still atmosphere, by check¬
ing transpiration from the leaves, restores more or less
the propensity to bleeding from the trunk ; and in au¬
tumn, when fructification begins, and vegetation makes a
pause, the same disposition to bleeding recurs in the
trunk, from the check imposed on the more active powers
of growth.
It is further evident, that, when the vessels of the Qualities
bark become supplied with fluid, they cannot have de-of sap in
rived it immediately from those of the wood, since, in die bark;
these different parts, the fluids have frequently no sort of
agreement in properties. Thus, Grew remarks, that al¬
most all plants, late in spring, and in summer, bleed from
their bark; and the sap has either a sour, sweet, hot,
bitter, or other taste. At this period the bark of the vine
yields a sour sap; but, “ what is vulgarly called bleeding
in the vine is,” he adds, “ quite another thing, both as to
the liquor which issueth, and the place whence it issues;
that is, it is neither a sweet nor a sour, but a tasteless
sap, issuing, not from any vessels in the bark, but from
the air-vessels of the wood.” {Anatomy of Plants, p. 125.)
Malpighi, also, was well aware of the difference in the
qualities of the sap, and thought every plant possessed its
peculiar sap; but he has not so accurately defined the
situation of the vessels that contain it. Du Hamel, how¬
ever, points out distinctly the difference of quality in the
sap of the bark and wood. In the bark of some plants it
is white, in others red, and in others yellow. It is in
some instances milky, in others resinous, and in others
gummy. In many plants it has a sweet taste, in some it
is caustic, and in others insipid. It has sometimes much
odour as well as flavour, and frequently it is destitute of
both. {Phys. des Arbres, tome i. p. 68.)
But if the qualities of the sap in the bark be thus acquired in
different from those of the sap in the wood; if these pe- the leaves,
culiar qualities are detected in it only after the develop¬
ment of the leaves, and the leaves be the organs by which
alone the sap can be conveyed from the one part to the
other; then it seems to follow that the sap must acquire
these new properties in the leaves during its transmission
through them. Malpighi remarked the existence of this
altered sap in the leaves, and held them to be the organs
which prepared nutrient matter for the plant; and Dr
Darwin, by immersing plants of spurge in coloured li¬
quors, not only saw, as others had previously done, the
red fluid ascend through the leaf, but another fluid, of a
52
ANATOMY, VEGETABLE.
Descrip-
Elementary white colour, returning at the same time from the ex-
Organs. tremities of the leaf, and descending into the petiole.
(Botanic Garden, vol. i. notes, p. 450-53.) This same
returning fluid Mr Knight observed in similar experi¬
ments on branches of the apple and horse-chesnut trees,
and even traced it through the petiole into the inner
bark, by the vessels of which it seemed to be conveyed to
the extremities of the roots. (Phil. Trans. 1801.) The
motion, therefore, of the sap in the bark is not that of
ascent, as Grew and Malpighi and many others have be¬
lieved, but of descent, as the observations and experiments
of M. de Sarrabat, Du Hamel, Knight, and others, abun¬
dantly prove. To these vessels of the bark Grew assigned
particular names, according to the apparent quality of the
fluid they conveyed. Malpighi gave them the general
appellation of vasapeculiaria, from their containing a fluid
different from the common sap. By others they have
been called cortical vessels, a term, however, not applica¬
ble to many tribes of vegetables which are entirely desti¬
tute of bark. Lastly, Du Hamel and others denominated
them proper vessels, which term differs but slightly from
the appellation of Malpighi, and, though not very precise,
is that we shall continue to employ.
From regarding the newly formed vessels of the wood
tion ot the as 0f jjle bark, Grew uniformly represents the bark
sels ^ VeS"as Possess*ng tw0 distinct species of vessels, in which
he has been since followed by several other writers; but
the vessels which he calls lymphceducts belong rather to
the wood, so that we may regard him as describing only
one species oi'proper vessels. In herbs, these vessels stand
sometimes in distinct parcels or columns ; sometimes they
are disposed in a ring; sometimes they have a radiated
position; and sometimes they are more intermixed with
the sap-vessels, and seem to alternate with them. In
trees, the vessels of the bark are more distinct, and have
a much more regular appearance. They are commonly
postured near the inner margin of the bark, and, when
viewed in a longitudinal direction, seem collected into
fasciculi, which are more or less numerous, and the compo¬
nent vessels of which continually diverge and join with
others, so as to form a reticulated appearance, as in fig. 24,
Plate XXXVIII. Of these reticulated fasciculi, many layers
exist in an old tree; and to these layers the thickness of
the bark is chiefly owing. As they proceed inward, the
direction of the fasciculi is less oblique, so that near to
the wood they are almost straight. Hence the spaces
formed by the reticulations are very unequal, often large
in the exterior part of the bark, and diminishing in size
towards the wood: they are. everywhere filled with cel¬
lular tissue. Such is a general description of the situa¬
tion of the proper vessels of the bark, as given by Grew,
Malpighi, and Du Hamel.
The vessels which thus form the vascular portion of
the bark appear to differ but little in structure from the
more simple vessels of the wood. Grew considered them
to possess a similar structure, from believing them to be
formed by the inner bark at the same time with the ves¬
sels of the wood; and therefore, he adds, “ they may be
reasonably thought similar in the bark and wood.” (Anat.
of Plants, p. 112.) Malpighi regarded them as simple
tubes, containing sometimes peculiar juices; but advances
nothing particular respecting their structure. (Anat.
Plantar, p. 3.) M. Mirbel’s opinion deserves some no¬
tice, inasmuch as he declares the structure of these ves¬
sels to differ entirely from all those of the wood. Their
sides, says he, are perfectly entire; they have neither
pores nor clefts, and may therefore be deemed simple tubes.
(Exposit. de la Theorie de V Organised. Veget. p. 109.) A
single vessel of this kind is represented in Plate XXXVIII.
their
structure
fig. 22; and in fig. 23 a fasciculus of the same vessels Element! ill
magnified is given as delineated by M. Mirbel. A re- Ofgani,
mark also of Hill, if it be deemed to rest on correct ob-^'
servation, is entitled to great attention. “ The vessels of
the bark that form the fasciculi are not,” says he, “ united
to each other, but are connected with the cellular tissue
at numerous places; and, when separated from it, there
appear on the sides of the vessels small oval depressions,
dotted as it were with pin-holes.” ( On the Construction
of Timber, p. 28.) These appearances he regards as of a
glandular nature, but their description corresponds better
with that of Leeuwenhoeck respecting the lateral ramifica¬
tions from the vessels of the wood; and they may proba¬
bly be the points at which communication is effected be¬
tween the vessels and cells.
The cause of the reticulated appearance which the their ret
vessels of the bark exhibit in trees, is doubtless to be at-culafiro
tributed, as we think Du Hamel somewhere remarks, to
their peculiar mode of growth. A new layer of cortical
vessels is every year added to. the inner surface of the
bark, as well as a new layer of ligneous vessels to the out¬
er surface of the wood; so that, as Grew observes, the
new matter of the tree is every year distributed two con¬
trary ways,—one part falling outward towards the bark,
and the other part retaining its situation inward to consti¬
tute the wood. At first the newly formed cortical ves¬
sels are straight, and stand parallel, like those of the
wood ; but, by the continual growth of the new parts
formed between the bark and the wood, the older vessels
of the bark are gradually forced outward; and being thus
every year disposed around a large cylinder, are necessa¬
rily more and more separated from each other, and pro¬
duce at length that net-like form which we observe them
to possess. The newly formed vessels of- the wood, on
the other hand, retain their original position, and there¬
fore preserve their parallelism, seldom or never exhibit¬
ing those flexures and reticulations so common to the ves¬
sels of the bark.
In the bark, as well as in the wood, the vessels are their sia
found to possess different sizes. In the pine, vessels con¬
taining turpentine are represented by Grew, which are
very much larger than the comjnon sap-vessels, and are
surrounded by smaller ones, exactly as the large spiral
tubes of the wood are said to be ensheathed by the com¬
mon sap-vessels. The milky juice of a species of sumach
is contained in very large vessels, disposed so as to form
a ring, and each large vessel is surrounded by many small¬
er ones. (Anat. of Plants, tab. 20.) The appearance of
these large vessels in one species of pine is well repre¬
sented by Hill, and the account he gives of their forma¬
tion is probably correct. In this tree (pinus orientalis),
some of these vessels form oval openings, large enough
to admit a straw; these openings occupy the centre of
the bark, and are surrounded by a ring of smaller vessels.
As their contents are soluble in alcohol, it is easy to obtain
them empty. In fig. 26, Plate XXXVIII., the vessels of this
tree, as they appear in the bark, are displayed; the woody
portion of the tree having been scooped away, so that the
longitudinal aspect, as well as the transverse sections of
them, is exhibited. From a strict inquiry into their na¬
ture, Dr Hill concluded that these larger vessels were
originally the same as those of the smaller fasciculi in
the bark of the same tree ; “ so that if we conceive one
of these smaller fasciculi opened in its centre, and the
vessels driven every way outward, till they are stopped
by the substance of the bark, we shall have an idea of
the structure of this large vessel, which is nothing more
than a great cylindrical hollow formed in the centre of
such a fasciculus.” (Hill on the Construction of Timber^
■y lemitary p. 29.) It is in trees that have copious and viscid juices
j Oi^is. that these enlarged vessels are formed; and where the
juices do not concrete, it is probable that, as the vessels
annually recede from the centre, they suffer a reduction
in size from the continued effects of desiccation and com¬
pression to which they are exposed.
‘‘ einsi- The foregoing varieties appear alone entitled to the
)ny appellation of the proper vessels of the bark. In many
tribes of vegetables, however, as will afterwards be shown,
no distinction of bark and wood exists ; but one uniform
distribution of vessels extends from the centre to the cir¬
cumference of the plant. Such plants have also their
- proper vessels, but the place and disposition of these ves¬
sels are not so precisely ascertained. From the mode in
which their growth is accomplished, as well as from ob¬
servation of their structure, it may be inferred that their
J proper vessels are distributed through the whole substance
of the plant, accompanying in every part the sap-vessels.
J 111 some plants possessing this arrangement of parts,
such as different species of, wheat,‘Malpighi {Anal. Plant.
tab. 4, fig. 15) describes and delineates & vas proprium
forming a part of each fasciculus of vessels; and a simi-
* lar intermixture, of the two kinds must, we conceive,
1 exist in ah similar structures.
Even in many plants possessing a distinct bark, ves-
! sels containing proper juices are found in the wood. In
1 every circle of wood, from the inmost that surrounds
the pith, to the outmost in contact with the bark, vessels
containing a gum, turpentine, or some other concrete or
coloured juice, Vnay frequently be found. Malpighi con¬
ceived ihem to exist in all plants, though, from the nature
of their fluids, they could not always be distinguished ;
and he believed them to afford a highly perfect juice for
the nutrition of.the plant. According to Grew, “ the tur-
pentine vessels that are scattered up and down the wood
of the pine and fir are the self-same which did once ap-
j pertain to the bark; but being pinched up by the wood,
1 they are become much smaller pipes.” (Anat. of Plants,
1 p. 115.) Du Hamel also regarded them as similar to
t those of the bark, but rendered much smaller by com-
1 pression. In the ,pine and fir they are disposed circularly
a around the axis, much like, the sap-vessels, and alternate
' with them. (Phys. des Arbres, tf»me i. p. 41.)
In Piscidia erythrina, the proper juices are of a scar-
1 let colour, and the vessels that contain them are there-
f fore readily discerned wherever they exist. This plant
has been selected by Hill to demonstrate the position of
t these vessels. In the bark they are collected into fasci-
c culi, all the vessels of which contain coloured juices, and
a are disposed in a ring on the inner margin of the bark.
1 Within this ring stands the alburnum, through the sub-
s stance of which many smaller red vessels are distributed ;
a and similar red vessels are more sparingly seen in every
1 layer of wood, particularly in that which envelopes the
j pith. (Construction of Timber.}
Now the red vessels thus observed in the wood of the
; above-mentioned plant must either have been formed in
the situations they occupy, or transported from some other
] place. The latter supposition is inadmissible, inasmuch
: as the wood of trees is formed by layers of new vessels
s superimposed on one another ; and no removal of the old
i vessels, nor reproduction of new vessels within the old
1 layers, ever takes place ; consequently no actual transpo-
s sition of vessels could occur, nor could new vessels be
c developed in the wood after it had been completely form-
e ed. If, however, an alternate deposition and absorption
o of matter go on into and from the cells, it is possible that
t the vessels might in this way become filled with a mat-
t ter different from that which they originally possessed;
53
but in the case before us, a readier explanation presents Elementary
itself. The new matter of the wood is formed at the same Organs,
time, and in the same place, as that of the bark; andv>^~v^,,-/
through this new woody matter the red vessels were dis¬
persed as well as in the bark. Consequently every addi¬
tion made to the ligneous layers would furnish some vessels
that contained these proper juices; and this, being annu¬
ally repeated, would exhibit that intermixture of proper
vessels with sap-vessels which is observed in all the lig¬
neous layers of this and many other trees. Hence these
proper vessels of the wood must be held to retain the po¬
sition in which they were originally produced, and cannot
be said to have approached nearer to the centre, but only,
by the addition of new layers exterior to them, to be
placed farther from the circumference of the tree. As
Grew, therefore, held the alburnum to be a part of the
bark, he might correctly say that these vessels “ did once
appertain to it.”
Art. VII.— Of Collections of the Proper Juices in the
Cellular Tissue.
Besides this accumulation of the proper juices in cer-In single
tain vessels of the wood, it frequently happens that de-ceUs-
positions of similar matter occur in all parts of the cel¬
lular tissue of plants. In the bark of the oak and poplar,
and of other trees, resinous concretions are often found in
the cells; they are situated irregularly, and, according to
Malpighi, are observed even in very young bark. Some¬
times the cells containing milky and resinous juices are
so postured in the bark, says Grew, as to form cylindrical
channels, which are neither parallel nor anywhere inos¬
culated, but run, with some little obliquities, distinct from
one another. They appear to be formed out of the cells,
and are not bounded by any walls or sides proper to them¬
selves, but only by those of the cells. (Anat. of Plants,
p. 112.) They are often short and tortuous, always iso¬
lated ; and are sometimes placed irregularly, at others
disposed in a circular form. They occur sometimes in
the pith, and possess very different sizes and figures.
They have frequently been deemed a species of proper
vessels, from the mere circumstance of their containing
similar juices, and from possessing sometimes an elongat¬
ed form; but they are organs which, neither in form nor
in function, bear any resemblance to vessels. Mirbel pro¬
poses to name them secretory canals, and M. Link cellular
reservoirs—the term certainly most generally applicable,
and involving no hypothesis respecting either their forma¬
tion or functions.
The manner in which these cellular reservoirs may In cellular
be produced in the bark or pith is readily explained, on reserv°irs-
the supposition that a communication everywhere subsists
between the vessels and the cells. One set of vessels has
been shown to receive and carry sap to the leaves, and
another to bring it back from them to the bark; and these
two sets of vessels are everywhere in their course surround¬
ed by cellular tissue. Hence the cells in every part may
receive a portion of the fluid which the vessels are em¬
ployed to convey. Thus in herbs, the cells both of the bark
and pith are filled with fluid, which led Grew to believe
that the sap was actually transmitted through those or¬
gans ; but at the same time he delivers facts which, even
in his own opinion, prove that it is derived directly from
the vessels. Not only in herbs, but “ in every annual
growth, whether of a sprout from a seed, of a sucker from
a root, or of a scion from a branch, the pith is always
found the first year full of sap; but in the second year
the same individual pith always becomes dry, and so it
continues ever after. One cause whereof is, that the
ANATOMY, VEGETABLE.
54
ANATOMY, VEGETABLE.
Elementary lymphasducts of the bark being the first year adjacent to
Organs, the pith, they do all that time transfuse part of their sap
into it, and so keep it always succulent. But the same
lymphseducts the following year are turned into wood, and
the vessels which are then generated and carry the sap
stand beyond them in the bark; so that the sap, being
now more remote from the pith, and intercepted by the
new wood, cannot be transfused with that sufficient force
and plenty as before into the pith, which, therefore, from
the first year always continues dry.” (Anat. of Plants,
p. 124.)
All that is here said respecting the transfusion of the
common sap from the vessels into the cells as it ascends
through the wood, is equally applicable to the proper
juices as they descend through the bark. During the first
year of growth, both the sap and proper vessels are adja¬
cent to the pith as well as to the bark, and each order
may' therefore transfuse its fluids into the cells of either.
The common sap, from retaining its fluidity, is frequent¬
ly removed by absorption, and the cells that contained it
appear empty and dry; but where the proper juices are
transfused, and become viscid or concrete, they are re¬
tained, and appear in different quantities and forms both
in the bark and pith, according to the nature and proper¬
ties of the fluids from which they are derived, and the
texture and situation of the tissue into which they are
poured.
In inter- To these collections of the proper juices in the cells
cellular of the cellular tissue may be referred the opinions of
canals. those who describe them as existing sometimes in vacui¬
ties between the cells. Grew had remarked the occa¬
sional presence of these juices in cylindrical channels
formed by these vacuities, to which M. Treviranus has
given the name of intercellular canals. According to him,
these canals not only contain the proper juices, but con¬
vey them to all the cellular parts of plants, and are
the true proper vessels of the bark. We before saw that
M. Kieser, after making the wood to consist almost entire¬
ly of spiral vessels, destined only to convey air, supposed
the sap to be carried by these same intercellular canals.
(Kieser, Mem. sur V Organisat. des Plantes, p. 36.) With
M. Treviranus, he also considers them as the real proper
vessels of the bark, by which alone the juices are convey¬
ed. (Ibid. p. 86.)
Opinion of M. de Candolle considers the proper juices to possess
DeCan- no special organ for their conveyance, but to nestle in
dolle. tiie cavities that surround them, and form sacs or reser¬
voirs of various size and form. He distinguishes several
kinds of these reservoirs, which vary with the figure of
the containing sac. Thus, what others call “ proper vessels,”
he designates by the names of tubular and fascicular reser¬
voirs. In this, however, he appears to confound the
“ proper juices,” destined immediately to the functions of
nutrition and growth, with various fluid or solid matters,
either simply deposited in the cellular tissue, or that have
undergone subsequent alteration by the agency of a secret¬
ing organ. The reservoirs of the proper juices, and the
juices themselves, are, he says, readily seen in many fami¬
lies of dicotyledons ; but have not been observed with cer¬
tainty, either in monocotyledonous or acotyledonous tribes.
( Organog. Veg. tome i. chap. 11.) The reason of this seems
to be, that in dicotyledons the bark, in which the pro¬
per juices are seen, is distinct from the wood, in which the
common sap flows; and the colour, consistence, and quali¬
ties of the two' fluids, therefore, at once point out their
respective places; but in plants belonging to the two lat¬
ter tribes there is no proper distinction of bark and wood;
and the two orders of vessels, as shown by Malpighi in
the instance of wheat, are associated together through the
whole substance of the plant, which renders the discrimi- Element;,
nation of their common and proper juices more difficult. Orgai, ^
Besides two orders of vessels existing in the ligneous
part of trees, M. Dutrochet describes a particular form of^™0”
cell, which, in the wood, serves only as a receptacle forchel ,
fluids; but to which, in the bark, he assigns a vascular
function. This is the elongated cell observed by Mal¬
pighi, and represented by him in fig. 18, Plate XXXIX.
M. Dutrochet, from the resemblance which its figure
is said to bear to a spindle, has given it the name of
clostre; and his representation of it is given in fig. 17,
Plate XXXIX. These elongated cells form what Kieser
and others have called the ligneous fibres. By M. Du-
trochet they are regarded as reservoirs of the nutrient
juices, and as containing secretions which impart soli¬
dity to the wood. In the bark, however, these same
clostres are declared to be the organs in which the ela¬
borated sap is contained, and by which jt is transmitted
to the roots to furnish the materials of their growth. The ^ ^
clostres, which thus convey the nutrient matter, ought not,
he adds, to be confounded with the “ proper vessels,”
which are the true secretory organs. These vessels are
tubes of greater diameter than the clostres, and contain
various excrementitious substances, as resin, &c. in differ¬
ent plants. (Recherches Anatoyniques, 8zc. SI.') Ac¬
cording to M. Dutrochet, therefore, the elongated ceils
and vessels which exist in the bark and wood exercise
functions precisely opposite; for whilst in the wood the
corpusculiferous vessels convey the sap, and the cells are
reservoirs for containing it, in the bark the cells are the
organs which transmit the elaborated sap, and the vessels
those in which the excrementitious matters are contained.
In our view, these notions are the reverse of fact, since
we consider the vessels, both in the wood and the bark,
as the organs by which the fluids are conveyed, and the
various forms of the cellular tissue as the general recep¬
tacles into which they are in part deposited: they may,
however, in some instances be retained in the vessels
themselves, as well as in the cells.
Section II.
Of the Absorbent and Exhalent Systems.
Art. I.— Of the Absorbent System. tlw
Connected with the vessels that distribute the fluids
through organized bodies, is another system of vessels,
by which extraneous matter is taken -up to support the
growth of parts, and supply the waste occasioned by
the exercise of the various functions. To these vessels
anatomists have given the name of Absorbents. The
function which they perform is carried on either from
the external surface, or from some internal part of the
body; and its exercise, in animal bodies, may be distin¬
guished into three kinds or stages. The first is that
in which new or extraneous matter is taken up and added
to the system, as in the absorption of substances from the Sp
skin, or of chyle from the intestines; the second is that
in which substances previously separated from the fluids
by secretion, but without becoming organized, are again
taken up by the absorbents, and reconveyed into the
blood-vessels, as in the absorption of milk, bile, and fat;
the third kind is that in which the secreting organs them¬
selves, and successively all the solid parts of the body,
are removed by the action of the absorbent vessels. By
plants this function is exercised to less extent, and seems
to comprise only the first two kinds or degrees of it, viz.
the primary absorption of extraneous matter, and the re¬
absorption of certain secreted matters; but in them there
ANATOMY,
VEGETABLE.
55
n
■/np'vlL'
b > tioin
nU*
^erj,
eipif
r
t
n
ISOft-
nuts |
n- r*
tl
P
tl
s;
v
fi
ti
w
a
e
oi’ffliles,
does not appear any power of re-absorbing what has once
formed an organized part of the system. Hence the for¬
mation of organized parts in plants is not accompanied,
as in animals, by the unceasing removal of old particles;
but the particles which have once become organized con¬
tinue permanent until removed by some cause or process
foreign to the living powers of the plant. When once,
therefore, the organs of plants have become mature, they
are exposed to decay only from the operation of foreign
causes, and cannot be mined from within by that gradual
loss of balance between the secreting and absorbing func¬
tions which the advances of age bring on the animal sys¬
tem. Neither, in the vegetable system, can the removal
of organized parts under disease, any more than in health,
have place; and, consequently, the several modes or
stages of ulcerative absorption, so finely illustrated by the
researches of Mr Hunter, belong not to the economy of
plants.
As the function of absorption is thus of more limited
extent in plants than in animals, so may we expect to
find the arrangement of organs destined to its exercise.
In the more perfect animals, the absorbent vessels are
quite distinct from those which carry blood, are pro¬
vided everywhere with glands, and, like the veins, are
furnished with valves. From their beginnings, in all parts
of the body, to their termination, they continually unite
with one another, until, after a long course, they form at
length two trunks, which deliver their contents into the
large veins near the heart. As no common reservoir exists
in plants, there is no such single point to which their ab¬
sorbed fluids require to be carried. Hence their absor¬
bents seem everywhere to have a very short course, to
form no union with one another, but to deliver their con¬
tents at once into the sap-vessels adjacent to them. They
appear to be destitute alike of glands and valves, and in¬
deed, in an anatomical view, they can scarcely be con¬
sidered distinct from the sap-vessels, but may rather be
deemed ramifications from them; so that although we
grant, with Grew, that the ordinary sap-vessels do not
ramify one out of another, yet they certainly send olf
those fine ramifications which, from their office, we de¬
nominate the absorbents of plants.
In the root, the absorbents are capable of being de¬
monstrated. When a plant is immersed in coloured fluids,
many of its capillary absorbents become tinged through
their whole course to their termination in the sap-vessels,
proving them to be simple ramifications from these vessels
themselves. A further proof of the identity of these two
systems is derived from the fact, that any part of a sap-
vessel is not only capable of emitting capillary absorbents
from its sides, but of exercising itself an absorbent func¬
tion, whenever its cut extremity is brought into contact
with a fluid. These absorbents are formed very speedily
and in great multitudes on the roots of annual plants; and
even in perennial plants they appear, like the leaves, to
suffer an annual decay, and to be reproduced with the re¬
turn of vegetation.
■ M. de Candolle describes a structure as existing at the
extremities of the roots and of the pistil, and also on the
outer coat of seeds, which possesses a peculiar aptitude for
absorption. To this structure he gives the name of spon-
giole: it is composed of small round cells, and in roots is
situated at all their fibrous extremities. The entire body
of each radical fibril is indeed made up of an analogous
cellular tissue; but it is the extremity alone which actual¬
ly absorbs, and which therefore possesses a peculiar ab¬
sorbent or hygroscopic power. The pistillary spongioles
are in like manner situated at the extremity of that
organ, and absorb the fecundating liquor. The third
variety, or seminal spongioles (spongiolce seminales), are Elementary
placed on the surface of the grain, apparently with great Organs,
regularity; and by them the absorption of moisture is ef-
fected. Not only water, but coloured liquors, are ab¬
sorbed by these spongioles, though the molecules of such
liquids never enter the ordinary pores of plants, which
pores must be infinitely greater than the apertures with
which the spongioles may be furnished. This is the more
remarkable, says M. de Candolle, when we call to mind
that these colouring molecules traverse the compact and
almost stony coats of seeds, and yet do not enter leaves
whose tissue is so lax, and which are visibly furnished
with pores that have the power of absorbing water when
in contact with it. ( Organog. Vegetale, tome i. chap. 7.)
But plants absorb fluids by other parts of their sur-Absorption
face as well as by the roots. This absorbing power ex- by leaves,
tends, in some of the lower tribes, over the entire surface
of the vegetable, which is destitute of any organ analogous
to a root; in other instances, where the roots are small
and the soil arid, the plant derives almost all its moisture
by the absorption of dews through the leaves. The ex¬
periments of Bonnet show that all leaves, both those of
herbs and of trees, when brought into contact with water,
are capable of absorbing it, and that the moisture thus ab¬
sorbed is communicated through the vascular system of
the leaf. The leaves of herbs he found to absorb nearly
alike from either surface ; but those of trees absorbed best
by the lower surface. The petiole and larger riblets ap¬
peared to absorb much less than the other parts of the
leaf. So great and general is this absorbing power, that
vegetables, says he, may be said to be planted in the air,
nearly as they are in the earth, the leaves being to the
branches what the capillary rootlets are to the roots.
{Recherches sur l' Usage des Feuilles, p. 22, 47.)
What then are the organs by which this function is External
carried on in the leaf? M. Bonnet imagined the vessels al)SOrPtioa
of the leaves to receive their fluids through the pores ^ P01’68,
adjacent to them; and that the leaves, which had only
few pores, possessed but little absorbent power. {Ibid.
p. 20, 22.) He thought, also, that the hairs frequently dis¬
tributed over the leaf attracted moisture, and might even
act as absorbents; though he admits that many leaves
which have only slight inequalities on their surface, with¬
out hairs, exercise an absorbent function. {Ibid. p. 47.)
This subject has been since investigated by M. de Can¬
dolle, whose researches appear to confirm the account of
Bonnet as to the absorbing power of the pores. Accord¬
ing to him, these pores are found on all parts of the leaf
except the riblets, which have none, but are covered with
hairs. At the mouth of the pore a vascular net-work is
always to be found, which he regards as a production from
the larger vessels of the leaf. He asserts that pores are
found only in those parts where vessels go to terminate,
and not in others; and that in trees this structure occurs
chiefly on the lower surface of the leaf, while in herbs it
is equally seen on both surfaces. The stem in general
has few or no pores, except where it is soft and her¬
baceous ; and even then the pores occur only in the deeper
green furrows, not on the prominent lines which bound
them, and are usually covered with hairs. No pores are to
be found on roots or bulbs or fleshy fruits, but most of the
organs above ground are more or less furnished with them.
Exposure to the air seems necessary to their formation;
for plants, or parts of plants, that live beneath water or
earth, are destitute of pores, but acquire them if brought
into the free air. Exclusion of light prevents also the for¬
mation of pores; and hence etiolated plants are not fur¬
nished with them. {Mem. de VInstit. Nat. tome i. p. 351.)
In general, his anatomical researches respecting the ex-
56
ANATOMY, VEGETABLE.
Internal
absorp¬
tion :
Elementary istence of pores in leaves agreed with the results of Bon-
Organs, net’s experiments on the absorbing power of their surfaces ;
and when we consider that all plants and parts of plants
secluded from the air are at the same time destitute of
pores, and of the power of absorbing by their surfaces, it
may be inferred that the organs of absorption on the ex¬
ternal surfaces of plants are the minute vascular produc¬
tions which, in tender and succulent parts exposed to the
air and light, everywhere perforate the cuticle, and form
in it those innumerable orifices which we denominate pores.
But the function of absorption in plants is not con¬
fined to the taking up of extraneous matters. Many facts
prove that, in every part where active vegetation exists,
internal absorption is continually going on. The organs
by which this absorption is immediately performed can¬
not, perhaps, from their extreme delicacy and minuteness,
be rendered capable of anatomical demonstration; but
certain facts which occur in plants, coupled with certain
analogies derived from other organized textures, must, we
think, carry complete conviction of their existence. In
almost every part, and on every surface of animal bodies,
the vessels which exercise absorption may be traced ; but
the mouths or orifices by which they actually absorb are
scarcely ever to be seen. In one instance only, viz. in
the intestines, have they been followed to their begin¬
nings, and discovered in the act of exercising their appro¬
priate function. (Gordon’s System of Human Anat. vol. i.
p. 70.) But though their orifices remain in other parts
undiscovered, no anatomist hesitates to admit their exist¬
ence when he sees the canals of the vessels themselves
laden with blood, or milk, or bile; and seeing them thus
to convey fluids whose colour manifests their presence,
he equally believes them capable of absorbing and convey¬
ing other fluids, though they may not be visible to the
eye. Believing further, that no solid part of the body,
nor even fluid part that has been deposited in close cavi¬
ties, can be removed in a natural manner from its place,
but by the agency of these vessels, he comes to regard
the simple fact of the disappearance of such solid or fluid
part as sufficient evidence of its absorption.
Now the facts and analogies on which internal ab¬
sorption rests in the vegetable system are precisely of the
same nature, and the evidence of its existence is scarcely
less complete. In every part of the cellular tissue of
plants various substances have been found which must
have been primarily derived from the vessels, the only
organs which furnish new materials to the plant. These
substances, however, often disappear from the cells, and
are again to be detected in the vascular system. Thus,
in the seed, as will afterwards be shown, the cells of the
cotyledon contain a solid unorganized matter, which could
have been originally deposited in them only by means of
the vessels. During germination, this solid matter is ren¬
dered fluid, disappears from the cells, and is again to be
traced in the vessels on its way to afford nutriment to the
radicle and plume. We say, then, that this unorganized
matter must have been taken up from the cells of the co¬
tyledon, and conveyed into the vascular system, by the
agency of absorbent vessels, which, it is probable, are dis¬
tributed everywhere on the inner surface of these cells ;
just as, in the animal system, absorbent vessels are con¬
sidered to take up the fat from the inner surface of the
cells in which it is deposited, and convey it into the vessels
of the animal.
This alternate absorption and deposition of the nu¬
trient matter of seeds is sometimes strikingly display¬
ed in the growth of potatoes. It frequently happens that
potatoes lying in a damp cellar put forth shoots which
grow to a considerable size, without the access of any
in seeds;
foreign agents except heat, water, and air. On these Elen*,
shoots young bulbs, as large as the eggs of pigeons, are °fgii
sometimes to be found, and the substance of the oldS^
bulb has in great part disappeared. In such cases, the111
matter from the cells of the old bulb must be consider¬
ed as removed by absorption, and conveyed into the
vessels of the shoot, where it was in part employed in
forming the new organs of the young bulb, and in part
deposited, to experience, perhaps, in some future growth,
similar successions of removal and deposition. In the
living parts of perennial plants, also, nutrient matter ap¬
pears to be alternately deposited and absorbed from the
cells during the active periods of vegetation ; and in the
cellular tissue of herbaceous plants a similar deposition
and absorption of fluids seems to be frequently taking
place; so that, in all the vegetating parts of plants, these
alternate functions of secretion and absorption are more
or less constantly exercised.
A good illustration of the manner in which these func-in tmi
tions are alternately exercised is afforded by an ex¬
periment of M. de Candolle. The parasitic plant called
misletoe draws its nourishment, as is well known, from
the tree on which it grows. M. de Candolle placed a
branch of an apple-tree, bearing a stalk of misletoe, in an
infusion of cochineal for five days. He then dissected it,
and observed the coloured liquor to have risen through
the wood and alburnum of the apple-branch, and reached
the place of junction between it and the misletoe, which it
strongly reddened; and from thence it penetrated into
the woody part of the misletoe. There did not, however,
appear to be a true anastomosis between the vessels of
these different plants; but, at the base of the misletoe,
where the parts were so deeply reddened, a minute cel¬
lular structure was observed. Into these cells the vascu¬
lar system of the apple appeared to deposit its sap, and
from them the capillary absorbents of the misletoe, distri¬
buted upon the cells, seemed, like the ordinary absorbents
of roots, to take it up. {Mem. de Vlnstit. Nat. tome i.
p. 370.) From these and many similar facts it may be in¬
ferred, that absorbents, communicating with the vessels of
the plant, exist in every part, and that the removal of all
secreted matters from the cells and other close cavities of
the vegetable, when effected by the living powers of the
plant, is accomplished, as in animal bodies, by the exer¬
cise of an absorbent function.
Art. II.—Of the Exhalent System.
But from their external surface, and from the same Organs
parts as we have seen to exercise an absorbent function, exhalat
plants, in certain circumstances, give off a large quantity
of fluid by transpiration; and the organs by which this
function is performed seem, from many considerations, to
be the same as those by which, under other circumstances,
absorption is accomplished. This function of transpiration
is common to all terrestrial plants, and, with few excep¬
tions, all are more or less furnished with pores; hut it
does not occur in aquatic plants, according to De Candolle,
which are destitute of pores. Fleshy leaves and fruits,
and the petals of flowers, which have but. few pores,
transpire little; and etiolated plants, which.are destitute
of pores, do not transpire at all. On the contrary, herba¬
ceous stems and plants, which have numerous pores,
throw off most fluid by transpiration. This general agree¬
ment between the existence of pores and the exercise of
the transpiratory function leads to the presumption that
they are the orifices through which the fluids are dis¬
charged ; and if it be admitted that these pores are situ¬
ated at the extremity of the fine ramifications that come
ANATOMY, VEGETABLE.
57
] emetary off from the vessels, their fitness for such an office cannot
be denied. Comparing these facts regarding transpiration
with those previously stated concerning absorption, M.
de Candolle is led to conclude that the pores on the sur¬
faces of plants are the organs by which these functions
are alternately carried on, according to the existing con¬
dition of dryness or humidity in the surrounding atmo¬
sphere.
; -ae Repulsive as this conclusion may at first seem to
tlio»‘ of our ordinary conceptions of organized bodies, yet there
sopon
are many circumstances in the structure and habits of
plants that give to it great probability; so much so, that
we ourselves had long since reached the same point by a
route different from that pursued by M. de Candolle. It
is highly probable that the exhalents of the leaves are
simple ramifications from the larger vessels, like the ca¬
pillary rootlets ; and as they have no valves in their canal,
there is no mechanical impediment to their exercising an
inverted action. The sap-vessels themselves readily ab¬
sorb even coloured fluids when inverted; and though
their exhalent terminations are too fine to receive such
fluids, yet why may they not, like the trunks from which
they spring, be capable of taking up ordinary fluids in
that manner? The fluids absorbed through the leaves
must at once enter the sap-vessels, for there is no com¬
mon reservoir to which they can first be carried; and it
is extremely improbable that, from the same parts of the
same vessels, exhalents and absorbents, capable of exer¬
cising only opposite functions, should at the same time
arise. In the animal system the exhalents spring from
arteries, and the absorbents terminate in veins; but in the
less complex structure of plants it seems demonstrable
that both orders of vessels must at once communicate
with the same sap-vessels. It is therefore more proba¬
ble to suppose that, instead of two distinct orders of
vessels, as in animals,, one only should be provided, capa¬
ble, under different circumstances, of exercising different
functions. This vicarious office of the organs under con¬
sideration leads to no confusion in its exercise; for the
condition of the atmosphere, which favours transpiration,
is that which removes from the leaves the power of ab¬
sorption ; and, on the contrary, absorption occurs only in
a humid atmosphere, when, as Hales has shown, little or
no transpiration takes place.
Besides exhalation carried on through visible pores,
plants, like other bodies, lose their humidity by simple
evaporation. This evaporation seems to go on in a mo¬
derate degree under favourable circumstances by day and
by night, and is quite distinct from the copious transpira¬
tion that is carried on by the agency of solar light through
the pores. That the pores are exhaling organs, was an
opinion first advanced by Hedwig, and subsequently
illustrated by De Candolle, Sprengel, Link, and Rudol-
phi. (Organog. Vegetale, tome i. p. 86.) In like manner,
though absorption may be carried on in certain circum¬
stances through the pores of leaves, yet there are plants
which largely imbibe water, but in which few or no pores
have been detected. Thus, fleshy leaves which have lost
their moisture quickly regain it either when plunged in
water or exposed to rain, though they possess but few
pores; and';The aquatic algae, says M. de Candolle, evi¬
dently imbibe water over their whole surface, though
they are wholly destitute of pores. He supposes that,
beside the ordinary pores which may be readily seen,
plants may be furnished with others that are invisible
from their extreme minuteness. By such pores we might
account for the loss of weight which plants destitute of
visible pores gradually undergo when exposed to the free
air, and also for the increase of weight which mosses, and
vol. in.
apciv
n.
other plants equally destitute of pores, rapidly acquire Elementary
when plunged in water. (Organog. Veget. tome i. p. 88.) Organs.
The view thus presented of the external absorbent
and exhalent vessels may probably be extended to the Inte™al
minute vascular productions which seem everywhere toancj ak_
spring from the vessels internally. If secreting and ab-sorbing
sorbing vessels be held to exist in every part of the plant, organs,
they must everywhere communicate with the vascular
system ; for it is from the vessels of this system that the
matter of their secretions is primarily derived, and it is
into the same vessels that, in many cases, these secretions
are subsequently returned. Nor does the exercise of the
two functions of secretion and absorption in plants pre¬
sent any apparent obstacle to the supposition of their
being performed at different times by the same organs.
Thus, when nutrient matter is deposited in the cellular
tissue of the seed, it is destined only for a future use;
and the purpose of nature would be defeated were an ab¬
sorbent function to be at the same time employed for its
removal. On the other hand, when this matter is again
taken up during the germination of the seed, no secreting
function seems then to be exercised in that part; for the
organ itself, in many seeds, gradually wastes, and no fresh
matter is deposited in it. Even when the cotyledon to
a certain extent augments in size, its nutrient matter is
continually drawn off for the support of the radicle and
plume, and no fresh matter of the same kind seems to be
then deposited; so that the same vessels which formerly
exercised the function of secretion may, without disturb¬
ing the economy of the plant, be now employed in the ex¬
ercise of absorption. As thus the two functions do not
require to be performed in the same part at the same
time, they may, if nothing else forbid, be exercised at dif¬
ferent times by the same organs. In the animal system,
where the organs themselves are removed, secreting and
absorbing vessels must necessarily co-exist; and to main¬
tain the integrity of parts, their functions must proceed
at the same time, and to a certain extent balance each
other; but as no similar operations appear to be carried on
in the vegetable system, no such complex organization is
required to sustain them.
Section III.
Of the Cellular Tissue.
Art. I.—Description and Structure of the Cells.
The elementary organ denominated cellular tissue may Definition,
be said to consist of a membranous substance, disposed
into a great number of small circumscribed cavities, con¬
nected with each other, and arranged in rows or suites,
generally in a direction opposed to that of the tubes,
which represent the vascular system. From Grew it re¬
ceived the appellation of parenchyma, a term still often
used in describing different parts of this tissue ; by Mal¬
pighi, it was called the utricular substance; and it owes,
we believe, its present name to M. du Hamel.
The cavities which distinguish its construction were Descrip-
called indifferently bags or bladders, pores and cells, by Aon.
Grew; by Malpighi, utricles; by others, vesicles; and
more commonly cells. The form of these cells varies so
much, not only in different plants, but in different parts of
the same plant, as to have authorized, in some degree,
these different appellations. The tissue which they con¬
stitute enters into the composition of every organ in the
more perfect plants. Of many herbaceous plants it forms
the chief portion, and some of the lower tribes of vege¬
tables, as the algae, lichens, mushrooms, &c. are said to be
wholly composed of it; in other words, no vessels can be
H
ANATOMY, VEGETABLE.
58
Elementary actually demonstrated in them. In most cases it contri-
Organs. butes greatly to modify the form of organs, and adds al-
ways to their bulk and strength. Nothing can exceed
the diversity of appearance in figure, bulk, and texture,
which it exhibits in the several parts, circumstances, and
conditions in which it is placed. It represents sometimes
a lax cellular substance, all the parts of which are succu¬
lent and transparent; in other instances it is compressed
into a solid, opaque body, retaining but faint traces of its
former cellularity; and in others, again, it is spread out
into a most thin and delicate membrane, in which the
cellular character is wholly lost. It everywhere envelopes
and holds together the vascular system, and seems to be
the general receptacle of almost all the vegetable secre¬
tions.
Figure of The figure of the component cells of this tissue is
the cells; exceedingly various. Sometimes they have nearly a
globular or spheroidal shape; in other instances they are
angular, and exhibit in their section a greater or lesser
number of sides and angles, being in a few examples tri¬
angular ; in others square, but more commonly hexago¬
nal, the figure which collections of soft cells, mutually
impressing each other, seem naturally disposed to assume.
This form is represented in the transverse section of cells,
fig. 28, Plate XXXVIII.; they seem in this figure, and in
most of those given in different works, to possess double
sides; but, as M. Kieser has remarked (Mtm. sur F Or-
ganisat. des Plantes, p. 91), this appearance is produced
by the borders of the subjacent cells being seen through
the transparent sides of the superior layer. In Plate
XXXIX. fig. 16, is a representation of a transverse slice of
the cellular part of sugar-cane, drawn from nature, and so
thin as to exhibit only one layer of cells, in which the sides
appear distinctly single ; but, in a thicker slice of the same
plant, fig. 21, comprehending more than one layer, the
double appearance becomes very evident.
their size; The size of the cells varies not less than their figure
in different plants and in different parts of the same plant.
In one of the plates of Grew they are represented as
possessing twenty different sizes, from that of a minute
pore, to the size of a common pea. Hooke examined
them in cork, and in the pith of many plants. In cork
he reckoned several lines of these cells or pores, as
he calls them, and found there were about sixty placed
endwise in one eighteenth part of an inch, or somewhat
more than a thousand in the length of an inch; and,
therefore, in a square inch above a million, and in a cubic
inch above 1200 millions. (Mierograpkia, p. 114.) In
this substance the cells are not visible by the naked eye,
but become very distinct when highly magnified. In
most plants, however, they are readily visible, and their
appearance is familiar to every one.
When viewed in a longitudinal section, their hexagonal
form is much less distinct, and is sometimes wholly lost.
In fig. 22, Plate XXXIX., is a series of single columns of
the cells of sugar-cane, in which each cell is, to appear¬
ance, bounded only by four sides. Similar representations
are given by Hooke of the cells in cork, and by Kieser in
most of the figures which exhibit longitudinal sections of
the cellular tissue; but in some instances the hexagonal
form is visible even in these sections. In fig. 23 of the
•came plate we have given, in outline, the appearance of
two series of columns of these transparent cells, in which
one series is seen behind the other, and gives somewhat
of the confused double appearance exhibited in the trans¬
verse section, fig. 21.
contents; The nature of the matter contained in the cells of
this tissue varies according to the part in which it exists,
and the peculiar powers of the plant. Both Hooke and
Grew remarked, that in the pith and bark of succulent Elemen,
plants the cells were often filled with aqueous juices, and Orgat,
in the same plant, at other periods, they appeared empty,
or filled only with air. In the seed, the cells of the coty¬
ledons contain minute unorganized particles, which, at a 1
future period, serve as nutriment for the young plantule.
Other particles of still smaller size, of a resinous nature
and a green colour, exist in other parts of this tissue, and
bestow on the plant its verdure. In every part of the
plant these cells are also the occasional receptacles of the
peculiar fluids which both the sap-vessels and the proper
vessels convey; and hence various gummy and resinous
substances, corresponding in quality to the fluids previous¬
ly existing in the vascular system, are frequently detected
in them. In the pulp of fruits, the various acid, saccha¬
rine, and austere juices that we meet with, are contained
in different modifications of this tissue; and it is into its
cells that the osseous secretions, which constitute their
shells and stones, are made. These facts prove not only
the great importance of this tissue in the construction of
the vegetable organs, but the active share it bears in the
economy of their functions; and demonstrate likewise
an universal communication between the vessels and the
cells.
The sides of these cells, when emptied of their con-struck
tents, and viewed through the microscope, appear to be
formed by a very fine transparent membrane, which some
maintain to be everywhere entire, and others to be perfo¬
rated with pores. The same sources of error exist here
as before noticed in similar microscopical observations on
the vascular system; and, accordingly, the respective dis¬
putants maintain, with equal confidence, the same opinions
with regard to the porosity or non-porosity of the cells, as
they had previously held concerning the vessels. We
must therefore call in the aid of other means besides
those of the microscope, for determining the important
fact whether the cells have or have not any direct com¬
munication with each other.
Dr Hooke examined the films or sides of the cells ofare ck
cork, of the pith of elder, and of many other plants, forcavities
the very purpose of discovering whether any direct com¬
munication existed between them; but “ each cavern or
cell,” says he, “ is distinctly separate from the rest, with¬
out any kind of hole in the encompassing filmsnor could
he, with his microscope, nor by his breath, nor by any
other way that he tried, “ discover a passage out of one of
those cavities into another.” (Micrographia, p. 116.)
Dr Grew describes the little cells or bladders that com¬
pose the bark of roots as possessing a spheroidal shape in
most plants. When viewed with the microscope, their
sides are as transparent as water; and “ none of them,”
he adds, “ are visibly pervious from one into another, but
each is bounded within itself.” (Anat. of Plants, p. 64.)
Both Hooke and Grew, however, believed a communica¬
tion to exist between the cells, from the fact of their con¬
taining liquor; and Malpighi held the same opinion from
similar considerations ; but they nowhere describe the
mode or structure by which they conceived it to be ac¬
complished.
Later writers have not only adopted this opinion,
but professed to demonstrate the structure by which the
communication is maintained. M. Mirbel describes the
sides of the cells as composed of an extremely thin,
colourless, and transparent membrane, which is common¬
ly perforated with pores, the diameter of whose aperture
is not perhaps the 300th part of a millimetre. These
pores are ranged generally in transverse series, and
through them, it is said, the cellular tissue both receives
fluids from the vessels, and transmits them very slowly
tie C
ANATOMY, VEGETABLE.
59
lerolu
caials.
through its cells. {Exposition de la Theorie, &c. p. 105.)
M. Sprengel and some others adopt this view of the po¬
rosity of the cells; but it is denied by Link, Treviranus,
and Kieser. The latter author declares, that notwith¬
standing all that has been said concerning the pores in the
sides of the cells, his observations, made with the greatest
care and exactness, have not enabled him to discover the
slightest trace of them. The sides of the cells, he adds,
are always formed by a membrane extremely thin, but al¬
together smooth and uniform; and the cells themselves
have never an open communication with each other.
(Kieser sur V Organisat. des Plantes, p. 94.)
If, then, no pores exist in the sides of the cells for
the reception and transmission of the fluids they contain,
some other means must be provided for the accomplish¬
ment of these objects. M. Link, accordingly, supposes
the juices to pass from one cell to another by transudation.
M. Rudolphi thinks that a decomposition of the fluid is
effected by the cells themselves, during which it is trans¬
mitted through their sides; and M. Dutrochet calls in
the aid of electrical agency. To us there occur no pro¬
bable means of accomplishing these operations, consistent¬
ly with the integrity of the cellular structure, but the
exercise of those alternate functions of secretion and ab¬
sorption which, from so many other considerations, we
have supposed to be carried on in every living part of the
vegetable system.
Another question of importance in relation to the sides
of the cells is, whether they are single or double; that
is, whether each cell has a side of its own, or whether one
side is in every position common to two cells. Mirbel
asserts the former, and Kieser maintains the latter opi¬
nion. In fig. 29, Plate XXXVIII., is an outline representa¬
tion of these double sides as given by Kieser. From the
extreme thinness of the membrane, it is very difficult, he
says, to distinguish this double structure; but where the
cells are large, and a glass that magnifies highly is em¬
ployed, each partition that separates two cells is distinctly
seen to be composed of two membranes, which are some¬
times separated about the middle of the partition, and
united towards the angular points. {Mem. sur l Organi¬
sat. des Plantes, p. 91.) MM. Amici, Dutrochet, De
Candolle, and others, support this opinion. (See Organog.
Veg. tome i. p. 21.) The existence of this double struc¬
ture receives some countenance from the fact observed in
the construction of the honeycomb by the late Dr Bar¬
clay, who says that each side of every cell in the comb is
composed of two plates, or is double. ( Wernerian Trans¬
actions, vol. ii.) It may still, however, be more properly
said, that each side of every cell is truly single, and is
rendered double only by coming into contact with the
corresponding side of an adjacent cell.
■ When the cells have a regular hexagonal figure, and
are equally distended with their appropriate juices, there
is no reason to suppose that any vacuities are left be¬
tween their sides or angles. Mathematicians have long
since demonstrated a regular hexagon to be one of those
figures that completely fill up a given space; and that no
vacuities can exist either about its sides or its angles.
Where, however, the cells deviate from this regular
figure, and more or less approach to a spherical form, va¬
cuities or interstices may readily be conceived to occur.
These vacuities are said to have been first noticed by
Grew and Leeuwenhoeck, and afterwards by M. Trevira¬
nus, who describes them as interstices left between the
cells in their mutual approximations towards each other.
He gave them the name of intercellular canals, as already
stated.
Gn the other hand, MM. Mirbel and Rudolphi alto¬
gether deny their existence ; but M. Kieser contends stre-Elementary
nuously for it. He describes them as small interstices Organs,
situated at the angles of the hexagonal cells, and formed
not by any sides of their own, but by the mutual approach
of three contiguous cells, and possessing, therefore, a pris¬
matic form. These interstices he conceives to exist at
every angle, and thus every cell to be surrounded by
them. In fig. 29, Plate XXXVIII., the black angular
points denote their place. By their conjunction with
each other they form a canal, which, when the hexagonal
figure is perfect, and the cells are ranged horizontally,
extends both in a longitudinal and transverse direction;
and when the cells are placed obliquely, the canals have
a similar direction. Their size varies according to that
of the cells, by the sides of which they are constructed;
they contain and convey the proper juices in the bark,
but in the pith are often dry; and their course is said to
terminate only with that of the cells themselves, at the
surface of the plant. {Mem. sur V Organisat. des Plantes,
p. 104.) Such are the organs which, as we have seen,
M. Kieser considers to convey both the sap and the pro¬
per juices in plants. That in some circumstances they
may exist, and become reservoirs of the sap or other
juices, seems highly probable; but of the impropriety of
ascribing to such casual productions the performance of
the primary functions of the vegetable system, we have
already spoken.
The cellular tissue, as described above, is that form Changes of
of it which must be regarded as the most perfect. From f°rm in the
various causes, however, it is subject to great alterations.ce^s‘
In herbs, and in the pith and succulent parts of trees, the
cells preserve their original form and appearance for a
considerable time; but by the growth of the other parts,
and consequent extension and compression they expe¬
rience, they acquire in the bark and wood an elongated
figure, and this both in a transverse and longitudinal di¬
rection. In the latter case they surround and connect
the layers of vessels with each other, constituting what
has been named the parenchyma of the bark and wood.
In this form their size is often greatly reduced, their ca¬
vities sometimes obliterated, and their cellular character
altogether effaced. In other instances traces of a cellular
structure are occasionally visible, appearing in detached
portions among the perpendicular vessels. In some plants
the cells become elongated in a longitudinal direction,
and yet preserve their capacity nearly unchanged. It was
probably this form of cell that led Malpighi to regard
sometimes as a vessel, what, in reality, appears to be only
a series of elongated cells. To his representation of these
cells, as given fig. 18, Plate XXXIX., we have before refer¬
red. M. Kieser considers these elongated cells as forming
the ligneous fibres of the wood, and that the bark is almost
entirely formed of them. {Mem. sur V Organisat. des Plantes,
p. 99, 101.) These cells, he says, were originally round;
but in trees they become so much lengthened as to exhi¬
bit the form of a tube. It is easy, however, he adds, to
detect transverse partitions in these seeming tubes, which,
having often a diagonal direction, give to these cells the ,
form of a double pyramid with sharp points. The mem¬
brane which forms these cells is, in all trees except the
ConifercB and some others, smooth, without pores, and
transparent. {Ibid. p. 299.) To these organs Treviranus
gave the name of fibrous utricles; by De Candolle they
are called tubulated cells; and Dutrochet, from their
spindle shape, denominates them, as we have seen, clostres.
His representation of them, fig. 17, Plate XXXIX., cor¬
responds with the foregoing description of Kieser.
From suffering compression in a transverse direction,
the cells have frequently their longer diameter thrown
60
ANATOMY, VEGETABLE.
Elementary into that position, and thus extend from the centre to
Organs, the circumference of the plant. This position, as will af-
terwards be shown, was fully noticed by Grew and Mal¬
pighi. Leeuwenhoeck also observed it, but mistook the
cells thus elongated for vessels, and considered their par¬
titions as valves,—errors which M. Kieser, as well as
others, duly points out. In this transverse direction the
tissue forms partitions more or less large between the ves¬
sels, as will afterwards be shown; and by the obliteration
of its cells it is frequently reduced to the condition of a
solid membrane.
Ituptures Besides these more constant and necessary changes
of the cells. in the figure and character of the cellular tissue, it often
suffers others of a more casual and accidental nature. In
the pith, as the plant grows up, divers ruptures, says Grew,
occur, oftentimes very regularly, and observed constantly
in the same species of plant. These ruptures are some¬
times prolonged, so as to form a tube of considerable
length. {Anatomy of Plants, p. 120.) Others have ob¬
served similar canals in the pith, formed not by sides
of their own, but by those of the adjacent cells, and
very various in size and form. They have been called
lacunce, or reservoirs, contain a variety of substances, and
Cells con- sometimes, especially in aquatic plants, only air. As we
tain vesi- have seen the cavities of the larger spiral vessels to be
filled with vesicles, so the larger cells of the pith, accord¬
ing to Grew, frequently contain smaller ones, or are di¬
vided by cross membranes. A similar observation is made
by Kieser, who likewise remarks that, in the empty cells
of Calla, JEthiopica, he has sometimes seen small round-
headed bodies, supported on little peduncles, which spring
from the sides, and point towards the centre of the cells.
Small crystallized bodies are also occasionally found in
the cavities of the cells, and within the intercellular ca¬
nals. {Mem. sur T Organisat. des Plantes, p. 94.) Of
those changes in the character of the cellular tissue, by
which its cells are converted into receptacles and reser¬
voirs of the proper juices of the plant, we before dis¬
coursed when treating of the proper vessels. To such an
extent does this change sometimes proceed, that, in aged
oaks, and, according to Kieser, in guaiacum, and probably
in many other plants, the whole cellular tissue becomes
filled with these secreted matters, and the distinctive cha¬
racters of the cells, and almost of the vessels themselves,
are obliterated and lost.
cles.
CHAP. II.
THE ANATOMY IN GENERAL OF THE COMMON TEXTURES
OF VEGETABLES.
Preliminary Observations.
Nature of The elementary organs, whose description has so long
the com- occupied our attention, form, either singly or by their
tures eX" combination, all the other parts of plants. Some of the
lower tribes of vegetables consist entirely of cellular tis¬
sue, in which no vessels are at any period to be seen ;
and, even in the higher orders, many parts exhibit no ap¬
pearance of a vascular structure. There can be little
doubt, however, of the existence of such a structure,
since, physiologically speaking, we can form no just con¬
ception of the growth of an organized body, without asso¬
ciating with it the existence of a vascular system. In all
plants the pith consists of a cellular tissue alone. In her¬
baceous plants this tissue forms their greater portion; but
in trees the number of vessels is so great as to constitute
the chief bulk of the plant. To certain forms of these
elementary organs, whether existing singly or in combina¬
tion, we have given the name of common textures, because Comma
they are very generally to be found in all plants, and in Text**,
almost all parts of them, howsoever varied in quantity,v
proportion, and arrangement. These textures are fami¬
liarly known under the names of cuticle or skin, of bark,
of wood, and of pith; to which may be assigned the ge¬
neral appellations of the cuticular, the cortical, the lig¬
neous, and medullary textures.
All the several textures just enumerated are readilyTheirp,
distinguished by their different places and characters don var;,
in the section of most arborescent plants, in which theyous*
commonly appear well defined, and perfectly distinct from
each other. In many plants, however, both herbs and
trees, this distinction of parts is not preserved; but, with
the exception of the cuticle, all the other textures are
blended together through the entire substance of the
plant, as was long since noticed both by Malpighi and
Grew. “ In the stalk of maize or Indian wheat,” says
Grew, “ the work of nature appears less diversified; in
which, although there are the same parenchymous and lig- r
neons parts as in all other plants, yet is there neither bark
nor pith, the vessels being dispersed and mixed with the
parenchyma, from the circumference to the centre of the
stalk.” “ The like structure,” he adds, “ may also be
seen in the sugar-cane and some other plants.” {Anat. of
Plants, p. 104.) Similar observations were made by Mal¬
pighi, not only on different species of wheat and sugar¬
cane, but on ferns and palms. “ In ferns,” says he, “ the
vascular fasciculi are numerous, but placed without order,
and are everywhere sustained by the intervening cellular
tissue, the cells of which are sometimes much smaller than
the orifices of the vessels themselves.” Anat. Plantar.
p. 24, 25.) This structure is represented in the transverse
section of the sugar-cane, Plate XXXIX. fig. 25; and in
a similar section of the palm, fig. 26 of the same plate.
This variety of structure, thus clearly described, and Theory I
distinctly delineated in the works of Malpighi and Grew, Desfon.
has likewise been noticed by M. Desfontaines. ye_ tames;
getables, according to him, may be distinguished into
two divisions: Is#, Those which have no distinct concen¬
tric layers, whose solidity decreases from the circumfe¬
rence towards the centre, and whose pith is interposed
among the vessels, and does not extend in divergent rays:
2d, Vegetables which have distinct concentric layers,
whose solidity decreases from the centre towards the cir¬
cumference, and whose pith is contained in a longitudinal
canal, and extends in divergent rays. The former struc¬
ture he considers as peculiar to plants whose seeds are
monocotyledonous, and the latter as belonging to those
which have dicotyledonous seeds. {Mem. de Vlnstitut.
Nat. tome i. p. 478.)
This opinion, though partly correct, is not universallyimperfei-
applicable. That many plants which spring from mo¬
nocotyledonous seeds are destitute of concentric layers,
and have no distinct bark or pith, is certain; but it is not
less certain that many herbaceous plants, which are pro¬
duced from dicotyledonous seeds, are pretty much in the
same condition, being equally destitute of concentric '
layers and of divergent rays, and in which the bark and
the pith must be regarded as one continuous structure.
On the other hand, some monocotyledonous plants, as
M. Desfontaines admits, may deviate a little from the pre¬
scribed conditions. In a paper on the organization of such
plants, M. Mirbel, who regards this doctrine as the most
important step made of late years in Vegetable Anatomy,
says, nevertheless, it would be erroneous to assert that
they have never a bark. In several species of plants he
produces examples to the contrary; and adds, that in
some instances their diametral growth goes on at the cir-
ANATOMY, VEGETABLE.
61
yornron cumference, which would seem to approximate them to
I exta:9. dicotyledons. As, however, there is no appearance of di-
/v«-Vw/vergent rayS? or 0f concentric layers, these examples are
c considered by him rather to confirm than overturn the
1 theory of M. Desfontaines. ( Annales du Mus. d’Hist. Nat.
I tome xiii. p. 67.) But if in this theory its second divi-
s sion embrace only those plants in which the concentric
' layers are perfect, and divergent rays exist, then it ex-
! eludes a great number of herbaceous plants, whose seeds
have two cotyledons; and if the absence of these regular
layers, and of divergent rays, serve as a passport to the
[ first division, then many of these same plants must be
a admitted among those whose seeds have but one cotyle-
^ don. The theory of M. Desfontaines, therefore, rests on
II too partial an observation of the structure of plants.
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Section I.
Of the Pith or Medullary Texture.
The pith (medulla) of plants, when present, occu¬
pies the centre of the stem, where it is commonly sur¬
rounded by a circle of vessels which construct for it an
appropriate canal. In the succulent shoots of trees, its
proportion to the other parts is generally large ; but it di¬
minishes as the tree advances in age, and is frequently
entirely obliterated. Where the vessels of the wood are
few in number, as in herbs, only a few fasciculi are seen
to surround the pith, and the intervening spaces are oc¬
cupied by a boundary of thickened cellular tissue. In
some plants, again, no pith whatever exists, but the stem
is hollow or tubular. In other instances, and especially
in roots, the centre of the stem is occupied by vessels;
and in others, both cells and vessels, promiscuously blend¬
ed together, constitute the centre of the stem.
In those plants where the pith is present, and pos¬
sesses its most perfect form, it is seen to be composed
entirely of cellular tissue, possessing often very different
shades of colour, but, in its anatomical characters, re¬
sembling exactly the description already given of that tis¬
sue. Its bulk in different plants is exceedingly different,
as are also the form and size of its cells. It is frequently
entirely insulated by the surrounding vessels, but is often
continuous with the cellular tissue of the bark. Its cells
contain, especially in the early age of the plant, aqueous
fluids, which afterwards disappear, and then the cells be¬
come filled only with air. The “ proper juices” of the plant
may also be sometimes detected in the cells of the pith.
Of the ruptures produced in it by desiccation and other
causes, we have already spoken in discoursing of the cel¬
lular tissue: they occur particularly in succulent plants,
where the cells are large, and their sides thin; so that as
the plant advances to maturity, the pith breaks and shrinks
up, making the trunk a pipe. (Grew’s Anatomy of Plants.
p. 129.) We have also noticed the fact, that, within the
cavities of the larger cells of the pith, new vesicular pro¬
ductions are sometimes found.
Grew speaks of the existence of vessels in the pith
of certain plants, as in that of the fig and the pine; but
he adds, that they are usually so postured as to form a
ring about its margin. (Anatomy of Plants, p. 119.)
They are doubtless to be considered as enlarged proper
vessels, which made a part of the first ligneous circle, and
have retained therefore nearly the situation in which they
were originally formed. Hence, as he observes, they are
of divers kinds, answerable to those of the bark, contain¬
ing in the fig a milky juice, and in the pine a resinous
substance. Similar vessels, containing a “ proper juice,”
were observed also in the pith of elder by Malpighi, who
seems to regard such appearances as common where the
contained juice concretes or possesses a dark colour.
(Anat. Plantar, p. 4.) It is probable, however, that the
organs here considered to be vessels may in some cases
be cells, into which these juices have been poured; but
where real vessels of this kind are found, they are not to
be considered as a part of the original structure of the
pith, but occurring only in consequence of the changes
which the vegetable body undergoes in the progress of
its growth.
Common
Textures.
The general nature of the pith is thus clearly an- Its nature,
nounced by Grew. “ Although,” says he, 11 it have a dif¬
ferent name from the parenchyma in the bark and the in¬
sertions in the wood, yet, as to its substance, it is the very
same with them both ; whereof there is a double evidence,
viz. their continuity and the sameness of their texture
so that all these parts are “ one entire piece of work, be¬
ing only filled up in divers manners with the vessels.”
(Anatomy of Plants, p. 119.) This continuity of the pith
with the cellular tissue, of the bark, by means of the inser¬
tions or transverse ranges of utriculi, as he calls them, is
also adduced by Malpighi as evidence of the similarity of
their nature, and of the pith being, as it were, an inter¬
cepted portion of the bark (Anat. Plantar, p. 4, 30); an
opinion which seems abundantly confirmed by the inter¬
mixture of the medullary and cortical textures in many
plants, in which, as already remarked, the distinctive
characters of bark and pith are alike lost, and the entire
stem exhibits only one uniform appearance of structure.
The term medulla, employed by the ancients to note Errors
this texture, derived its origin, no doubt, from the re-concerning
semblance which the pith in the centre of trees bore1*'’
to the marrow in the bones of animals; and as the same
term, in animal anatomy, was incorrectly employed to ex¬
press alike the marrow in the bones and the nervous
substance in the vertebral column, so the same latitude of
signification has been extended to the vegetable system.
Hence, as Malpighi remarks, the medulla in vegetables
was regarded as analogous in its nature to the brain of
animals,—a doctrine which even later writers have conti¬
nued to espouse. It is not our present intention to de¬
scribe the uses of the pith, but only to remove erroneous
opinions concerning its nature, and restore to it that just
anatomical character long since assigned it by Malpighi
and Grew, and which some writers have of late put forth
as a considerable novelty.
Section II.
Of the Wood or Ligneous Texture.
Immediately surrounding and enveloping the pith is The wood,
the part called the wood (lignum vel lignea portio of Mal¬
pighi). It is essentially composed of vessels and of cel¬
lular tissue, but combined in such an infinite variety of
proportions, and exhibiting such a boundless diversity of
forms, that it is difficult to seize even its more general
features, without the risk of extending our description
beyond the limits which our plan necessarily prescribes.
Except in those vegetables in which no vessels have j)escrip.
been hitherto demonstrated, but in which they must ne-tion.
vertheless be presumed to exist, this texture may be con¬
sidered to form a part not only of every plant, but of all
its organs; for into whatever part fluids are conveyed,
vessels must be supposed to extend; and wherever ves¬
sels are present, cellular tissue is to be found: hence, in
its distribution, it may be considered the most universal of
all the textures. In trees, the vessels, as we have fre-jn 0rdi-
quently remarked, are very numerous, and, when viewed nary trees,
in a transverse section, are seen to be disposed in layers
or concentric circles around the axis, and to stand also iu
62 ANATOMY, VEGETABLE.
Common lines or radii, diverging from the centre of the tree. (See preserve always the same position, the fasciculi being Com, <
Textures, fig. 4 Plate XL.) Between each line or ray of vessels a placed at the same relative distance fiom each other and exturq
"■^~'tlhn partition of cellular tissue is interposed, which ex- from the common centre of the pith. Sometimes, insteadH
tends in the direction of the ray, through the entire sub- of a few solitary fasciculi, they consist or several ranges,
stance of the wood. At certain distances, varying in dif- forming an imperfect sort of concentric layers ; and in such
ferent trees, thicker transverse portions of the same sub- examples the ligneous texture is commonly separated by
stance are placed, and are readily distinguishable in almost distinct but irregular marks from the two other textures,
every species of wood. Between each layer that is an- In these plants the cellular tissue preserves its characters,
nually added to the wood, and each of the smaller layers and exhibits no appearance of divergent rays,
that cro to the formation of the larger one, cellular tissue The three modes of arrangement above described Causey
seems also in some trees to be longitudinally interposed ; appear to constitute the chief varieties of structure in the^s varie,
so that it is probable that in both directions each fasci- ligneous texture ; but in each variety, and through every
cuius of vessels is intercepted by cellular tissue, and that stage by which they graduate into one another, the great-
in such trees no two fasciculi are on any side in immediate est diversity of forms prevails. Each species of plant has
contact with each other. It is even probable that the its peculiar internal structure, as well as its external form;
individual vessels which contribute to form the fasciculi and this seems to be in a great measure determined by
are themselves connected by intervening cellular tissue, the number of vessels that enter into its composition, and
which acts like the neurilema that holds together the fila- their peculiar mode of arrangement. If the vessels are
ments of the fasciculi in the nerves, or the cellular sub- few, the cellular tissue is large in proportion, and its
stance that connects the primary filaments in the muscular characters are distinct and well preserved; if they are
fibres of animals. In this manner, the whole vascular numerous, and disposed in rays, the tissue is compressed
system of the plant is everywhere connected and held in various directions, loses more or less completely its cel-
to^ether by cellular tissue. Of this tissue, and the dif- lular character, and forms alike those divergent rays or
ferent figures its cells acquire, from the different modes transverse partitions already so often noticed, and those
and degrees of compression to which they are exposed, thin membranous expansions or fascia; which, both in the
we have already spoken. bark and wood, are seen sometimes to cover the vessels
In palms. In many trees, however, as palms, the vascular fas- in a longitudinal direction. Though the whole of the
ciculi, though numerous, are much less abundant than ligneous texture is thus made up of vessels and cells, van-
in the examples just referred to. They are consequently ously formed and blended together, yet many wiiters
placed at a greater distance from each other, and, not speak of ligneous fibres, which some describe as consist-
being disposed in regular lines, do not constitute that ing of vessels, others of cells, and others of an assem- jd
radiant appearance so common in ordinary trees, but are blage both of cells and vessels. _ U
promiscuously dispersed through the cellular tissue. (See The manner, too, or rather the place, m which the
fio-. 26, Plate XXXIX.) As this tissue itself is not, from the vessels are developed, in perennial plants, will greatly
same causes, compressed either in the direction or to the contribute to vary the appearance of the ligneous texture,
extent before described, the smaller membranous parti- In those trees whose diameter is annually increased by
tions that divide the vascular radii from each other are the formation of new vessels around the cylinder of older
not produced; neither, for similar reasons, is there any wood, the new parts must necessarily present in then-
distinct appearance of the larger partitions that, at certain longitudinal section the appearance of annual layers su-
distances, intersect the diameter of other trees. The cel- perimposed on one another, and, in their transverse sec-
lular tissue, therefore, in such plants, retains more of its tion, that of concentric circles; but in palms and similar
primitive character, and appears everywhere to surround trees, where the development of new parts seems to be
the vascular fasciculi, but nowhere to be so compressed accomplished in a different manner, their appearance,
as to form solid partitions between them. In some plants under similar sections, may be expected to be different,
which possess this structure, as the sugar-cane (fig. 25, In a longitudinal section of the palm, says M. Desfon- Strut
Plate XXXIX.), the cells indeed retain their perfect forms ; taines, we discover an assemblage of large ligneous fibres ot pal
and even the fasciculi of vessels, though standing at consi- (that is, vascular fasciculi), solid, smooth, and flexible;
derable distances from each other, have towards the centre and these are composed of others still smaller, which are
of the plant a symmetrical arrangement. This latter cir- firmly united together: they mostly run parallel to the axis
cumstance is observable in many other plants, which have of the trunk, from the base to the summit, without inter¬
even fewer vessels than the sugar-cane; so that it is pro- ruption ; but some proceed obliquely, and cross the others
fiable that, in the first instance, it takes place in all; and at angles more or less sharp. (See fig. 2|, Plate XXXIX.)
that the irregular position of the vessels in the palm and In a transverse section of the same stem, continues the
similar trees, particularly towards their circumference, author, we remark neither concentric circles nor trans¬
proceeds from the peculiar modes of their growth, and are verse partitions; but the fasciculi of vessels, placed without
not a primary condition of their structure. This inter- order by the side of each other, are enveloped by the cel-
mixture of the vessels and cells in the plants now under lular tissue, which fills up all the intervals : they sensibly
consideration extends from the circumference to the approach each other, harden and diminish in size in pro¬
centre, so as to constitute their entire bulk, to the exclu- ceeding from the centre to the circumference (see fig. 26,
sion of bark and pith ; unless we choose rather to say Plate XXXIX.) ; so that the stem has much more strength
that in such plants the medullary, ligneous, and cortical and solidity near the surface than in the interior,—an or-
textures, are all blended together. ganization quite distinct from that of ordinary trees.
In herbs. In other examples the vessels form a still smaller por- The cause of this diversity of structure seems to Thei
tion of the ligneous texture, consisting only of a few be amply accounted for by the different modes in whichtfro'v
fasciculi, which stand at considerable distances from each the growth of these trees is accomplished. When the
other, the intervening spaces being occupied by cellular seed of a palm is sown, the leaves, says M. Desfontaines,
tissue which forms the chief bulk of the plant. (Fig. 15, successively develope and augment in number for four or
Plate XXXIX.) Though few in number, the vessels, how- five years ; the neck of the root augments in the same
ever, are symmetrically disposed, and in the same species proportion ; the bulbous part, formed by the re-union of
r
ANATOMY, VEGETABLE.
-onaon the petioles of the leaves, increases insensibly; its soli-
Fevires. dity augments, and at length the stem rises above the
^ earth with all the size it ever acquires. Its figure is cy¬
lindrical from the base to the summit; and if the diame¬
ter be measured at different epochs, it will be seen, as
Ksempfer had already remarked, not to increase. The
palm, therefore, is a regular column, whose summit is
crowned with leaves, disposed above each other circular-
1 ]y: those which grow in spring shoot always from the
top; the older ones, placed below, dry, and when they
fall leave circular impressions, which furrow the surface of
the stem, and mark its years until it has ceased to grow.
If next we examine the interior, we discover, as M.
Desfontaines thinks, the true reason why the stem rises
in a column, and does not, like other trees, yearly aug¬
ment in size. This was done by M. Daubenton, who
states that every leaf of the date-palm, in proceeding
from the bud, is formed by a prolongation of the vascu¬
lar fasciculi and cellular tissue which exist in the trunk
of the tree, as is apparent in the petiole of the recent
leaves, and of the dried ones that adhere to the trunk.
The elongation of the trunk is produced, therefore, by
the leaves which annually proceed from it; and as the
parts which form these leaves spring from the centre, they
always, as they shoot, force the older leaves outwards.
Hence, therefore, as the augmentation of these trees ori¬
ginates at the centre, all the parts capable of displace¬
ment must be pushed outwards, just as the new layers of
bark and wood, formed annually in ordinary trees, force
outward the older layers of bark exterior to them,
ffe ii of In these latter trees, continues M. Daubenton, the re-
■oHti on cession of the bark has no limits so long as new parts
rutare* continue to be formed beneath it, because the new cor¬
tical layers are flexible, and the older ones readily break
and give way; but in the palm the substance of the
trunk has more compactness as we approach the circum¬
ference, and, at a certain point of density, it no longer
yields to the central force of the interior parts; so that
when this point is reached, no further enlargement takes
place; and hence the date-palm scarcely exceeds ten inches
diameter. It is for similar reasons that the trunk of the
date-palm is of the same size through its entire length;
for, in proportion as the tree rises, the exterior parts of
the trunk lose successively their flexibility; and when
they have acquired a certain degree of density they no
longer yield to the force from within; and as this is
equally the case in all parts, the trunk is necessarily of
the same size throughout. (Mem. de VInstit. Nat. tome i.
p. 482, &c.)
It is further evident that, in this mode of growth, no
appearance of concentric circles, similar to those of ordi¬
nary trees, can have place; for, by the growth at the
centre, the exterior vessels are continually displaced from
their original positions, are more and more compressed
as they are forced towards the circumference, and pre-
Isent in their transverse section that irregular distribution
which they have been described to possess. Hence the
cylindrical figure and the absence of concentric layers are
as necessary consequences of the mode of growth in
these trees, as the presence of those layers and the
conical figure are of the mode of growth in ordinary trees.
The greater solidity of the parts at the circumference
is clearly to be ascribed to the same cause; and even
the want of regular transverse partitions must in part
also have a similar origin, and be ascribed, perhaps,
in part to the smaller number of vessels which these
plants possess, as well as to their irregular distribution,
from this difference in their mode of growth, these two
great divisions have received different names: those
which, like our ordinary trees, augment in size by the de- Common
position of new matter near the surface, are named Ex- Textures,
ogenous ; and those which, like palms, grow' from within,
Endogenous.
Section III.
Of the Bark or Cortical Texture.
This texture, in its component parts, resembles that of The bark,
the wood, being made up, like it, of vessels and cellular
tissue intimately connected with each other. Its structure,
as a distinct texture, is best characterized in the bark of in trees,
ordinary trees, as it is there separated, in a great measure,
from the ligneous texture. As in these plants a new
layer of vessels is annually made to the wood, so a simi¬
lar but much thinner layer is yearly added to the bark,
to which the name of liber has commonly been applied.
These vessels are at first straight, and run parallel to the
axis of the trunk ; but, by the successive formation of new
layers beneath them, they are gradually forced outward,
become separated more and more from each other, and,
touching in a few points only, exhibit at length a reticu¬
lated figure (see fig. 24, Plate XXXVIIL), the meshes of
which yearly augment in size, from the greater space over
which they are continually spread.
Between the vessels thus annually formed, a consider-is united
able portion of cellular tissue is interposed, which, in the to the
young and succulent state of parts, contributes chiefly towo°d-
the thickness of the bark. This tissue is variously com¬
pressed by the vessels, so as to form transverse partitions
between them, which, in the vine, the oak, and many
other trees, as both Grew and Malpighi remarked, are
seen to be continuous with those of the wood ; and in this
way the two textures are united together. In the ex¬
pressive language of Grew, the bark, therefore, does not
“ merely surround the wood as a scabbard does a sword,
or a glove the hand, but is truly continuous with it, as the
skin of the body is with the flesh.” In the willow and
other trees, when full of sap, the bark is so easily separat¬
ed that it seems to have no connection with the wood;
but this is supposed by Grew to arise merely from the ex¬
treme fineness and tenderness of the vessels that are an¬
nually formed in that part, and which on that account
oppose no obstacle to the separation. (Anat. of Plants,
p. 129.) It is probable, however, that the cellular tissue
forms the only direct connection between the cortical and
ligneous textures; and that, if a vascular communication
exist, it is only, as in all other cases, through the medium
of that tissue.
Besides the transverse compression which the cellular Altered by
tissue experiences from the vessels, it is compressed in pressure,
the opposite direction by the formation of the new layers
of bark and wood beneath the older bark. These in the
progress of their growth exert an expansive force out¬
wards, so that the cells of the tissue are made to assume
an oblong or flattened form in the direction of the vessels
of the trunk, or sometimes to form a thin fascia upon the
vessels, in which the cellular character is nearly or entire¬
ly obliterated. It is by the continued exertion of this
force acting on the exterior and desiccated layers that
these latter ultimately crack, producing figures of differ¬
ent sizes, which have frequently the shape of rhombs, the
fissures of which represent, according to Grew, the posi¬
tion and track of the vessels in their reticulations. (Anat.
of Plants, p. 129.) The spaces or meshes formed by
these reticulations are always filled up by cellular tissue,
which, in the opinion of Malpighi, originates from the
vessels themselves.
Both in the vessels and cells of this texture, collections
64
ANATOMY, VEGETABLE
Common
Textures.
Contains
proper
juices.
of the “ proper juices” frequently occur; especially in plants t]^jer^ Xe - U
in which these juices are of a viscid nature, and disposec these several textures, as they exist in leaves^k^'\ e!
The bark
in herbs;
of wood, and even in the pith of certain trees, it is only
in plants in which the “ proper juices” are coloured, or dis¬
posed to concrete, that this intermixture of the cortical
and ligneous textures has been traced through the whole
substance of the tree; but it is probable, from the con¬
junction of the vessels of the bark and wood at the period
of their formation, that it is common to other plants, the
nature and properties of whose juices afford no clew to its
detection. , . . ^
In most herbaceous plants, the cortical texture is
not so clearly distinguished from the ligneous, since in
them the greatest variety obtains both in regard to the
number and relative position of the sap and “ proper ves¬
sels and very frequently the cellular tissue is quite con¬
tinuous and of uniform appearance through the entire
substance of the plant. In general, however, the sap-ves¬
sels occupy the inner place, and are surrounded by the
“ proper vessels,” disposed either in rings or distinct fasci¬
culi, more or fewer in number. Sometimes the sap-vessels
seem to be placed exterior to the others ; and hence it is
difficult to discover the true place of the “ proper vessels
Section IV.
Of the Connection subsisting between the Vessels and Cells
J in the several Textures.
in palms;
in roots
and
branches;
In our discussion of these several textures, we have Mode d
noticed only in a general way the direct means by connect
which the vessels and cells that construct them are con-otvj
nected with each other ; but, when treating of the sap-
vessels, of the absorbent vessels, and of the cellular tissue,
we endeavoured to show that an universal communica¬
tion obtains between these elementary organs, and conse-
quently inferred that some mode of connection, by which
it can be accomplished, must have place. Grew consider-Opinioc
ed the vascular and cellular parts to be connected with of Gm
each other, not only by the transverse partitions of cellu¬
lar substance that intercept the vessels, but “ per mini-
mas partes organicas; that is to say, the paienchymous
fibres are wrapped round about the vessels, or at least in¬
terwoven with them, and with every fibre of every vessel,
as in very white ash or fir wood may be observed. {^Anat.
difficult boundaries of the cortical and^igne-
Ct1^ph^:StrS=: of “ proper vessels” cells of the pith of elder (samhucus), ^ of some other
with those that carry sap seems to be general through plants, the vessels are very abundant, and in every case
thfwhole plant and consequently no distinction can be are probably derived from the straight ligneous fibres
made be^veeiTithe^gneous and corfical textures. In such (vessels) both of the bark and wood. P* 29*> n-
nlants the “ proper juices” must be considered to exist in deed he held it probable that the nutrient fluu s m g
every part • and accordingly Malpighi, as we before re- through the vessels were in all parts poured into the cells,
marked points out a vas proprium, or “ proper vessel,” as and there undergoing a certain preparation, were after-
accompanying every fascicukis of vessels in different spe- wards mixed with more recent juices, and with them take
•p. J wheaX (Anat Plantar, p. 24.) From the simi- up and applied to the support of the young buds a
Sv of slue Jrf to pita and especially from their leaves, p. 30.) This doctrine has smee been hold
y •. . . i-..i i ^ ]-jy Darwin and Knight, and it necessarily supposes a vas
cular connection between the vessels and the cells, by
which the functions both of secretion and absorption can
be performed. The microscopical observations of Leeu-
wenhoeck, already noticed, supply further evidence in sup¬
port of this opinion.
In the hypothesis of Mirbel both cells and vessels are of
considered as formed out of one and the same membrane.
racter and appearance which uiey a, ...    He rejects, therefore, the aid of all intermediate orga™* as ,
simple as indleir more complex forms, and as they exist necessary to connect them together, and supposes a c0m.
either separately or variously intermingled together. Our mumcation to be everywhere maintained betwee
descriptbns have been confined entirely to the trunk or vessels and cells, by the medium of pores in their sides,
stem-but, with slight variation, they are applicable equal- As, however, these pores are nowhere proved to have
iv to the root and branch, in which a similar combination existence but in the imagination of the author, we J
of the elementary organs obtains. In the root, however, altogether reject their agency in maintaining a commun-
they commonly exisUn a more compressed and compact- cation between the vessels and cells of plants. In the of I
ed form so that the ligneous texture is seen chiefly to opinion of M. Kieser, the conjunction of the cells with t
predominate, frequently to the entire exclusion of the vessels is extremely simple the sides of the cells, says he,
pith and often in great part also to that of the cellular being contiguous to the sides of the vessels. {Mem. sur
portion of the bark. This, however, is not universal, es- V Organisat. des Plantes, p. 94.) But mere con^guity of
neciallv in annual plants, some of which, as the carrot and parts does not amount to connection, much less does it al-
others,particularly in a cultivated state, are distinguished ford any information concerning the actual commun
mode of growth, there can be little doubt that a similar
intermixture of the two kinds of vessels prevails every¬
where in them; and with respect to these plants, what
has already been said of the construction of the ligneous
texture, is equally applicable to that of the bark.
We have thus given a very brief and general view of the
principal textures that enter into the construction of plants,
and pointed out the more prominent diversities of cha¬
racter and appearance which they exhibit, as well in their
ANATOMY, VEGETABLE.
65
etii
ice
eta e
nil 1
,ur .
|l n tion that exists between these organs. In addition, there-
xtu:S. fore, to connection by cellular substance, it seems abso-
■v -'lutely necessary to suppose also the existence of a vascu¬
lar structure, which shall at once serve as a medium both
of connection and communication.
Before concluding this branch of the subject, we may
observe that the structure of the cellular tissue, and its
relation to the vascular system in plants, appear, in
many points, to resemble that of the adipose cells, and
their relation to the vascular system of animals. These
cells are described as minute close cavities, possessing no
apparent communication with each other; and within
them adipose matter is alternately deposited and removed.
Now the deposition of this matter could only be accom¬
plished by secreting vessels which terminated in the cells,
and its removal be effected by absorbents which origi¬
nated from them ; and accordingly both blood-vessels and
absorbents are found to be present in this texture; but
neither the secreting nor absorbing orifices have ever been
actually observed. Within the cells of the cellular tissue
of plants the alternate deposition and removal of various
matters are not less certain ; and in the germinating seed
the matter that actually existed in the cells is found af¬
terwards in the vessels. We are led, therefore, or rather
we are driven, not only by the direct exclusion of all other
alleged means of communication, but by a close analogy
in the exercise of these animal and vegetable functions,
to conclude, that secreting and absorbing vessels must be
employed to deposit and remove the secreted matter from
the cells of plants, in the same way as they are considered
to effect similar depositions and removals of adipose mat¬
ter from the cells of animals: and as this alternate func¬
tion seems to go on in every part of the plant capable of
active vegetation, it may further be inferred that a vascu¬
lar communication exists between the vessels and cells
in all parts of the vegetable system.
By means of this general communication between the
vessels and the cells, we are enabled to assign satisfactory
reasons for some puzzling phenomena, which have occur¬
red in relation to the movements of the sap. It is by this
alternate action of secretion and absorption that in young
plants we must suppose the cells of the pith, during the
first year, to be filled with fluid, and to be rendered dry
for the most part ever after. In like manner, the surface
of the bark in contact with the wood appears in some
trees, as the birch, to be rendered moist during the rise
of the sap in spring; which led Dr Walker and others to
suppose that the sap rose in part between the bark and
the wood,—an opinion not at all probable in itself, and cer¬
tainly not supported by what is observed in most other
trees. The fact, however, is easily explicable, on the
supposition that the sap was transfused from the alburnous
vessels of the wood, in the same manner as, at a later pe¬
riod, it is secreted in the same part, but in a different
form, by the vessels of the bark, to form the new matter
that is annually added to the tree.
That the sap of plants was capable of moving in a la¬
teral direction, was inferred by Malpighi, from the fact
that parts lived and grew when the perpendicular vessels
that supplied them with nutriment had been destroyed.
(Anat. Plantar, p. 13.) The experiments of Hales afford
more decisive evidence regarding this lateral movement
of the sap. He cut two large gaps in the opposite sides
of an oak-branch, at four inches distance from each other,
carrying the incisions down to the pith: the branch
nevertheless absorbed and perspired water, but only in
half the quantity that another similar but uncut branch
did. In a branch of cherry-tree he made four similar
cuts down to the pith, at four inches distance from each
VOL. m.
eg.:ir
ve-i
ntilf
Silt
of
other, and opposed to the four points of the compass : the Common
branch notwithstanding absorbed, in forty-eight hours, Textures,
twenty-four ounces of water. ( Veg. Statics, p. 128,
edit.) And when similar incisions were made on branch¬
es while still attached to the tree, their leaves continued
green nearly as long as those of other branches in a na¬
tural state ; whence he justly inferred that, at these gaps
made in the branch, a lateral movement of the sap must
have taken place. Experiments of a similar nature have
been made, and like results obtained, by Mr Knight (Phil.
Trans. 1808); so that it seems clear that in certain cir¬
cumstances a lateral movement of the sap must have
place.
In what manner, then, must we suppose this movement How ef«
to be accomplished ? Grew supposed the cellular tissue, fected.
that stretches from the circumference to the centre of
the plant, to be the organ by which such a communica¬
tion could be maintained; but the impermeability of this
tissue to fluids opposes such an opinion. Malpighi thought
the lateral communication to be made by an anastomosis
of vessels; but in the vessels of plants no such mode of
communication appears to exist. From the ascent of the
sap in branches in which the vessels had been thus pre¬
viously cut through, Mr Knight infers that this fluid does
not rise in the vessels at all, but is conveyed through the
cellular tissue. This opinion necessarily implies the per¬
meability of this tissue by fluids, which, as we have shown,
is contradicted by direct experiment, as well as by micro¬
scopical observation. Since, therefore, this lateral move¬
ment of the sap cannot be accomplished, either by simple
percolation through the cells or vessels, or by direct anas¬
tomosis of the vessels with one another, no other known
means of effecting it remain, but those of alternate depo¬
sition and absorption by the vessels into and from the
cells. And if, as we have seen, the sap-vessels of plants
deposit coloured fluids in the cells, which the capillary
absorbents of parasitic plants are able to take up, there
seems no reason for denying to the vascular productions,
which have been supposed everywhere to spring from the
perpendicular vessels, a like capacity of absorbing fluids
from the adjacent cells. These fluids must, however, in
all cases, have been deposited before they could be ab¬
sorbed ; and, by the alternate exercise of these functions,
there is no difficulty in conceiving how a lateral move¬
ment of the sap might be accomplished in parts where, by
the incision of the vessels, a stop was necessarily put to
its perpendicular ascent.
Section Y.
Of the Skin or Cuticular Texture, and its Appendages.
Art. I.—Description and Structure of the Skin.
The skin, rind, cuticle, or epidermis, as it has been va-The skin,
riously named, is the last of the common textui’es that
remains to be described. It is the general envelope which
invests all parts of the plant and all its productions, being
equally common to the trunk and branches, the root, the
leaves, the flowers, and the fruit; but in these different
parts, and even in similar parts of different plants, it ex¬
hibits the greatest diversity of appearance and form.
In herbaceous plants, and in the young shoots of those Descrip-
which are arborescent, it resembles a thin membrane, but tion.
is generally thicker on the stem than on the roots or
leaves. In some leaves, however, it is thick and dense, in young
as is the case also in several fruits, and is thereby fitted trees,
to resist the effects of too rapid desiccation. On the
upper surface of some leaves, on many fruits, and on
roots, it is an entire membrane, destitute of any apertures
I
66
In old
trees.
Common or pores; but on many stems on the under surfaces of
Textures, leaves, and sometimes on the upper, it is frequently fur-
-^v***^ nished with numerous pores, often visible to the naked
eye, and with other luminous points of smaller dimensions,
which Du Hamel also regards as apertures. It is readily
separable from the bark in recent and succulent paits, 01
after maceration in water; and in certain leaves it is
very completely separated by a species of caterpillar,
named by Reaumur the miner. It appears then to be a
thin transparent membrane, often destitute of colour, and
deriving, therefore, its appearance from the colour of the
parts beneath; but both in leaves and flowers it is often
itself coloured. It is frequently seen to extend in all its
dimensions, in common with the parts it covers. \eiy
often, too, as will be noticed hereafter, its surface is cover¬
ed with hairs; and sometimes small follicles or utricles are
met with, which exercise a glandular function. ^
The characters above enumerated belong chiefly to the
cuticle in its young and succulent state. In perennial plants
it commonly possesses others that are quite dissimilar. It
is of a different colour not only on different trees, but on
different parts of the same tree. It is white and shining
on the trunk of the birch, and browner on the branches;
greyish on the plum-tree ; red and silvery on the cherry ;
green on the young branches of the peach ; and ash-co¬
loured on the larger branches. In these and many other
instances it does not, says Du Hamel, merely, participate
in the colour of the body it covers, but contributes itself
to give colour to the exterior bark; for when it is strip¬
ped off, the substance below has frequently a different
colour. (Phys. des Arbres, tome i. p. 10.) By the gradual
enlargement of the trunk it is stretched and dried, and at
length loses its vitality, and, as well as the bark beneath,
is variously cracked and broken. Before this happens,
however, it often undergoes considerable extension in all
its dimensions, enlarging in breadth, and stretching lon¬
gitudinally over the young shoots. This expanded state
is particularly remarkable in certain fruits, in which, when
they enlarge slowly, the cuticle is extended without rup¬
ture to a very large size ; but if the expansion be very
rapid, as after considerable rains, the cuticle then gives
way. In certain trees the cuticle is more susceptible of
expansion than in others; and in very vigorous trees it
breaks more slowly than in those whose growth is lan¬
guishing, although these latter push forward more slowly
than the former. (Ibid. p. 11.) In some vigorous trees
of this description it altogether resists rupture ; and in this
state the tree is often said to be hide-bound or bark-
bound.
In most instances the cuticle, when taken from young
branches, appears to consist of a single layer; but on the
branches of many species, says Du Hamel, after one plate
or layer has been removed, another may be seen beneath,
which resembles the former in its texture, but is much
thinner and more green and succulent. From the birch-
tree he has removed more than six layers, very thin and
very distinct from each other, and is of opinion that more
might still be separated. Sometimes the original cuticle
seems to be entirely thrown off, and the exterior covering
is formed by a portion of the cellular tissue of the bark.
Grew thinks that this substitution takes place annually,
the older skin being cast off, like the skin of an adder, by
the generation of a new one beneath. (Anat. of Plants,
p. 114.) Du Hamel describes also the existence of small
leaflets or scales, which are continually detached from the
cuticle of some trees ; and these he considers to be as con¬
stantly replaced, by the formation of new ones beneath
Is regene- them.
rated. ■ Concerning the regeneration of the cuticle on parts from
ANATOMY, VEGETABLE.
which it has been removed, Du Hamel observes, that Con,
when the wound is covered with waxed cloth, a new cuticle Tex|
is promptly formed without any separation of a portion^,
of the bark beneath. When the exterior portion of
the bark is removed with the skin, the inner part of. it.is
equally capable of regenerating
Composed
of lavers.
a cuticle ; but if the
wound be noTp'rotected from the" air, a certain degree of
exfoliation first occurs, and, under the decayed parts, a
new skin forms. Even where the bark of a cherry-tree
was entirely removed from the trunk, he found that, the
wood was capable of regenerating a new bark and cuticle,
if the parts were properly protected from the air. This
cuticle did not originate from that which remained on the
roots and branches, but was reproduced in isolated por¬
tions on different parts of the trunk; it continued, how¬
ever, after the lapse of fifteen years, always different from
that of the natural growth. In other instances, he adds,
the cuticle does not seem to be regenerated at all. He
remarks certain analogies to exist between the cuticle in
some plants and in animals. In both, he adds, it seems
in certain circumstances capable of great extension; in both
it is easily regenerated, and that too in isolated portions,
and not by continuity of organs, as is common in other
instances ; and in both, lastly, it is perpetually obliterated,
and continually and imperceptibly renewed. (Phys. des
Arbres, tome i. p. 11.)
With respect to the nature of the cuticle, very differ-Its
ent opinions have been advanced, and still continue to
prevail. Are we to regard it as a peculiar organ, formed
immediately by the proper exercise of the vegetative
functions, or is it produced in a sort of secondary manner,
by some changes induced on some previously constructed
organ ? Grew asserted it to be sometimes original, and in
some instances produced out of the exterior layer of the
cortical texture beneath it; and this first view of its ori¬
gin seems to be generally supported by the descriptive
character which has been assigned to it. Its co-existence
with the first traces of vegetable organization, its con¬
tinued growth and expansion, and its subsequent regene¬
ration after removal, all seem to favour its primary and in¬
dependent origin, which is also supported by investiga¬
tions into its minute structure. Mirbel, however, and
some other writers, after Hill, have regarded it, in all
cases, not as an original membrane, but formed by the
exterior sides of the common tissue of the plant; and
where there is no separation of these sides in the form of
a membrane, such plants are held to be destitute of a cu¬
ticle. (Exposit. de V Organisat. Veget. p. 103.)
Another question relating to this organ is, whether it It:
must be considered a simple membrane of uniform struc-tu
ture, or a compound of two distinct parts, like the true
skin and the cuticle in animals. Grew seems to have re-0
garded it as a simple body, but constructed both of vesselsol
and cells, the cells being continuous with those of the
bark. (Anat. of Plants, p. 62.) Such, too, seems to have
been nearly the opinion of Malpighi, who describes it as of
constructed of horizontal ranges of cells, but often deli-pi
neates reticulations of vessels as constituting a part of its
structure. (Anat. Plantar, p. 2, 19.) In the birch, the
plum, the cherry-tree, and others, Du Hamel declares thed
component fibres of the cuticle to possess a directionm
transverse to that of the trunk; but this is not general.
In the birch-tree the fibres seemed to be placed parallel
to each other, and to be connected together by lateral
fibres; but he could see nothing of the vesicular structure
of Malpighi and Grew, and therefore regards the struc¬
ture of this texture to lie altogether fibrous. (Phys. des
Arbres, tome i. p. 8 and 9.) M. Desfontaines, on theo
other hand, describes it as a membrane resembling in ap^t: 4
ANATOMY, VEGETABLE.
67
>pi on
jijQion pearance a thin plate of parchment, and perforated by im-
t iures. perceptible pores, which give issue to the insensible trans-
’T’^piration. Its structure he regards as unknown, but con¬
siders it capable of regeneration, (d/ewz. da l Instil, Nett,
tome i. p. 4$1.)
M. Kieser, who professes to have studied this texture
falser, w|th great attention, adopts nearly the opinion of Grew,
pronouncing the cuticle to be constructed of a very fine
cellular tissue, and of extremely minute vessels which run
through its whole extent. These vessels form an exceed¬
ingly delicate and subtile net-work, the meshes of which
possess very different forms, and their vessels terminate
at the orifice of a pore. His observations were made on
the cuticle of leaves. On the inferior surface of the leaf of
Amaryllis formosissima (fig. 14, A, Plate XLI.), magnified
260 times, these vascular meshes of the cuticle have an
elongated hexagonal form; and four of their vessels pro¬
ceed always to terminate at the orifice of the little oblong
aperture or pore situated at their junction. In Canna
Indica, the vessels of the meshes on the lower part of the
leaf, which thus terminate in the pores, are said to origi¬
nate from a fasciculus of the spiral vessels that ramify
through the leaf, as is represented at a' in fig. 14, B,
Plate XLI.; and within the areas of the larger meshes a
still finer net-work of vessels is seen. On the inferior sur¬
face of the leaf of a species of fern, the vessels of the
cuticle, instead of forming meshes of different figures, ex¬
hibit the appearance of sinuous lines, which run in every
i direction through the cuticle. See fig. 15, Plate XLI.
which represents the central part of the little adjoining
, leaf, magnified 130 times. These sinuous vessels often
I j°in> and, after making a half-circle, terminate by one ex-
i tremity in the minute pores everywhere spread over the
e leaf, and by the other in the larger vascular fasciculi that
ramify through it. At the letter b', in this figure, the
e hexagonal cells that construct the parenchyma of the
e leaf are distinctly visible through the vascular sinuosities
i- of the cuticle. It was by the examination of this leaf
:■ that M. Kieser was first enabled to discover the origin and
i- termination of the vessels that construct the cuticle,
I- having in all his previous investigations examined the cu¬
ll tide in its separated state, after it was detached from its
II connection with the other organs; but the researches
e made on this leaf rendered every thing clear. (Mtm. sur
d f Organisat. des Plantes, p. 141-2.)
jf: (rocker The vascular net-work of the cuticle, thus described
]. withers, by M. Kieser and others, had been regarded as a decep¬
tion by M. Krocker, who considered these reticulated
figures as no part of the real structure of the cuticle, but
merely as the sides of the subjacent cells; in which opi¬
nion Sprengel, Link, Jurine, and Mirbel, concurred; but
M. Kieser, in opposition to this opinion, maintains that,
in the fern and other leaves, the real cellular structure
of the parenchyma is seen entire through the vascular re¬
ticulations of the cuticle, with the meshes of which the
sides of the subjacent cells do not anywhere coincide. He
observes that these cells are commonly much smaller than
the vascular meshes which cover them; and that the ves¬
sels of these meshes may be traced, as before remarked,
to the larger fasciculi that construct the leaf. In the
fern the vascular structure of the cuticle is the same on
both sides of the leaf, but the superior side does not pos¬
sess pores.
Saus- A very different view of the structure of the cuticle
was taken by the late celebrated M. de Saussure. He
regarded it not as a simple, but a compound texture, con¬
sisting of a very delicate external pellicle or membrane,
beneath which was placed a net-work of very fine vessels.
The external membrane he describes as perforated by
■H
pores of unequal figure, between which he observed some Cominon
opaque and tortuous filaments, disposed in a reticulated Textures,
manner, each mesh being formed by six filaments, four ofVw^v-v^
which terminated at each pore. To this arrangement of
filaments he gave the name of cortical net-work, and re¬
garded it as quite distinct from the cuticle that covered
it. The meshes of this net-work differ much in size and
figure in different leaves; and, when minutely examined,
they are often seen to form junctions, but never to cross
each other; whence he was led to regard them as vessels
derived from those of the expanded petiole, and thus con¬
stituting a very fine vascular net-work. A similar struc¬
ture was observed in the petals of the flower. (Encyclop.
Method, tome i. p. 67.)
M. de Candolle considers the cuticle in certain parts Opinion of
to be a simple and proper membrane; in other parts to be Le Can-
formed by layers of cellular tissue. The cuticle of leaves, dolle.
and probably of all annual shoots, appears to be formed of
a layer of flattened cells, differing in form and in other
conditions from those of the parenchyma of the leaf. It
may be regarded in this state as a proper membrane.
When stripped off and examined by the microscope, it
exhibits small spaces, bounded by lines or rays, or a sort
of net-work, the meshes of which have different figures in
different plants. The lines, says he, appear in the form
of single or double filaments, and may be considered
hollow, and as forming a system of cuticular vessels which
terminate in the pores. In more advanced age, and espe¬
cially in the trunks of old trees, this primitive cuticle
gradually changes its character, and finally disappears.
It is then succeeded by a thicker membrane, which no
longer exhibits the net-like figure of the former, and ap¬
pears evidently to be formed by the exterior cells of the
cellular tissue, which, by the combined effects of disten¬
tion and desiccation, assume a membranous appearance,
to which the term epidermis is properly applicable. This
epidermis may be considered single when composed of
one layer of cells, and double, triple, or multiple, when
formed of two or more successive layers. It is thus that
Ulloa, in describing a tree in Peru, speaks of having de¬
tached more than 150 epidermoidal layers, when he lost
all patience in counting them, seeing that he had not then
reached to half the thickness of the bark. A similar ap¬
pearance is exhibited in the numerous layers that form
the epidermis of the white birch, amounting sometimes to
15 or 18 in advanced age, and which ends by breaking
into that cracked condition of the bark that presents only
discontinuous portions of white epidermis on the remnants
of its cellular envelope. At an early period the cuticle is
most easily torn in a longitudinal direction, which is that
of its growth; but at a later period, when the diametral
growth has increased, the cells of the tissue are drawn out
more in that direction, and therefore more readily break
transversely than in length. (Organog. Veget. tome i.
chap. 5.)
Art. II.—Of the Pores of the Skin.
The pores of the cuticle, called sometimes cortical or Descrip-
miliary glands, sometimes exhaling pores, sometimes cor- tion of
tical pores, and more lately, by Link and De Candolle, ^
stomata, were first noticed by Grew, who describes many
orifices as existing on the leaves of different plants,
which vary in size, number, shape, and position. In the
white lily they are of an oval shape, of a white colour; and
each is surrounded by a slender border. When viewed
through a good glass they appear as if standing about
one sixth or one eighth of an inch apart all over the leaf,
but not arranged in any regular order. In the pine, also,
68
oval shape, but have no rising border, and
Descrip¬
tion of
pores by
3)e Can¬
dolle.
Common they have an oval shape, But nave no rising -
Texiures. are arranged in lines from one end of the leal to tne
(Amt. ofPhnts.r-1S3.) Hedwig considered the
borders mentioned by Grew as produced by a ring of one
or more vessels, which terminated in the pore. I he n
ber of pores he represents as exceedingly great. In the
square of a line of the cuticle of a bulbous lily he reck¬
oned 577 pores. „ , „ _ofo
The characters and position of these pores or stomata
have been further examined by M. de Candolle on more
than 600 plants. They occur most frequently on the
leaves, occupying both surfaces in some herbs, and in
trees chiefly the inferior surface. Stems in general have
no pores, except, as in the Graminece, where they are
succulent, and have the character of leaves ; or where the
plant is altogether destitute of leaves, as the Cactus. Un
the prominent lines or vessels of the leaves and stems no
pores are to be seen, but only in the grooves or depressed
surfaces of the parenchyma. They are never observed
on the root, not even on bulbous roots, where the scales
of the bulb are true leaves. The small leaflets called
stipula} and bractece. sometimes have and sometimes have
not pores. The calices of the flower in general have
pores, but the petals have not. Pericarps of a foliaceous
consistence have pores: when fleshy, they are destitute o
them. The envelopes of the seed are destitute of pores,
but they are found on all seminal leaves that rise above
the ground. The lower tribes of vegetables, as the fad,
musd, hepatica, fungi, &c. are destitute of pores.
The occurrence of pores in those plants where they are
found seems to be much influenced by external circum-
the pores; stances. They are never met with but on vegetables, and
those parts of vegetables that are exposed to the air;
and therefore the internal surfaces of many leaves that
embrace the stem are without pores, though on the ex¬
ternal surfaces of the same leaves they are abundant.
No plant that is completely aquatic, nor any part of it
that is habitually under water, is provided with these or¬
gans ; but the parts which rise above the water are furnish¬
ed with them. In ranunculus aquations the leaves that
are constantly under water are destitute of pores, while
those that float on the surface are provided with them,
but only on their superior face. Even leaves which do
not naturally possess pores when under water, acquire
them if they are made to grow in air; and land plants, on
the contrary, when made to grow under water, may, by
such treatment, be deprived of their pores. Thus, the
leaf of green mint, when growing in air, possesses not
fewer than 1800 pores on its lower surface; but if kept
for a month under water, its leaves fall, and the new ones
that succeed are destitute of pores.
Light seems to be necessary also to the production of
res, for etiolated plants do not possess them. When
anatomy, vegetable.
or rhomboidal. In size they very much varied in differ- Co*J 0g
ent plants, but in the same plant the size was uniform. ^
The largest pores were seen on the leaf ot the white lily,v^Y\
the smallest on that of the French bean. (Kieser s Mem.
sur l' Orqanisat. des Plantes, p. 144.)
Although the pores are generally dispersed over the
parenchyma of leaves at nearly equal distances, yet where
the vessels run parallel, they are disposed in one or more
lines between them. Sometimes, again, they are collected
into little clusters, as in the leaves of crassula cordata,
where the roundish dots or points, visible by the naked
eve are clusters of pores or stomata. This appearance Pore,,
suggested to M. de Candolle the idea that the stomata orifices
might be the orifices of vessels, as each of the little points768^
mentioned above is the termination of a fibre, which is
itself a bundle of vessels. This idea is further strengthen¬
ed by the fact that these pores are not found in plants
Influence
of air on
of light on
pores.
Research¬
es of Itu-
dolphi.
grown by the light of lamps, the leaves possess a few
pores ; and, in all cases, the parts secluded from light and
air are destitute of these organs, but acquire them if they
are duly exposed. {Mem. de flnstit. Nat. tome i. p. 351.)
This general account of the pores of plants is confirmed
by the researches of M. Rudolphi. In most herbaceous
plants he found the pores to occupy both sides of the
leaf, but in trees only the inferior surface. They were
not often met with on the parts of the flowers, or on fruits ;
they were never seen on roots, nor on the trunks of trees;
nor ever on aquatic plants, except on such parts as were
raised above the water. The lower tribes of vegetables
seemed to be universally destitute of them; the leaves
also of those plants that were covered thickly with hairs
on both sides had no pores. The form of the pores was
commonly oval or elliptical, but in a few instances square
that are destitute of vessels; and though he could never
trace the continuity of a vessel with a pore, yet M. Com-
paretti assures us he has seen the vessels terminate in
them. Mirbel, on the other hand, considers the pores to
be the orifices of cells; and Kieser regards them as con¬
nected with the intercellular canals. (Organog. Veget.
tome i. chap. 6.)
Some have considered the pores as organs, by which
the resinous or waxy matter found on certain leaves is
exhaled; others, as organs for the absorption and trans¬
piration of air or gas; and others, with more probability,
as those by which moisture is thrown off by the leaf. In Trans;
support of this last opinion, it may be stated that porestlonli:
exist in all leafy parts that transpire, and are more mi-Pore!'
merous in membranous leaves that transpire most, than in
fleshy leaves which transpire little. 4 hey are wanting
altogether in aquatic leaves and in etiolated leaves; also
in fleshy fruits, in roots, and in the petals of flowers,
which do not transpire in any degree analogous to leaves.
In darkness too, when transpiration ceases, the pores are
closed ; and they again open and transpire when light re¬
appears, and especially in bright sunshine. It is always ne¬
cessary to distinguish the evaporation, more or less great,
that goes on through the tissue in all organs by day and
by night, from the active transpiration which occurs in
sunshine, but only in organs furnished with pores, and
which seems to be executed by them.
Besides transpiration, M. de Candolle believes that, inAbsoi
certain cases, the pores may also serve for absorption ; but '’J P
this he considers to be rarely the case, and out of the natural
course of vegetation ; and that the experiments which fa¬
vour this opinion may be explained by the hygroscopic
powers of the vegetable tissue. He thinks the results ob¬
tained by Bonnet, who kept leaves a long time in life by lay¬
ing their porous surfaces on water, may be explained by
supposing this treatment to prevent decay by checking
transpiration, rather than by promoting absorption. ( Or¬
ganog. Veget. tome i. p. 87.) This suggestion will not,
however, explain the phenomena of an experiment con¬
tinued for many years in the conservatories of the Royal
Botanic Garden here, under the care of Mr Macnab.
He has kept a species of fig {ficus elastica) for several
years fastened against the wall, with its roots, stem, and
branches entirely exposed to the air; and in that situation
it has not only lived, but actually grown in every part, so
as to have increased greatly in size, only by being thus
kept in a warm and moist atmosphere, and occasionally
sprinkled with water.
In addition to these visible pores, it is probable, says In'*
M. de Candolle, that the surface of vegetables is furnished Pore
with others that are invisible, but so small that with the
strongest microscopes we are unable to recognise them:
i ;i*
ANATOMY, VEGETABLE. 69
mom their existence, therefore, can only be presumed from
xtun« physiological phenomena. Ihus, a pair of a vegetable
destitute of pores loses weight when exposed to the air,
by the escape of the fluid it contained; or a portion of
moss equally destitute of pores, if placed in watei, speedily
acquires additional weight. Whether these results are
obtained through the medium of minute pores, or of un¬
organized apertures, such as are admitted to exist between
the molecules of all matters,—and whether through the
same pores or apertures a passage is afforded to gases or
other fluids, or to the oily or waxy secretions that cover
certain surfaces,—are questions, adds M. de Candolle, to
which no answer can at present be given. (Organog.
Veg. tome i. p. 88.)
Art. III.—Of Hairs.
;cri]i From the surface of the cuticle, in many parts of her-
\ ai baceous plants, and in the succulent parts of arborescent
ie.t1, ones, hairs (pili) are seen to spring. They possess very
iaU" different forms, and vary likewise greatly in texture. In
a strict sense, they may be defined small filaments pos¬
sessing considerable stiffness, which project from the sur¬
face, and stand out pretty erect. When they are very
numerous, a little soft, and less erect, they take the name
of villi; when still softer and less numerous they are
termed down (pubes). Sometimes this down is composed
of long hairs nearly resembling wool, at other times it
approaches more to the character of cotton. When the
hairs are stiff and ranged along the edge of a surface, like
the lashes of the eye, they are named cilia ; and if, with
these characters, they are produced to a greater length, as
in the beard or awn of wheat, they acquire the name of
barba or arista. Sometimes they resemble the bristles of
the hog, and are then called seta:. Many other varieties
are enumerated by botanists, who further distinguish them
by various names, according as they terminate in a single
point, or are hooked, or forked, or branched, or feathered,
&c. In some instances, instead of appearing like one con¬
tinuous substance, they are composed of many joints, or
are said to be articulated. In fig. 16 and 17, Plate XLL,
we have copied from Du Hamel a few of the varieties, both
of single and jointed hairs ; but the forms they exhibit are
so numerous and diversified, that we must refer to the
writers on botany for minuter information. In some ex-
® amples the point of the hair is terminated by a small
rounded globulet, and sometimes by a fine filament, that
seems to proceed out of the hair,
ir} si- Some writers distinguish hairs into two general classes,
11 > —the glandular and lymphatic. In the former class, the
hair or filament is sometimes the excretory duct of the
small gland situated at its base; and in other instances,
as in the chick-pea, the glandular or secreting organ is
seated at the extremity of the hair. The lymphatic class
embraces a much greater variety of hairs, which differ
widely from each other in consistence, direction, and form.
They spring only from the parts of plants which are ex¬
posed to the air, and are not found, therefore, on the
parts concealed below the earth or in water: they are
also rare on plants that grow in the shade, are want¬
ing altogether in etiolated plants, and are most abundant,
in general, on plants that grow in warm places, and are
well exposed to solar light. With respect to their seat or
origin, as compared with that of the pores, although, says
M. de Candolle, these two kinds of organs appear some¬
times mingled, yet each has a determined place; for the
pores are seated on the cellular or parenchymatous parts,
while the lymphatic hairs constantly spring from the vas¬
cular or ligneous parts. Yet the hairs, he adds, are al¬
most always placed on the same surface as the pores ; and Common
hence the superior surface of the leaf, which is common- Textures,
ly destitute of pores, has in general but few or no hairs.
The pores, as before stated, seem to be the true organs of
transpiration ; and the various kinds of hairs serve to pro¬
tect the plant against the excess of solar light, against
variations of temperature, against humidity, or sometimes
against insects. (Organog. Veg. tome i. chap. 10.) Hairs,
also, of various kinds are met with on the different parts
of the flower. These often have the colour of the pe¬
tals or other parts on which they grow, and are distin¬
guishable from the true lymphatic hairs, though some¬
times associated with them on the same organ.
With regard to the structure of these minute bodies, structure,
little that is satisfactory can be said. They seem to ori¬
ginate either directly from the cuticle or from the corti¬
cal texture beneath it; but not often from the ligne¬
ous texture, except in those instances where they are
very long and rigid, as in the awns of wheat. Du Hamel
observes that almost all of them are implanted on small
bodies, similar to the bulbs which give origin to the hairs
of animals. (Phys. des Arbres, tome i. p. 183.) They
commonly resemble simple filaments, but often appear
like elongated cells threaded on one another, and, instead
of terminating in a sharp point, end in a small papilla or
utricle, which yields in many instances a viscid or oily
matter, or sometimes a coloured liquor, which has led
many to regard them as exercising a glandular function.
One species of these supposed glandular organs has
been more particularly examined, and their fluid analyzed,
by M. Deyeux, who gives the following account of it.
Soon after the seeds of the chick-pea (cicer arietinuni) Hairs of
are sown, its first leaves are seen to be covered with hairs, chick-pea.
at the extremity of each of which is a transparent glo¬
bule, about the size of a small pin-head, consisting of a
fluid matter. It abounds most in mid-day, when the air
is warm and dry, and is scarcely perceptible at night, or
when the air is cold and moist; after rain, indeed, it does
not again appear for two or three days. When these fluid
globules were removed in a dry day by blotting-paper,
they soon re-appeared; they were acid to the taste,
reddened litmus paper, and caused an effervescence in
carbonate of potash when brought in contact with it. He
regarded them as composed of oxalic acid, the properties
of which they precisely resembled. (Mem. de Vlnstit. Nat.
tome i. p. 157.)
Art. IY.—Of Prickles and Thorns.
It is not easy to discriminate between some of the harder Definition;
species of hairs, described in the former article, and those
to which the appellation of prickles (aculei) has been as¬
signed. They are defined by Du Hamel to be excres¬
cences, often hard, and always terminated by a sharp
point, which are developed with the other productions of
plants, but are not inclosed in particular buds; so that
they may for the most part be regarded as hard and so¬
lid hairs. They spring equally from the stem, the branch-P0Sltl0n>
es, the petioles of the leaves, and also from the leaves
themselves in various plants; and in the chesnut and
some others they are seen to cover the fruit. They are
frequently straight, but in the rose and many others are
curved at the point, as in fig. 18, Plate XLI.; and, accord¬
ing to Malpighi, possess sometimes in this plant a little
head, which yields a viscid fluid.
Regarding their structure, Grew remarked that they sf
were connected only with the skin or the bark, and he
therefore named them cortical, to distinguish them from
thorns properly so called, such as those of the hawthorn,
70
anatomy, vegetable.
(Lectures on Inflammation, p. 318.) Besides these more Co®
simple structures, it is well known that most of the inter- lestjl
nal viscera are likewise denominated glands, though
fering in all their characters from those just mentioned.
The ambiguity which thus prevails in animal anatomy,in
in relation to the use of the term gland, has been increasedtable;
tenfold in the applications that have been made af it toH'
the organs of vegetables. It is justly observed by M.de
CandoUe, in reference to this subject, that the numerous
which spring from the wood, and which he denominates^
neous. These latter, he adds, always ascend whde the co -
tical thorns commonly point downwards. 5
p. 33.) In proof of their origin from the bark, DuHame
remarks that if, after maceration in boiling water, the
ta* of such Plante be stripped off nil the prickles come
away with it, and leave not the smallest impression on the
wood, nor even on the more interior layers of the baik it¬
self. When a section also is made of the branch and
pricklei as~in figiYs, Plate XLL, the wood y and the pith approximations
r. 18,1 late AljA*» . f 1 , • A.]e, mais have often promoted our researches into the former,
z are both seen to have no connec ,, sometimes led physiologists astray, and intro-
f are ootn seen J ‘'V'W •“ internosed between the but have sometimes led physiologists astray, and intro,
but the inner layer a- of *eba k P does not> duced int„ the language of botany many inexact expres
Prickle of
In animal anatomy the term gland is understood to
express some organ that exercises a secretory function;
but in vegetable anatomy this term has often been applied
to bodies that are not known to be real secretory organs.
Thus the cells of the cellular tissue, which frequently con¬
tain resinous or oily matter, have been sometimes named
cellular glands ; the little globulets or utricles at the ex-
tremities of the hairs on the edges of leaves, utricular
I 01*
i ■ v
base of the prickle and the wood. The prickle does not
however, spring from the skin, for it is formed of many
layers like the bark. As the parts become more solid, it
is less freely supplied with juice, and therefore hardens
and turns brown. (Pln/s. des Arbres, tome i. p. ■
In the nettle (urtica dioied), Malpighi states, that be-
the nettle. gJdg the common prickles on the leaves, there are among
them others of a different description. They possess more
of a lio-neous character, are hollow internally, and contain - r j -u o i p
a iuicfvvh eh" when i gains admission beneath the skin, glands; the small organs formed by the pores on the leaf,
excites itching and tumour. (Anat. Plantar, p. 137.) Dr cort/mZ or miliary f/W, ; certam fleshy tubercles on the
Hooke had previously given a much more minute account leaves, urceolar glands ; and the little sea es that cover
of the sting of this plant. Almost every part of it, says he, the fructification in ferns, scahform glands. The mtar
h covered with prickles like sharp needles. Each prickle rium of the lower commonly contains a sweet juice, an
consists of two parts, very different in shape and quali- is therefore deemed a gland; but Lmnaeus, with his usual
ty from one another; one is shaped much like a round disregard both of the structure and function of organs,
bodkin, is very hard and stiff, exceedingly transparent and considers as a nectary, not only the body which may se-
clear, and hollow from top to bottom. When this bodkin crete, but any other that may serve as a receptacle of the
is thrust into the skin, it does not at all bend ; but a cer- secretion ; and indeed is said to comprehend under this
tain liquor is then seen to move up and down in it, rising term all those bodies which have no resemblance to the
towards the top, when the point is pressed down on the other parts of the flower, in whatever variety of form they
base. This base is formed by a little bag, is more pliable may appear, or whatever purpose they may serve. (Will-
than the bodkin part, and within it is a cellular structure, denow’s Principles of Botany, p. 87.) in some other m-
which contains a thin transparent liquor (see fig. 19, stances the term gland has been used, not to express the
Plate XLI.): it is this liquor that rises in the tube, and, be- secreting organ itself, nor even the receptacle of the se-
ing deposited beneath the skin after it is punctured, ex- cretion, but the solid excreted matter on the surface of
cites the irritation that succeeds. (Micrographia, p. 142.) certain leaves; and others consider hairs, and every other
The true thorn (spina) derives its origin, as Grew re- protuberance that projects from the surface, and contains
marked, from the ligneous part of the plant, and in some a fluid different from the common sap, as entitled to the
plants is produced from the degeneration of some other distinctive appellation of gland.
organ, as of the leaf, or even the branch itself: we shall Amid such diversity of opinion concerning the struc-iat
therefore defer the further consideration of its structure, ture, position, and function of these minute organs, and ini*
until we come to treat of that of the branch. such vagueness in the methods employed to characterizeg»
them, it is extremely difficult to define their true nature,
Section V. or declare the principle on which this definition should
„ „ . „ Tr , ,7 proceed. The mere existence of a fluid, distinct from the
Of the Glands of \ egetables. common snn in anv or nan. cannot be considered as be-
A
common sap in any organ,
Ambiguity Perhaps in the whole science of anatomy there is no stowing on it the title of gland, otherwise the greater por-
of the term word that has been employed with such latitude of signi- tion of some plants would come to be regarded as glancm*
';land,
lar: those varieties of structure which exercise no secre¬
tory function may also be excluded from the list of glands;
and so likewise the hairs of plants, though containing pe¬
culiar fluids, may be excluded, since these peculiarities
appear to arise frequently from circumstances foreign to
fication, and is therefore exposed to so much ambiguity,
as the term gland. In animal anatomy it was doubtless
used at first to denominate certain organs, from the exter¬
nal resemblance which they bore to certain fruits or seeds;
in Animal and in that sense it is still employed on several occasions. „rr   ^ v   _ ^ ^
Anatomy, Afterwards it was understood to signify not so much the the action of the organ itself; and even if they do not,
external form as the internal organization, and was con- some specific variation of the general name they bear is
sidered to express a certain structure, by which alone the preferable to the employment of so ambiguous a word as
function of secretion could be exercised; but it is well gland. But where any organ is distinct from the com-^
observed by Dr Thomson, in his valuable work on Inflam- mon textures of the vegetable, and by the peculiarity oi
mation, that “ the definition of a secreting glandular part its structure is fitted to produce those changes on the ve-
must be taken from its function, and not from its struc- getable fluids which we name secretion, it may be deem-
ture; for nothing can be more various than the internal ed a secreting organ. This secretory function, however,
structure of those organs that are denominated glandular may sometimes be exercised, as in animal bodies, by roem
secreting organs: they consist sometimes of convoluted branous surfaces, and sometimes by small isolated bodies,
vessels, sometimes of follicles or small hollow bags, and to which, perhaps, may properly belong the denomination
sometimes of transparent membranes, in which neither of glands.
convoluted vessels nor mucous follicles can be perceived.” But even though this method of defining glands were
Uli
1
ANATOMY, VEGETABLE.
71
i* ^aB lopted, it still is a matter of no small difficulty to distin-
*2 |s. jish their species by appropriate appellations. In ani-
al anatomy no settled rule obtains; but the name of the
‘ and is assigned from some accidental circumstance of
tuation, figure, use, &c. In vegetable anatomy the bo-
.nist, regarding glands only as aiding the discrimination
' species, refers commonly to their situation, and speaks
' foliaceous, stipular, or petiolar glands, according as
ey happen to be seated on the leaves, the stipules, or the
itioles. The anatomist imposes names according to their
rms, as they chance most to resemble a globule, an
ricle, or some other figure; and the physiologist is
fiefly directed by ideas which indicate their functions,
stinguishing them into mucous, oily, resinous, or necta-
ferous glands, according to the nature of the fluid they
rnish. Of these different modes, that which proceeds
i the apparent form, where it can be discovered, seems
e most precise; but as this cannot always be accom-
ished, the situation of the organ, or the nature of the
creted fluid, must occasionally be had recourse to.
ced ! Of these bodies it is to be remarked that they differ in
hy ie respect from most of the corresponding organs in ani-
als, almost all of them being seated on the external parts
i the plant, like several of the more simple glandular bo-
<jes in animals. This arises from the greater simplicity
- vegetable organization, particularly as it regards the
;'Sorbent system, the mode of growth, and the perma-
mce of the organs produced; whence it happens that
e living parts of aged perennial plants are situated only
or near the surface; and it is only in such parts that
live secretory functions can have place. Hence it is on
cculent stems, on leaves, flowers, and fruits, during the
tive state of vegetation, that the glandular functions of
igetables must be exercised ; and which parts, therefore,
e the appropriate seat of glands,
of In some leaves a secretory function extends over a
'd eat part of the surface, as in some species of Cistus, of
■G igar-maple, of larch, and others enumerated by Du Ha-
^ el, on which various collections of saccharine, gummy,
and resinous matter are found. (Phys. des Arbres, tome i. Common
p. 183.) On the leaves of sage, Hooke mentions the oc- Textures,
currence of an infinite number of round balls resembling
pearls, and which, says he, are nothing but a gummy exu¬
dation. (Micrograp'h ia,, p. 142.) M. Guettard has de- according
scribed not fewer than seven species of glandular bodies10 Guet-
on the leaves of different plants, to which he assignedtard’
names, chiefly from the appearance of their form; these
are the miliary, the vesicular, the squamous, the globular,
the lenticular, the utricular, and the urceolar glands. Of
these reputed species, those called miliary are no longer
held to be glands, but cuticular pores; and the squamous
species is found to be identical with the thin scale that
covers the fructification of ferns. Others add to this list
the organ called nectary; but the very vague notions en¬
tertained of its nature and use altogether preclude the
possibility of assigning to it any precise anatomical cha¬
racter.
Other writers have proposed to reduce all the bodies and others,
called glands to two classes, the cellular and the vascular,
according as they conceive them to be formed of cellular
tissue simply, or of this tissue and vessels combined. But
such an arrangement would lead us, in some instances, to
confound the mere receptacles of secreted fluids with the
organs that secrete them,—would bestow a secretory func¬
tion on organs considered by these writers to be non-
vascular,—and convert the entire cellular tissue of the
plant into a simple glandular body. The glands of plants
may indeed possess the form and size of cells; but they
are not, like cells, close cavities; they resemble more the
follicles and mucous glands of the animal system, and,
from the nature of their function, must always be regard¬
ed as vascular.
Of organs so minute, and so very imperfectly known
and characterized, nothing can be attempted in the way
of anatomical demonstration. This, however, is the less
to be regretted, as the glandular system in plants appears
in general to be of much less consequence in the vege¬
table than it is in the animal economy.
PART II.
THE ANATOMY OF THE INDIVIDUAL MEMBEKS AND ORGANS OF VEGETABLES.
i
*tibs.
1
t
11
In the preceding Part we have described, in general,
e nature of the elementary organs and common textures
at compose the entire plant; and we come now to the
cond division of our subject, viz. the description of in-
vidual members and organs. Following the method of
rew, we shall first exhibit the anatomy of the seed, and
e changes of form and structure displayed in its evolu-
3D. We shall next treat of the mature plant, and exhibit
ews of the more remarkable varieties of structure observ-
l in its several members, as the trunk, the branch, and the
»ot. The organs that originate from these members, as
ids, leaves, flowers, and fruits, will then be duly noticed;
I id we shall terminate our descriptions by a brief exhibi-
on of the formation and structure of the vegetable ovum
its progress towards the state of the perfect seed.
I he limits within which, in a work like the present,
e are necessarily circumscribed, will render our view of
lese individual structures, when compared with the int¬
ense variety that obtains in nature, exceedingly imper-
ct; but our purpose will be accomplished if we succeed
i exhibiting a correct and tolerably comprehensive out-
ne of the great features of vegetable organization, as
iey are displayed in the individual parts and organs of
ie more perfect plants.
CHAP. I.
THE ANATOMY OF SEEDS.
Section I.
Of the Structure of Seeds in general.
Art. \.— Of the External Characters and Component
Parts of Seeds.
The seed or egg of vegetables {semen vel ovumi) is The seed:
formed at the base of the pistil of the flower, in an organ
called the ovary {ovarium), hereafter to be described, its attach-
This organ takes the name of pericarp when the seed igmenttothe
mature, and is then said to be formed of three parts, en-ovar-v’
veloping each other. The outer membrane has been
called epicarp, and the inner one endocarp, between
which the thicker portion, called sarcocarp, is placed.
In fleshy fruits, as the peach and apple, the sarco¬
carp is very thick, and contains the matter which nou¬
rishes the seed. Interiorly, the pericarp is either simple
or separated by one or more partitions into cells, which
contain the seeds. The seeds accordingly communi¬
cate with or are attached to the pericarp, at the point
of the seed named hilum, from which point the ves-
72
ANATOMY, VEGETABLE.
OftheSeed. sels pass through the inner membrane of the pericarp,
Numbers
of seeds:
continued to its fleshy portion, which sup- which the nutr.ent vessels passed to the embryo; and near^
dies the materials for its' growth. These vessels form to it another smaller aperture, through which he belie™,
Se umbifa cord (funijlus nmUlicdii); but some- the spermatic vesse s to have passed. The fomer he
times “is said this cord, from its extreme tenuity, or calls the the latter the and declare,
fmphcation wift other organs, cannot be discovered h.e i me vTn SV ' ^ *
When the seed has attained to maturity, the umbilical Mus. d Hist. JSat. tome vn. p. LJ .)
cord dries up and breaks, and the pericarp opens in va- From the situation of the umbilicus, the several .
rious ways m different plants, to permit the escape of or regions of the seed have been defined. They are
nous ways i r r jn number. The part where the umbilicus itself is placed
ThTseeds of different plants exhibit the greatest di- is termed the basis, and the point at the opposite extremity
versity in number, size, and figure. Sometimes they are the vertex of the seed; the upper or back part is named
few in other instances very numerous. In one plant of the dorsum or back, and the part opposite to it the
white poppy Grew reckoned 32,000 seeds, and on the venter or belly; while the two lateral portions are called
snike of a species of typha he numbered 40,176 seeds; the sides (latera). The point where the umbilical cording
so that upon the three spikes which one stalk of this is inserted into the inner coat has been named the i^er-umbi
plant bears there are every year produced more than nal umbilicus. This point usually coincides with that of
120 000 seeds. (Anat. of Plants, p. 198.) In figure the the external, but, from a change in the relative position
- ’ 1 ' of the parts during their formation, this coincidence is
not always to be observed. (Gaertner de Fructibus ct
Seminibus Plantarum, vol. i.)
When examined in its mature state, the seed is foundCoai!;;
to be composed of certain coats or tunics, which inclosetllea
a kernel or nucleus, that also consists of several distinct
parts. At an early period of growth, while the parts are
still green and succulent, two coats are easily distinguish¬
ed, as in the transverse section of the bean (fig. 30, Plate
y/'
their size  7   x „ _ . _ .
and figure. varieties in seeds are so numerous as to baffle descrip¬
tion ; and, with respect to size, many are so minute as
not to be visible to the naked eye, and others so large as
to reach several pounds in weight.
Umbilicus The part at which the seed has separated from the
of the seed. ovary is indicated by a small mark or scar, called by Mal¬
pighi fenestra, by Linnaeus hilum, and by Gaertner um¬
bilicus. In some seeds this scar is of considerable extent,
and is the only mark that is visible; in other instances
(here seems to' be present a foramen in addition to the XXXVIII.), in which the inner coat a appears much
scar. All seeds, says Grew, have their outer coats open, thicker than the outer, and th6 radicle b is seen rising
either by a particular aperture, or by the breaking off of through it.
the cord, or by the entrance of the cord into the substance
of the seed, as in those which have a shelly or stony co¬
vering. In the bean this aperture is placed on the side,
in the chesnut on the top, in the gourd at the bottom;
and in each case the point of the radicle is opposed to
When these coats are stripped off, the parts which
form the nucleus are brought into view. They con-c1®’
sist, in the bean and most other seeds, of two distinct
parts, the lobes or cotyledons, as they have been called,
and the radicle and plume. These several parts can be
the aperture, and first pushes forth through it. (Anat. of seen only by separating the two lobes from each other,
Plants, book i.) In many seeds, however, the radicle is as is done in fig. 31, where the letters cc denote the co-
not thus opposed to the umbilicus, but, according to tyledons, d the radicle, and c the plume. Such seeds’0^,1
Gaertner, is variously placed with regard to it; and in the as have thus two co^ mdons are named dicotyledonous. onS|
seeds of the apple and pear, Malpighi considers no pro- In many seeds, however, the part called cotyledon is
per umbilical aperture to exist, but only an hiatus to be single, and often bears but a small proportion to the en-
formed by the relaxation of the tunics, through which the tire bulk of the seed. Seeds which have thus but one co-in“
radicle makes its way. (Anat. Plantar, p. 9.) tyledon are named Monocotyledons; and to this divi-col 1
Varieties There can be no doubt that, in every case, a connec- sion the seeds of wheat, of barley, and of all the grasses
in its form. ti0n subsisted between the seed and the ovary during the belong.
formation of the seed; but this, in different examples, Many of the lower tribes of plants are entirely destitute^#
may have much varied. In all cases an umbilical cord of a cotyledon, and are called Acotyledons. Some writ-' "'
must have existed, and appears, in many examples, from
inspection of mature seeds, to have been the only visible
medium of connection. In the bean, however, besides the
umbilical cord there are marks of a connection also be¬
tween the coats of the seed and those of the ovary that
contained it, so that the scar or cicatrix, in that and simi¬
lar cases, is distinct from the umbilical aperture. The
scar is the mark left by the separation of the tunics con¬
tinued from the ovary; the foramen is the aperture pro¬
duced by the separation of the umbilical cord. It will be
afterwards stated that the outer coat of the seed appears Having given this general view of the several parts that
always to have originated from the inner coat of the ova- compose the seed, we proceed now to a more particular
ry, so that it forms a sheath about the umbilical cord. If, description of their structure; and, as the tunics come
therefore, as in the bean, these coats are thick, and the ‘ ‘
umbilical cord short, then traces of the separation, both
of the coats and of the cord, will remain on the seed; if,
ers assert that some seeds have more than two cotyledons,
and such seeds they have denominated Polycotyledons ;l’0*Vl1
but others, again, choose to consider these appearances
not as distinct cotyledons, but only as deep fissures, or
divisions into two primary lobes; and hence conclude, that
all seeds having a cotyledon may be classed under the
two divisions of mono and di-cotyledons.
Art. II.—Description and Structure of the Coats of Seeds.
first into view, we shall begin with them. These tunics,1
on the other hand, the coats are thin, and the cord more
elongated, this latter will be closely invested by the for¬
mer, and the umbilical scar will present the appearance
only of a simple aperture, as is common to many seeds.
Opinion of A late writer, M. Turpin, regards the umbilical scar as
M.Turpin. consiating of three parts, viz. the proper cicatrix itself, in
Numl*
in some seeds, are two; in others, three in number. Bytu11
Grew they were named coats or covers; by Malpighi)
secundinee ; and by Gaertner, testa and membrana interna.
We shall speak of them in the familiar terms of the outer,
the inner, and the middle coats or tunics.
The outer coat or testa of Gaertner is described as a con-Outl
stant and essential part of the seed. It existed before the
period of fecundation, and is sometimes the only apparent
I
1
!:ni|
ANATOMY, VEGETABLE.
r-'
r
3.
t
%!,
eSu . covering possessed by the mature seed. Some seeds have
indeed been considered to possess no tunic whatever, and
have therefore, says Gasrtner, been named acocca ; but in
I such seeds there existed a coat before they arrived at ma¬
turity, and its apparent absence has been inferred from
its extreme thinness, or its condensation with the sides
of the surrounding ovary. ( J)e Fructib. et Seminib. Plan¬
tar. vol. i. p. 132.) A distinguished botanist, however, Mr
1 Brown, is said to have discovered two examples of seeds
absolutely destitute of a covering, from their first appear¬
ance to their state of maturity. (Thomson’s Annals of
Philosophy, vol. i. p. 310.)
rue In different seeds this tunic possesses a very different
structure, being in some thin and membranous; in others
of a spongy or fleshy nature; and in others, again, it ap¬
proaches to the consistence of leather or bone. But how
various soever in this respect, it is always an entire tunic,
and has no aperture but that of the umbilical foramen.
Its colour is usually deeper than that of the other parts of
the seed; and in this particular it presents every possible
variety. It has rarely any connection with the nucleus,
*6. except in some monocotyledons. (Gaertner, vol. i. cap. 9.)
igiri With regard to its origin, Malpighi describes it, in its
earliest state in the almond, as derived from the ovary it¬
self, being composed of reticulated vessels, which spring
from the surrounding organ. In other instances it is
thicker, and is distinctly seen to be cellular as well as
vascular; and in the bean and pea, little tubes are said by
Malpighi to originate from the cells, and terminate by
open mouths on the surface. (Anat. Plantar, p. 9.)
:ula Both Malpighi and Grew discovered, in some instances,
a very thin membrane to cover this outer coat, which, ac¬
cording to Gaertner, may be found in most seeds, if the
parts be scrupulously examined. Its structure is some¬
times membranous, often downy, and sometimes mucila-
p ginous; it possesses occasionally considerable thickness,
and at other times is a mere pellicle, and thence has been
wwmaOi pellicula. It covers the whole seed, and does not
ever separate spontaneously from it. (Gaertner de Fructib.
&c. vol. i. cap. 9.)
ls* Besides this pellicle, another fine tunic named arillus is
sometimes observed on the surface of the seed, as in the
seed of euphorbia. It originates from the umbilical cord
at the base, and extends more or less completely over the
body of the seed. Its structure is very various, being
sometimes soft and pulpy, at others thin and membran¬
ous, and in others forming a husky covering. It forms,
in some instances, only a loose and partial covering; and
in others it invests the seed so closely and completely,
that it can scarcely be distinguished from the outer coat
itself. Both in figure and colour it often varies greatly,
but, like the pellicle before described, it is regarded rather
as an accessory than a necessary integument.
To the exterior coat of the seed various appendages are
co; s?met'mes attached, as down, wings, spines, hooks, all de¬
signed either as a defence to seeds or to facilitate their
dispersion. They are distinguished and described by the
botanist, but are in general of too fine a texture to be
made the subject of anatomical demonstration.
rci ‘ I he inner tunic (niembrana interna of Gaertner) is a
1 common but not constant part of the mature seed. It
appears sometimes to be wanting, when in reality it is
present. During the formation of the seed it is frequent¬
ly so extenuated, or coalesces so completely with the
outer coat, that it cannot be properly distinguished. In
its earlier state it is represented by Grew as a very
spongy and succulent body, and as thick and bulky as one
oi the lobes itself; but it dries and shrinks up as the seed
approaches maturity, so that it is sometimes scarcely dis-
vol. in.
cernible. (Anat. of Plants, \). ¥1 In the seeds of most Of the Seed,
plants it closely invests the nucleus, but is easily separable
from the outer tunic. In those of the Gramima:, where
the bulk of the seed consists almost entirely of unorganiz¬
ed matter, no separation of this tunic from the contained
parts occurs; but its inner surface is formed into a cellu¬
lar tissue, in the cells of which the nutrient matter is
lodged. In other instances the inner surface is prolong¬
ed into processes, which penetrate into the nucleus, and
intersect it in various directions.
This inner tunic does not, like the former, exist before Its origin
fecundation, but is formed subsequently to it. It is com-and struc-
posed of vessels and cellular tissue. The cells are com-ture*
monly larger than those of the outer coat. It has no aper¬
ture, says Gaertner, not even an umbilical one; but re¬
sembles a shut sac, over whose external surface the um¬
bilical vessels creep, and open, in an insensible manner,
within its cavity. (De Fructib. &c. cap. 9.) The distri¬
bution of the vessels throughout the whole of this coat
Grew compares to that in the leaf.
Beneath this inner tunic Grew describes another fine Inmost or
membrane, which immediately invests the lobes or cotyle- third coat
dons of the seed. In the bean it is exquisitely thin, and
so firmly continuous with the lobes, that some dexterity
is required to accomplish its separation. It is spread not
only over the convex surface of the lobes, but also over
the inner or flat surfaces, where they are contiguous, ex¬
tending likewise over the radicle and plume, and so over
the whole nucleus of the seed. It does not, like the other
tunics, cease to grow in germination, but is augmented
and grows with the organic parts. (Anat. of Plants, b. i.
ch. 1.) This tunic may be regarded either as a covering
to the nucleus, or as an actual portion of it, as Gaertner,
who speaks only of two coats, seems to have considered
it. It appears, however, more proper to regard it as the
inmost coat, and thus to conclude, with Grew, that the
covers in most seeds are three. (Ibid. b. iv. ch. 3.) The
coat last described must in that case be considered as
the middle tunic, being situated between the outer one
and that which is continuous with the nucleus. In many
seeds, however, only two coats are distinctly visible.
The foregoing tunics not only contain the nutrient mat- Use of the
ter, and afford a mechanical protection to the organic parts, coats,
but seem fitted also, by their chemical constitution, to
resist the operation of agents that might otherwise effect
their decomposition, and that of the nucleus they inclose.
From the experiments of Fourcroy and Vauquelin, on the
tunics of certain seeds that grow in marshy situations, it
appears that, besides the usual ingredients of vegetable sub¬
stances, there exists in them a compound, formed by a com¬
bination of tannin with a peculiar matter of an animal na¬
ture, in union with a vegetable acid. This combination of
tannin with the matter just mentioned renders these tunics
insoluble in water, and enables them to resist putrefaction,
although buried for long periods in the moist earth. The
tunics of those seeds which do not possess this chemical
constitution may, it is added, by their ligneous or horny tex¬
ture, or by the oily matter with which they are penetrated,
present similar obstacles to the action of decomposing
agents. (An. du Mus. d!Hist. Nat. tome xv. p. 77.)
Art. III.—Description and Structure of the Nucleus of the
Seed.
We proceed next to describe the parts contained with-Nucleus;
in the above-mentioned coats or tunics, and which con-its several
stitute the nucleus of the seed. These parts, as already parts,
observed, consist of the radicle, the plume, and cotyle¬
dons, together, in most instances, with the nutrient mat-
K
ANATOMY, VEGETABLE.
Ot’theSeed, ter destined to support their future growth. The three
former bodies are completely organized, but the nutrient
matter is wholly inorganic, varies greatly in quantity and
proportion in different seeds, and is very variously situat¬
ed with respect to the organized parts.
These parts, which in the progress of their evolution
give birth to the new vegetable, derive their visible origin
from a medullary point, that succeeds to the act of fe¬
cundation. By some these organized parts have been
Corculum. called the corculum, by others embryo, by others foetus,
and by others plantula seminalis. The primary point or
particle from which they originate may with propriety,
says Grertner, be termed corculum, since it is the source
and seat of vegetable life, and from it the whole vasculai
system of the embryo proceeds. In some instances this
corculum increases so little as to be scarcely visible even
in the mature seed, or exhibits only a palish spot, which
has been termed cicatricula ; in others it forms a round¬
ish radicle, whose apex is free and rises above the nu¬
cleus, but whose base is firmly connected with it; in
others, again, the corculum is still more disengaged, en¬
larging at each extremity, and producing at one end the
radicle, and separating at the other into the two lobes
called cotyledons, between which the first bud or plume
of the future plant is situated. From this varying growth
Embryo, of the corculum, an embryo, more or less perfect, is pro¬
duced. When the embryo presents only a mere germi¬
nating point, it is styled imperfect; when it exhibits a sim¬
ple radicle, it is deemed incomplete; when it possesses
both radicle and cotyledon, it is considered perfect; and
when it consists of radicle, cotyledon, and plume, it is
pronounced complete. (Gaertner de Fructib. &c. vol. i.
cap. 13.)
Descrip- In the mature seeds of the less perfect plants the em-
tion of the bryo is altogether invisible until after germination, and
embryo. even in many other instances its characters cannot be
accurately traced. Its general figure is determined by
that of the radicle and cotyledons, and is exceedingly va¬
rious in different seeds. In size it ranges from a minute
point to that of a body of considerable magnitude. In
consistence it is almost always soft and herbaceous, but
its radicle possesses sometimes a ligneous hardness. No
seed contains more than one embryo, except in cases of
superfcetation, of which Gaertner saw one instance in Finns
Cemlrra, a seed of which contained two embryos within
one and the same cavity. {De Fructib. &c. vol. i. p. 168.)
Malpighi also records a similar occurrence in a seed of
Prunus Armeniaca ; and the seeds of some Graminecr, as
will afterwards be shown, are capable of evolving an in¬
definite number of embryos. Every complete embryo is
said to consist of three distinct parts beside cotyledons.
These are the radicle, the stem, and the plume.
Its radicle. The radicle (radicula), called rostellum by Linnaeus, is
the most constant part of the embryo, being found in some
seeds in which no other trace of that body can be disco¬
vered. In the seeds, however, of the less perfect plants,
and even in those of some monocotyledons, no radicle is
visible antecedent to germination. In some rare instances
among dicotyledons, as in nelumbo nucifera, no radicle
exists; but in germination the stem first rises upward,
and afterwards emits rootlets from its sides. (An. duMus.
dHist. Nat. tome xiii.)
The size of the radicle is very various, and so also is
its figure, being either conical, cylindrical, filiform, or tu¬
bercular, &c. It always, says Gaertner, occurs solitary,
except in secale, triticum, and hordeum, to which alone,
of all known seeds, three, four, or six radicles, properly
formed, and distinct from each other, are furnished to
each embryo. (De Fructib. &c. p.169.) This plurality
of radicles in the cerealia had before been remarked by Of the
Malpighi. M. du Hamel describes the seed of misletoe^Vi
(viscum album') as emitting numerous radicles like those
of wheat. (Mem. del'Acad, des Sciences, 1740.)
The stem (scapus) of the embryo is a continuation ofltsste
the radicle, and connects it with the plume. It is fre¬
quently wanting altogether, nor, when it is present, can
we fix precisely on the point where the radicle ends and
the stem begins. What is called stem descends fre¬
quently into the earth, and becomes a true root; so that
every part of the embryo situated beneath the cotyle¬
dons might without impropriety be denominated radicle.
The place of junction between the radicle and stem was
called by Grew the coarcture, from its presenting often
an evident degree of contraction; but M. Bonnet and
others have given it the more appropriate name of the
neck (collum) of the seed.
The plume (plumula) is the first bud of the new plant.
In seeds that possess but one cotyledon it is very gene¬
rally wanting; and even in those which have two cotyle¬
dons it is not unfrequently absent, or is at least concealed
within the stem. In most of the latter sort of seeds, how¬
ever, the plume is met with. It is placed on the top of
the stem or radicle, and lies between the cotyledons, by
which it is variously compressed and folded on itself. In
the greater number of seeds it is not entire, but at its free
end is divided into several pieces, all closely couched to¬
gether, like feathers in a bunch, and thence called the
plume by Grew. In different seeds its several little
leaves vary much in figure, size, and number. The struc¬
ture both of the radicle and plume will be most advan¬
tageously displayed in connection with that of the coty¬
ledons.
Of the organized parts of the seed, the organs called byTlie
Grew lobes or dissimilar leaves, by Malpighi seminmMai
leaves or cotyledons, remain to be described. The coty¬
ledons derive their origin from the embryo itself, of which
they constitute a part. The seeds, however, of some
tribes of vegetables, as before remarked, are held not to
possess these organs; and in many others the mass of nu¬
trient matter has been confounded with them. When pre¬
sent they are either simple or divided. The simple coty¬
ledon is formed by the mere extension of the corculum,
and is in truth scarcely distinguishable from the stem it¬
self. The double or conjugate cotyledons are produced
by fissures, which usually divide that part of the embryo
that is opposed to the radicle into two or more equal por¬
tions or lobes. These lobes have at first the appearance
of mere tubercles, and in many seeds they retain this form
unchanged ; but in others they gradually expand into la-
mellce or plates, which augment in size, and finally exhi¬
bit the proper form of cotyledons. This form is very va¬
rious, as likewise is the size of these organs. Sometimes
they are so small as to be scarcely visible, and sometimes
so large as to form the chief portion of the seed. Their
substance is either thin, or thick, or turgid. Their colour
is commonly white, but sometimes yellowdsh, purple, or
green, the colour into which they all pass during germi¬
nation.
Concerning the structure of the cotyledons, it may betbe
said that, in the more perfectly developed seeds, they aresm
formed of cellular tissue, through which vessels are every¬
where distributed; and, as we have already remarked,
they are everywhere covered by a fine pellicle or coat,
which prevents alike their adherence to the plume and to
each other. This cellular structure of the cotyledon is
well displayed by Grew (fig. 32, Plate XXXVIIL) in a
slice of the cotyledon of the recent bean; and it is easily
seen in a thin slice of almost any mature seed, if it be held
mtai
mm •
ANATOMY, VEGETABLE.
Ihe?ed. against the light after it has been soaked in water. This
SW cellular structure extends into the radicle and plume, but
in much smaller proportion, constituting, according to
Grew, about three fifths of the plume, five sevenths of the
radicle, and nine tenths of the cotyledon.
Through all the organs that compose the nucleus ves¬
sels are distributed, by the medium of which a general
communication is established among them. This vascu¬
lar system is likewise exhibited by Grew in the dissection
of a bean (fig. 34, Plate XXXVIII.), in which the vessels
are seen to branch olf on each side from the radicle, and
spread themselves by innumerable ramifications through
the cotyledons. From the radicle vessels also pass up¬
wards to the plume. These vessels of the radicle are vi¬
sible when a transverse section is made through it, as in fig.
33, a, Plate XXXVIII., in which they are seen to occupy
the middle of that body. When the section is made higher
up at the neck of the embryo, as in the same figure, b, then
the central trunk, surrounded by several smaller fasciculi
of vessels, passing to the different parts of the plume, is
still more clearly exposed. In many seeds, however, the
organized parts are so small that their general structure
cannot be traced, except during the progress of their ger¬
mination. We shall therefore defer the description of
them till we come to treat of their evolution, and shall
then also go more fully into the structure of the parts just
mentioned.
Within the cells of the cotyledon, in many dicotyledo¬
nous seeds, the nutrient matter destined to support the
future growth of the embryo is entirely contained. In
other instances this matter is only in part received into
those organs; and in the Grammece, and other monocoty¬
ledons, it is often placed almost entirely exterior to the
cotyledon. This matter is produced from a clear liquor
that is secreted in the tunic during the formation of the
seed. To this liquor Grew gave the name of albumen,
from its likeness, not only in appearance, but, as he con¬
ceived, in use also, to the white of egg in animals. By
Malpighi this matter, considered in connection with the
tissue that contains it, is often called the flesh (caro) of
the seed; and from its being sometimes situated around
the embryo, it has been denominated joempe/vn by M.
Jussieu. We follow Grew and Gaertner in the use of the
term albumen, meaning to express thereby, not the pri¬
mary animal compound to which chemists have of late as¬
signed that term, and which is found but in few vege¬
tables ; but that compound substance which, whatever be
its situation, quantity, or colour, constitutes the nutrient
matter of the seed.
This albumen is a very constant part of the mature
Itbein- seed, but its proportion in some seeds is so extremely
luni i sma^> seeds in which it occurs have been term¬
ed exalbuminous ; and in a few instances it seems to be
entirely wanting. Its quantity, situation, and figure, in
different seeds, are subject to very great variation. In the
seeds of the Graminece, where the embryo acquires only
a very small size, the albumen constitutes almost the en¬
tire bulk of the seed, and is placed wholly exterior to the
embryo. In the Leguminosce, on the other hand, the em¬
bryo is more completely developed, and the whole of the
albuminous matter is contained within the cotyledons. In
beet (beta), and many others, the albumen is partly re¬
ceived into the cotyledons, and lies in part exterior to
them; and where this occurs the embryo sometimes en¬
circles the albumen, and is sometimes encircled by it. In
Rheum the embrjm is placed in the centre of the albu¬
men, in Rumex and some others it is applied on the
side of it, in Atriplex the long cylindrical embryo sur¬
rounds the albumen, in Bberhaavia the embryo and its
ISlti s
7o
cotyledons cover entirely the granulated substance of the Of the Seed,
albumen. (M. Jussieu, An. du Mus. d'Hist. Nat. tome
p. 224.) In the onion (allium cepa) the embiyo makes
several curves within the substance of the albumen, and
in dodder (cuscida) it is twisted around it in a spiral
form ; so that the relative positions of the embryo and al¬
bumen, as well as their quantity, proportion, and figure,
are subject to endless variation.
But however much in these respects the albumen may Albumen
vary, it is always contained within an organized structure, of wheat.
Sometimes this structure is that of the cotyledon, as al¬
ready exhibited in the bean (fig. 32, Plate XXXVIII.), the
cells of which contain this albuminous matter. . Where
the albumen is placed exterior to the embryo, as in the
seeds of wheat, it is nevertheless contained in a cellular
tissue. This is exhibited in fig. 27, Plate XXXVIII., copied
from Leeuwenhoeck, in which cells of an hexagonal form
are seen to be filled with the albuminous particles that con¬
stitute the white matter or flour of that seed. This mealy
part of wheat he describes as consisting of minute globules,
inclosed in a kind of membrane so exquisitely thin as
scarcely to be observed, within which the globules are
contained, as it were, in cells. The globules appeared to
be of different sizes, not perfect spheres, but having an
indentation on one part, which led him to suppose that
they were not formed by simple accretion, but by some
mode of growth, and that “ the membranes which inclose
them in cells must be provided with so many veins or
vessels, that every particle of meal may have its separate
vessel.” He even conceived the globules themselves to
be inclosed individually in a thin skin or shell; but this
opinion he never brought to ocular demonstration. (Select
Works by Hoole, vol. i. p. 169.) Similar observations on
the albuminous part of wheat have since been given by
Mirbel; and Kieser and others have delineated the glo¬
bular particles contained in the cotyledonous cells of the
bean and other seeds; so that whether the albumen be
situated in the cotyledons, or be placed exterior to them,
it is in every case contained in a similar and distinctly
organized structure.
In consistence the albumen is said to be either fari-Varieties
naceous, fleshy, or cartilaginous; and it may exist in°falbu-
various intermediate states. The farinaceous kind ismen-
readily reduced to powder, and is dissolved by water
into a viscous mass. The embryo is generally placed
exterior to this species of albumen, as in the Graminece.
The fleshy albumen is more frequent. It is softer than
the former, and dissolves by water into a gelatinous
mass. It is often entirely contained within the embryo
and its cotyledons, and yields the thick oil that is express¬
ed from many seeds. Lastly, the cartilaginous species
has a horny consistence, is difficultly soluble in water,
and not easily reduced to powder. The embryo is never
placed exterior to it, and when it contains oil, this is usu¬
ally very thin. (Gaertner de Fructib. &c. vol. i. cap. 10.)
In many seeds the albumen serves as a support and de- Uses of al-
fence to the embryo, as well as for nutriment. If it be re- humen-
moved previous to germination, as was done by Mirbel
(An. du Mus. d'Hist. Nat. tome xiii. p. 157) in the seed of
the onion, and by Dr Yule ( Wern. Trans, vol. i. p. 591) in
different species of Graminece, the embryo, though plant¬
ed in a rich soil, and carefully tended, grows but feebly,
and for the most part dies.
Besides the albumen above described, Gaertner has re- Vitellus.
vived the use of the term vitellus, but employed it to de¬
signate a very different part from that to which it was
originally applied by Grew. The latter made use of this
term to designate the inorganic matter of the mature
seed, which in the early stage of its production he called
ANATOMY, VEGETABLE.
albumen (Anat of Plants book iv. chap. 3); but it is tunics be raised and thrown back, as is done in fig. 36, Oft L
albumen \Anat. Plants, book P , nnus the little ob]on. body h, and its semilunar appendage^
employed by Gaertner to indicate a^placed behind it, are brought into view; and, together,
body, which in many seeds is placed between the em- u ^
brvo and albumen, and is closely connected with the for- they constitute the embryo.
- oac;i,r from the latter. The fisure of Let next a vertical section ot anotner seea ne maaein
j^T/heilt'^erv virious^ndif^ the direction oT'theVrrow that runs along its flatter side,
this small body is described as being very various m dil- tne Qirecuon 01 u.e - ‘embrvo as is rente!
ferent seeds. It is said not to rise out of the earth during and let this the seed to be com
germination; but, like the albumen, seems destined to sented in fig. 37 . ^ ^hen observe the seed to be com
afford nutriment to the embryo. In the Graminece it re- posed almost entirely of albumen «, with winch the em-
presented thfn scale interposed between the albumen and bryo consisting f “Tf “Sied'^aC
'embryo, to which, from its shield-like form, he g.ves the “ E’lSt
namtfof Tmtdium. "(De Fructib. Plantar, vol. i.”cap. 11.) the albumen is the cetytede^ whiA Mt that surface is
There can be no doubt that this scutellum of Gmrtner is convex, and on the opposite one concave,
ti e little “ conglobate leaf first observed in wheat by In fig. 38, the entire embryo has been removed from its
Malpighi, and which later writers have denominated the connection with the albumen, and a front view of con.
PS ’ - ■ I„ the next section its form and siderably magnified, is there given, m which the letter m
denotes the cotyledon, in the concavity of which the
cotyledon of that seed,
situation will be clearly displayed,
Section II.
Of the Structure of Monocotyledonous Seeds, as displayed in
their Evolution.
Classifica¬
tion of
seeds:
their evo¬
lution ob¬
served.
Evolution
of wheat.
Descrip¬
tion of
wheat.
plume n is lodged, and o indicates the protuberances
from which the radicles afterwards spring. If now this
same embryo be reversed, as is done in fig. 39, then the
convex back of the cotyledon only is seen, with the extre¬
mity of the principal radicle at the base. It is this side
of the cotyledon that was applied against the albumen ;
All seeds have by some botanists been distinguished and its polished surface, says M. Poiteau, proves that it
into such as possessed one or more cotyledons, and such nowhere adhered by any organic structure. Gaertner also
as were entirely destitute of them. In treating of seeds remarks that the connection between these parts is not
under the two divisions of mono and di-cotyledons, we organic, but merely superficial,—an observation that is
would not be understood to deny the existence of seeds true as far as relates to the embryo itself and the albu-
that possess more than two. minous matter, but not as applied to the tunics which
Some seeds are so extremely minute, that, until lately, envelope them; for, at the base of the seed, the inner
their existence was not clearly ascertained; and it is membrane, which contains the albumen, appeals to be
only during their germination that their general form continuous, as Leeuwenhoeck remarked, with that which
and character can be detected. In many others, the covers the cotyledon, being reflected from the albumen
organized parts are so small as to be scarcely capable over the cotyledon, much in the same way as the pleura
of demonstration, except by following the progressive and peritonaeum, that line the sides of the great cavities
changes of form they exhibit in their evolution. We pro- in animal bodies, are reflected over the viscera they con-
pose, therefore, to select, from each of the two divisions tain. Such are the appearances presented by this seed
of mono and di-cotyledonous seeds, an example or two of antecedent to germination: let us next follow it through
the successive appearances displayed in their evolution, the several stages of that process. !
which will, besides, form the best introduction to a know- After a seed of this species has been in contact for 24ci
ledge of the structure of the mature plant. or 30 hours with the humidity necessary to its germina-ti
In most of the monocotyledonous seeds the cotyledon tion, its embryo becomes swollen, and, when removed from"
does not appear above the soil during germination, but is the other parts, and moderately magnified, presents thest
retained within the coats of the seed, and consequently appearance exhibited in fig. 40. In this figure the radicle
undergoes but little alteration in size. As an example of is rendered more protuberant, and the fine tunic that
the evolution of a monocotyledonous seed, we shall select invests it has undergone an alteration, being changed from
that of wheat (triticum hibernum), because its develop- a smooth, opaque, and solid texture, to one that is villose,
ment has been studied with great care, and, in common with transparent, and cellular. A vertical section of the same^
some others of the same natural family, it exhibits some embryo, as exhibited in the next figure (41), shows the
striking peculiarities, which add greatly to its productive elongation of the principal radicle p, which caused the
powers. The successive appearances exhibited in its evo- protuberance belowr, and the sprouting of the two lateral
lution have been given with great accuracy by Malpighi, radicles/> which push forth more slowly on the sides,
who has carried its anatomy farther, in some points, than These three radicles soon force their way through the sac
most of his successors. In the earlier stages of growth, that envelopes them, which then forms sheaths around
some very accurate representations of it have also been their origins. In the same figure, the letter q denotes the
given by M. Poiteau; and Dr Yule has likewise obliged plume, consisting of several convoluted leaves, and resting
us with some valuable observations. From these different on the cotyledon. In fig. 42 the appearance of the seed,
authorities, confirmed generally by our own observations^ in a stage a little more advanced, is exhibited. The
we shall endeavour to present a concise view of the struc- plume r is now seen to have risen above the cotyledon s,
ture and evolution of this very important seed. and the three radicles, surrounded at their origins by their
If we take a grain of wheat, and examine its convex proper sheaths, have greatly increased in length, and in-*
side, we observe, at its base, a small oblong body (fig. 35, numerable capillary rootlets are emitted from their sides.
Plate XXX\ III.) lying in a semicircular depression, which (An. du Mus. d'Hist. Nat. tome xiii. p. 383.)
is well defined through the tunics that cover it. These
tunics are two in number; an outer one, to which the
chaffy filaments at the vertex of the seed are attached,
and which readily separates when moistened; and an
inner one, which everywhere adheres closely to the cel¬
lular tissue that contains the albumen. If these two
The daily appearances exhibited in the evolution of\
this seed, as previously given by Malpighi (Anat. Plantar^
p. 103), accord well with the above representations of
M. Poiteau; and he has noticed some additional particulars
of considerable importance. On the first day of germination, cj ie
he represents the plume of the embryo as beginning toe
ANATOMY, VEGETABLE.
0f Ifth'ieed. open, and the protuberances, which indicate the eruption
3 of the three radicles, as beginning to form. The radicles
at this period are completely enveloped in a membranous
sac or involucrum; and the body of the embryo is closely
connected with a “ conglobate farinaceous leaf, by which
nutriment is administered.” This conglobate leaf is the
cotyledon before mentioned, and its connection with the
radicle and plume is well shown by Malpighi. In fig.
43, t, he exhibits a front view of the radicle and plume, as
they appear when separated from the cotyledon ; and at
the letter v of the same figure a back view of the same
body is displayed, in which the letter x points to the mark
or scar that denotes the place of separation. Malpighi
believed these parts to be united with each other by a
little node, hereafter to be described; but it is by the
medium of vessels that this connection between the cotyle¬
don and the other parts of the embryo is maintained; and
by this route alone can the nutrient matter or albumen
be conveyed through the cotyledon to the radicle and
plume. To these vessels M. Bonnet gave the distinctive
appellation of mammary: the union they form between
the different parts of the embryo is so close, that at this
part, says Gaertner, the cotyledon, and radicle, and plume,
form one undivided body. (Gaertner de Fructib. Plantar.
vol. i. p. 149.)
If ic 2-lay, On the second day of germination the exterior tunic
of the seed, according to Malpighi, gives way ; the plume
[rises upward; the radicles do not as yet pierce their in¬
vesting sac, but this sac is turgid with juice, and is cover¬
ed exteriorly by a fine white down : the cotyledon also,
at this period, is rendered moist,
jieli lay, During the third day the cotyledon is quite turgid with
juice; the plume is much enlarged, and begins to look
i green; the three radicles have pierced the enveloping
s sac, and are everywhere thickly covered with hairs ; and
above the first two lateral radicles, two small protuber¬
ances, y, z, fig. 44, the origins of two more radicles, are
now seen to emerge, while the sac that envelopes them is
observed sensibly to waste.
:jc4li|(lay, When the third day has elapsed, the plume, inclosed
in a fine transparent membrane, is still more elevated,
,> and acquires a greenish colour : the protuberances of the
f two new radicles are more prominent, and the three for¬
mer radicles have greatly augmented; the cotyledon is
much softer, and, as if milky, yielding, when compressed,
j a white and sweetish liquor.
eo lilay, After the completion of the fourth day, the plume, con-
. turning to ascend, pierces the membranous covering a'
, (fig. 45), and pushes into day a permanent leaf, green and
convoluted, around which the membrane forms a sheath.
Inferiorly, the first three radicles have greatly extended,
and the two others, b' b', are much increased : the outer
coat of the seed now begins to lessen, but still contains a
sweetish liquor. M. Poiteau gives a section of the entire
plantule about this period of its growth, which agrees
very exactly with the figure of Malpighi. In -this sec¬
tion (fig. 46) the plume d is seen to have pierced the
membrane d! that formerly inclosed it; the albumen d is
diminished; the cotyledon/' retains its situation and form ;
and the five radicles / / are nearly of a length, and cover-
i, r with hairs.
L 1 a' ‘ About the sixth day the plantule, still invested by its
sheath, begins to open and expand; the seminal tunics
, shrink, and the surface of the outer coat is corrugated.
, ^ these tunics are cut open, the cotyledon within is ob-
I served in some parts to be firmer than before, and has the
s appearance of a concave leaf; but in other parts it is
more vascular and filled with juice, especially in that part
near to the mammary vessels.
After the eleventh day these tunics still adhere to the Of the Seed,
plantule, but appear much wasted, and the juice they con-
tain is mixed with bubbles of air; while the stem form-llth clay,
ing many knots, and the radicles emitting innumerable
rootlets, continually augment in size. Where the vegeta¬
tion has been very active, the whole original contents of
the seminal tunics are by this time exhausted, and, when
compressed, they yield only a v/atery fluid.
After the lapse of a month, when the parts already de- 28th day.
veloped are still farther advanced, new buds break out
from the primary seat of growth and rise upward, and
new radicles push forth and descend. So readily are
these radicles produced, that sometimes, if the primary
ones be removed, others in crowds spring forth ; at the
same time new buds or shoots, protected in their proper
sheaths, arise from the same part, and surrounding the
primary plantule, are borne upward with it. Of these ap¬
pearances accurate delineations are given, and they may
be observed in every field of growing wheat.
The foregoing descriptions of Malpighi are in general Error of
very correct, and his figures, though somewhat rude, ex-Malpighi,
hibit faithful delineations of the objects they are destined
to represent. In one or two points, however, he has fallen
into error, which, in the above statement of his opinions,
to avoid confusion, we corrected as we went along. Thus,
though he distinctly points out the “ conglobate farinace¬
ous leaf” as the organ by which nutriment is administer¬
ed to the radicle and plume, he assigns to the sac that,
in an early state, envelopes the radicles, the function of
placentula, and even gives to the exterior tunic of the
seed the title of seminal leaf. The true cotyledon, how¬
ever, which never in this seed is produced into a seminal
leaf, is the little conglobate body above mentioned; and
the common tunics of the seed have no title to the ap¬
pellation of seminal leaves. To this cotyledon Gaert-of Gaert¬
ner, from its shield-like form, gave, as before observed, ner5
the name of scutellum. He held it to be characteristic of
the Graminea;, and analogous to the organ to which, in
some other seeds, he gave the name of vitellus. (De
Fructib. Plantar, vol. i. p. 139.) But later writers, as
Jussieu, Smith, Brown, and Poiteau, have all restored to
it its proper office of cotyledon.
M. Poiteau has gone even farther, and asserted the ex- of Poiteau,
istence of a second cotyledon in this seed, and in the oat,
which he describes as situated directly opposite to the
former. (An. du Mus. dHist. Nat. tome xiii. p. 388.) In
this instance, however, he has mistaken the rudiment of
the second bud for a second cotyledon, as Dr Yule ascer¬
tained by “ tracing the growth of this supposed cotyledon
from its first becoming visible to its final development
as a plant.” ( Werner. Transac. vol. i. p. 594.) M. Mirbelof Mirbel.
considers the sac that invests the plantule to be the co¬
tyledon of this seed, and this cotyledon to form the first
ensheathing leaf. (An. du Mus. dHist. Nat. tome xiii.
p. 148.) But, as already remarked, the cotyledon never
in this seed rises out of the tunics; and, as Dr Yule ob¬
serves, differs totally in situation, structure, and consist¬
ence, from the ensheathing leaf of the plantule.
A very remarkable peculiarity in these plants is their
great reproductive power, as displayed in the indefinite
number of new plants which we have seen to be evolved
from one primary seed. Malpighi not only observed this
peculiarity, but has described the structure from which it
originates. He considered the radicle and plume of the
embryo to be connected with the cotyledon, not by the
mammary vessels, as we have stated, but by a little body
which he called the umbilical node. In a section of the Peculiarity
lower part of the stem of the plantule, made after the of strut-*
third day of germination, he delineates this "node as situ-
78
ANATOMY, VEGETABLE.
Of the Seed, ated at the junction of the radicle and plume, as repre-
sented by the letter h! (fig. 48, Plate XXXVIII.) ; and
describes it as solid exteriorly, and softer and more me-
Opinion of dullary within. If a section of the same part be made on
Malpighi, the fourth day, as in fig. 47, the stem i of the plantule
will be seen, says he, to spring from this node, from
which also the radicles equally take their origin,
of Leeu- This peculiar property was also observed by Leeuwen-
wenhoeck, hoeck, though he seems not clearly to have apprehended
the nature of the organs from which it proceeded. In
the embryo of wheat he describes three points, from
which not only three distinct radicles spring, but they
are also, he adds, “ the beginnings of three several spires
or stalks of wheat; so that from every grain of wheat
(which is well worthy of observation) there will arise not
merely a single stalk, but three distinct ones, which are
formed in the seed itself.” Select Works by Hoole, vol. i.
p. 169: and in vol. ii. p. 289, are to be found similar ob¬
servations on the seeds of oats, barley, and rye.
c? Mirbel, By M. Mirbel, the umbilical node of Malpighi is con¬
sidered as a fleshy knot (un nceud charnu), by the me¬
dium of which the plume and radicle are united. The
lateral radicles which issue from it he regards as distinct
in their nature from the primary one, and as resembling
those which spring from knots in the stem ; he therefore
names them articular roots, les racines articulaires. (An.
of Yule, clu Mus. d'Hist. Nat. tome xiii. p. 149.) According to
Dr Yule, however, this fleshy knot is to be considered as a
tuber, analogous to the tuberous substance interposed be¬
tween the bulbs and roots of the Liliacece and other mono-
cotyledonous tribes ; and which is destined to produce an
indefinite number of young plants, a greater or less num¬
ber of which are subsequently evolved by the joint agen¬
cy of the roots and leaves. The “ articular roots” of M.
Mirbel he regards as in reality young plants, the roots of
the Graminece being invariably fibrous. It is by means of
these lateral shoots and their tubera that bushes, consist¬
ing of from sixty to several hundred stems, are sometimes
• seen to originate from one seed.
The above important peculiarities in the germination
of the seeds of the Graminece are very perspicuously dis¬
played by Dr Yule in the three figures which we have co¬
pied from his Memoir. In fig. 49, Plate XXXVIII., Dr
Yule represents the embryo of wheat as it appears when
detached from the albumen, a short time after germina¬
tion has commenced; the ascent of the plume covered
with its membrane, and descent of the three primary
radicles, which have pierced their containing sac, are
clearly exhibited; and the letter A' points to the little co¬
tyledon placed at the junction of the two parts just men¬
tioned. In fig. 50 the germination of the same seed is
shown in a more advanced stage; the plume l! has now
risen to a considerable height, and pierced the investing
membrane ; and at m! a second bud or plume (which M.
Poiteau mistook for a second cotyledon) is seen to shoot
from the tuber like the first. The letter v! denotes the
seminal tunics. At a still more advanced period, four
young plants, o'o'o' o', fig. 51, of the second month, with
their sheaths in part withered, are seen to have sprung
from the same part; but the two seminal tunics of the
seed, exhausted of their contents, still remain attached,
as indicated by the letter p'. ( Wernerian Trans, vol. i.
p. 589.)
The description given above of the evolution of wheat
is applicable, with little variation, to the seeds of all the
cerealia. The seed of the oat emits from four to six ra¬
dicles, all of which break through their enveloping sac at
the same place, and thus appear to be contained in one
sheath. Such too is the case with barley, the plume of
0
which extends beneath the seminal tunics, and pushes out Oft
at the vertex of the seed. 'Jfcf,
This peculiar constitution of the seeds above mentioned ^
is attended with important advantages in their culture,
and explains the source of their great productive power.
A single grain of barley was observed by Du Hamel to
have produced 200 ears, each of which yielded 24 grains;
so that one single seed planted in a good soil has produced
4800 grains. Curtis and others, by transplantation of thePrC:
several plantules of wheat, obtained still higher returns from tin
single seeds. For the same reason, these plants are bet-wll(
ter enabled than others to resist the injurious effects of
accident or disease. If a seed, says Dr Yule, be buried
under a stone or lump of indurated clay, the seminal plan¬
tules cannot shoot upward; but stems are then sent off in
a horizontal direction, until they can effect their escape
upward. Sometimes it happens that a small insect (Mus-
ca pumilionis) deposits its egg in wheat, and the grub is
lodged in the very centre of the stem, just above the root,
by which the stem is invariably destroyed, and the root
so materially injured as to prevent its throwing out fresh
shoots on each side, or stocking itself, as the farmers term
it. Nevertheless, the plants thus attacked are not per¬
manently injured; for, in the instance where these de¬
predations occurred, the crop of wheat was good, and the
ears large and fine through the whole field; so that these
injured plants, by the production of lateral shoots, yielded
an abundant crop. (Lin. Trans, vol. ii. p. 76.)
In the germination of other monocotyledonous seeds aEv
similar succession of phenomena present themselves, with
the exception of those which relate to the multiplicationsee
of so many individuals from a single seed. In all, the ra¬
dicle first shoots forth, and the plume soon follows; the
cotyledon is commonly of small size, and is retained with¬
in the tunics. As the embryo grows, the albumen is taken
up and conveyed through the cotyledon to the young
plantule; and before the albumen is exhausted the em¬
bryo is enabled to draw its nutriment from the soil in
which it grows.
In many instances it appears that the primary radicle ^
of seeds, after a short time, becomes dry and falls off,*™
and is replaced by a great number of secondary rootlets. na|
M. Poiteau regards this last circumstance as common
and peculiar to monocotyledonous seeds. He has re¬
marked it in many hundred palms, not one of which had a
descending or tap-rbot. No plant in the numerous family
of the Liliacece is said to possess such a root. The radicle
of the Cyperacece does not, perhaps, perish so soon ; but it
does not continue long. This premature and constant de¬
struction of the radicle he considers as the cause of the
bulbs and truncations which occur, particularly in the Li-
liaceee ; for the lateral roots not being capable of receiving
all the descending sap, it collects at the lower part of the
stem, and occasions these different enlargements. (An.
du Mus. d'Hist. Nat. tome xiii. p. 392.)
The effects which thus succeed to the spontaneous de¬
struction of the radicle occur partly in other plants, in
which the first radicle is naturally permanent, if it be ar¬
tificially removed. Du Hamel found that if the extre-ty
mity of permanent radicles were cut off, lateral rootlets
were produced; that even mechanical obstruction to the
descent of the radicle frequently gave rise to divisions in
it, and the production of these lateral rootlets. He ascer¬
tained also, by experiment, that roots extend invariably,
not by an elongation of parts already formed, but by new
matter added to their extremities; and hence it is that
roots, whether ligneous or herbaceous, do not elongate if
even the smallest portion of their extremity be cut oft.
(Phys. des Arbres, tome i. p. 83.) The results of observa-
1
ANATOMY, VEGETABLE.
79
;'jjSrl. tions on the growth of carrots in different soils, by Mr
* ^ Knight, correspond with those of M. du Hamel.
rC
Section III.
Of the Structure of Dicotyledonous Seeds, as displayed in
their Evolution.
[* les i From the greater number of seeds which have two coty-
* utic. ledons, the phenomena of their evolution may be expect¬
ed to exhibit at least as great variety as those of the di¬
vision last described. In different species they differ in
this respect as much from one another as they do from
monocotyledonous seeds. Some seeds of this class raise
their cotyledons above ground during germination; in
others these organs are wholly retained within the tunics.
Of each of these modes of evolution we propose to give
an example, selecting, as before, those seeds which have
been most accurately observed; or which, by the forms
they exhibit, seem best calculated to illustrate the gene¬
ral laws by which their evolution is accomplished.
In the seeds of this division the embryo is commonly
much more completely developed than in those of the
class last described, so that the several organs of the
plantule become distinctly visible. The radicle and
plume are readily distinguished, and the cotyledons are
frequently so large as to form nearly the entire mass of
the seed. Within the cotyledons the albuminous matter
provided for the nutrition of the embryo during its evo¬
lution is often entirely contained; and these organs, as
before remarked, rise sometimes out of the earth, increase
greatly in size, and after a certain period decay. In
other instances no increase in size nor elevation above
the surface occurs, but, like the greater number of mo¬
nocotyledons, they remain beneath the soil, and yield
gradually their nutrient matter for the support of the
embryo. Even in plants of the same natural order, the
Papilionacecc for example, some, as lupinus, says Dr
Smith, raise their cotyledons into the air and light; while
others, as lathyrus, retain them under ground, concealed
within the tunics of the seed. As an example of the lat¬
ter, we shall give from Malpighi an abridged account of
the successive appearances exhibited by the common pea
(pisum), which, in its evolution, approaches in some re¬
spects to that of the seeds last described.
Nwilut i The figure and size of this seed are familiar to
iepL , u every one. After being placed for a day in circumstances
i lk day ’ favourable to its germination, it is much increased in size ;
its outer coat is rendered softer, and becomes more white
and thin; the umbilical aperture continues closed, but
near to it an irregular opening or laceration is visible.
If the outer coat be now stripped off, the nucleus comes
into view. It is seen to consist of two distinct parts or
lobes, which are the proper cotyledons of the seed. These
cotyledons are closely invested by the inner tunic; ex¬
ternally they have a convex surface, but internally, where
they are in contact, their surfaces are nearly plain. Be¬
tween them, in a small depression formed in their sub¬
stance, lies the plume; it is composed of a number of
yellowish leaves folded on each other, and bent inward,
and is united by a little curved stem to a small white
conical body, the radicle. These appearances are exhi¬
bited in fig. 1, Plate XXXIX., in which one of the coty¬
ledons has been removed, so that the inner surface of
the other, together with the plume and radicle, is fully
brought into view : the letter a denotes the cotyledon, b
the plume, and c the radicle. This radicle at its neck, or
point of junction with the stem, sends oft' on each side a
little stalk or pedicle to each cotyledon. In the above
figure one of these pedicles has been cut through, and
the other, that remains attached to the cotyledon, is con-Of the Seed,
cealed behind the plume. It is by these pedicles alone
that the two cotyledons are connected with each other.
When the second day of germination is completed, the 2d day.
cotyledons are rendered more tumid, the tunics give way,
and the radicle begins to protrude. Soon after, the coty¬
ledons separate a little, and become somewhat concave
internally. After the third day the radicle has pushed
out through the tunics; it is white, except at its point,
which is more deeply coloured, and it emits on all sides
fine capillary rootlets; the cotyledons are now farther
separated, and by degrees the stem of the embryo, with
its curved plume, is disclosed.
About the fifth day the stem d, fig. 2, mounts up-5th day.
wards: it is white, and bears on its summit the plume e,
still curved, and now becoming green : the stem now also
begins to exhibit the marks of knots at particular parts:
the radicle/is farther advanced, and small protuberances,
the origins of future rootlets, appear on it: the cotyle¬
dons g retain their place, are turgid and solid, and still
surrounded by the lacerated tunics.
At the close of the seventh day the plantule is much 7th day.
more advanced: the knots on the stem h h, fig. 3, are
quite distinct, and its apex is furnished with broad green
leaves, but which are not as yet unfolded. The substance
of the cotyledons is still solid, and when compressed
yields a bitterish juice: the radicle is much elongated,
and has emitted numerous rootlets.
After the ninth day the plantule is completely formed :9th day.
its stem i, fig. 4, is now erect, and the leaves of the
plume k are expanded: the cotyledons l are reduced in
size: and the radicle m, or root as it may now be termed,
with its numerous rootlets, is greatly augmented. Every
part of the plantule except the cotyledons continues
daily to increase: at the end of a month these organs are
still found to adhere; but are wrinkled, thin, and ex¬
hausted of their nutrient matter, with which the stem and
other organs are filled.
The progress of evolution in those seeds that raise Evolution
their cotyledons above the earth is exhibited by Malpighi of the
in that of the gourd (Cucurbita). This seed is of an ob-Sourth
long figure, and has a flattened form. It possesses three
distinct coats or tunics: the outer one is thick, tough,
and coriaceous; the middle one thin, membranous, and
of a greenish colour; and the inmost is that transparent
colourless pellicle that closely invests, and is inseparably
connected with, the cotyledons of the seed.
After this seed has been made to imbibe moisture, the
outer and middle tunics readily separate, and expose the
nucleus, which is seen to consist of two leaf-like cotyle¬
dons, which have no connection with each other, except
by the medium of the little conical body, or radicle, at
their base. The size and figure of these cotyledons, and
the situation of the radicle that connects them, are repre¬
sented in fig. 5, Plate XXXIX. Their external surface ex¬
hibits to the naked eye prominent lines, which indicate a
vascular structure, the vessels of which proceed from the
radicle at their base. They are commonly five in number,
and from their main fascicular trunks ramifications are
produced, which, in their distribution, form a finely reticu¬
lated appeai’ance over the wrhole organ. On their inner
side the cotyledons are quite plain, and closely applied
against each other, but, as already remarked, are nowhere
connected, except at the base. This surface is displayed
in fig. 6, in which the great vascularity of the organ is
rendered more apparent. It is between the two coty¬
ledons that the plume, consisting of minute convoluted
leaves, is lodged and cherished. In fig. 7 a part of the
nucleus of this seed is represented a little enlarged, and
so
Of the Seed
1st day.
4th day.
ANATOMY, VEGETABLE.
, , of rliflfprpnt places vounsr plant continues to increasej and acquires at lengthOf ^
.the two cotyledons have been removed at . P j ft full magnitude, in the progress towards which the co-^ v
'by transverse sections, to show more clearly the situation ^dually, and finally fall,
of the radicle and plume. The letter » ^no e p ^ } The geeds of the radish (Raphanus), of the lettuce EvjL
from which one of the cotyledons has bee , Lactuca), and of the kidney-bean (Phaseolus), are repre-of
as to bring the plume o into view; and p points to the (^“^’^pighi as exhibiting, in their evolution, a si-seeP
conical radicle below. _ ., .^irrri cnrcession'of appearances. In all these seeds, and
When this seed has been twenty-four ^ m ,c rcum- of thisdivision, the radicle first pierces the
stances favourable to its germination, i is 1(- , ’ spmjna] tunics • next the cotyledons come into view, and
and the umbilical aperture at its base .a enhrged by he X form JleaveS) betwee„ which the
swelling of the parts within: t e co y et on“ e tender plume is for a time concealed, and at a later period
gid, and the plume is augmented in size. After the se ender^m In different scedSj however! ,he forras of
cond day the outer coat >s N*e ™'ds ,‘lllin these organs, and the periods of their successive evolu-
appears as if torn and decaying, “"^ aU the parts within “ese »rM ; the greatest variation, not only as re-
ScSViro^^Iirb^Lker, Tcotl £ mthe Ipecies of sled but to the soil, the cUte,
ledons are more swollen, their vessels more conspicuous, and season m which it is destined to grow,
and the radicle pushes out through the umbilical aper- Having thus surveyed the changes in external formic
ana tne raaicie publics & which the germinating seed exhibits, we shall concludestl we
tUWhen the fourth day has elapsed, the plantule is still our description by a display of the peculiarities of its in« !«
retained within the tunics; and if these te now removed ternal structure. Th.s we shall hud to consist entirely
lid examTned the middle one is found to be dry and thin: of vessels and cellular tissue, variously proportioned and
and examined, u e   , combined. In a longitudinal section of the radicle of the
pea in an early stage, Malpighi represents it, as in fig. 11,
to be composed entirely of cellular tissue exteriorly, in
the centre of which the vascular system, separating at the
the cotyledons (q, fig. 8) are whitish, soft, and flexible,
but the vessels on their surface are much more distinct:
the radicle r is elongated and covered with down, as
likewise is the stem s. At the top of the radicle a
protuberance is seen, which is white and soft; and far-
top into three divisions to supply the plume and cotyle-
fith day.
ther down appear several smaller tumours, indicating the dons, is placed. A simi ar section of the radicle (fig. 14)
nlaces of rootlets about to break out. on the seventh day exhibits corresponding sections of
1 About the sixth day the cotyledons t, fig. 9, emerge the rootlets it puts forth ; which are seen also to consist of
from beneath the tunics, representing the u dissimilar cellular tissue, and of vessels that come ofr from the cen-
leaves” of Grew, and the “ seminal leaves” of Malpighi, tral fasciculus of the radicle.
but which we shall in future denominate cotyiedonous The stem, when about a month old, is composed of a
leaves. They are thick, soft, and a little separated from thick bark formed of cellular tissue, within which are
each other; their position is pendent; the colour yellow- several fasciculi of vessels. In some very thin slices of
ish ; they are very vascular, and between them the plume the stem of the pea, viewed through a microscope of con-
is still concealed. The radicle u, at this period, is much siderable power, the arrangement and distribution of the
elongated, and rootlets everywhere spring from its sides; vessels and cellular tissue appeared to us as represented
the stem v is also lengthened and curved, and, in com- in fig. 15. The centre of the stem was occupied by cel-
9th day.
mon with the radicle, is everywhere covered with a white
curling down.
Towards the ninth day the cotyiedonous leaves (x, fig.
10) assume an erect position. At their points they are
still yellowish, but elsewhere green, and their cellular tis¬
sue is filled with a greenish-yellow juice; they begin to
separate a little, but still entirely conceal the plume.
The stem y, at this period, is greatly elongated, and its
lower extremity has become green ; the protuberance that
existed at this part is greatly lessened; and below it the
radicle z is continued, from which numerous rootlets,
covered with capillary productions, break out.
lular tissue, round which was a zone of vessels, c,' forming
four principal fasciculi. Exterior to this zone was a small
ring of thickened cellular tissue, and beyond this the pro¬
per cellular substance of the bark. Near the circumference
of the stem were four larger fasciculi, which may proba¬
bly be considered as the “ proper vessels,” while those
near the centre may be deemed the sap-vessels.
In the plantule of the gourd a similar structure is ob-',,
servable. In fig. 19 is represented a longitudinal sec-11 ’
tion of its stem and radicle on the ninth day, as given by
Malpighi. In this stem the vessels are disposed in a cir¬
cle that surrounds the pith ; but as they descend towards
21st day. During the following days the cotyiedonous leaves con- the root, they approach each other, and give off ramifica-
tinue to enlarge, the stem to elongate, and the plume to
augment in size; but it is not yet unfolded. About the
twenty-first day the development of the plantule appears
to be completed. A representation of its foliage at this
period is given in fig. 13; the cotyiedonous leaves, a!,
have now reached a great size, are of a deep green colour,
and very vascular: they rise by a short pedicle from the
summit of the stem. On each leaf seven fasciculi of
vessels are visible, which, beyond the middle, terminate
in a net-work, from which is produced the cellular struc-
tions to form the rootlets. In a transverse section of the
stem, on the 21st day, Malpighi describes it as hollow in
the centre, around which six fasciculi of vessels are dis¬
posed, and the intermediate portion is occupied by cellu¬
lar tissue. Hedwig and Kieser, however, enumerate not
fewer than ten fasciculi of vessels in the stem of this plant,
some of which are placed next the pith, and others near
to the bark, as in fig. 28. .
To these representations of the structure of the pea and hei
gourd by Malpighi, we shall add that of the bean in its
ture that contributes to form the breadth of the leaf. In early stages, as "delineated by Grew, who has traced the
the axil, formed by the cotyiedonous leaves, the plume distribution of the vessels in the radicle and cotyledons
U lay concealed; it is now disclosed by the removal of with great minuteness. In fig. 12, Plate XXNlX., is exhi-
one of those leaves. At first the leaves of the plume are bited a vertical section of a young bean, which is made to
curled and convoluted, but afterwards they expand, and pass through the cotyledons, the plume, and radicle. From
their figure is then seen to differ entirely from that of the the extremity of the radicle the vessels ascend in fasciculi
cotyiedonous leaves; they have notched margins, and to the neck of the plantule, where they are seen to diverge
their suiface is coveted with down. In this manner the towards each cotyledon, and ramify through it, while a
!t
ANATOMY, VEGETABLE.
81
G the
T nk.
Btai-
Nat's of
Btet
f
tan
central vascular portion is continued to the plume. In fig.
20 the vascular and cellular structures of the germinating
/bean are shown in conjunction, in a highly magnified re¬
presentation, presented here in a reduced size from Grew.
In this figure d denotes the cotyledon, e' the enveloping
tunics,/' the cellular tissue, cf the vascular system con¬
tinued from the fasciculus /f in the radicle, and ramified
through the substance of the cotyledon; the letter i-points
to the plume, which also receives vessels from those of the
radicle; and U indicates a depression in the cotyledon,
in which, antecedent to germination, the plume was partly
lodged; a similar depression existed in the other corre¬
sponding cotyledon.
CHAP. II.
THE ANATOMY OF THE MEMBERS OF VEGETABLES.
Section I.
Of the Structure of the Stem or Trunk.
Art. I.— Of the Stem in Herbs.
In the foregoing chapter we have traced the successive
changes of form which the seed exhibits in its progress
to constitute the perfect plant; we have next to display
the structure of the plant itself in its more remarkable
varieties and forms. The leading features of this struc¬
ture have already been laid before the reader when dis¬
coursing on the common textures of plants : it remains now
to exhibit individual examples of it, as they occur in the
several members of the trunk, the branch, and the root.
Botanists employ different terms to distinguish the dif¬
ferent kinds of stems or stalks that support tlie leaves and
the organs of fructification. These are the stem (caulis),
which is considered peculiar to herbaceous plants; the
trunk (truncus), which is proper to herbs and trees;
the straw (culmus), which is the appropriate stem of the
grasses; and the stalk (scapus), which differs from the
other varieties in bearing flowers only, and not leaves,
lor the peculiarities in external form and character
which distinguish these several kinds of stems, as they oc¬
cur in different species of plants, we must refer to the
writers on botany ; and shall proceed to exhibit a general
outline of their internal structure.
Perhaps there is no plant in which the simplicity of
• vegetable organization is more clearly displayed than in
the sugar-cane, which belongs to the family of Graminece.
In its stem or culm the cells and vessels are comparatively
large, retain much of their more perfect forms, and are
quite distinct from each other. When treating of the cel¬
lular tissue we referred to the cells of this plant exhibited
m the very thin transverse slice, fig. 16, Plate XXXIX.,
as illustrative of their hexagonal figure, and of their be¬
ing bounded on every side apparently by a single mem¬
brane. In some parts, when the observer is viewing
these cells through the microscope, some of them appear
quite transparent, from the upper and lower bounding
membranes being entirely removed, and the light, in con¬
sequence, being freely transmitted; but in others one or
both of these membranes remain, and though they are
exquisitely thin, yet, when viewed by a strongly reflected
hght, a degree of refraction seems to be produced, which
communicates to the surface of the membrane an irregu-
ar appearance, such as it has been attempted to express
m the darker cells of the same figure. The deception
t lat arises from viewing two layers of these cells in con¬
junction, which imparts the appearance of double sides,
Of the
Trunk.
as in fig. 21, was before noticed; and the longitudinal ap¬
pearance of the same organs, as seen both in a single and
double series of columns (fig. 22 and 23) was at the same'
time described.
It is through this cellular structure that the vessels
which constitute the other component part of the culm of
this plant are distributed. They occur in fasciculi, which,
towards the centre, are placed at considerable distances
from each other, and preserve a symmetrical arrange¬
ment ; but nearer to the circumference they are more nu¬
merous, and their distribution is much less regular. In fig.
25, Plate XXXIX., a very thin transverse slice of this plant
is exhibited, in which this regular disposition of the ves¬
sels at and near the centre s' s', and their crowded state
near the circumference t, are well shown; the cells, too,
at the centre are larger, and have a more perfect form
than those near the circumference of the figure. In fig.
27 a very thin longitudinal slice of this same plant is de¬
lineated ; it is considerably magnified; the letter u! de¬
notes the cellular tissue, and v' v' two fasciculi of vessels
which ascend through it.
In the palm, which, though belonging to the division Stem cf
of trees, we shall notice in this place, a similar disposition die palm;
of the elementary organs is observed; but both the ves¬
sels and cells are smaller than in the sugar-cane, and the
fasciculi of vessels are also much more numerous. This
structure is exhibited in the transverse section of the
trunk of the palm, fig. 26, in which the dark spots indicate
the vascular fasciculi, and the whiter portion the cellular
tissue. As before observed in the sugar-cane, the vessels
are seen to be less numerous at the centre than at the
circumference, where they are much crowded together,
and very irregularly distributed, in consequence of the
peculiar mode in which the growth of these trees is ac¬
complished.
In fig. 24 of the same plate we have also copied from
M. Desfontaines a portion of the longitudinal section of
the trunk of another species of palm {dracaena draco),
which displays more clearly the irregular direction which
the vessels take in the lax cellular tissue through which
they are distributed. It was before remarked that these
plants do not naturally produce branches, but that their
vascular system is expended wholly in the production of
leaves at their summit, and their trunk is perfectly cylin¬
drical. If, however, the top of the plant has been cut off,
or broken by accident, a division into branches is said to
take place. {Mem. de VInstit. Nat. tome i. p. 486.)
As in these plants the ligneous and cortical textures are
uniformly blended together through the entire stem, it
must be presumed that the s«/?-vessels and proper vessels
are everywhere associated. This fact is accordingly
pointed out by Malpighi as occurring in several species
of the Graminece, who, as we before remarked, deli¬
neates a proper vessel as existing in each fasciculus of
sap-vessels.
The next variety of structure we shall notice is that of of the
certain herbaceous plants, in which the proportion of cel-gour<k
lular tissue in the stem much exceeds that of vessels;
and, though belonging to the division of dicotyledons,
they in several points resemble in structure those just de¬
scribed. In a section of the pea already given (fig. 15,
Plate XXXIX.) the greater portion of the stem was seen to
be made up of cellular tissue, through which several fasci¬
culi of vessels were dispersed. The stem of the gourd has
been examined with great minuteness by M. Kieser, who
has represented in several sections, both transverse and
longitudinal, its appearance in different parts at different
periods of its growth. The total number of fasciculi of
vessels that exist in the mature stem of this plant he
82 ANATOMY, VEGETABLE.
Of (be makes, with Hedwig, to be ten; but the number of ves-
Trunk. sels in each fasciculus he shows to vary at different periods,
and in different parts of the same plant, according to their
relative age. In fig. 28, Plate XXXIX., is a piece of the
stem of the gourd, cut horizontally near the root, of its na¬
tural size and appearance, as represented by Kieser. I he
portion l of this figure is represented in fig. 29, magnified^
130 times: it comprehends only one of the 10 fasciculi of
vessels that exist in the stem. In this magnified view the
letters m'm! indicate the elongated cells of the bark; n'n! the
larger cells, which form the parenchyma of the stem ; d o'
the cells which surround the fasciculus of spiral vessels;
p' jo' the fasciculus of spirals, containing 29 vessels, in part
simple and in part punctuated spirals ; P P the great cells
situated towards the centre of the stem: at e/ are four
spiral vessels of different sizes, filled more or less with
small punctuated vesicles, which spring from the walls
of the vessel, and in two instances nearly close up their
cavities.
The horizontal sections of the stem of the gourd exhi¬
bited above are taken from the same plant as the vertical
sections of the vessels in figures 13, 14, 15, &c., Plate
XXXVIII. The number of fasciculi that exist in the
stem of this plant is 10 ; but the number of vessels in each
fasciculus continually increases as the plant approaches ma¬
turity, and varies even in different parts with the different
stages of its growth. Thus, of six sections made of the stem,
that taken near the summit, and therefore of latest growth,
exhibits only six or seven vessels in each of the 10 fasciculi,
corresponding in this respect with the number found near
the bottom in the earliest stage of growth. In the next sec¬
tion, made through the internodial space below, the vessels
in each fasciculus have increased both in number and size;
in the third section, the vessels have still further increased
in size, and in number amount to 19 in each bundle; still
lower down, in the fourth internode of the same stem, both
the number and size of the vessels go on augmenting. In the
fifth section, taken at the largest part of the stem, a still
further increase in size is found, and the number in each
fasciculus amounts to 23 vessels. Again, the section made
in the stem of the same plant very near the root, and taken
at a more advanced age in autumn, exhibits vessels ap¬
proaching in character to those of the ligneous part of trees,
and now amounting to 29 in each fasciculus. It is this last
section which we have copied above in fig. 28 and 29,
where the vessels may be seen smallest next the pith, and
gradually increasing in size as they recede from the centre
towards the circumference. Lastly, in a section of the
branch of the root of the same plant, in place of 10 fasci¬
culi of vessels met with in the stem and in the principal
root, there were only four, but each fasciculus contained
37 vessels: the cells of this part were smaller than in the
stem, and the whole construction was comparatively more
vascular and compact.
The general characters of these vessels, from the ear¬
liest period of their development to the mature state of
the plant, and the successive changes in size, in form, and
appearance which they undergo, have been already ex¬
hibited in the series of figures 13, 14, 15, 16, 18, 19, of
Plate XXXVIII., representing vertical sections, corre¬
sponding to the horizontal ones just described. As the
plant increases in age the vessels augment in number, and
in character they approach to those of arborescent plants:
their sides are thickened, their transparency is almost
lost, and the cavities of some are filled by vesicles. The
balance, also, in the different orders of vessels at mature
age is nearly the reverse of that which obtains in youth.
In the young stem, says Kieser, the simple spirals are to
the punctuated variety as 17 to 6, while in the adult
plant there are only 6 simple spirals to 23 of the punctual- Of
ed variety in the stem; and in the root the simple spirals, Tr
v/hich at first were equally visible, have altogether disap-^j
peared. A metamorphosis of the simple into the more
complex varieties of vessel must, therefore, during the
progress of growth, be deemed to take place.
In the stem of the gourd, as thus described, we observe
an arrangement of parts in many respects agreeing with
that of the sugar-cane. In both, the cells in certain parts
are large, and their figure is well preserved; and the ves¬
sels are distributed in distinct fasciculi through the cellu¬
lar tissue. In the gourd, however, the fasciculi are fewer
in number, and do not suffer that displacement during the
progress of vegetation which those of the cane experi¬
ence. In neither plant are the vessels so numerous, or so
situate, as to compress the cellular tissue into transverse
partitions ; nor is there in the transverse section of either
any appearance of concentric layers. In neither stem is
there any proper pith, the central part of the sugar-cane
being occupied by cells and vessels, and that of the gourd
being alike destitute ofboth.
In the sections of various herbaceous stems represent-Othe
ed by Grew and Malpighi, the number of vessels and their stem
disposition exhibit the greatest variety, and approach
more or less to the arrangement of parts that is found in
shrubs and trees. Thus, in holly-hock (Alcea) Grew de¬
scribes the vessels of the bark as yielding a thin mucilage,
and within them are the sap-vessels, postured in short
rays, which comprise twelve or sixteen vessels. In Scot-
zonera, the “ proper vessels” in the bark yield a milky
fluid, and are postured in a radiated manner with the sap
and spiral vessels that extend to the pith, all of which
form parts of the same radiated lines. {Anat. of Plants,
p. 103.) In endive, Malpighi describes the structure of
the stem as approaching in character to that of trees.
Near the circumference the vessels, says he, are disposed
in lines directed towards the centre, and are separated by
small ranges of cellular tissue, which is compressed into
a solid and dense form; and more interiorly the vessels
are larger, and extend a considerable way in rays through
the stem. (Anat. Plantar, p. 25.) Where the vessels
have this radiated position, the cellular tissue between
them assumes the form of membranous partitions; but
the greater portion of the stem of this plant is occupied by
cellular tissue, not thus compressed into a membranous
form. We thus clearly observe that, even in herbaceous
stems, membranous partitions, extending more or less com¬
pletely through the stem, are formed, whenever the ves¬
sels are disposed in radii, and are sufficiently numerous to 1
compress, on either side, the cellular tissue that envelopes
them.
Art. II.— Of the Trunk in Shrubs and Trees.
In shrubs and trees the several textures that compose gtn (
the trunk are commonly distinct from each other; andoft 1
some parts that are but imperfectly distinguished in herbs
become in them well defined. In the trunks of these
plants, however, though a general uniformity of structure
is observed, yet particular modifications of it exist in every
species, and these are still further varied by the peculiar
nature of the individual plant, and the mode and circum¬
stances of its vegetation. Before descending to particular
examples, it may be useful to exhibit a concise view of the
parts that compose the trunk, and the terms employed
to denote them.
Externally in every tree we have the skin or cuticle, Tin 1
the structure of which has been already described in a
former section. In very young plants, and in young
llpl
lit
ANATOMY, VEGETABLE.
83
Of t branches, it is succulent, and its surface is entire ; but in
Tmr older trunks and branches it is frequently dried and
^v^broken, an(j jn some instances is thrown off; so that the
exterior covering of the plant appears to be formed by the
cellular tissue of the cortical texture.
h . Beneath the skin is the bark, constructed, as we have
' seen, of cellular tissue, and of vessels collected into fasci¬
culi, which at first are straight, and run parallel to each
other; but, by the subsequent augmentation of the parts
within, are separated at certain places, and touch only at
a few points, so as to form a reticulated appearance. In
the annual shoot only a single ring of vessels is observed,
and these, with the tissue in which they are placed, form
.cor the cortical layer, as it has been called, of that period,
j lay;;,!; Within this layer a new production of vessels and of cel¬
lular tissue takes place ; and this being annually repeated,
constitutes the series of layers of which the bark is ul¬
timately composed. The new layer that is thus annually
formed, and which appears to exercise an active vegeta¬
tive function, was more particularly distinguished by the
silk appellation of liber by the ancients, from its being the
substance on which, before the invention of paper, they
were accustomed to write. Very frequently, instead of a
ring, the vessels of the bark are collected into distinct
parcels or clusters, which, in the progress of vegetation,
assume very different shapes.
Iiev, d: Next to the bark is placed the wood, constructed, like
the bark, of vessels and cellular tissue. Like it, too, it
consists, in the young plant and in the annual shoot of
the older one, of a single ring of vessels, which imme¬
diately surrounds the pith. In the following year a new
ring of vessels is formed around the first, and in every
succeeding year this process is repeated ; so that the
wood consists at length of a series of rings inclosing each
other, the number of which denotes the age of the tree.
The outer ring of newly formed vessels is more succulent
than those of older growth, and is generally of a whiter
colour; whence it has received the names of sap-wood or
alburnum. By Du Hamel and most French writers it
was named aubier, and by Hill it was called the blea.
In every annual shoot the newly formed liber and albur¬
num are in contact, but in every succeeding year they
are separated more and more from each other by the
interposition of new matter between them ; so that at
length the first layer of bark and the first ring of wood
occupy respectively positions the most distant; those,
namely, of the centre and circumference of the tree.
The vessels that are thus annually formed, and consti¬
tute the alburnum, are disposed in radii which extend
more or less completely from the circumference to the
centre. In some trees the vessels are much more nu¬
merous than in others ; and, in the progress pf vegetation,
they frequently suffer great alterations in size and exter¬
nal figure, as was before observed when treating of the vas¬
cular system. In the alburnum the size of the vessels is
very uniform, and so it continues ever after in some trees;
but in others it is very various, some being enlarged more
than others by a greater influx of sap. With this increase
of size the vessels seem to acquire the spiral character.
I hey are also frequently closed up in the more aged
parts of trees, by the production of vesicles within their
cavities ; and, in common with the smaller vessels and the
cells, they are in some trees ultimately filled with gummy
or resinous matter. In other instances, where the “ proper
juices” of the plant differ but little in quality from the
common sap, the vessels, when no longer employed in ac¬
tive vegetation, become dry, and appear in some plants
like empty capillary tubes; and in others, from the mi¬
nuteness of their size, no aperture is visible. In this
9 alU
im;
5 ttu' i;.
vevis.
state they have been regarded as solid filaments, and de- Of the
nominated the ligneous fibres of the plant. Trunk.
From the disposition of the vessels in radii more or lessVw^v^x^
regular, the cellular tissue by which they are surrounded
will be more or less compressed in the same direction, Xnms'.
and form those transverse partitions between the several verse sep-
rays of vessels which we have already so frequently no-ta.
ticed. In addition to these fine partitions, described both
by Grew and Malpighi, which are thus interposed between
every ray or line of vessels, larger portions of cellular-tis¬
sue are observed at certain distances, which extend in
the same direction through the wood, and in some in¬
stances are continued through the bark also. By the
authors just mentioned these partitions were described
as stretching from the bark towards the pith, and were
named insertments by Grew', and transverse utricular ranges
by Malpighi. Others have held them to proceed rather
from the pith to the bark, and have called them medullary
rays. We shall venture to name them in future trans¬
verse septa, which appellation denotes simply their direc¬
tion, and the fact of their forming partitions between the
vessels, without having any reference to their origin. For
similar reasons, the finer partitions of cellular tissue, pre-^
viously described, may be denominated the lesser transverse
septa.
Beside these transverse septa, there are sometimes por-Longitudi-
tions of cellular tissue intercepting the vessels in a Ion-nal septa-
gitudinal direction. This was remarked both by Grew
and Malpighi in the oak and several other trees: they
appear sometimes to be very short, and sometimes to
form nearly a continuous ring around the trunk. It is
probable they are formed simply by the pressure of the
vessels acting in a direction opposite to that by which the
transverse septa are produced : they may, for distinction’s
sake, be named the longitudinal septa. In many trees
they are not to be observed, or, if they exist, are so thin
as to form only a sort of fascia on the adjacent vessels.
To the cellular tissue promiscuously intermingled with the
vessels some writers give the name of parenchyma of the Parenehv-
wood : others term the elongated cells of this part ligne- ma.
ous fibres.
The only other part of the trunk that remains to be The pith,
mentioned is the pith. It is situated at the centre, and is
surrounded commonly by a ring of vessels, but sometimes
in part by thickened cellular tissue. Its proportion in
shrubs is usually much larger than in trees; and in the
young shoots of trees it occupies more space than in the
older branches. At first in the young plant it is succu¬
lent, but afterwards becomes dry; and in aged trees it
frequently is entirely obliterated, or at least rendered
solid.
In a description of the growth of the trunk in a young
plant of chesnut, Malpighi has given clear views of the
gradual development of these several parts, and exhibit¬
ed the appearances successively displayed in the first
years of growth. (Anat. Plantar, p. 35.) In the vine some Trunk of
of these parts are very distinct. Fig.l, Plate XL., repre-the vine,
sents a transverse section of the annual shoot of this
plant. The pith a, in the centre, is large, and composed
of cells of different sizes. From the pith to the skin in
the vine, and, according to Grew, in the elm and some
other trees, extend the transverse septa b. In some
places the cellular structure of these septa in the recent
plant is still visible, as at c ; but generally they have the
appearance of thickened membranes. Between every two
septa two or sometimes three lines or rays of sap-vessels
are interposed, which from their size are readily visible,
and their place and disposition are indicated by the clot¬
ted marks d: the circular ring that bounds these sap-
84
ANATOMY, VEGETABLE.
Of the vessels seems to be formed of condensed cellular tissue,
Trunk, and exterior to it the “ proper vessels” are placed in the
cellular tissue of the bark.
Trunk of . In the next figure (fig. 2) is exhibited the transverse
the apple; section of an apple-branch of one year’s growth, which,
like the former, is considerably magnified. The angulat-
ed figure and relative size of the pith at this period are
shown. From the pith to the bark proceed numerous very
fine septa, possessing somewhat of a curved direction ;
and between them innumerable black points, indicating
the sap-vessels, are seen. These vessels are disposed in
radii, and are bounded exteriorly by the thickened tissue
of the bark: the bark is proportionally large, and in the
midst of its cellular tissue clusters of “ proper vessels,” e,
are observed.
In a similar section of the apple-branch of two years’
growth, fig. 3, more highly magnified, the pith / is seen
to have assumed a rounder form: from the pith towards
the bark the transverse septa extend, between which the
vascular radii are situate. The letter g denotes the place
of junction of the two years’ growth ; h the newly formed
alburnous vessels, situate between the bark and the wood ;
and i two ranges of “ proper vessels,” placed in the cel¬
lular tissue of the bark. Grew gives a highly magnified
view of a section of this same plant about the third year
of its growth, in the 23th table of his work, the appear¬
ances of which correspond with those just related, except
that the transverse septa, as in all his figures, are made
to represent straight lines, which, in the earlier periods
of vegetable growth, does not appear to be quite correct,
of the oak; Proceeding next to the plant of more mature age, we
shall copy from Grew part of a section of the oak, which
in fig. 4 is exhibited on a reduced scale. The letter k
denotes the bark, l the alburnum, the wood, and n
the pith. In this section the larger transverse septa o,
and the smaller ones p, are very distinct, between which
the sap-vessels of different sizes, indicated by the dark
points, are situate; the letter q points to the “ proper ves¬
sels” of the bark, some of which are collected into round
parcels, and others form a ring.
Beside the transverse septa that intersect the diameter
of the tree, we observe, in this figure, other lines, r,
placed at right angles to them, and which appear to be
interposed between each annual ring of wood. Grew
considered it probable that these lines were produced in
the oak, and also in the fig-tree and walnut, by a peculiar
sort of sap-vessels that existed once in the bark, as did
the turpentine vessels distributed through the wood of the
pine. (Anat. of Plants, p. 115.) Hill also calls them sap-
vessels seated on the outer edge of each annual circle,
which in the young plant contain sometimes a limpid li¬
quor, and at other times appear empty. He notices also
the existence of “ proper vessels,” containing a thick juice
in the alburnum of this tree. (On the Construction of
Timber, p. 9.)
of very old An examination of this wood at an age still more ad¬
vanced may contribute to throw some further light on its
structure. In fig. 5 is given the representation of a
transverse section of the central portion of a piece of the
wood of very old oak, of its natural size and appearance.
The pith s, at the centre, was completely obstructed, and
its cellular character obliterated ; the letters ttt denote
the larger transverse septa, rendered completely solid
everywhere, and in some places partially obliterated; and
u the white lines that extend in the opposite direction,
and mark the boundaries of each year’s growth. In the
substance of these concentric lines numerous traces of
minute apertures were visible; and from one line to an¬
other, small irregularly curved lines, as represented in the
I ik.
oak.
drawing, were everywhere observed to extend. No va¬
cuity was anywhere perceived to exist, but the whole ^jik.
formed one compact and solid mass. .
A small and very thin slice of this wood, comprising a
part of one of the larger transverse septa, and small por¬
tions of two of the concentric lines above mentioned, was
submitted to a pretty highly magnifying power ; and a de¬
lineation of its appearance is given m fig. 6. In this
figure the letters v v denote the two concentric lines; w
one of the smaller irregular lines that frequently extend
from v to v, but are often intercepted, and form irregular
spots or patches, as traced in several parts of the draw¬
ing ; x the smaller transverse septa, situated at unequal
distances from each other ; and y the larger septum, the
cellular character of which is entirely obliterated. Se¬
veral small irregular lines, running in the same-direction
with the larger concentric ones, are also observed: these,
at their junctions with the lesser transverse septa, pro¬
duce a number of little squares, the areae of which are
filled up with a dotted or punctuated membrane
This microscopical representation seems to confirm the%urt
opinion of Grew, that the concentric lines v v are chieflyc
composed of vessels ; for their apertures, now render¬
ed visible, are of different sizes, and the canal of many
of the larger ones is filled up with a vesicular substance,
often observed in the vessels of aged plants. The sub¬
stance that surrounds these vessels appears to be con¬
densed cellular tissue, rendered perfectly solid by the
resinous matter with which it is filled. The irregular
thickened lines w that run transversely to the former are
similarly composed of vessels and condensed cellular tis¬
sue ; and the smaller patches, we have noticed, are made
up of the same. Both the large and small transverse septa
consist of condensed cellular tissue alone; and such, too,
appears to be the matter of which the fine lines or longi¬
tudinal septa that intersect them are composed. Some
observations of Du Hamel on the formation of the ligne¬
ous layers may aid our inquiries into the nature of these
latter septa, and the minute structure of the wood.
In a transverse section of the trunk of the oak, the elm,^
or the fir, says this very intelligent writer, the ligneous^ ^
layers are distinctly visible, and it is commonly believed
that each of these layers is the product of one year’s
growth. If, however, we cut obliquely a piece of oak,
each layer is then seen, with the aid of a common lens, to
be composed of a number of thinner layers, which mutu¬
ally cover each other. By macerating pieces of wood in
water, he was able to separate the annual layers into a
great number of leaflets, thinner than the finest paper;
and these primary layers, as they may be called, he after¬
wards ascertained by experiment to be formed succes¬
sively during, the whole period of active vegetation; so
that the layer which is the product of one year’s growth
is itself formed of a number of layers exceedingly thin.
(Phys. des Arb. tome i. p. 31, and tome ii. p. 19.)
Now it is probable that between each of these pri¬
mary layers cellular tissue is interposed; and this tis¬
sue, by its compression, gives origin to the minute lines
which in this tree have been noticed. In several trees,
however, no similar lines are visible, because in all proba¬
bility they do not, like the oak, afford secretions by which
the tissue is thickened and rendered apparent. Even in
a very thin slice of oak, when viewed in the microscope
by a strongly reflected light, these lines almost entirely
vanish, while those of the two orders of proper transverse
septa remain.
M.Kieser examined the same wood in the transverse sliced 'esC
of a tree 100 years of age: and his representation of its
structure is copied in fig. 23, Plate XL. In this figure, in
ANATOMY, VEGETABLE.
the which the appearances are magnified 130 times, a' a! mdi-
nk. cate the cellular tissue, or, as he calls it, the parenchyma
of the wood. At the top and bottom, the cells are obstruct¬
ed and appear like obscure points (as is the case also in
fig. 6 of the same plate); but in the middle of the figure the
cavities of the cells are said to be still visible : the letters
V V denote the apertures of enlarged spiral vessels, all of
which were filled with vesicles, but a few only are so re¬
presented, as in d; d! indicates the smaller vessels dispersed
through the cellular tissue; d a portion of one of the
larger septa, and/' the smaller ones, which are often dis¬
placed by the augmentation in the size of the vessels.'
In this highly magnified representation by Kieser, there
is no appearance of the concentric lines or septa which in¬
tersect the transverse ones, as noticed by Grew and Mal¬
pighi, and exhibited in fig. 5 and 6; but the two orders
of transverse septa remain. We before remarked, that in
a slice of wood so very thin as, when viewed by a strong
light, to become translucent, these lines in a great mea¬
sure vanished ; and in the figure of M. Kieser this evanes¬
cence is made to extend even to the thickened portion
that intercepts the annual layers. It is therefore proba¬
ble that all these appearances of concentric or longitudi¬
nal septa are produced simply by the thickening and com¬
pression of the cellular tissue in the oak, and such other
trees as have viscid juices, and whose vessels are subject
to irregular enlargement; for in whatever position these
thickenings occur, numerous vessels are always to be ob¬
served. Hence in very thin slices they entirely vanish,
while the proper transverse septa, being formed by the
condensation of continuous portions of membrane, remain
visible. In these figures it may also be remarked, that
the surface occupied by cellular tissue seems equal nearly
to that occupied by vessels; but it is probable that the
apertures of many minute vessels dispersed through the
tissue have not been distinguished from the cells. In a
highly magnified representation, however, of the wood of
this tree by Grew (Anat. of Plants, tab. 3, fig. 7), the pro¬
portion of the vascular to what is deemed the cellular part
is still less.
of The vessels of the bark in the oak, as delineated by
Grew, fig. 4, Plate XL., are represented as disposed partly
in parcels and partly in a ring; and in all the representa¬
tions he has given of different trees, the greatest diversity
in regard to the position of these vessels is found to
exist. From the difference in the qualities of their juices,
in the texture of the parts, and in the modes and circum¬
stances of their growth, this variation may be expected to
occur. In the oak, the pine, and many others, it seems
certain also that a part of the cortical texture, or at least
vessels containing the “ proper juices” of the plant, are con¬
stantly mixed with those of the ligneous texture, and with
them contribute to form each annual layer of wood. For
examples of the diversity of structure exhibited in the
trunk of a great many different trees, we may refer to the
plates of Grew.
Section II.
Of the Structure of the Branch and its Appendages.
Art. I.—Of the Branch.
From the trunk springs the branch, which in structure
1: resembles very exactly that of the trunk itself; and hence
the description of the one serves entirely for that of the
other.
Branches, in common with leaves, originate from buds,
of which we have subsequently to treat, introductory to
a description of leaves. At present we shall describe
85
only the mode of connection between the trunk and the Of the
branch. Branch.
The branch, says Grew, springs not from the surface,
but so deep as to take with it not only the bark and the its connec-
wood, but the pith also, making its way at the parts where tion with
the vessels are separated by the transverse septa, and car-the trunk,
rying with it the skin, which is extended with it. (Anat.
of Plants, p. 28.) The separation of the vessels of the
trunk to form the branch is not like the separation of a
few filaments from a skein of thread; but they spring,
says Du Hamel, from a centre, and bear with them a part
of each portion of the tree. Hence, if a tree that is di¬
vided into two branches be cut a foot above the bifurca¬
tion, the surface of the sections resembles that of two
trunks cut horizontally: if the section be made lower
down, at the place where the branches spring, the same
appearances of two series of concentric circles are seen at
the axis of the trunk, but they are surrounded by other
layers common to those which belong to each of the
branches; and still lower on the trunk the concentric cir¬
cles belonging to each branch diminish, and are finally
lost in those which form the trunk from which they
sprang. (Phys. des Arbres, tome i. p. 93.) These pri¬
mary branches divide into others, and these again into
still smaller branches, which form angles with each other,
more or less great, according to the species of tree, and
other causes.
The position of the branches on different trees is very
various, but in the same species it is generally uniform.
From the measurements of Du Hamel, it appears that in
many trees the solid matter of the branches that go out
from the trunk exceeds that of the trunk itself in the pro¬
portion nearly of five to four. (Phys. des Arbres, tome i.
p. 96.)
Some have supposed that the branches proceeded always Origin of
from, and were nourished by, the pith ; but this opinion branches,
has been combated by Du Hamel and Hill. The latter by Hill,
gives a longitudinal section of the trunk of a species of
American dog-wood (copied in fig. 7, Plate XL.), repre¬
senting the origin of two buds f f, which are seen in the
state of pushing out on either side through the vessels of
the wood. In this trunk the pith is of a brown colour, the
inmost ring of vessels green, and the outer ones white.
Through the white rings the inner green vessels are seen
to shoot, and the brown pith is left entire behind; though
the new branch at length obtains a pith for itself, which,
however, has no connection with that of the trunk. In a
similar section of an older trunk (fig. 8), the branches are
seen to spring also from the inmost circle of wood; the
pith h! is not at all disturbed, but each branch is furnished
with its own pith il i'. In a section of the vine (fig. 9),
a similar origin of the branches, from the inmost circle of
wood, is observed; and not only is the pith h! of the
branch distinct from that of the trunk, but the pith of the
trunk itself is intercepted by the shooting of a branch l'
across it. ( On the Construction of Timber, p. 35.) This
latter fact of the interception of the pith by the shoot¬
ing of a branch across it was previously noticed by Grew
in the vine and some other plants. (Anat. of Plants,
tab. 19.)
When a bud thus protrudes to form a branch, the per¬
pendicular vessels of the trunk are compelled to separate ;
and they afterwards meet above, and pursue their former
direction. This is shown in fig. 11, Plate XL., copied
from Du Hamel, in which the bud ml, in the act of sprout¬
ing, is seen to push to either side the vessels of the trunk,
which again meet above it.
The vessels both of the wood and bai'k, according to
the same author, have their direction determined chiefly
A. N A T O M Y, VEGETABL E.
Of the by the course of the sap. If the . sap preserve a perpeti-
Branch. dicular direction, as in trees that have no branches, the
vessels are perpendicular also; but if it move to one side,
these vessels then change their direction. I his is stnk-
in<dy evinced in a tree that has been cut ovei above a
branch ; for then all the sap being obliged to pass to the
voyng branch, the vessels all at once take the. same di¬
rection ; so that if a tree has been cut over in winter, and
at the end of the succeeding spring its branch below
be examined, the new vessels of the branch will be seen
to cross those of the trunk, as exhibited in fig. 12,
Plate XL. (Phys. des Arbres, tome ii. p. 53.)
Corona. In figures 7, 8, and 9, copied from Hill, the young
branch, in every instance, is seen to originate from the
inmost ring of vessels that surrounds the pith; and he
was of opinion that all buds and branches sprang from
this part alone. To this vascular circle he gave the name
of corona, and held it to be the most important part of
the vegetable body,—that it was like no other part of the
plant, but contained within itself the essence of them all.
(On the Construction of Timber, p. 21.)
It is however notorious, that trees in which not only
this first circle, but almost every other circle of vessels,
has perished, produce leaves and shoots from the trunk
where the bark is entire, as this author himself admits,
p. 44 of his work. There does not appear, either in the
anatomical character, or in the functions of this circle,
any thing that distinguishes it from the others, except pri¬
ority of formation, and its being in consequence the seat
from which the first buds and branches spring.
Origin of A much more correct idea of the origin of buds and
branches, branches was entertained by Du Hamel, who illustrates
H md ^ ky ^ diagram fig. 10, Plate XL. Let us suppose .this
ame ‘ figure to represent a tree of four years’ growth, as indicat¬
ed by the four ligneous cones which at its base envelope
each other. In the first year a bud d springs from the
inmost ring, which by the fourth year is seen to consist
of four ligneous layers. In the second year a second bud
fi springs from the ring of that year, and consists only
of three layers; the next year a bud f is developed on
the first bud o', and possesses only two layers; and the
bud /, developed the fourth year on the outmost ring of
wood, is seen to consist only of one layer. {Phys. des
Arbres, tome ii. p. 53.) In this way every ligneous layer
may be considered equally capable of giving origin to
buds and branches.
Art. II.— Of Thorns.
Thoms, Connected both in origin and in structure with branches
abortive are those appendages, frequently observed upon them,
branches. caue(j thorns. They are very conspicuous on the haw¬
thorn, and are constituted, says Grew, of the same parts
as the bud itself, and in a like proportion. They spring
from the outer portion of the ligneous texture, and may
be considered as abortive buds. (Anat. of Plants, p. 33.)
. Malpighi describes them as being frequently produced in
the axils of leaves, and assuming for a time the form of
a branch, but at length degenerating into a thorn. He
considers them to arise from defective nutrition, and adds,
that they disappear frequently under higher culture.
(Anat. Plantar, p. 138.)
According to Willdenow, most species of our fruit-
trees naturally possess thorns, which disappear entirely
and become branches under higher culture. Even in
the black-thorn the prickles diminish in number under
Other ori- imProvec| culture, but do not entirely disappear,
gins of Sometimes, however, instead of being produced from
thorns. abortive buds, thorns owe their origin to the degeneration
of other organs ; the petioles of some pinnate leaves which Oil
are persistent become thorns, and the same thing is ob- Ihi
served of the peduncles of some flowers. Certain stipulse^
also, as those of Mimosa, are said sometimes to change
into thorns (Principles of Botany, p. 270); and in the
date, according to M. de Candolle, a lobe of the leaf has
been converted into a thorn. (TMorie Element, de la
Botanique, p. 344.) In other instances, as in the holly,
the leaf produces thorns round its entire margin, which
are formed by the vessels that bound it. (See fig. 11,
Plate XLI.)
When the bark is removed from a branch that possessesStrd
thorns, the thorns still remain, by which they are dis¬
tinguished from prickles that originate from the bark. In
fig. 20, Plate XLL, is a representation of a branch depriv¬
ed of its bark, in which thorns of different forms are seen
to spring from the ligneous texture; and in fig. 21 of the
same plate is a longitudinal section of another branch
covered with its bark, in which the ligneous and cortical
textures of the thorn are displayed. For the descriptions
of the varieties of thorns, and their external appearance,
we must refer to the writers on botany.
Art. III.— Of Claspers and Tendrils.
From the similarity in structure ■which these bodies])es
exhibit to the branches from which they spring, we havetion
placed them as appendages to those members. As is well
known, they are met with only in certain plants, and their
obvious use is to attach the different parts of the plant
to one another, for mutual support, or to the objects in
their neighbourhood. In a general manner they are de¬
nominated fulcra: the most remarkable species are those
which, like the claws of ivy, called claviculi by Malpighi,
are not rolled into a spiral form; and those of the vine,
named tendrils (cirri), which possess a spiral conforma¬
tion.
According to Malpighi, the claws or claspers of ivystn t
possess a roundish form, and are covered with hairs,ofc s
which yield a viscous humour, by which they are agglu¬
tinated to stones or to walls and trees. Their forms are
exhibited in fig. 22, d f, Plate XLL, copied from Malpighi;
and in the lower part, g', of the same figure, their origin
and structure are displayed. They are seen to spring from
the ligneous texture of the stem, and to possess a similar
structure.
The tendril is described by the same author as spring-0ft is
ing from knots between the origins of leaves. It possesses
a round stem, which is sometimes covered with hairs; and
this stem frequently divides into several branches. At
first it is very tender, but gradually acquires solidity, and
assumes the spiral character; its colour is green, and it
is composed, like the trunk, of all common textures.
(Anat. Plantar, p. 139.) By Willdenow it is regarded as
an abortive leaf, being simply a prolongation of the pe¬
tiole, without the leafy expansion. (Principles of Botany,
p. 272.) Its form, as it occurs in the vine, is exhibited in
fig. 23, Plate XLL; but in this particular it is subject to
the greatest variation.
The leaf itself, as well as the petiole, is said to be some¬
times prolonged into a tortuous appendage resembling the
tendril ; and similar transformations are sometimes exhi¬
bited by the peduncle and petals of the flower. In one
species of vine mentioned by Malpighi, the extremity of
the tendril, which is at first pointed, becomes gradually
incurvated and reflected, and at length is formed into a
roundish body, which is furnished with small papillae, that
yield a viscous fluid, by means of which it attaches itself
to Avails or wood, so strongly as not to be easily separated.
ANATOMY, VEGETABLE.
87
p its. In dodder (cuscuta), small tubercles are formed on the
^/gtern, which, according to M. de Candolle, are so organ¬
ized as to fix themselves on any other plant, and derive
nourishment from it. ( Hieorie Element, de la Botanique,
p. 344.) For descriptions of the several varieties of these
organs enumerated by botanists, and for the terms em¬
ployed to express them, we must refer to their works.
Section III.
Of the Structure of Roots.
t lorn) if
‘ jots I
jnic;
•--scir. r.
F arts!
I lots.
Considered in relation to their general form, roots,
says M. de Candolle, exhibit two very distinct appear¬
ances. Some roots have a conical trunk, simple or ra¬
mified, but springing always from a single base, and
their radicle only elongates or ramifies; others spring
always in a bundle, more or less marked, from a common
base, which is so confounded with the neck of the plant
that it is sometimes taken for the base of the stem, and
sometimes for the trunk of the root. The first form of
root is met with in the greater number of exogenous
plants; the second occurs chiefly in the endogenous, and
also in those exogenes which have fascicular roots.
Of the conical roots, some ramify greatly, and have
numerous fibrous or capillary rootlets ; others produce few
or no branches, and are furnished with few fibrous roots.
In the former class, the principal differences arise from the
degree of ramification ; in the latter, two varieties of form
are very distinct—that of the carrot, wameA fusiform, from
its tapering to a point, like a spindle—and that named rapi-
fortn by De Candolle, from the swollen form it assumes at
its origin, and sudden shrinking to a point below, as in
the turnip.
The fascicular roots present also many varieties of
form: ls£, Those of the Graminece, in which each rootlet,
though distinct at its birth, ramifies so much that the
(Kvisions resemble the fibrous productions of the preced¬
ing class: 2dly, Those of the hyacinth, in which many
cylindrical rootlets spring from a common base, and de¬
scend nearly parallel, or with a slight divergence: Sdly,
Those of the orchis, in which, besides cylindrical rootlets,
there are others swollen into tubercles: 4M/y, Those of
Ranunculus, where all the fibres that spring from the base
are more or less swollen, so as to form a bundle of oblong
tubercles. Between all these distinct forms there are
several intermediate varieties. Under the name of tu¬
berous roots are included all those which have swellings in
any part of their length, and that, too, whether they sprang
originally from a single or common base. It may, how¬
ever, be observed, that many tubercles which spring ap¬
parently from roots, are in reality productions from in¬
ferior branches of the stem, concealed beneath the soil,
as M. Dunal first proved to be the fact in the potato.
(Organog. Veget. tome i. p. 252.)
The root is held to consist of two parts; the main body
with its branches, and the fibrous productions called ca¬
pillary rootlets. These parts are commonly hid beneath
the soil, but in some plants they are attached to rocks
or stones, in others they are fixed in other vegetables.
Some plants, again, have no fixed attachment, but float
loosely on water; and others are considered to possess no
root at all.
1 true re, With respect to structure, the body of the root of trees,
says Malpighi {Anat. Plantar, p. 145), may be regarded
as an elongation of the trunk beneath the soil, being
constructed of the same textures, disposed nearly in the
same manner. In various herbaceous plants the root has
been examined with much minuteness by Grew. (Anat.
oj Plants, book ii.) The cuticle, says he, is of difterent
colours in different plants: sometimes its surface is Of Roois.
smooth, at others rough; and its texture is either thin
and transparent, or thick and opaque. At an early period of the
the cuticle appears to be a continuation of that of the ra-cuticle,
dicle, but afterwards seems to be derived from the bark.
It is composed chiefly of cellular tissue, through which
vessels are distributed in the direction of the length of
the root. The existence of these vessels, though scarce¬
ly visible by the microscope, may be inferred from the
fact that it is more difficult to tear the skin in a longitu¬
dinal than transverse direction. If, also, the skin be cut
transversely, and then allowed to dry, all the parts where
there are no vessels shrink below the surface of the cut
end; but where there are vessels there is no shrinking.
Or if, after making a transverse section of the root, the
skin be pressed very gently with the edge of the nail, sap
will sometimes arise from the skin, as from any other
part where vessels are placed ; which does not happen with
fluids contained in the cellular tissue, unless the cells be
broken. {Ibid. p. 62.)
Beneath the cuticle lies the bark, which is found to of the
differ very much, both in colour and thickness, in different bark,
plants; scarcely in some instances exceeding the skin in
thickness, whilst in others it is thicker than the woody
part of the root. It is composed of vascular fasciculi
and cellular tissue, the cells of which are smaller than
those in the trunk: these cells are generally of a spherical
form, or nearly so, often transparent, but not visibly per¬
vious into one another. In some roots the cellular tissue
is disposed in rays extending from the inner to the out¬
ward edge of the bark; in others it extends only in part
through the bark. The cells themselves are sometimes
uniform, and sometimes they differ both in size and
figure. They are often filled with lymph, or other mat¬
ter. {Ibid. p. 64.)
In the cellular tissue vessels running lengthwise through
the bark like small threads are observed ; and in a trans¬
verse section the sap is seen to exude from them. They
often form a net-work, and seem as if inosculated; but are
only contiguous, like the braces in a drum. They are
never single, but form clusters of 20 or more together:
their form is cylindrical, and they are of the same size
through their whole course. Some vessels frequently
separate from a cluster and are transferred from place
to place; but they never ramify so as to be successively
propagated one from another. Their position in the bark
is very various, forming sometimes a ring at its inner
edge, and dispersed sometimes in clusters through it, or
disposed in the form of lines or rays. The fluid they
contain varies in colour and consistence in different plants,
being sometimes thin and clear, sometimes thick and mu¬
cilaginous, often milky or resinous. Sometimes the fluids
of the bark vary in the same root, which, when cut trans¬
versely, will yield both a limpid and milky sap. {Ibid.
p. 67.)
The woody part of the root, like that of the trunk, is 0f the
made up of cellular tissue and vessels. This tissue varies wood,
greatly in proportion in different roots, but is less abun¬
dant in the root than in the stem. It is disposed some¬
times in rings, but oftener in lines and rays, like the
transverse septa in the stem. Through this tissue two
kinds of vessels are distributed, one containing a lymph,
and the other being empty; whence they have been deno¬
minated by Grew the succiferous and air-vessels. In some
roots these vessels are disposed in clusters or fasciculi; in
others they form rings; and in others they have a radi¬
ated form. Both kinds are much intermixed, and every¬
where surrounded by cellular tissue. The number of
empty vessels is sometimes small and sometimes great;
88
Of Roots, and the same may be said of their size, even in the same
root. Malpighi, says Grew, has described them as being
constructed of a thin transparent zone, of a silvery co¬
lour, having a spiral form; to which Grew adds, that the
spiral zone is not a single piece of a flat form, but con¬
sists of two or more round and true fibres, not inoscu¬
lated side to side, but knit together by other sma ler
fibres,—a construction similar to that which Kieser has
since demonstrated. Their spiration, however, is bettei
seen in the stem, and better in young parts than in old
ones. Though these spiral vessels seemed empty, or con¬
taining only air, yet, says Grew, “ whether these vessels
may not, in some vegetables, and at some times, contain
liquor, is doubtful.” (Ibid. p. 74.)
Root of In illustration of the structure above stated, Grew e*-
wormwood. ijjbitSj jn twelve successive tables of his work, the exter¬
nal forms and internal structure of various roots. As a
specimen of this structure, we have copied his representa¬
tions of the root of wormwood. In fig. 13, Plate XL., is
a delineation of a transverse section of this root, of its na¬
tural size ; and in fig. 14 is a magnified representation of a
portion of the same section, here presented on a reduced
scale, in which A denotes the cuticle, B the bark, and
C the wood. The smaller letter a indicates the ligneous
rays formed by the vessels, and b the cellular tissue or
transverse septa continuous with that of the bark. The
dark spots in the bark are described by Grew as balsam
vessels, intermingled with lympha;ducts; and those in
wood as the spiral or empty vessels. It will be seen that
the vessels of the woody part are smallest at the centre,
and gradually augment in size as they approach the cir¬
cumference, as Kieser has since observed; and that, with
the exception of a few vessels said to convey lymph, all
those of the wood are considered as air-vessels, and there¬
fore as possessing a spiral conformation. In his chapter
on roots, Malpighi also frequently describes tracheae as
occurring in the dissections made by him of the roots of
various plants.
Root of the In fig. 21, Plate XL., is exhibited a horizontal section
gourd. 0f the root of the gourd, of the natural size, as given by
Kieser, representing four fasciculi of vessels, intercepted
by cellular tissue. One of these fasciculi, consisting of
37 vessels, is represented in fig. 22, magnified 130 times.
Of these vessels, the largest, as usual, are situated exte¬
riorly, and they pretty regularly diminish in size as they
approach the centre. Two of these vessels are nearly filled
with vesicles, and the whole of them are generally of
smaller, size than those in the stem of the same plant.
A vertical section of one of the largest vessels near the
circumference, and of two of the smallest at the centre
of this root, have been already exhibited in figure 19,
Plate XXXVIII. They all belonged to the variety of
punctuated spirals; so that all the vessels in the root of
this plant, as well as in the stem, may be considered as
possessing the spiral conformation.
Spiral ves- To the testimony of Grew, Malpighi, and Kieser, as to
sets in the existence of spiral vessels in roots, we may add that
roots. 0f j)u Hamel, who says that if a young root, as that of
the horserchesnut, be duly macerated in boiling water,
and its bark afterwards removed, the ligneous portion
will be found so tender as to be divisible into fine fila¬
ments ; which filaments, when viewed with a microscope,
will be found to be spiral vessels or tracheae, which, he
adds, might lead one to think that all the ligneous fibres
are really spiral fibres, while they are yet tender. (Phys.
des Arb. tome ii. p. 13, 14.) Mirbel and some other wri¬
ters, however, deny altogether the existence of spiral ves¬
sels in the root; and M. de Candolle declares that one
of the chief differences in structure between the stem
ANATOMY, VEGETABLE.
and the root consists in the total absence of tracheae in Of
the latter. (Organog. Veget. tome i. p. 242.) LieldingC*-
credence, however, to the positive testimony of Grew,
Malpighi, Du Llamel, and Kieser, rather than to the m-
^assertions of their opponents, we are disposed to
conclude, that all the vessels which convey the ascending
sap in the root possess, like those in the stem, a spiral
structure*
It cannot fail to be observed also, in the sections ofRoo
roots just exhibited, that the proportion of vessels to cells vase
is much larger in the root than in the stem of herbs, and
that consequently the cells are smaller and more com¬
pressed. The vessels occupy also the very centre of the
root, to the exclusion of all cellular tissue, in the form of
pith, in exogenous plants; but in the endogenous, the in¬
ternal structure of the roots, as compared with that of the
stem, is said to present no sensible difference. In exo¬
genous plants, also, the diametral insertions, or septa, and
the appearance of the bark, are as distinct in the root as
in the stem; while in the endogenous the vessels and
cells are intermingled through the entire root, as well as
through the stem. In trees, the structure of the root is
more distinct than in herbs, and still more nearly resem¬
bles that of the trunk.
In treating of the evolution of seeds, we exhibited se-Caj
veral examples of the manner in which the fibrous or ca-r<»i
pillary rootlets spring from the trunk, or larger branches
of the root. These rootlets are more simple in structure
than buds, being made up chiefly of the ligneous portion
of the plant. They are the organs which absorb nutri¬
ment from the earth; and hence, as Du Hamel observed,
the earth is exhausted chiefly where these capillary root¬
lets are distributed, and not in the neighbourhood of the
larger roots. On examining the roots of trees after severe
winters, he often found the capillary rootlets dead ; which
led him to suppose that trees lose in the earth their ca¬
pillary rootlets nearly as in the air they lose their leaves.
He found, that even after slight frosts many of these
rootlets were dead; and that, when the temperature be¬
came milder, new rootlets were developed, which abun¬
dantly replaced those destroyed. (Phys. des Arb. tomel.
p. 89.) _ ^
All roots raised from seeds have a tap-root, that grows Ta
in length in proportion as the earth is easily penetrable.
The seeds of the oak, sown in a deep and rich sand, have
produced plants, says Du Hamel, the stems of which were
only six inches in height, while the root extended nearly
to four feet. If, however, the root meet below the sur¬
face with any obstacle that opposes its elongation, it then
continues short, and subdivides into many lateral branches.
This result may be also obtained by simply cutting the
extremity of the root; for roots, as Du Hamel first ascer¬
tained by experiment, do not elongate but by their ex-
tremity. (Phys. des Arb. tome i. p. 83.) Hence, when
injured by insects, or in any other way, so as to check its
elongation, the root, by throwing out lateral branches^
will often derive more nutriment by these new produc¬
tions than it would have obtained by a single trunk.
Roots are provided through their whole extent with a Ik ■
quantity of germs, or a capacity of producing them, whenirc
placed in favourable circumstances; and this capacity is“r,
possessed also by the branch. If the branch of many
trees be cut off and planted in the earth, it emits rootlets
from its sides beneath the soil. If even the bark of a
branch be removed so as to intercept the descending sap,
and the part be then surrounded with moist earth, the up¬
per portion of the divided bark will emit rootlets into the
earth. The simple immersion of cuttings of the willow
in water is sufficient to cause the production of i ootlets,
ANATOMY, VEGETABLE,
89
(t'wR;ts. which spring from the cutting, says Malpighi, just at the
^surface of the water, not below it. They appear at first
like small tumours, and are composed of ligneous fibres
and trachea, which gradually force their way through the
bark. \Anat. Plantar, p. 146.)
Jn like manner, as a branch may thus be made to pro-
PwnDts.duce rootlets, so may a root be made to produce branches.
If a root be cut off, or an incision be made in its bark, so
as to intercept the descending sap, a swelling, or bourrelet,
will form around the upper extremity, from which new
rootlets will spring; or if this cut end be left exposed to
the atmosphere, then, says Du Hamel (Phys. des Arb.
tome i. p. 102), in place of rootlets, new shoots or branch-
lets will be developed. It is thus that many plants, as
mint, which spread their roots horizontally, produce new
stems from them when they happen to come sufficiently
near to the surface. From the facts above stated, Du
Hamel maintains that the tumour or enlargement (bour¬
relet) formed either on the cut stem or the root of a plant
is'essentially the same ; that in both it contains germs pro¬
per for producing either branches or roots; and that the
one or the other is developed, according as the bourrelet
is exposed to the air or is placed in the earth. (Phys.
des Arbres, tome i. p. 102.)
Others have maintained not only a perfect identity of
structure between the root and branch, but also between
the bud that gives origin to the branch, and the rootlet
that springs from the root; and further, that they are
convertible into each other. In proof of this it is al¬
leged, that if a willow plant be bent down so that its
head shall be fixed in the earth, it will soon push forth
rootlets; and that if, after these are developed, the trunk
with its former roots be raised so as to be exposed to the
air, there will shortly be formed a new head, furnished
with leaves and branches. These facts, however, prove
only a substitution, and not a conversion, of these organs
into one another; for the young buds of the head die
when placed under the soil, and the new roots spring from
points not previously occupied by buds; while, in like
manner, all the young rootlets developed beneath the soil
perish in the air, and new buds are produced from the
older trunks of the root. In some plants the stem
seems to perish, and the root in the following year pro¬
duces a new stem; and from this it has been inferred that
the root alone preserves the vitality of the individual:
but the stem in these plants does not, says M. de Candolle,
entirely perish; and in the phenomena exhibited by cut¬
tings the contrary takes place, for the stem developes
new roots. We ought therefore, says he, to regard the
stem and the root as of equal importance. Their union
constitutes the body of the plant. (Organog. Veget.
tome i. p. 249.)
P's ootl s The knots or articulations in the stems of plants, by re-
W*1 hjts. tarding the descent of the juices, favour the production of
new parts; and according as the stem may be exposed to
dryness or humidity, either branches or roots may be
formed. Hence stems that have many knots most easily
propagate by slips and layers; and fleshy'plants, as the
Cactus, which possess a thick and moist cellular tissue,
have a disposition to propagate roots even in the open air.
It is the same with roots possessing tubercles, which are
a sort of magazines of nutrient matter, and possess, there¬
fore, a singular aptitude for emitting new productions.
(Organog. Veget. tome i. p. 248.)
We have already stated that roots grow in length, not
by an extension of parts, but only by the addition of new
matter to their extremity. This power of growth Du
Hamel found to reside within two or three lines of the ex¬
tremity, both in ligneous and herbaceous roots. (Phys.
vol. in.
des Arb. tome i. p. 84.) It is chiefly by their extremities, Of Roots,
also, that they absorb fluids ; for Senebier found, that if the
extremity of a root, as that of a carrot or radish, was im¬
mersed in water, the water was absorbed; whilst if the
whole root, with the exception of the extremity, was im¬
mersed, little absorption took place;—results which have
been confirmed by the experiments of Carradori. These
facts have led M. de Candolle to consider the extremities
of roots, and of all fibrous rootlets, as furnished with a pe¬
culiar hygroscopic power. This power he conceives to
depend, as we before remarked, on the existence of a mi¬
nute cellular structure at this part, to which structure he
has given the name of spongioles (spongiolee). These Spongioles.
spongioles, according to him, are formed of a very compact
cellular tissue, composed of roundish cells. He distin¬
guishes several varieties of these organs, as the radical, the
pistillary, and the seminal, according as they are seated
at the extremities of the radical fibres, of the pistil, or in
the coats of seeds. So great, he adds, is their absorbing
power, that they absorb the colouring molecules of liquids,
though these molecules will not enter the ordinary pores,
which are infinitely greater in size. (Organog. Veget.
tome i. chap. 7, p. 89.) In his 10th plate he exhibits
the appearance of these spongioles in the radicles of pan-
danus odoratissimus, where they are better seen than in
any other plant examined by him.
The nature and qualities of the soil exert a great in-Effects of
fluence on the form and size of roots. If the soil be free soil on
and pervious, the root often descends to a great depth inroots‘
the form of a tap-root; but if it encounter obstacles which
oppose its descent, it then continues short and divides
into lateral branches. Roots also extend into the por¬
tions of soil that are richest, while the barren parts are
nearly destitute of roots. (Phys. des Arbres, tome i.
p. 82.)
CHAP. III.
THE ANATOMY OF THE ORGANS OF VEGETABLES.
Section I.
Of the Structure of Buds.
In the preceding chapter we have described the larger Buds,
and more permanent members of the plant. We have
now to delineate the form and structure of organs, whose
existence is of shorter duration, and which present a more
diversified character. They may all be said either di¬
rectly or indirectly to originate from buds, with which
therefore we shall commence our descriptions.
A bud, according to Gaertner, is an organic body, Definition,
sprouting from the surface of a plant. In the beginning
it is distinct from the proper and permanent members of
the plant, but after some time becomes a part of it; or, if
separated, is capable, by the increase of its own proper
substance, of growing into a new plant, perfectly similar
to its parent. (De Fructib. Plantar, p. 3.)
Buds may in general be easily distinguished from seeds ;
but in some of the lower tribes of vegetables the confor¬
mity in external appearance and internal structure is said
to be so great as to render this a matter of much difficulty.
Gaertner enumerates four species of buds, two of which Species of
are leafless, and two are provided with leaves or scales, buds.
The first, propago, is the most simple species of bud; it is Propago.
leafless, and possesses different forms : sometimes it is en¬
tirely naked, and sometimes is inclosed in a bark-like
case: it at length separates spontaneously from its parent,
and is dispersed like a seed.
M
Bulbus.
Gemma.
Structur*
t»f bulbs.
anatomy, vegetable.
The second species is termed gangylm : lfc i’8/1?7 und used t^denote, not the Inid of a branch, but die^ /
as a perfectly simple, leafless, somewhat globular and " seed . ’and not the rudiment of the seed
solid bud, concealed within the bark of the paren P ‘ ^ but tiie organ also that contains it. The word Rem¬
and never separating spontaneously till the bark y ^es t0 denote a bud. Gsertner adopts the word
by age. It has a great affinity to the tuber of r , aermen in a generic sense, to express every species of bud;
differs from it in not being a proper member of { > .V Malpighi and Linneeus, employs the term gem-
and in not possessing the principle of multiplication w i ^ ^ jndjcative^0f that species now under consideration.
resides in the tuber. Ti ; tilprPfnrp as the most generally received appellation,
The third species of bud is a compound germen, and Th^, theretore, as tim y
named bulbus. Its figure is^ somewhat globular , i w summer? says Du Hamel, buds are graduallyD
formed in the axils of the leaves, viz. in the angle which tk
the petiole forms with the branch. They are at first ex-
ceedino-lv minute ; are seen in winter chiefly on the young
nameu uucuu*. —   - o ,
nearly leafless, and formed of a very short keel- (canna)
and thick succulent scales, and at length separates spon¬
taneously from its parent. Of this species there are two
varieties, the one solid, constructed ot a solid fleshy body,
varieties, the ope solid, constructed 0 a 80 1 ^ i i* sometimes on the larger ones, and more rarely
and having generally the rudiments o t ie nfw I ^ tjie tr’unb> They exhibit different forms, according to
outwardly upon it; the other coated, ^ing the k}nd 0f tvee that bears them, and are attached to it
veral concentric scales, m the cen xe y & b very short pedicle. Their position on the branch
1>1TheShstC"nec?e'S of bud, and that which is strictly so was considered by M. Bonnet to be reducible to five
xhe last species or uuu, unu a j riqsc;pS. sometimes they are situated on opposite sides of
leaflets: it «h‘e but phced
resembles a branch in miniature, and never separates spon- are placed exactly opposite to each other.
taneously from its parent. It is named an eye (oculus)
when it puts forth flowers alone, or flowers and leaves to¬
gether; and simply a gem {gemma) when it is unfolded
into leaves alone.
Of these several species, the last, gemma, is generally
considered as alone entitled to the appellation of a true
bud by those who consider scales and leaves as essential
to its constitution; but this definition, says Gaertner, would
exclude even bulbs, and it is better to derive our idea of
a bud from a general agreement in properties, and parti¬
cularly from similarity of origin in formation and evolu¬
tion, than from the ever-varying condition .of external
form. The two former species of buds occur in the lower
tribes of vegetables; the two latter are observed on the
stems and branches, and roots of various plants. On the
present occasion we shall notice the latter only.
That variety of bud which is called a bulb, and which
springs from, or is variously attached to, the roots of many
plants, has already been stated to exhibit considerable
difference in structure. It is sometimes constructed of
stances they form a kind of ring round the branch. Some¬
times they have a spiral disposition, and at otners consti¬
tute a sort of double spiral around the branch. In those
cases where the buds stand opposite on the branch, the
extremity of the branch is frequently terminated by three
buds; but where the buds are only alternate, the young
branch is commonly terminated by a single bud. In the
pine the true buds are placed, not in the axils ot the
leaves, but at .the extremity of the branch alone. Some
buds stand out a considerable distance from the branch;
others are placed in close contact with it; and these va¬
rieties occur sometimes on the same branch in regard to
the buds that issue from its sides and extremity. The
shape of buds is also very various—some being long and
pointed, others short and round; some again are hairy,
others smooth ; some very small, and others large. {Phys.
des Arbres, tome i. p. 99.) _ * _
Beside these varieties in position and form, which serve l| ijJ
to distinguish the buds of different genera and species^
there are also many sorts of buds to be observed on the'
difference in structure, it is sometimes consirucieu ui men. cue tu&u wauj uj. ™ ^
several thick scales or leaves enveloping each other, and same tree, whose characters are discoverable by their
is sometimes formed of a more continuous and solid sub- form. Those which are pointed usually produce leaves
stance. To the first description belongs the bulbous sub- and branches, and from those which are large and round-
stance of the lily and tulip. Grew has given a section of er commonly proceed flowers. The former are named
the latter, made in the month of September. It displays leaf or wood buds {gemmae foliiferce), the latter flower or
the tunicated structure of the bulb, at the base and in the fruit buds {gemmae floriferce) : others which possess both
centre of which the young flower, destined to appear in leaves and flowers have been called mixed buds {gemma
the following spring, is observed. (See his Anatoyny of mixtce). In some trees, as those of the apple and pear,
Plants, table 63.) Of the tunicated variety, the common two varieties of wood-buds occur, one of which is small,
onion affords also a good example. The coats that com-
Names of
branch-
buds.
onion attords also a goou example, me coais mat com- produces only a small bunch of leaves, and in the end
pose its bulb are to be regarded as fleshy leaves, and the becomes a fruit-bud; the other is larger, and gives origin
true root, according to Du Hamel, is the fleshy plate that to a branch.
supports the bulb, from which the rootlets spring. The As the rudiments of the flower appear in the bulb of;
common potato affords an example of the solid bulb, on roots the season before they are destined to bloom, soi
whose surface numerous buds, all capable of producing those of the leaf and the flower are distinguishable at the
entire plants, are seen. Botanists enumerate a great many same period in the bud of the branch. They are to be
other varieties of bulbs, for which we must refer to their perceived, says Du Hamel, in autumn, and continue to
writings; and to the works of Malpighi and Du Hamel grow even during v, inter, appearing to be clandestinely
for the anatomy of many of them. formed in that season, when the movements of the sap
The true bud of the stem and branch was distinguish- seem to be suspended; and are thus prepared to shoot
ed by the ancients into two kinds, according as it produced forth on the return of spring. It is, however, only in
ea ny tne ancienxs mio two kiiius, accorumg as u prouucea tortn on me return ot spring. It is,
either a leaf or a flower, and to it they assigned different perennial plants that these phenomena are observed. An
names. “ Germen autem est id quod ex ipsisarborum sur- nual plants do not produce buds, and even those *
culis primo vere exit, ex quo deinde folium producitur,” roots survive the fall of the stem produce buds or
says Pliny; and this he distinguishes from the flower-bud, their roots. {Phys. des Arbres, tome i. p. 103.) ,
“ nam gemma propriZ fioris esC By Grew the term ger- Climate appears to exert the greatest influence on the ; ’
men, and by Malpighi the word gemma, is employed to formation and evolution of buds. In cold regions, as we "
ANATOMY, VEGETABLE, 91
Of i cK have just observed, the bud is formed many months before
ir\ Oft is destined to shoot into a leaf or branch ; but in warm¬
er regions scarcely any interval occurs between the periods
of formation and evolution. The buds, in such climates,
are said to unfold themselves immediately from the bark
into branches, without having remained in the form of
buds for any length of time. Sometimes, in the milder
seasons of our own climate, the evolution of buds rapidly
succeeds to their formation, and the vegetative process
with us emulates the productive powers of more favoured
climes. In some examples, however, the specific charac¬
ters of particular plants overcome these general tendencies
of climate; and thus hot climates are said to possess
some bud-bearing plants, and in colder climates there are
a few shrubs which are said never to bud. (Willdenow’s
Principles of Botany, p. 273.) It seems, however, more
correct to consider all plants as bearing buds, from which
the branches, the leaves, and the flowers, successively
t proceed; and to say that in warm climates in general no
suspension of the vegetative process occurs, as in cold
ones, and no marked interval is observed, therefore, be-
. tween the formation and evolution of buds. The few ex¬
ceptions that occur respectively in warm and cold climates
i must be considered in reference to the specific characters
of the individual plants. The process by which buds are
f actually formed has been called Gemmation or Gemmiji-
ji cation.
iris:' Having made these few general remarks on the nature
I, ds. and formation of buds, we have next to exhibit a few ex¬
amples of their structure and evolution, confining our¬
selves at present to a description of those which produce
i either branches or leaves. The mature bud consists of
i. two parts ; one that forms the new branch or leaf, and in
t the language of botanists may be termed persistent; the
other serving only a temporary purpose, and falling when
that purpose is accomplished. To the former may pro¬
perly be applied the term germ or gem, and the latter,
from its office, may be called hybernaculum. In its lead¬
ing characters the bud bears a near analogy to the more
perfect seed, for the germ very exactly resembles the
plume; and the hybernaculum, as we shall see, in struc-
I ture, office, and duration, approaches near to certain co-
a tyledons.
^rbem- The leaves or scales which constitute the hybernaculum,
(, u“ and which in future we shall denominate the hyberna-
, cular leaves, vary much in number, size, and figure, in dif-
r ferent buds. Even in the same bud the inner ones are
thinner, and much more tender and succulent, than the
outer, and are besmeared with, a viscid humour which in¬
timately unites them; while the outer ones are common¬
ly hard, hairy, and of a scalyr texture. Like the cotyle-
donous leaves of seeds, those of the hybernacle sometimes
grow for a certain time with the germ, and fall succes¬
sively at periods more or less distant: they are also not less
( I distinct in figure from those of the germ, than the leaves
of the cotyledon are from those of the plume. This aris¬
es from the peculiarity in the distribution of their vessels,
i which do not spring from one common central trunk, as
in ordinary leaves, but are derived from several distinct
fasciculi at the base, like those of the cotyledonous leaf,
as seen in that of the gourd, a', fig. 13, Plate XXXIX.
According to the manner in which they are disposed or
folded up in the bud, botanists have assigned them differ¬
ent names, for an account of which we must refer to their
writings. In the opinion of Du Hamel, they all derive
their origin from the inner layer of the bark, of which
they seem to be only a prolongation. (Phys. des Arb.
tome i. p. 103.)
ern . ^le gem of the bud, which is contained within and
protected by these enveloping leaves, is composed of one Of Buds,
or more leaves generally folded and curled, but in some
instances open and expanded. At first they are very
small, and their form is indistinct, so that the pedicle alone
is distinctly visible ; from which branch oft' the vessels
that form the middle rib, and are afterwards expanded to
construct the lobes of the leaf. From the figure which
the germ possesses before its expansion being like that
of a keel, its vascular portion at this period has been nam¬
ed carina, and its softer part medulla or pith.
With respect to the particular portion of the branch Origin of
from which the germ internally derives its origin, opinions the germ,
have much varied. Some have held that it proceeded
from the pith alone ; others from the first circle of ves¬
sels that immediately surrounds the pith; others from the
tender wood alone ; and others from the pith, the wood,
and the bark conjointly. Grew held this latter opinion.
(Anat. of Plants, p. 28.) Malpighi describes the germ as
a tender, ligneous substance, formed of vessels and cellu¬
lar tissue, and surrounded by its proper cortical texture.
(Anat. Plantar, p. 45.) According to Du Hamel, it ori¬
ginates from the ligneous texture and the pith (Phys. des
Arbres, tome i. p. 103) ; and Hill considered it to spring
from the first circle of vessels alone, but not to carry with
it any portion of the pith.
As every germ is composed of the cortical and ligne¬
ous textures, it may be said to originate in part from both,
as all these writers seem to admit. Sometimes also the
pith of the germ is continuous with that of the branch ;
but in other instances no such connection subsists, and
there is nothing in the character of the pith of the trunk
that renders it at all essential to the constitution of the
germ. That in many instances, also, the germ springs
from the first circle of vessels, is most certain; but it is
not less certain that buds spring from trees long after this
first circle of vessels has lost its vegetative power, or has
been entirely destroyed.
In the oak Malpighi describes the entire bud as con- Bud of the
sisting of many scales enveloping each other, and forming oak.
an oval body. When evolution commences, these open
and expand, and in part fall; but two generally remain
and protect the springing germ for a long time. In fig.
15, Plate XL., is represented one of the hybernacular
leaves d of the oak-bud, at the base of which the germ e
is placed. The leaf d is described as possessing an ob¬
long form, and is very evidently vascular; the germ is
exceedingly small, and is represented as possessing at
this period only one fasciculus of vessels. By degrees
three fasciculi become apparent, which are continued
through the germ, and form three pointed extremities, as
in fig. 16. These parts augment, and the vascular fasci¬
culi separate, so as to produce successively the appear¬
ances in fig. 17 and 18. At length the small curled leaf/^
fig. 19, rising between the two hybernacular leaves g g, is
seen to resemble the plume of the seed, and to possess a
form altogether different from the enveloping leaves,
which in appearance resemble more the cotyledonous
leaves of certain seeds. In fig. 20 is given a vertical sec¬
tion of the germ, considerably magnified, in which h de¬
notes the pith that occupies the centre : it is inclosed by
vascular fasciculi, i, that send off through the bark ramifi¬
cations to the several little processes that compose the
serrated border of the leaf. (Anat. Plantar, tab. 10 and
14.)
But the method of nature in the evolution of buds, con- Other
tinues Malpighi, is not always the same; for the hyberna-buds,
cular leaves do not always waste and fall as those of the
germ increase. On the contrary, in many trees, these
leaves, especially those about the base of the bud, losing
92
in horse,
chesnut
Of Buds, their primary figure, assume new forms, and are convert-
ed into the permanent leaves with which the branch is
adorned. Examples of this sort occur in laurel, in the
apple-tree, the almond-tree, and many others. In other
instances, as in the rose, the permanent leaves seem to be
generated out of those of the hybernacle, from the apex
of which they emerge ; and gradually the latter is chang¬
ed into a sort of petiole, to the sides of which two slendei
appendages, the remains of the former hybernacular leaf,
adhere. Similar transformations are said to occur in many
other plants.
Buds on The buds, such as they have been described, pullulate
the ends of variously from the sides of stems and branches, and al-
branches, ways above the insertion of the fallen leaves; but they
spring also from their extremities, and produce the annual
elongation of the branch or stem. The manner in which
this takes place, and the appearance which the parts ex¬
hibit, have been well illustrated by the observations and
dissections of M. du Hamel. In the evolution of the seed,
the plume, as we have seen, rises above the earth, and
produces the stem, which puts forth leaves, \vhen these
leaves fall in autumn, the stem continues, and is terminat¬
ed by one or more buds. The roots, as already remarked,
do not increase in length but at their extremity, and
therefore never elongate after the smallest portion of
their extremity has been cut off. It is not the same with
branches ; for the newly formed part of the young shoot
actually elongates, especially at its extremity, where it is
most succulent and tender,—less in the parts lower down,
where it is harder,—and in its more ligneous parts not at
all; as Du Hamel, by very simple and decisive experi¬
ments, ascertained. (Phys. des Arbrcs, tome ii. p. 14.)
The appearance, structure, and evolution of a bud, at
the extremity of a branch of the horse-chesnut tree, are
given by the same ingenious author, whose candour, abi¬
lity, and success in the prosecution of these curious re¬
searches render him worthy to rank by the side of Mal¬
pighi and Grew. In fig 1, Plate XLI., is represented part
of the annual shoot of this tree, terminated by its appro¬
priate bud, formed in autumn, and which is the com¬
mencement of the next year’s shoot. In fig. 2 a vertical
section of the same bud is exhibited, in which the num¬
ber and disposition of the hybernacular leaves that enve¬
lope and protect the germ in the centre are displayed. In
the stem of the shoot the letter a denotes the pith, which
is surrounded by the wood b b, and this again is covered
by the bark cc. In fig. 3 is represented a section of part
of the bud detached from the woody part of the shoot,
and a little magnified, to show that the leaves of the hy-
bernaculum take their origin from the inner portion of the
bark.
their Proceeding next to the interior part of the bud, Du
structure. piamel represents it as composed of numerous small
leaves (fig. 4), which are more and more minute as we
proceed inward, and are covered with fine hairs. In fig. 5
is a branch-bud of the peach, as seen in February, after
all the enveloping scales have been removed. It is com¬
posed of greenish filaments, ranged nearly as they appear
in the figure. When some of these filaments were detach¬
ed and viewed with the microscope, they appeared tooth¬
ed at the edges, as in fig. 6, and were covered with hairs.
All these filaments were afterwards detached in order to
disclose a small body lodged within them, and which ap¬
peared to consist of two small leaflets, folded and toothed
at their edges, but not covered with hairs. It is repre¬
sented in fig. 7. It occupied the centre of the shoot, and
seemed to be connected with the pith.
In the next figure, 8, is represented the bud of the horse-
chesnut in the state of evolution. The letters d d indi-
ANATOMY, VEGETABLE.
cate the scales of the hybernaculum thrust aside by the cL
shooting of the germ e, accompanied by two permanentSfv
' ‘ The letter g denotes the place of a second bud.
. • l* a. 11 / i id o r»ti rr» Q
leaves  
A vertical section of the same bud is shown in fig. 9, from
which all the scaly envelopes have been removed It ex¬
hibits an entire shoot of one year’s growth attached to
part of one of two years. From h to i denotes the growth
of two years, and from i to k that of one year, with the
germ k in the centre, and the lateral leaves as in the pre¬
ceding figure. The letter l marks the pith, m m the wood,
and nn the bark of the young branch. From l to n the
pith is white ; from n to o greenish ; and towards i it is of
a brownish-red colour. From i to k, which marks the ex¬
tent of the annual shoot, the pith is green and succulent,
and at p p it is seen to be prolonged into the lateral
branches. The wood of two years’ growth, from m to i, is
white, and forms a continuous tube round the pith, except
where the branches go off. It is covered by another layer
so thin as to be scarcely visible, but which will in the
end become wood; and this layer is covered by the bark.
The ligneous layer of the annual shoot appears to be a
prolongation of the new layer of the older one, and, like it,
possesses at first an herbaceous character. The cortical
layer also seems to be a prolongation of that of the older
shoot. As to the pith, though in both shoots it is conti¬
nuous, it is to be observed that that of the older branch
is white and dry, and that of the young shoot green and
succulent. (P/iys. des Arbres, tome i. p. 117.)
It is thus by the formation of a bud in autumn at theE
extremity of a branch, and the shooting and growth ofthat1'
bud in the succeeding spring and summer, that the trunk*11
of the tree and its branches are annually elongated. Dur¬
ing the first season the shoot retains in great part its
herbaceous characters, but in the second it becomes per¬
fectly ligneous. In the axils of the permanent leaves of
the young shoot, the rudiments of new buds become ap¬
parent, even in the first season.
It was before remarked that trees receive an additionalas
circular layer every year, and that from these new layerse1
buds successively spring, so that the earliest branches
may contain as many ligneous layers as the trunk, and
those of later formation a smaller number, according to
the year in which they shot forth, and the circle of wood
from which they sprang. Combining this growth in
breadth with that in length, it will appear, says Du Hamel,
that at the base and centre of a tree 100 years old there
is wood of 100 years of age; whilst at the exterior part
of the same tree, and at the extremities of its branches,
there is wood of one year’s age only. As the latitudinal
growth was before illustrated by a diagram, a similar mode
may be adopted to explain the longitudinal increase.
Let fig. 10, Plate XLI., represent in q r the ligneous
portion of a tree that has proceeded from a seed in spring,
and is observed in autumn. The following spring a second
shoot proceeds from the bud r, which reaches as far as s;
but at the same time there is a second ligneous layer
formed on the first shoot q r, by which its thickness is
proportionally augmented ; and at the end of the second
year the tree has the form and extent of the unshaded
portion of the figure q s. The next spring the bud s opens
and sends out another shoot to t; and ligneous layers are
added as before to the two preceding shoots; and thus
the tree is extended from q to t. The fourth year the
same processes are repeated, and the tree extends from
q to w ; and each annual shoot, from the base to the sum¬
mit of the figure, is seen to be composed successively of
four, three, two, and lastly of one layer in thickness. This
figure, therefore, illustrates the mode in which trees in¬
crease at the same time in height and breadth. The lig-
Ej el
ANATOMY, VEGETABLE.
93
I 0f ,lds> neous layers may be compared to a series of cones which
envelope each other, and which annually augment the
diameter of the tree by the two thicknesses of the layers.
It shows also that trees grow much more in height than
in breadth, and that this growth is effected by the suc¬
cessive formation and evolution of buds at the extremity
of the stem, precisely as the first shoot issues from the
seed. (Phys. des Arbres, tome ii. p. 50.)
It is well known that if a bud be taken from one plant
and inserted beneath the bark of a kindred species, it
will grow, and retain in its new situation its original qua¬
lities and habits; or some buds, if directly planted in
the earth and protected from too rapid exhalation, will
f ndiiu. produce a tree similar to the parent. Hence some wri-
t Jitv f ters, as Dr Darwin, have considered each bud as an indi-
k- mils vidual plant, and that a tree, properly speaking, is a family
or swarm of buds, which annually produce as many new
plants. The bulbs produced beneath the soil by the tulip
I i and many other plants resemble, in this respect, the buds
produced in the atmosphere. Vegetables, therefore, are
propagated by two methods—the oviparous, as by seeds,
and the viviparous, as by buds and bulbs ; and the indi-
| i vidual plants, whether springing from seeds or from buds
and bulbs, are all annual productions. The reproduction of
plants, therefore, appears to be of two kinds, solitary and
sexual; the former being accomplished by buds and bulbs,
the latter by seeds, or through the agency of sexual in¬
tercourse.
| f Section II.
Of the Structure of Leaves.
fthrtof
»;eav ;
4' These are organs of great importance in the vegetable
economy: they are not however universal; for the Cac¬
tus, some species of Schcenus, and a few other plants, are
considered to be destitute of leaves. Like other parts of
the plant, they may be regarded with reference either to
their external form or their internal structure. The for¬
mer view belongs more especially to the botanist, who has
very happily applied his descriptive language to portray
the almost infinite diversity of figure, size, and character,
which the leaves of different species of vegetables exhi¬
bit. On this branch of the subject we shall but lightly
touch, recalling simply to notice the leading distinctions
of the botanist, and such only of them as may appear to
be more immediately connected with the structure of these
organs.
The leaves {folia) are distinguished and denominated
according as they are simple or compound. Simple leaves
are such as have only a single leaf on the stalk or petiole
that supports them, and where all the parts of the leaf
are continuous with one another. Compound leaves are
those which are mqde up of more than one piece, or where
the leaf is formed of parts or leaflets articulated together.
In regard to their place, situation, and insertion, leaves
are said to be determinate. By the place of a leaf is
meant the part of the plant to which it is attached. By
situation is understood the disposition of the leaves on
the stem or branch, which corresponds to that of the
buds. By insertion is expressed the mode of connection
between the leaf and the stem or branch; and the direc¬
tion of leaves is considered to bear reference to the posi¬
tion in which they stand to the stem.
The foregoing observations apply to leaves considered
in connection with other members: when we regard them
sing!y> we remark several parts which are common to al¬
most all leaves, and to which particular names have been
assigned. The part at which the leaf springs from the
branch or stem, whether directly or by means of a pe¬
tiole, is called the base, and the point opposed to this, the Of Leaves.
apex, of the leaf. The expanded portion is termed limbus,
which has its two sides, faces, or surfaces, as they are in¬
differently called. The prominent lines that appear on
these surfaces were named riblets (costulce) by Malpighi,
and have very improperly been called nerves by most wri¬
ters ; for the term nerve denotes an organ of a totally
different nature, of which not even the existence has yet
been demonstrated in any part of the vegetable system.
To the line that circumscribes and forms the boundary
of the leaf the term margin or border is commonly ap¬
plied.
The figure of leaves exhibits the greatest diversity, to their cha-
express which various terms are employed. Their marginx™Xzrs.
also is either entire or variously fissured, notched, or
toothed. Their surfaces axe naked and smooth, or clothed
with hairs and studded with excrescences; sometimes
they are plain and flat, at others furrowed or plaited; and
in all these particulars the opposite surfaces present also
the greatest diversity. In size, leaves exhibit the most
remarkable differences; and, with respect to substance,
some are exceedingly thin, and have a membranous tex¬
ture, others very thick, and of a fleshy nature. As to
colour, they exhibit every shade of green, from the most
gay and lively to the deepest and most obscure. In some
the tint of colour approaches to blue, in others to red;
and previous to their fall they all undergo those changes
of colour which produce the diversified beauties of an au¬
tumnal scene. The period, however, at which this occurs
is very different. Some leaves fall earty, before the sum¬
mer has passed, and are termed caducous; others retain
their place till autumn, and then fall, and are named de¬
ciduous; others continue beyond the summer, and are
styled persistent; and others, which have a still longer
duration, are denominated perennial.
In the preceding section on the structure of buds we Origin
exhibited the form and appearance of leaves in the earlier from buds,
periods of their existence. They were shown to possess
a very minute size, and to be curiously folded up and
concealed within their various scales or coverings, which
effectually protected them from the rigour of the winter
season. The germ of the bud, from which the leaves ori¬
ginate, was stated to be composed of the same elementary
parts as the stem and bi'anch from which it sprang. From
the ligneous ring in the annual shoot it derived its vessels,
which, after having traversed obliquely the cortical layers,
were prolonged into the pedicle by which it remained
attached to the branch. This pedicle was continued to
form the keel of the germ in its folded state; and, in its
more expanded forms, to constitute the vascular riblets of
the leaf. By subsequent growth it gradually extends
and elongates, becomes more ligneous, and is formed at
length into the slender stalk or petiole by which the leaf
remains attached to the branch. {Phys. des Arbres, tome i.
p. 123.)
The vessels which are given off from the branch to Structure
form the petiole are not collected into one bundle, but of the pe-
constitute several fasciculi, which are disposed in differ-
ent ways about the centre of the stalk. In some stalks
there are three, in others five or six, and in others seven
or more fasciculi, all placed, says Grew, either in an an¬
gular or circular posture, and at a greater or less distance
from the centre. This centre is generally occupied by a
pith, but sometimes it is hollow or tubular. In table 49
of the Anatomy of Plants, several transverse sections of
the petioles of the leaves of different plants are given, ex¬
hibiting the different modes in which these fasciculi are
dispersed through the cellular tissue that forms the greater
portion of the stalk. In every instance the pith and bark
ANATOMY, VEGETABLE.
Structure
of the leaf.
Vessels of
the leaf.
Its “ pro¬
per ves¬
sels.”
of these petioles are represented as forrmng.one conti¬
nuous substance. In some plants the fasciculi of vessels
that come off from the stem are not collected into a cy¬
lindrical figure, but, after being variously implicated with
each other, expand at once into a leaf. . Such leaves rise
by a broad base, and, from being destitute of a petioie,
are termed sessile, forming often a sort of sheath about
the stem, of which several varieties are enumerated by
botanists.
The petiole, as it springs from the branch, may be com¬
pared to a small stem, which at the basis of the leaf ex¬
pands into numerous branches. Frequently it is conti¬
nued through the centre of the leaf, forming its middle
rib, and giving off in its course numerous branches. At
other times, on reaching the base of the leaf, it sepaiates
at once into three or more equal portions, which form as
many distinct leaves or parts of a leaf, supported by their
respective petioles. The structure of the petiole is the
same as that of the branch, being composed of the lig¬
neous and cortical textures, in which sap and “ proper ves¬
sels” are discoverable; and the whole is invested by the
cuticle.
Where the petiole terminates, the proper or expanded
portion of the leaf (limbus) commences, the figure of
which is determined by the number and distribution of
the vessels. These vessels divide and ramify in various
modes, till at their termination they form a finely reticu¬
lated structure. In many recent leaves this structure is
very visible; but when the softer parts are removed by
spontaneous decomposition, the vascular system of the
leaf remains nearly entire, and its extent and form are
then more completely exposed. In fig. 11, Plate XLL,
this distribution of the vessels is exhibited in a leaf of
holly. From the central fasciculus branches are every¬
where given off, which further subdivide, and form small¬
er ramifications, that terminate at length in a minutely
reticulated structure. Around the margin of the leaf the
vessels are continued, and at certain parts are prolonged
into the thorns that bound the circumference of this leaf.
In this and similar instances the vessels appear to be
ramified out of greater into less; but, as already observed,
this does not appear to be really the fact, the vessels
being all of the same size everywhere in the leaf, and all
continued through it, like so many distinct tubes. This
structure Grew represents in a highly magnified view of
the leaf of borage, in table 50 of his work; part of which
is represented, on a reduced scale, in fig. 13, Plate XLI.,
designed to show that the ramified vessels o are all clus¬
ters of tubes of the same size, which, though they sepa¬
rate continually, and come into contact, are never pro¬
duced or ramified one out of another. Neither do they
ever inosculate or anastomose with each other, until, ac¬
cording to Grew, they come to their final distribution.
The vessels thus distributed through the leaf belong
chiefly to the order of spiral vessels, as was shown by Grew
in the leaf of the vine and many others ; and, from the obser¬
vations of Malpighi, Darwin, and Knight, already related,
it appears that “ proper vessels” are everywhere asso¬
ciated with them. It would seem, from the observations
of Darwin, that these two orders of vessels communicate
in the leaf by continuation of canal, as the arteries and
veins do in animal bodies. In the stalk he considered
them to be disposed in two concentric rings, the inner
one of which carried out the sap to the leaves, and by the
outer one it was returned to the bark. (Phytologia, p. 43
and 58.) In branches of the apple and horse-chesnut,
Mr Knight also observed coloured fluids to rise through
the vascular fasciculi in the petiole of the leaf. These
fasciculi were surrounded by others free from colour.
which conveyed a different fluid, and, on being traced Of , j
down the stalk, were found to enter the inner bark, and*^ g
to have no communication with those of the wood. The
returning vessels he describes as being situated parallel
to and surrounding those which carry up the sap. (Phil.
Trans. 1801, p. 336.)
Beside the vascular system which, by its ramifica-Cel]
tions, forms the skeleton of the leaf, there is anothertissi
structure that requires to be noticed. We have seen that11*
the vessels, in their ultimate distribution, form a net-work
more or less fine and minute in different leaves; so that
a great number of intervascular spaces are produced.
These spaces or areac, says Malpighi, are occupied by cellu¬
lar tissue, which springs from the vessels themselves, and
seems to depend from them ; and by its means the thick¬
ness of the leaf is formed. In the recent part of the bo¬
rage leaf, represented in fig. 13, Plate XLI., this cellular
structure, occupying the reticulated spaces formed by
the vessels, is observed; but it is most clearly seen in
thick leaves, when the cuticle has been removed, and the
vessels in part dissected away. The cells or utricles which
form this parenchyma, as it has been called, are of differ¬
ent figures, and are mutually contiguous; they are com¬
posed of a membrane formed into the shape of a little
vesicle or bladder, from the middle of each of which a
little vascular production issues; they are all connected
with each other, and with the vascular system of the leaf.
In fig. 12, Plate XLI., this cellular structure is represent¬
ed in the leaf of Cactus by Malpighi, in which the oblong
cells are described as proceeding from the central vessel,
and mutually communicating with each other. (Anat.
Plantar, p. 52.) A similar idea of the formation of the
cells seems to have been entertained by De Saussure. In
different leaves the cells possess very different sizes and
forms. In the experiments of M. de la Baisse, they are
said to have become tinged by coloured fluids conveyed
from the vessels. Whether they communicate with each
other is not known; but analogy, derived from other si¬
milar structures, would lead us to suppose that they com¬
municate only with vessels, as seems to be the case in the
cotyledonous leaf of the seed.
M. de Candolle describes the leaf as consisting of aStn
superior and inferior face, between which is an interme-0^
diate part, of very various thickness in different leaves, tojj\
which he gives the name of mesophylle, answering to the
parenchyma of preceding writers. The leaf is formed,
he says, by ramifications of the vessels, and by cellular
tissue, which fills up the intervals of these ramifications.
It probably comprehends twro systems; one which, re¬
ceiving the ascending sap, brings it into contact with
the air, and permits the exhalation of its superfluous
parts ; the other a system which receives the elaborated
sap, and reconducts it to the stem, whqre it serves for nu¬
trition. Physiological phenomena, he adds, prove the
existence of these two functions in leaves; but anatomy
has not yet distinguished the organs by which they are
accomplished. (Organog. Veget. tome i. p. 271, 273.)
It has been before observed that M. de Candolle follows
Kieser in regarding the alleged spaces between the cells,
called intercellular canals, as the organs in which the
vegetable fluids are conveyed; but the facts and argu¬
ments already stated establish, we think, with sufficient
certainty, that, in the wood, the bark, and leaves, the sap
is conveyed by appropriate vessels. The consistence of
the leaf, continues M. de Candolle, depends much on the
relative proportions of the cells and vessels that compose
it. W hen the vessels are numerous, the cellular tissue
is small in quantity, and the leaf is fibrous, firm, and
thin; when, again, the vessels are few and distant, then
ANATOMY, VEGETABLE.
95
save.'
lives, the cells are more abundant, and the leaf is softer and
more fleshy.
r j)ifFences The two surfaces of this organ often differ much in
: b tli >ur-appearance and structure. On the upper surface the
vessels are commonly but little prominent; it is there¬
fore smoother, has but few hairs or pores, and is some¬
times destitute of them. The lower surface, on the
other hand, presents the vessels more prominent, and is
furnished with hairs and pores much more abundantly.
These differences are more particularly observed in the
leaves of trees: in those of herbs the two surfaces more
nearly resemble each other. In aquatic plants, though
the upper surface is smooth and green, and the under one
pale and rough, yet the former only, as being exposed to
the atmosphere, is furnished with pores. It is to be re¬
marked, however, that whether the two surfaces exhibit
an aspect either very different or very similar, each seems
destined to enjoy a special function. Hence, if the upper
surface be turned downward, and the lower one upward,
the leaf tends to resume its natural position ; and if it be
retained by force in a position not natural to it, it dies.
(Organog. Veget. tome i. p. 274.)
In the cellular tissue of herbaceous stems, and of all
lolou.ig
latupl ]eaves, are contained small globules, which by the action
sen--
■■ mid
of light are rendered green, and bestow on the plant its
verdure. In the elongated cells of Conferva reticulata
they are represented by Kieser as small green globules.
(See Plate II. of his Memoir.') They are of a resinous
nature, and have been named chlorophylle by chemists ;
but as a matter similar in composition is said to reside in
the flower, M. de Candolle deems the foregoing name im¬
proper, and proposes to call this matter chromule. {Ibid.
tome i. p. 19.)
In the substance of the leaf Malpighi describes small
bags or follicles as existing between the cells and vessels,
and which, in most leaves, yield a peculiar humour. They
spring from the vessels, have a roundish or oblong form,
and the lip that bounds their orifice is often furnished
with hairs. This orifice points towards the upper surface
of the leaf, or that which regards the heavens. In different
leaves the follicles have different forms; and they afford
a secretion which, adhering to the contiguous parts of the
leaf, renders them shining. They are numerous in the leaf
of the fig, lemon, orange, &c.; and are rendered more vi¬
sible as the cellular tissue of the leaf wastes and dries.
{Anat. Plantar, p. 52.)
There are other small leaves called stipidee and bractece,
5tl!' which are attached to leaves and flowers, and are of some
importance to the botanist. In the- general features of
their structure they resemble those already described.
I he whole structure of vessels and cells that compose
the leaf is covered by a cuticle variously furnished with
hairs and pores, and other appendages already described.
Section III.
Art. I.—Of the Structure of Floicers.
The flower is that assemblage of organs which, by the
mutual action they exert on each other, give origin to
hubs and seeds. All the parts hitherto described con-
tybute to the growth and perfection of the individual
plant, and have been named the Nutritive or Conservative
System; but the organs composing the flower are des¬
tined to continue the race, and from thence have been
denominated the Reproductive Organs. In a limited sense
t ie bud, produced by the conservative system, may be
deemed a reproductive organ, since new individuals may
successively be propagated from it; but after a certain
period, plants thus produced seem to degenerate, and be¬
come incapable of producing fruit. Reproduction with-Of Flowers,
out fecundation presents no organic apparatus which
proper to it; but sexual reproduction, or that accomplish¬
ed by fecundation, exhibits numerous and varied organs,
which merit all our attention, not only because they exer¬
cise the principal functions of vegetation, but because, from
the constancy and symmetry of their forms in the same
species, though varied infinitely in different species, they
afford the base on which Classification rests.
In relation to the organs of reproduction, vegetables, as Sexual
before remarked, have been divided into two great classes: organs in
Is?, such as have flowers visible to the naked eye, and in dowers,
which the sexual organs are distinct; 2dly, such as haveyisl.bJ®1or
flowers (it there be any) which can be rendered visible11 V1S1^ e'
only by the microscope, and in which the sexual organs
are not distinct. The former class, named phaenogamous
or phanerogamous, comprises all exogenous, and the great¬
er part of endogenous plants ; the latter, or cryptogamous
division, comprehends some endogenous vascular plants,
and all those which possess a simple cellular structure.
At present we shall treat only of the first or flowering
class.
The flower is essentially constituted by the presence of Varieties
one of the two sexual organs, or of two re-united by a in sexual
common support, with or without the exterior envelope orSai!H-
destined to protect them. In some instances the flower
bears only a male or female organ, and is then named
unisexual; but more commonly these organs are present
in the same flower, and it is then called hermaphrodite.
This unisexual flower, again, is simply male or female, Bescrip.
according as it possesses either stamens only, or pistil only, lion of
In some instances, though the same plant bears both male sexual
and female organs, it is not hermaphrodite, since these or-orSans*
gans occur in different flowers ; in others, again, the male
and female flowers exist only in different plants. Lastly,
we sometimes find both male, female, and hermaphro¬
dite flowers mingled together, either on the same or on
different footstalks. The distinctions founded on this se¬
paration, re-union, and mixture of the sexual organs, have
served as the basis of certain classes in theLinnsean system.
•Sometimes the male or female organs alone, protect¬
ed in a small scale, constitute the flower; but in general
they are surrounded and protected by others, named the
corolla and the calix. All these parts are commonly borne
on a stalk called the peduncle, which, expanding at its ex¬
tremity, forms the receptacle, or torus as it has been call¬
ed, upon which all the parts above mentioned are support¬
ed. In fig. 1, Plate XLIL, the sexual parts which consti¬
tute a perfect flower are exhibited. The letter a denotes
the corolla, formed, in this flower, of six leaves called petals;
b the stamens or male organs, which surround the pistil
or female organ c ; and d indicates the peduncle of the
flower. In the next figure (fig. 2) the corolla has been
removed, and the parts within are then more clearly seen.
They now consist only of the sexual organs supported on
the peduncle, and at their base are embraced by the calix e.
The pistil, in the centre, is composed of three parts, viz.
the ovariumthe style g, and the stigma h ; while each
stamen consists only of two parts, the filament i, and the
anther k, which latter contains the prolific matter named
pollen. Such an assemblage of organs constitutes a per¬
fect or complete flower; but it often happens, that in
flowers where the sexual organs are present, one or other
of the accessory organs is wanting; thus, in the tulip only
one of the protecting envelopes is present, and botanists
differ as to the name it should bear. Linnaeus considers
it as a corolla, because it is coloured like ordinary petals ;
but M. Jussieu regards it as a calix, from its analogy in
structure and use to that organ.
96
ANATOMY, VEGETABLE.
The flower is sometimes attached immediately to
the of the flower are clandestinely formed, though still extreme-Of.
Of Flowers. The iiower is someumes   —Iv minute. As they enlarge, their position within the bud^
branch by its base, when it is termed sessile; butin g J vari0us in different species: they gradually expand
Peduncle ral it is borne on a footstalk or peduncle. T his Ped , f/ tl perfect flower, whose several parts we have
^ of the flower, like the petiole of the leaf, is sometimes fl^etoptdescribe.
single and sometimes ramified : in the latter case its i- llc^he Auricle of the flower, by which all the other partsStrl
visions take the name of pedicels. c ,i nrp connected with the stem or branch, is frequentlyo/t]
Around the base of the flower we often meet wi f, divides into several parts or pedicels, asdu'l
leaves which, in size, colour, form af existence differ ^Sle’arbeUtn^ed; each of which supports one or more
from ordinary leaves. They are called bractea, am i om e 7 Tbe modes in which the flowers are disposed on
axils they form with the stem or branch the ' ' , pedicels have received different names from botanists,
ten spring. From thus being the birth-place of the flovver, the pedicels have^ the ^
which draws from them a great part of the nutnen » florescence & The peduncle in structure resembles the
the bractete are -aUer and lelftbelng formed, like it of the severa. com-
E1*. . , t    Tr> ci'zp. in lenp-th. and
of the
flower.
Floral
leaves or
bractese.
the flower. They must, however, be regarded as leaves, mo- mon textures
dified by the circumstances in which they grow, as is demon¬
strated by the fact, that examples frequentlyoccur in which
bractem are changed into true leaves. (De Candolle, Or-
ganog. Veget. tome i. p. 438-9.) When these bracteae
approximate so as to form a sort of envelope around the
flower, they take the name of involucrum,—when this en
In size, in length, and other external cha¬
racters, it exhibits all the varieties already noticed in the
petiole of the leaf. , ,
At the extremity of the peduncle is placed the fiower-of
cup or calix, which has very different forms, and has re-lk
ceived in consequence different names. Even in its most
common forms it exhibits great variety. It is sometimes
and has a tubular form ; in
vplnne becomes a sheath, it is named spatha,—in the composed of a single piece,
G^mimTkk termed glum*, &c.; of all which forms others, of many p.eces called sepals (s^a), wh.ch vary m
there are numerous modifications, to which botanists at¬
tach different names. The bracteae approximate more or
number, position, and size, and for an account of which we
must refer to the writers on botany. In some instances
less in character to the calix, in proportion as they are this organ falls when the fruit has set; in others it con-
coloured or exhibit the form of whorls ■ and the transition tinues till the fruit ,s mature; and in others the fruit is
of the organs of vegetation into those of florescence is so formed within it, to which it becomes a permanent cover-
gradual, says M. de Candolle, that the more we study it, ing, and exercises the office of pericarp. The colour of
the better do we comprehend that unity of composition the calix is commonly green, but sometimes partly red, or
which constitutes the base of philosophic organography, white, or yellow, ™ "owe., „ ,, eo.irelv want,on.
(Organog. Veget. tome i. p. 447.)
The flower, as well as the leaf, originates from a bud,
and in many respects the buds of flowers resemble those
from buds. 0f leaves. They are covered and protected in the same
manner, but they are generally larger, and have a more
rounded form. They consist of two parts, the gem or
Flowers
originate
In some flowers it is entirely wanting.
From the dissections of Grew and Malpighi it appears, like
the leaves, to be constructed of a cuticle, a pretty thick
cellular tissue, and of vessels, all of which exist in the
peduncle, and are derived from the common textures of
the plant.
Above the calix, the corolla, the chief ornament ofof
eye (oculus), as it is sometimes called, and the hyberna- flowers, is borne. It is inclosed by the calix, but sur-rt
" -m . • 1 T   a   _ A F. ^ •»* /-v»-i ■»-» rl n 4-V»/-v i /“VT* Y'vO vFo /A'P FllO fWAT Q T4 fl IS Ol f'T* V C.O"
rounds the interior parts of the flower, and is of every co¬
lour but green. It consists of one piece, or of several:
these pieces are called petals, and according to the num¬
ber of these pieces the corolla is variously denominated.
The monopetalous corolla, or that composed of one piece,
is also distinguished into several parts, expressive of form,
position, or quality; and in the polypetalous variety,
culum, or protecting envelope. In some trees they spring
from the extremity of particular branches; in others
from the branches in common with the leaf-buds ; and in
others from the axils of the leaves. In fig. 3, Plate XLII.,
is a portion of the branch of the peach-tree, bearing
two flower-buds 11, between which the smaller and more
pointed leaf-bud m is placed. x , * „ . . . .... . -
Flower- Grew discovered and has exhibited many examples of which consists of several pieces, each petal has its claw
buds form- the complete formation of the flower many months before (unguis) situated at the base, and by which it is attached
ed in au- jt destined to bloom. (Anat. of Plants, tables 63, 64.) to the calix or receptacle, and its expanded part (lamina),
tumn. of j-idg fact p)u Hamel has also given several examples, which is of very various figure, size, and colour. At the
In fig. 4 is a longitudinal section of the flower-bud of the base of the petal a tuft of hairs is often observed, and its
peach-tree, made in the month of February, to show the surface is frequently covered with a fine down, or some-
complete formation of the stamens and pistils within the times with jointed hairs bearing globulets, as occurs on
surrounding envelope of the bud. In fig. 5 is another leaves. With regard to structure, Malpighi describes it
representation of a similar bud, from which the enveloping as composed of the same textures as the common leaf, as
scales have been removed: it displays the calix, which at is distinctly visible in the thicker varieties of it. Grew
this period completely envelopes the other parts of the showed it to possess spiral vessels,—a proof, as Du Hamel
flower. When the leaflets of the calix are separated, as observes, that it is partly derived from the ligneous texture,
is done in fig. 6, then the stamens and pistils are fully dis- since such vessels are not found in the bark. The odour
closed: the petals also of this flower were visible, but at
this period were very small. Even the anthers were
found to contain a fine dust, but no rudiment of the future
embryo could be detected in the ovary. In the flower-
bud of the pear, examined in February, the parts of fruc¬
tification were also visible, but indistinct; a month later,
all the parts were more advanced, and the stamens, petals,
and pistils were distinct, and towards the end of March,
even the rudiments of future seeds were visible in the base
of the pistil. (Phys. des Arbres, tome i. p. 200.) Thus
these organs possess leads to the belief that they contain
also a peculiar juice. (Phys. des Arbres, tome i. p. 215.)
The organ next to be noticed is the nectary (nectarium)^
In a strict sense this term designates any excretory
gland which is situated on any one of the floral organs:
and the juice it yields bears the name of nectar. The
excretory glands observed on flowers deserve a common
designation, because, whatever be their position on any
part of the flower, whatever the nature of the juices of
the plant, or whatever the size, form, or consistence of
it appears that through the winter season the several parts the gland itself, the secretion it yields is always saccha-
ANATOMY, VEGETABLE.
97
ne si
in:!
t tail.
I 1
bef
ent i
he nj
*r.
, rs.rine, and very similar in all known plants. In regular
A'flowers the nectaries may occur on all the organs, symme¬
trically disposed. Their most common seat is the recep¬
tacle or torus. In some flowers, however, they are seated
on the ovary, in others on the corolla, calix, stamens, &c.
They have the form sometimes of distinct tubercles; but
in different plants they exhibit various other forms. In
irregular flowers the nectaries are not thus symmetrically
placed, but are found on one part and not on the corre¬
sponding part of the same flower. Sometimes they supply
the place of abortive stamens or pistils. The juice they
secrete is greedily sought by insects. (Organog. Veget.
tome i. p. 535.)
Art. II.—Of the Sexual Organs of Flowers.
Having exhibited this general view of the flower, we
must now describe somewhat more particularly the forms,
characters, and structure of its most important parts—the
sexual organs.
The male organ or stamen consists, as before remark¬
ed, of two parts,—the anther, with the pollen it contains,
and the filament on which the anther is borne. The fila¬
ment, though a common, is not an essential part, and is
sometimes wanting, when the stamen is said to be sessile :
the perfection of the stamen resides, therefore, in the an¬
ther, and especially in the pollen it contains.
In regard to number, length, position, direction, &c.
the stamens exhibit great diversity in different plants.
The number of stamens in each flower varies from one to
twenty or more; and on this number, progressively in¬
creasing in flowers truly hermaphrodite, the first ten
classes in the Linnsean system are founded. In length,
the stamens are equal or unequal; and this disproportion
is sometimes symmetrical and sometimes not,—peculiari¬
ties which give rise to the formation of other classes in the
Linnaean arrangement. In position, the stamens are some¬
times opposed to the divisions of the petals, and some¬
times they alternate with them. Sometimes, from being
shorter, the stamens are wholly included within the co¬
rolla : in other instances they protrude beyond it. Their
direction is erect, pendent, or horizontal; and their sum¬
mit is variously inclined to or reflected from the centre
of the flower. In some flowers the stamens are united by
their filaments; in others by their anthers; and in others
they are joined to and almost confounded with the pistil,
giving origin, in their various mbdes and degrees of union,
to the formation of other classes in the Linnsean system.
The filament which bears the anther is most commonly
straight and filiform : sometimes, however, it is flattened
or wedge-shaped, or awl-shaped. It is sometimes as small
as a hair, sometimes large and flat like a petal, and its
summit is either pointed or obtuse. To the summit the
anther is commonly attached; but in some flowers this
part is prolonged beyond the attachment of the anther.
In structure, the filament resembles the corolla; and it
often happens that these organs are transformed into one
another. Thus the rose, in its wild state, has only five
petals and many stamens; but by cultivation the stamens
gradually degenerate into petals, and the flower becomes
sterile. Malpighi describes the filaments as originating
horn the ligneous texture, being formed of spiral vessels
and elongated cells; and as they are sometimes produced
h'om elongated floral leaves (petals), they must necessarily,
he adds, be formed of the same parts. (Anat. Plantar.
p. 64.) 1 v
I he anther is that essential part of the stamen that
contains the fecundating matter. It is borne on the sum¬
mit of the filament, and is generally formed of two small
vol. m.
membranous sacs, attached immediately to each other, orOfFlowers
united by an intermediate connecting body. Anthers,
therefore, are generally bilocular; but in some plants
there is only one sac or loculament, and in others as many
as four. The sacs are either round, oval, or elongated:
each sac commonly exhibits on one of its sides a longitu¬
dinal furrow: this side is properly called the face, and
the part opposed to it the back, of the anther. The an¬
ther is attached to the summit of the filament, sometimes
by its face, sometimes by its back, &c. In form, the an¬
ther is subject to great variety; and the two sacs that
compose a bilocular anther are joined together in very dif¬
ferent modes. In discharging the pollen the sacs open in
different ways in different genera of plants, most common¬
ly by the longitudinal furrow that runs along the face of
the anther; but in some plants the opening, or dehiscence
as it is called, is through two small holes or pores situated
at the summit of the two sacs; and sometimes it is by a
sort of little valves in some one or more parts of the an¬
ther. As the filaments of the stamens sometimes cohere,
so likewise do the anthers, in a manner to form a sort of
tube. In other plants the stamens, instead of being free
or simply united together, coalesce so as to make one
body with the pistil. The colour of the anther is often
yellow, orange, violet, white, &c., but never green or truly
blue.
The 'pollen, contained in the anthers, consists of nume- The pol-
rous regularly figured small particles, which possess a very len.
different figure, size, and colour in different plants. Many
of their forms and sizes are delineated by Grew in table
58 of his Anatomy of Plants. In fig. 9, A, Plate XLIL,
copied from Grew, one of the filaments, bearing its anther,
as it appears when detached from the pistil of the mallow,
fig. 8, is exhibited. The particles of pollen are consider¬
ably magnified, and still more highly in fig. 9, B. In fig. 10
of the same plate, several representations of the forms of the
pollen, as given by Du Hamel, are also exhibited. The
number of these particles in each anther extends, it is said,
from a few hundreds to many thousands. In the cell of the
anther they are said to float in a viscous liquid, and to be
nowhere attached to its sides, though it is probable they
once were; and M. Turpin has even designated a salient
point in each cell as the part which produced the pollen.
(De Candolle’s Organog. Veget. tome i. p. 465.)
In some flowers the pollen consists of transparent grains ;
in others they are of a white, purple, blue or brown, and
more frequently of a yelloAV colour. Their surface is either
smooth or rough, or covered sometimes with a viscous
matter. When examined under the microscope at the pe¬
riod of maturity, they may be seen to burst, and yield a
fluid, in which, according to Du Hamel, small granules
are seen to float. This fluid is described as being thin,
or viscid, or oily. If a grain of pollen be thrown on the
surface of water, it may be seen to swell insensibly, and
finally burst. At this moment a minute quantity of fluid
matter escapes, which spreads on the surface of the
water, and forms a sort of slight cloudiness. It is to this
liquid matter that the fecundating property of the pollen
has been attributed. (Elemehs de Botanique, par Achille
Richard, p. 199.) This fluid is said by Hedwig to be
discharged at once on the bursting of its containing cap¬
sule ; but Koelreuter considers it to be slowly transmit¬
ted through pores in the side, or hairs on the surface of
the capsule.
Instead of being formed of distinct granules, the pollen
is sometimes met with in a solid mass. In many genera
of the families Apocynece and Orchidece, fA the pollen con¬
tained in one sac is united into one body, having the form
of the containing sac; in other instances it forms smaller
N
98
ANATOMY, VEGETABLE.
OfFlowers. masses, and these are united by a sort of elastic net-work;
while in others the masses are granular. The pollen is
very inflammable, and in many plants its odour is said, to
bear a striking resemblance to the corresponding secretion
in animals. (Elemens de Botanique, par Achille Richard,
p. 200.)
Sponta- It has lately been said by some, that the particles con-
neous mo- tained in the grains of pollen exhibit spontaneous motions,
lion in the]jke the spermatic animalcules of animals; others ascribe
pollen. these motions to causes distinct from life; and others,
though they allow similar motions to be exhibited by the
molecules of unorganized matter, maintain, nevertheless,
that in the granules of pollen they are independent of
physical causes, and resemble the less rapid motions of
some of the simplest animalcules of infusions.
The pistil. The parts of the flower hitherto described are con¬
structed, says Malpighi, with reference to the female or¬
gans, in which the seed, the last result sought by nature,
is curiously formed and matured. This organ, called the
pistil (pistillum), consists of three parts. These are re¬
presented in the pistil of the almond, fig. II, Plate XLIL,
where the letter jo indicates the stigma, q the style, and r
the ovary. To this latter organ Malpighi and Grew gave
the name of uterus, Linnaeus that of germen, and Gaertner
that of ovarium. In different plants the pistil exhibits
great variety in form, size, number, and mode of attach¬
ment ; upon which many of the orders in the Linnaean
system are founded.
The ova- The ovarium occupies almost always the inferior part
rium. 0f the pistil. It is the organ in which the seed is pro¬
duced. When cut open it exhibits one or more cavities or
cells, in which are contained the rudiments of the seeds
or ovula; and it is in it that the change of the ovula into
perfect seeds is accomplished. Its form is various, but
most commonly ovoidal. It is seated commonly on the
receptacle, together with the stamens; but frequently it
is placed below the flower. Its cavity consists sometimes
only of one cell or loculament, in which one or more
ovula are found. More frequently there are two or more
cells containing ovula: these are sometimes disposed in
regular series, sometimes they are scattered and without
order, and sometimes they are united to one another in a
globular form. When these ovula are fecundated they
become seeds; but in some plants a certain number are
constantly abortive.
The style. The style is a prolongation from the summit of the ova¬
rium, and supports the stigma. It is commonly so situate
in the flower as to be surrounded by the stamens ; but
sometimes it is entirely wanting, and the stigma is then
said to be sessile. The ovary in different plants may be
surmounted by one or more styles ; while in other plants
there is but one style to many ovaries. Most frequently
the style occupies the summit of the ovary, but sometimes
it springs from its side, and very rarely from its base.
The forms of the style are numerous :—the most common
is the filiform; but frequently it is thick, angulated, or
club-shaped. It is commonly a hollow tube which com¬
municates with the ovary: there is usually but one style
to one ovary, but sometimes more. In some instances the
pistils correspond in number with the loculaments into
which the pvary is divided; in other instances every
seed that is formed has its distinct pistil, while in other
examples only one pistil is allotted to a great number of
seeds. In some flowers the style is so connected with the
ovary that it falls after fecundation ; in others it con¬
tinues after that event, and forms a part of the future
fruit.
The stig- The stigma, which forms the summit of the pistil, some-
ma- times terminates the style by an open mouth. Sometimes
it appears like a small bud; in other instances it is va- (jj
riously divided or forked. Sometimes it is smooth; antN
is sometimes covered with hairs. The number of stigma¬
ta is determined by that of the styles, or divisions of the
styles, and therefore varies from one to six or more in dif¬
ferent plants. Sometimes the stigma is attached to the
summit of the ovary, without the intervention of a style;
but most frequently it is seated on the summit of the style,
or occasionally attached to its side, or to that of the ovary.
In consistence, the stigma is thick and fleshy, or thin
and membranous, or formed of small glandular bodies.
In form, it varies exceedingly; and its surface is smooth,
pubescent, or plumous, &c. In structure, it is ordinarily
glandular; and at the period of fecundation its surface is
rendered moist by a peculiar viscous matter. When the
pollen falls on this matter, its grains burst, and the gra¬
nules, called by some favillce, are supposed to be absorbed
by the spongioles seated in this part, and conveyed to the
ovula by the vessels which form the pistillary cord, and
thus accomplish their fecundation. M. Bulliard is said to
have traced coloured liquors, previously absorbed by the
stigma, along the vessels in the interior of the style, to
the ovula contained in the cells of the ovary. (De Can¬
dolle, tome i. p. 480.) In many plants, however, either
from the structure of the pistil, the nature of the pollen,
or the circumstances in which fecundation is effected, the
pollen seems never to come into contact with the ovula.
Section IV.
Of the Structure of Fruits and Formation of Seeds.
In the preceding section we described the structure of
the flower antecedent to fructification: we have now to
exhibit as concisely as possible the changes of form it
undergoes after that event, and particularly as it regards
the production of the seed.
After fecundation has been effected, the calix, corolla, d
stamens, and even style of the pistil, commonly fade andt!
fall; the ovary alone remains, and undergoes very differ-*1
ent changes of form in different plants. In the latter pe-c
riods of its enlargement it is usually called pericarp (peri-
carpium), a term which is understood by botanists to ap¬
ply also in certain cases to the calix, the corolla, or any
other apparatus of organs that serves as a support and
defence to the seed.
In its early state the ovary is described by Gaertner asij
possessing at first a simple cellular structure, which at aa
later period takes the form of distinct cavities or locula-jlj
ments. Within these cavities minute globules are after-J
wards seen, which are the rudiments of future seeds. Ac¬
cording to Mr It. Brown, the ovulum, in the unimpreg¬
nated ovarium, is attached only to a part of the mem¬
brane that lines its cell or internal cavity; but soon after
fecundation in some cases, and still oftener during the
growth of the seed, this membrane coheres so closely with
the proper coat of the seed as to be no longer distinguish¬
able or separable from it. In the ovarium of plants of the
family Compositcc he observed two slender filiform cords,
which, originating from the base of the ovulum or its
short footstalk, ran up, and were more or less connected
with the parietes of the ovarium, until they united at the
top ot its cavity immediately under the style, between
which and the ovulum a connection was then formed. In
some species of this family, as in tussilago odorata, these
cords were easily separable from the ovarium, and could
be removed entire along with the ovulum. These cords
he regards rather as vessels conveying nutrient mat¬
ter, than as organs by which impregnation was accom¬
plished. A similar appearance of vascular cords con-
1
ANATOMY, VEGETABLE.
99
F ts. necting the ovulum with the style was observed in the
^ familyBrunonia; and in certain liliaceous plants the bulb¬
like seeds, which separate from the plant before the em¬
bryo becomes visible, are supplied with distinct spiral
vessels, which, entering at the umbilicus, ramify regularly
through the fleshy mass, and appear to have a relation to
the central cavity, where the embryo is afterwards formed.
(Linncean Trans, vol. xii.) Thus, then, the ovulum in the
plant, like the egg in the animal, is, to a certain extent, pro¬
duced without fecundation; but if that function be not
performed, it soon degenerates and wastes. The progres¬
sive changes that occur in the ovary itself, and in its con¬
tained ovula, subsequent to impregnation, have been ob¬
served by Malpighi in several plants, whose observations,
as they relate to the almond, we shall briefly detail.
In fig. 11, Plate XL1I., is represented the pistil of the
almond, as it appears soon after fecundation, in which the
la Jterovary r is seen to be somewhat enlarged, and has an oval
Inc- form. In the next figure (fig. 12) a longitudinal section
of the same pistil is exhibited, exposing the cavity of the
ovary s, within which a small vesicle, t, is placed. As the
ovary (fig. 13) enlarges, it becomes rounder, and its style
is contorted and diminished in size. If in this stage it be
laid open, as in fig. 14, its vessels, which in the peduncle
w are disposed cylindrically, are observed to be dilated
at the place of the calix x, and to give off branches to the
ovary itself, and to the shell y that now begins to be
formed within it. In the centre, the ovulum z is now
seen to be much increased in size. All the parts conti¬
nue to augment; the ovary (fig. 15) becomes rounder, and
the appearance of the style is obliterated. On exposing
its cavity in this stage, as in fig. 16, the ovulum a' in the
centre is observed to be much increased, and the outer
layer b‘ of the shelly covering that invests it now begins to
harden. Such are the changes of form and structure ex¬
hibited by the ovary: we have next to trace more mi¬
nutely those of the ovulum that is produced within it.
The earlier appearances of this body have been exhi-
hejyu-bited in fig. 12 and 14. When removed from its seat, a
few days after fecundation has been accomplished, and
viewed by a moderately magnifying power, it exhibits the
form and appearance represented in fig. 17. Externally
it is covered by a vascular tunic, d, derived from the inner
coat of the ovarium, a part of which coat adheres to it at
d'. If in this stage the ovulum be laid open by a vertical
section, as in fig. 18, it is seen to be composed of two
tunics or sacs, one within the other; the inner one is
filled with a cellular tissue, that contains a transparent
hijaa;juice. To this inner tunic the term chorion may be pro¬
perly applied.
At a period a little later, when the ovulum is examined,
a tubular body (e', fig. 19) is observed to extend through
the chorion or tunic last mentioned. Shortly after, this
tube expands at its apex, and is found to contain a small
vesicle. In fig. 20, which represents a section of the en¬
tire ovulum, the outer tunic, the chorion, and the tube f
expanded at its apex, are exhibited. To it the appella-
; tion of amnios may be given; for it is the organ in which
the embryo, or corculum, as at this early period it has
been called, is first seen to emerge. Through several
successive days the expanded portion of this tube en¬
larges and forms a sort of sac, which is filled with cellular
tissue, and the summit of which, saj^s Malpighi, the em¬
bryo is seen to occupy. In fig. 21 this amnios is separat-
■n yo.ed from the other tunics, and at its summit the embryo y'
is observed. If removed from its seat, the embryo pre¬
sents the appearance Ji (fig. 22), and when expanded, as
hi fig. 22, f, is seen to consist of a body and two little
wings.
T
Having thus viewed the several parts of which the ovu- Of Fruits,
lum is composed in their separate state, let us next ob-^~v^-^
serve them in connection, and trace the series of appear-The °vu-
ances they exhibit, and the effects they produce on each t|'e
other. In figure 23 is given a vertical section of the en-.
tire ovulum in a more advanced state. The outer coat h!
still envelopes the others; the embryo l occupies the
summit of the amnios m', wdiose lower part, still tubular,
is continued through the chorion rL In the next figure
(fig. 24), from which the outer coat has been removed,
the embryo o' and the amnios p are represented as en¬
larged ; but the chorion 9' is partly exhausted of its juice,
and has fallen down in a collapsed state. At this period
the embryo, when separated from the amnios, has the
form r\ fig. 25, and in its expanded state is represented
by the letter d of the same figure. The bulk of the em¬
bryo t, fig. 26, continually augments, and encroaches on
the capacity of the two tunics v’, a/, whose forms are con¬
stantly changing; and from being successively emptied
of their juices, with which the embryo becomes filled,
they are gradually pressed downward. At last the em¬
bryo p, fig. 27, is so much augmented as to fill the cavity
of the outer tunic; and by this time the amnios and cho¬
rion, exhausted of their fluids, exhibit the shrunk and
corrugated forms in which they appear at the bottom of
the figure. According to this representation, the outer
tunic h!, fig. 23, derived from the ovary itself, and the fine
membrane that immediately invests the embryo, form the
only permanent coverings of the mature ovum or seed;
for during the progress of formation the chorion and am¬
nios (which are successively produced subsequent to
fecundation) are again obliterated by the growth of the
contained embryo. Malpighi describes the process of
formation in many other seeds to be nearly similar; for
his descriptions of which we must refer the reader to his
work (A?iat. Plantar, p. 71).
In the above descriptions of Malpighi, the several parts
seem to be clearly exhibited, except in one important
particular, namely, the situation and course of the umbili¬
cal cord. In almost every instance he designates the
tube, which we have represented as the first form of the
amnios, as the umbilical vessel (vasculum umbilicale),
which the subsequent appearances it exhibits show to be
erroneous. In the descriptions of Grew this deficiency
in the representations of Malpighi is supplied. He has
particularly observed the formation of the seed in the
apricot, which in many respects resembles that of the al¬
mond ; and we shall subjoin an abridged account of his
observations.
In this fruit the pericarp that envelopes the seed is in the
seen, in its mature state, to be composed of the pulpy partaPrlcot, by
a, fig. 28, within which is the osseous envelope b, and at^iew ’
the centre the kernel or true seed c. At an early period
both the pulp and stone are observed to consist of cellular
tissue; and through the stone the vessels passing from
the peduncle are continued. At the base of the figure
the letter d denotes one fasciculus of vessels continued
through the stone, and turning inward, where it reaches
the apex of the seed. These vessels form the umbilical
cord or seed-branch of Grew, while the fasciculus e that
runs on the opposite side is continued to the flower. In
fig. 29 a vertical section of the ovulum, as well as peri¬
carp, is exhibited as it appears at a very early period;
in which f denotes the pulp, g the stone through which
the umbilical vessels pass and enter the outer tunic
h of the ovulum, around which they make a ring.
Within this tunic is another, i, filled with cellular tissue;
and through its axis a small tube extends, at the apex of
which the embryo k is first seen to emerge.
100
Of Fruits.
in the pear,
by Du
Hamel.
ANATOMY, VEGETABLE.
In fig. 30 these several parts of the ovulum are ex- other instances, to be continued beneath the tunic to the Of 1
hibited on a larger scale; the letter l denotes the outer apex of the seed. (Phys.des Arbres,U)me i. p. 242.)
tunic that immediately lines the stone; m the inner one, The last variety we shall notice in theformation of the0v„;
corresponding to the chorion of Malpighi; and n the tube seed is that of wheat (triticum),^ given by Malpighuvfe
answering to the amnios of the same author. Through In fig. 42 is represented the pistil of the flower of thisMalj
the outer tunic Grew represents the umbilical vessels to plant, consisting of the ovarium q, the two styles r, and
pass and be continued to the middle tunic, the cavity of the feathered parts that form the stigmata. I revious to
which is occupied by large cells that contain a pure lymph, fecundation, the ovarium is found to contain a little
At first this tunic is entire, but soon there appears in it vesicle, fig. 43, which is the rudiment of the future ovulum.
the small duct n. This duct is not at first wider than a After fecundation the styles soon fall, and the ovarium
hair and is dilated at each extremity into an oval cavity acquires a more pointed figure, as in fig. 44. If now it be
that contains a pure lymph. A few days after a soft node opened, the little vesicle has changed its appearance, and
is seen to emerge in the upper cavity of this tube. This contains within it another smaller vesicle, u, fig. 45. Ihe
node (o fig. 31)1s described to possess a conical figure, and ovarium continues to alter its shape, and assumes a more
to be another tunic filled with very minute cells. It is at oblong form, fig. 46, and the appearance of styles is now
first entire, but when about the size of a carraway-seed quite obliterated. Gradually the little vesicle is formed
it becomes a little hollowed near its apex, at which part into a small plantule, convex anteriorly, fig. 47, but more
the vessels enter and terminate in another very small node hollowed within, fig. 48, and which is situated at the base
(fio\ 32), which is the first appearance of the embryo of the of the ovarium. The two portions thus described in
seed. This embryo, when about one fifth part as big as figures 47 and 48 are the minute germ and cotyledon of
a cheese-mite, begins to be distinguished by a little fissure, this seed, which are represented in their appropriate place
which marks the division of the lobes, as in fig. 33. When in fig. 49, in which the letter x denotes the germ, resting in
the lobes have increased, and are more fully formed, the the concavity of the cotyledon ; the albumen that forms
node contracts at its base (fig. 34), indicating the place of the chief bulk of the seed ; and z the ovarium, which in
the umbilical cord, which subsequently becomes the ra- this seed continues permanent, and forms its outer tunic,
dicle of the seed. (Anat. of Plants, p. 209.) (Anat. Plantar, p. 73.)
This description corresponds nearly with that of Mai- In his description of the progressive changes exhibit-Oph
pighi, as far as regards the situation and general form of edby the impregnated ovarium, Gsertner follows Malpighi6®
the tunics, and the place in which the embryo is seen first and Grew, and refers to the figures given by those authors
to emerge. It also displays the course of the vessels to as illustrative of them. The liquor, however, in which the
form the umbilical cord; but the growth of the embryo embryo is first seen, he confounds with the sac that con-
in this seed does not seem to produce the obliteration of tains it, calling it the amnios; but the term amnios desig-
some of the tunics in the manner delineated by Malpighi, nates the membrane or sac only, and not the fluid con-
An example of a different kind is observed in the pear, tained within it. Sometimes, he says, there is no proper
Its structure has been described by Grew, and more mi
nutely by Du Hamel. In its mature state it consists of
a pulpy matter, in the centre of which are five locula-
ments that contain each two seeds. These appearances
are exhibited in the transverse section, fig. 35 ; and in the
longitudinal section, fig. 36, the seeds are further shown
sac for this fluid, but it is contained in the chorion, or in
an appropriate cellular tissue. (fDe Fructibas, &c. tom. i.
p. 60.) The changes in the ovary during the formation
of the seed have likewise been observed by Mr Keith, of B
whose account of them agrees with that of Malpighi and
Grew. ( System of Physiological Botany, vol. ii. chap. 8.)
to be attached by a small umbilical cord. The pulp of Very recently, also, the same subject has occupied the
the fruit is made up of a very fine cellular tissue, filled
with the proper substance of the fruit, and is everywhere
furnished with vessels. Through this pulpy matter a
number of solid particles are met with, which are more
particularly accumulated at the top and about the core.
They are formed of an assemblage of small particles, of a
stony consistence, with which a little knot of vessels (fig.
37) is everywhere connected. In fig. 38 is a thin trans¬
verse slice, showing the relative position of these stony
particles, as indicated by the knots of vessels with which
they are associated. The stony matter is not observed at
an early period, but seems to be deposited from the juices
in a more mature state.
By long maceration in water the pulpy matter is dis¬
solved, and the vascular system is obtained separate. In
attention of several foreign writers, and particularly of
M. Mirbel, whose observations we shall briefly detail.
According to M. Mirbel, little has been done to advance and
this part of physiology since the days of Grew and Mal-^“
pighi, till the late observations of M. Schmitz and Mr R.
Brown. The latter remarked that we ought not to judge
of the structure of the ovulum from that of the developed
seed. Acting on this idea, M. Mirbel applied himself to
examine the ovarium, from the moment the ovulum begins
to appear, and followed its progressive changes of develop¬
ment in plants of the same species. The ovulum at first
he describes as a small pulpy excrescence of a conical
shape, attached to the containing cell, and which does not
appear to have any proper envelope or aperture of any
kind. In plants whose ovaria produce many seeds, the
the peduncle of the fruit fifteen principal fasciculi of ves- ovula exhibit different degrees of development, according
se s are contained. len of these are distributed to the as they are nearer to or more distant from the vascular
seeds and flower, and the five others are dispersed through cords that supply nutriment. M. Schmitz, it is said, first
the pulp. Ihis vascular structure is represented in fig. discovered in the apex of each ovulum a small orifice or
39 after the removal of the pulpy part; the larger vessels hole, which penetrates the two membranes or sacs, of
embrace the core, and after variously ramifying, termi- which, at this early period, the ovulum is composed. To
nate in the little vascular processes before described as these sacs, which are placed one within the other, M. Mir-
connec e wi i ic sony matter o t ic pulp. In fig. 40 bel has given the names of primine and seconding. Thefni
is represented one of the loculaments of the capsule, with orifices at their apex, which at first form but one aperture^
tie seed in it, receiving vessels from fasciculi continued externally, soon become more distinct from the enlarge-dim
1 K Tr G ’ aif' m f an en^ire ®e.e^ 18 rePre_ ment of the parts within, and gradually a third membrane
Saf’veslk that ftp11 ° t- If m W \lch the um‘ is seen to protrude through them. No sooner has it be-
b vessels that enter at the base are shown, as in come visible in the form of a small pulp, than it begins,
ANA
fn s. in some species, to dilate interiorly, so as to form a sac
v-'V'with very thin sides, which afterwards becomes blended
with the secondine: in other species it protrudes to a
considerable extent, and in a conical form, through the
primine and secondine, which appear to invest it as the
cup of the acorn embraces the kernel. In this state it is
free at its apex, but is attached at its base to the secon-
•n (png. To this sac the name of tercine has been given.
These three tunics, it is said, appear together as soon as
the development of the ovulum begins; the primine is
never absent, and the same is probably the case with the
tercine, nor has he ever missed the secondine but in a
very few instances.
rti,. In addition to the three tunics or sacs just described,
iju - two others, named the quartine and quintine, successively
appear. The former, says M. Mirbel, is not rare, but has
escaped observation by being confounded with the tercine,
from which, however, it differs both in its origin and mode
of growth. On its first appearance it forms a cellular
lining over the inner surface of the cavity of the ovulum.
By degrees it separates, and continues attached only to
the summit of that cavity. In this state it forms a close
sac, and so continues in the ovula of some plants; while
in those of others its cavity becomes filled with cellular
tissue, and forms a pulpy mass.
The fifth envelope, or quintine, is always developed ei¬
ther within the tercine or quartine when they remain
filled with cellular tissue. It is first seen in the centre of
the sac like a fine tube, and is attached at one end to its
summit, and at the other to its base. It begins to en¬
large at the summit, and the embryo is almost simultane¬
ously visible in it. As the enlargement proceeds down¬
ward, the quintine presses at all points on the sac that
surrounds it, so as often to push down and occupy the
place of the tercine or quartine. From the summit of the
ovulum a very fine thread (le suspenseur) descends in the
quintine, bearing at its extremity a globule, which is the
nascent embryo. This quintine, adds M. Mirbel, answers
to the vesicle called amnios by Malpighi,
eitnt The foregoing observations were made on the ovula of
M several plants, and in their more important points will be
!’ seen to correspond nearly with the descriptions of Mal-
|,a pighi and Grew. These latter authors have not so minute¬
ly examined the ovulum and its envelopes antecedent to
fecundation ; but after that event the chorion of Malpighi
may be considered as answering to the lercine or quartine
of Mirbel; for in the centre of this chorion the tube e!
(fig. 19, Plate XLII.) is seen to extend from the summit
to the base, as in the tercine of Mirbel. The subsequent
ANA
101
expansion of this tube at its summit (fig. 21), its gradual Of Fruits,
enlargement downwards, and the appearance of the em-
bryo at its apex as described to occur in the quintine of
Mirbel, are all exhibited in the amnios of Malpighi; as
is also, in fig. 23, the pressure which this amnios makes
on the surrounding sac. In the representations of these
appearances given by Grew in figures 28 to 34 inclusive,
Plate XLII., a similar series of changes is exhibited; and
in what relates to the vascular connection of the ovum
with the parent plant, he has anticipated most of the ob¬
servations of those who have followed him. Thus, in
fig. 28, 29, Plate XLII., he exhibits the course the vessels
take after quitting the peduncle, and shows that they pe¬
netrate the several tunics to reach the point where the
embryo, in the form of a small globule (fig. 32), is first
seen to emerge; and in fig. 33 and 34 of the same plate
he delineates the thread by which it is suspended.
According to M. Mirbel, the vessels which form the
funiculus or cord enter the ovulum at the point afterwards
called hilum in the mature seed, and terminate at a
point in the inner tunic or membrane, to which the term
chalaza, or internal umbilicus, has been applied. This
point or chalaza in the inner tunic corresponds, he says,
in the ovula of some plants with that of the hilum in the
outer ; but sometimes the vessels after their entrance are
prolonged in the manner described by Grew, so that the
place of the chalaza is opposite to that of the hilum.
Wherever the chalaza may be situated, that part, Mirbel
adds, is to be considered as the base of the seed. (i?e-
ckerches sur la Structure de V Ovule Vegetal, par M. de
Mirbel: Annales des Sciences Naturelles, Juillet 1829.)
We have thus described in a general way the elemen- Conclu-
tary organs that form the several textures of which the &i°n*
vegetable system, in phaenogamous plants, is composed,
and given examples of the various modes and proportions
in which they combine for that purpose: we have next
examined the structure of the mature seed, traced the
changes of form observed in its evolution, and described
the construction of the several members and organs that
are successively produced : and, lastly, we have displayed
the structure of the flower, and the formation and de¬
velopment of the ovum, from which a new seed origi¬
nates, fitted to undqrgo and exhibit the same series of
changes. The means and conditions required for the
accomplishment of these changes, the circumstances in
which they act, and the modes of their operation, belong
to the department of Physiology, and will form the sub¬
jects of future consideration. (w.)
ANAXAGORAS, an eminent philosopher of antiquity,
was born in the first year of the 70th Olympiad, or 500
years before Christ. Leaving his lands to be cultivated
and enjoyed by his friends, Anaxagoras placed himself un¬
der the care of Anaximenes the Milesian. About the
age of twenty he went to Athens and entered upon the
study of philosophy, where he continued thirty years.
Some suppose that he was the first disciple of the Ionian
school, founded by Thales, a teacher of philosophy in
Athens. When Anaxagoras assumed the character of a
public teacher of philosophy, he quickly rose to high emi¬
nence, and produced many famous scholars, among whom
were Euripides, Pericles, and Socrates. This philosopher
contented himself with serving the republic in his own
station, without interfering in any of the public affairs of
hie state. Both by the principles of wisdom which he in¬
spired into the minds of the Athenian youth, and also by
his daily advice in the most important affairs, particularly
in the case of Pericles, he was of singular service to his
country. But neither the friendship of Pericles, nor his
own general disinterestedness of character, nor his im¬
mense stores of learning, could ward off the shafts of per¬
secution. Cleo accused him of impiety, and the intro¬
duction of new opinions concerning the gods, because he
taught that the sun was a burning mass of stone, or an
inanimate fiery substance. By this opinion he was said to
rob the sun of his divinity, because in the popular opinion
he was deemed Apollo, one of the greatest deities. But
although Cleo made religion the avowed cause of the ac¬
cusation of Anaxagoras, it is highly probable that civil
causes chiefly operated towards his condemnation. It is,
however, abundantly evident that he did not hesitate to
expose the vulgar superstitions on several occasions; but
the evidence is not sufficient which pretends to prove
102 ANA
Anaxago- that he was condemned for teaching the doctrine of a
ras supreme intelligence, the creator of this world. His judges
. 1- . condemned him to death; but Pericles appearing in his
eh us!" defence, the sentence was changed from that of death to
banishment and a pecuniary fine.
Expelled from Athens, Anaxagoras passed the remain¬
der of his days at Lampsacus, teaching philosophy in the
school of his deceased master Anaximenes, until the in¬
firmities of nature terminated his life in the year 428 be¬
fore Christ. Diogenes Laertius has collected, with little
care and judgment, the details concerning this philo¬
sopher, which were scattered through various writings.
It appears, that in the midst of some extravagant con¬
ceptions, Anaxagoras held opinions which indicate a con¬
siderable acquaintance with the laws of nature. His idea
of the heavens seems to have been, that they were a
solid vault, originally composed of stones, elevated from
the earth by the violent motion of the ambient ether, in¬
flamed by its heat, and by the circular motion of the hea¬
vens fixed in their respective places. The testimonies of
several writers, among which is that of Xenophon, unite
in proving that he considered the sun to be a large fiery
stone; and Xenophon introduces Socrates as refuting that
doctrine, and delivering an unfavourable opinion concern¬
ing his other writings. From his perceiving that the
rainbow is the effect of the reflection of the solar rays
from a dark cloud, and that wind is produced by the rare¬
faction, and sound by the percussion, of the air, he seems
to have paid considerable attention to the phenomena of
nature.
Our information is more correct concerning his opinions
of the principles of nature and the origin of things. Fie
imagined that in nature there are as many kinds of
principles as there are species of compound bodies; and
that the peculiar form of the primary particles of which
any body is composed is the same with the quality of the
compound body itself. For instance, he supposed that a
piece of gold is composed of small particles which are
themselves gold, and a bone of a great number of small
bones: thus, according to Anaxagoras, bodies of every
kind are generated from similar particles. That part of
his system is more agreeable to reason which explains the
active principle in nature. According to Diogenes Laer¬
tius, Anaxagoras taught that “ thg universe consists of
small bodies composed of similar parts, and that mind is
the beginning of motion.” “ He was the first,” says the
same writer, “ who superadded mind to matter, opening
his work in this pleasing and sublime language: ‘ All
things were confused ; then came mind and disposed them
in order.’ ” Plato informs us that this philosopher taught
the existence of a disposing mind, the cause of all things.
Anaxagoras, according to Aristotle, taught that mind was
“ the cause of the world, and of all order; and that while
all things else are compounded, this alone is pure and un¬
mixed and that “ he ascribes to this principle two pow-
ers—to know and to move—saying that mind put the
universe in motion.” Cicero expressly asserts that Anax-
agoias was the first who taught that the arrangement
and order of all things was contrived and accomplished by
the understanding and power of an infinite mind.”
ANAXARCHUS, a Grecian philosopher, who lived
under Philip of Macedon and Alexander, was born in Ab-
dera, and belonged to the sect generally known by the
name of the Eleatic. He is said to have been conducted
in the progress of his early studies by the skilful hands of
Diomenes of Smyrna and Metrodorus of Chios. He had
the honour to be a companion of Alexander; and a few
anecdotes transmitted to posterity concerning him render
it evident that he treated him with the usual freedom of
ANA
a friend. This philosopher candidly checked the vain-Am
glory of Alexander, when, elated with pride, he aspired to
the honours of divinity, by pointing to his finger when it
bled, saying, “ See the blood of a mortal, not of a god.” ,
It is likewise reported, that, on another occasion, while in-^,
dulging immoderately at a banquet, he repeated a verse
from Euripides, reminding Alexander of his mortality. It
is, however, to be regretted, that the fidelity of the philo¬
sopher was wanting at the time when the mind of Alexan¬
der was tortured with remorse at having slain his friend
Clitus; for it is reported that he on that occasion endea¬
voured to soothe the agitated mind of Alexander, by
saying, that “ kings, like the gods, could do no wrong.”
It is reported that Nicocreon, king of Cyprus, exposed
him to the torture of being pounded in a mortar, and that
he endured this torture with incredible patience; but as
the same fact is reported of Zeno the Eleatic, there is
reason to suppose that it is fabulous; and it may be
added, that this narrative is inconsistent with the general
character of Anaxarchus, who, on account of his easy
and peaceable life, received the appellation of “ The For¬
tunate.”
ANAXIMANDER, a famous Greek philosopher, born
at Miletus in the 42d Olympiad, in the time of Polycrates,
tyrant of Samos. Fie was the first who publicly taught
philosophy, and wrote upon philosophical subjects. He
carried his researches into nature very far for the time in
which he lived. It is said that he discovered the obliquity
of the zodiac, wras the first who published a geographical
table, invented the gnomon, and set up the first sun-dial
in an open place at Lacedemon. He taught that infinity
of things was the principal and universal element; that
this infinity always preserved its unity, but that its parts
underwent changes; that all things came from it; and
that all were about to return into it. According to all
appearance, he meant by this obscure and indeterminate
principle the chaos of the other philosophers. He asserted
that there is an infinity of worlds ; that the stars are com¬
posed of air and fire, which are carried in their spheres,
and that these spheres are gods; and that the earth is
placed in the midst of the universe, as in a common cen¬
tre. He added, that infinite worlds were the product of
infinity, and that corruption proceeded from separation.
ANAXIMANDRIANS, in the history of philosophy,
the followers of Anaximander, the most ancient of the
philosophical atheists, who admitted of no other substance
in nature but matter.
ANAXIMENES, an eminent Greek philosopher, born
at Miletus; the friend, scholar, and successor of Anaximan¬
der. He diffused some degree oflight upon the obscurity
of his master’s system. He made the first principle of
things to consist in the air, which he considered as im¬
mense or infinite, and to which he ascribed a perpetual
motion. He asserted that all things which proceeded
from it were definite and circumscribed; and that this
air, therefore, was God, since the divine power resided in
it and agitated it. Coldness and moisture, heat and mo¬
tion, rendered it visible, and dressed it in different forms,
according to the different degrees of its condensation.
All the elements thus proceed from heat and cold. The
earth was, in his opinion, one continued flat surface.
Anaximenes, a Greek historian and rhetorician, was
born at Lampsacus about 580 years before Christ. Some
writers ascribe to him the Treatise on the Principles of
Rhetoric, which bears the name of Aristotle; and it is
reported that Philip of Macedon invited him to his court
to instruct his son Alexander in that science. He at¬
tended Alexander in his expedition against Persia. The
history of Philip, of Alexander, and likewise twelve books
A N C
nt on the early history of Greece, were the productions of
|j his pen, but none of them has been preserved,
iclf- ANBAR, a town of Asia, in Arabian Irak, situated
v’“An the Euphrates. It was taken by Caled, lieutenant of
the caliph Omar, in the year 632, and it was rebuilt by
the first caliph of the Abapides. It is 35 miles west of
Bagdad. Long. 43. 2. E. Lat. 33. 15. N. It is also the
name of a town of Great Bukharia, in the province of
Balk, 70 miles S. S. W. of Balk. Long. 64. 18. E. Lat.
36. N.
ANBERTKEND, in the eastern language, a celebrat¬
ed book of the Bramins, wherein the Indian philosophy
and religion are contained. The word in its literal sense
denotes the cistern wherein is the water of life. The An-
bertkend is divided into 50 beths or discourses, each of
which consists of 10 chapters. It has been translated
from the original Indian into Arabic, under the title of
Moral al Maani, q. d. the marrow of intelligence.
ANCARANO, a town of Italy, in the marquisate of
Ancona. Long. 14. 54. E. Lat. 42. 48. N.
ANCASTER, a town of Lincolnshire, situated in long.
30. W. lat. 52. 30. N. It gives title of duke to the noble
family of Bertie.
ANCENIS, an arrondissement in the department of
Morbihan, in France. The extent is 310 square miles, or
197,120 acres. It is divided into five cantons, and these
into 28 communes, having a population of 40,992. The
chief place, of the same name, contains a population of
3295 inhabitants.
ANCESTORS, those from whom a person is descended
in a straight line. The word is derived from the Latin
ancessor, contracted from antecessor, goer before. Many
nations have paid honours to their ancestors. It was
properly the departed souls of their forefathers that the
Romans worshipped under the denominations of lares,
lernures, and household gods. Hence the ancient tombs
were a kind of temples, or rather altars, whereon oblations
were made by the kindred of the deceased.
ANCHISES, in fabulous history, a Trojan prince, de¬
scended from Dardanus and the son of Capys. Venus
made love to him in the form of a beautiful nymph, and
bore him Avneas, the hero of Virgil’s iEneid.
ANCHOR, in Navigation, from the Greek ayxvoa, which
Vossius thinks is from oyxri, a crook or hook, an instrument of
iron or other heavy material used for holding ships in any
situation in which they may be required to lie, and prevent¬
ing them from drifting by the winds or tides, b}r the currents
of rivers, or any other cause. This is done by the anchor,
after it is let down from the ship by means of the cable,
fixing itself into the ground, and there holding the vessel
fast. The anchor is thus obviously an implement of the
first importance in navigation, and one on which too much
attention cannot be bestowed in its manufacture and pro¬
per construction, seeing that on it depends entirely the
lq ;y safety of the vessel in storms. The invention of so necessary
no rs. an instrument remounts, as may be supposed, to the remot¬
est antiquity. The most ancient anchors consisted merely
of large stones, or baskets full of stones, or sacks filled with
sand, or logs of wood loaded with lead. Of this kind were
the anchors of the ancient Greeks, which, according to
Apollonius Rhodius and Stephen of Byzantium, were form¬
ed of stone; and Athenaeus states that they were some¬
times made of wood. These sorts of anchors retained
the vessel merely by their inertia, and by the friction along
the bottom. Iron was afterwards introduced for the con¬
struction of anchors, and also the grand improvement of
forming them with teeth or flukes to fasten themselves
into the bottom; whence the words odovrig and dentes are
frequently taken for anchors in the Greek and Latin
poets. The invention of the teeth is ascribed by Pliny to
A N C
103
the Tuscans; but Pausanias gives the merit to Midas, king Anchor,
of Phrygia. Originally there was only one fluke or tooth,
whence anchors were called Irz^oGTogot; but shortly after¬
wards the second was added, according to Pliny, by Eupa-
lamus, or, according to Strabo, by Anacharsis the Scythian
philosopher. The anchors with two teeth were called
afjjtpiZo'hoi or agpiGTogoi, and from ancient monuments appear
to have been much the same with those used in our days,
only the stock is wanting in them all. Every ship had se¬
veral anchors, the largest of which, corresponding to our
bower or sheet anchor, was never used but in extreme
danger, and was hence peculiarly termed Uga or sacra;
whence the proverb sacram anchoram solvere, as flying to
the last refuge.
Anchors are now universally made of wrought iron, ex- Weight of
cepting in Spain and some parts of the South Sea, where anchors of
they are made of copper. One essential quality in every different
anchor is a sufficient weight to fix itself in the bottom ; and s^zes-
this has been determined by practice for different an¬
chors, and for vessels of different sizes.
Large vessels have several anchors of different sizes,
and stowed in different parts of the vessel. These are
distinguished by different names, viz. the sheet-anchor, the
largest of all, and which is only let down in cases of dan¬
ger, or when the vessel is riding in heavy gales of wind.
The bower-anchors, of which there are sometimes two or
three, are nearly of the same size with the sheet, and are
distinguished into best bower, small bower, and spare an¬
chor. The stream-anchor is of a much smaller size than
the above, used only for riding in rivers or moderate
streams. It is not generally above one fourth or one fifth
of the weight of the others. Lastly, the hedge-anchor is
still smaller, being only about one half of the stream-
anchor, and is only used when hedging in a river.
In ships of war the sheet-anchor is stowed upon the
after-part of the fore-channel, on the larboard side,
with the stock vertical, and one of the flukes resting
on the gang-way. The bower-anchor hangs to the cat¬
head, with the other extremity fixed up to the anchor-
boards ; and the spare anchor is stowed away on the star¬
board fore-channel. Ships of the largest class carry seven
or eight anchors, and the smallest class, as brigs, cutters,
and schooners, three or four.
The weight of anchors for different vessels is allowed
by the tonnage. A pretty near rule for the principal an¬
chor of ordinary-sized vessels is to allow for the cwts. in
the anchor one twentieth of the tonnage. Thus a vessel
of 400 tons would require her principal anchor to be
20 cwts., or according to the following tables:—
Merchant Vessels.
Tonnage. Weight of Anchor.
20 tons.,
35 
50 
65 
70 
80 
100 
130 
160 
190 
220 
250 
280 
320 
380 
430 
480 
520 
720 
1 cwt.
If
n
3i
u
5f
7
8
9i
Vessels of War.
Weight of Anchor.
20 guns 25 cwt.
.12
.14
• 151
.171
.20
.21
.25
.33
24.
28.
32.
36.
38.
40.
44.
50.
64.
74.
80.
90.
100.
.30
.31
.35
.40
.44
.46
.48
.50
.57
.68
.76
.84
.90
104
ANCHOR.
Anchor. Next to the weight, the form of the anchor, and the
proportions of the different parts, are of great importance.
Form and The most general form, and that which has indeed been
dimensions almost uniVersally adopted all over the world, is that re¬
ef anchors. nted at plate XLIII. fig. 1, and in section at Plate
XLIV. fig. 1 and 3, consisting of the two hooked arms tor
penetrating and fixing themselves into the soil; the long
bar or shank for attaching the cable ; and the stock, which
is attached to the extremity of the shank, and serves to
direct one of the points downwards into the soil. The
weight of the anchor then causes the point to penetrate
more or less according to the softness or hardness of the
bottom ; and the action of the vessel on the cable, instead
of loosening the anchor, tends rather, by the hooked shape
of the arms, to fix these deeper and firmer into the soil;
so that the vessel is held quite fast, unless either the cable
itself gives way, or any part of the anchor, or the. anchor
is dragged along owing to the looseness of the soil. The
shank of the anchor is made long, in order that the stock
may have the greater power in directing either the one
or the other of the arms downwards. It also serves, when
the anchor is to be weighed, as a lever for starting it out
of its place ; the cable drawing upwards by the extremity,
and turning the whole round the point of the fluke. The
one end of the shank is made square, to receive and hold
the stock steadily in its place without turning. To keep
the stock also from shifting along the shank, there are
raised on it from the solid iron, or welded on it, two square
tenon-like projections, called nuts. The length of the
square of the shank is about one sixth of the whole length
of the shaft, and the thickness about one twentieth. From
the end of this square the shank increases in thickness,
tapering towards the extremity, where the arms are at¬
tached : in all this part it is either made wholly round, or
with a flat on opposite sides, or polygonal. The end next
the stock is called the small round. The other extremity,
where the arms and the shank unite, is called the crown,
and the point of the angle between the arms and the shank
the throat. Here the thickness of the shank is from l^
inch in small anchors, to 3 inches in large ones, greater
than at the small round. A distance equal to that between
the throat of one arm and its bill is marked on the shank
from the place where it joins the arms, and is called the
trend. Near the extremity of the square part of the shank
is the hole for receiving the ring for the cable, which is
about half the thickness of the small round, and the dia¬
meter nearly equal to the length of the square. The
ring used to be invariably lapped with cordage, to prevent
the cable from chafing against the iron; but since the in¬
troduction of iron cables, this has become no longer ne¬
cessary.
The arms make an angle of about 56° with the shank.
They are made either round or polygonal like the shank,
about half their length. The remainder of the arm consists
of three parts, the blade, the palm, and the bill, Plate XT .TV.
fig. 1, and in another view at fig. 2. The blade is merely
the continuation of the arm in a square form. The palm
or fluke is a broad, flat, triangular plate, fixed on the inside
of the blade, the use of which is, by exposing a broad sur¬
face, to take a firmer hold of the ground. The bill is the
extremity of the arm, where it is tapered nearly to a
point, for the purpose of penetrating more readily into the
soil. In some cases the arm is made quite straight from
the crown to the bill; in others, and particularly in small
anchors, the interior half is made with the arch of a circle,
as at fig. 3. The whole length of the arm is nearly half
the length of the round part of the shank. It tapers
slightly from the throat to the blade, where it is about
the same thickness with the small round of the shank.
The palm is about one third of this in thickness, and the At| l#
breadth of its base is nearly equal to its length. ^ /v*
The stock of the anchor, represented at fig. 4, is made
of oak, consisting of two beams embracing the square, and
firmly united by iron bolts and hoops. The length of the
stock is rather greater than that of the shank, the thick¬
ness in the middle about one twelfth of its length, and
tapering to about the half of this at the extremities, the
taper being all on the under surface next the arms, and
the other quite straight. The taper is not quite regular.
It commences at about half the breadth of the stock from
the shank, and continues in one straight line to the ex¬
tremity. The beams of the stock are hooped close toge¬
ther at the extremities, but gradually open towards the
centre, that, in case of the wood shrinking, the hoops may
be driven farther in, fig. 5. Of late years the stock has
frequently been made of wrought iron, the same as the
anchor; and this plah is now very generally followed,
particularly with smaller anchors. It has this advantage,
that the stock can be at any time taken out and laid paral¬
lel with the anchor, which is very convenient for stowage.
The iron stock, fig. 6, consists merely of a long round
bar, about half the diameter of the anchor at the square.
Instead of embracing the anchor, like the wood, it goes
through a hole in the square, which is swelled out to re¬
ceive it. It has a shoulder in the middle, which rests
against the square, and a key driven through a hole in the
stock on the other side keeps it fast. When the stock is
to be taken out of its place, the key is driven out: the
stock then slides through the hole in the shank, and by
means of a bend at its extremity, it is laid parallel with
the shank.
The operation of the anchor is easily understood.
Being let down by means of the cable, the weight of
the arms throws them downwards, and keeps the whole
in a vertical position until it reaches the ground, where
it lights upon the crown; and then falling over, the
position of the stock at right angles to the arms, and its
length and height, together with the weight of the cable,
are sure to throw it with one of the arms pointed into
the ground, if it does not take this situation of itself.
This effect is aided by the anchor descending quickly—
and hence it must be allowed to descend freely ; for which
purpose, in throwing or casting the anchor, the cable is
arranged along the deck in long coils, called by the sea¬
men a French flake, one end being attached to the an¬
chor and the other secured on deck. Every thing being
prepared, the lashing of the anchor is cast off, and the men
stand ready to let go; and when this word is given by
the person in command, the fastenings are all cast off, and
the anchor, falling into the sea, descends with rapidity, and
draws the cable after it so violently, that it is often neces¬
sary to throw water on the hause holes to prevent their
taking fire. When the anchor, again, is to be removed from
its situation and drawn up into the vessel, the operation
is termed weighing; which requires often a very heavy
purchase, particularly at starting. This is obtained by
means of the windlass, round which the cable is wound,
and a number of hands applied to work it. With cables
which are too large to be wound round a windlass, a small¬
er rope is used, termed a messenger, which being attached
to the cable at different points, and wound round the
windlass, serves to bring the cable forward. But since the
introduction of chain-cables this contrivance is not so much
required.
V hen the anchor is brought above water, a tackle is got
upon the shank, just within the flukes, and the arms are
hove up so as to lie upon the gunnel and anchor-boards;
the stock is then made vertical by heaving upon it with a
non.
105
A N C
\rt(y tackle, in which position it is secured by the stock-lashing.
yV The ring is fastened to the cathead by the stopper, one
end of which is fastened round the cathead, and the other
is brought through the ring, then over the stopper-cleat,
and is belayed round a timber head. To secure the shank
Besides anchors of the common construction, there are
various others of different forms occasionally in use. Small
vessels often employ what are termed grapnels, which
are merely common anchors with four or more arms
instead of two, as shown in fig. 7. Following out the
same principle, we have the mushroom anchor, fig. 8, much
employed in the East Indies, to secure the vessels which
they term grabs. In this the arms are continued in one
segment of a sphere all round; it hence requires no stock,
as it takes the ground in any direction. Attempts have
frequently been made to introduce anchors with only one
arm, but hitherto without any decisive result. A patent
for an anchor of this kind, as represented at Plate XLIII.
fig. 2, was taken out by Mr Stuard, which has attracted
some notice. “ In order,” says he, in the Specification of his
patent, “ that this anchor may be sure to fall the right way
with the fluke downwards, I would have the shank very
short, whereby, when suspended by the cable, it will cant
the most, and when it has hold in the ground, the ship will
ride safer; as a long shank has more power to loosen and
break the ground, and is more likely to be bent or broken
from its hold. Let the form of the shank and arm of the
anchor be as AA, fig. 2; and, that the parts may be
stronger than if made separately and shut together, I
would have the bars which compose them in one length,
so that there be no weld or joining in the whole length of
the shank and arm. The hole B is to receive the ring for
the cable, and the hole Cis for the stock, which is composed
of a wrought-iron bolt, as A, fig. 3, covered with cast-iron
at its ends, BB. The palm to be in shape as D, fig. 2,
and shown detached in fig. 4, made either entirely of cast-
iron, or a cast-iron shell filled with lead, which is of much
more specific gravity than iron. The back of the palm to
he formed either with concave surfaces or flat surfaces,
making angles at the centre. The anchor is also to have
a small shackle, fixed on the bend of the shank and arm,
as at E, fig. 2, for the buoy-rope to be made fast to. The
shank may be made without the hole C, and the hole B
made octagonal; or if round, it should have a small fillet
projecting from the stock, and a small cavity on one side
vol. m.
at the arms, a chain called the shank painter-chain is pass- Anchor,
ed round it, and fastened to a timber head.
The following table contains the dimensions of the
parts of anchors of different weights. The letters g. l.
denote the greatest and least diameters or breadths.
of the hole B to receive it, thus to prevent the stock from
turning round ; and instead of a ring for the cable, to have
a shackle fitted on the stock, on each side of the shank;
and, that the shackle may not turn on the stock and fall too
low, a stop is to be fixed on each side at the upper end of
the shank.” (See Repertory of Arts, &c. vol. v.)
Mooring Anchors axe those which are fixed in certain New moor-
situations in harbours or roadsteads, and to which any ofing anchor,
the vessels frequenting the place may be secured. As these
are no way limited as to weight like portable anchors, they
often consist merely of a large block of stone, such as at
fig. 9, with an inner ring fixed in the middle of the upper
side ; or several such stones may be fastened together so as
to act as one mass. Mooring anchors are also often made
by choosing one of the largest anchors used for first-rate
ships, weighing 80 cwt., and by bending one of the arms
close down upon the shank, to prevent it catching the
cable or mooring chains whilst the ships are riding. These
anchors are lowered down into the water with a very
strong iron mooring chain fastened to the ring, to which
the ships are fastened: they are usually made from such
as are damaged in one of the flukes or arms. A new
kind of mooring anchor of cast-iron was described by Mr
Hemman of Chatham, to .the Society for the Encourage¬
ment of Arts, 8$C', in 1809, for which he obtained a silver
medal from the society. AA, fig. 5, Plate XLIII., repre¬
sents the palm or heavy part of the anchor, made very
massive of cast-iron, and of considerable breadth, so that
the edge B, or part which enters the ground, may have a
great hold; the shank C is made also of cast-iron, and
fixed firmly to the head by passing through it, and has a
small ring at a, where the buoy-rope is fixed; the other
end of the shank goes through the stock DD, which is
formed of two large wooden beams hooped together in the
same manner as the stocks for common anchors; the end
of the shank projects through the stock, and has a strong
wrought-iron shackle E fixed to it by a bolt passing
through both, and with this the mooring chain is connect¬
ed. The great advantage of this over the common moor¬
ing anchors arises from its great weight and breadth of
o
106 A N C
Anchor, edge to act against the ground; and, being made of cast-
iron, it is also more durable. A pair of these anchors,
weighing 150 cwt. each, will, with the mooring chains,
cost about L.874 less than a pair of the common anchors,
which, with their chains, cost L.2472. (See Transactions of
the Society for the Encouragement of Arts, Sfc. vol. xxvm.)
Another form of this mooring anchor is shown at fig. 10.
Floating This is the name given to a sort of anchor which has
anchor. often been proposed, but never reduced to practice, for
preventing a vessel from drifting, in cases where the
great depth of the sea precludes the use of the cable and
ordinary anchor. The plan suggested by Dr Franklin
seems the most rational. This anchor consisted of two
cross bars, secured together in the middle, and having
sailcloth fastened to them in the shape of a parallelo¬
gram. To the centre of these bars the cable was at¬
tached, and being thrown overboard, it was thought the
resistance of so large a surface would at least check the
rapidity of the ship’s motion.
Fabrica- In fabricating anchors the different parts are first forged
tion of an- separately, as the square, the ring, the shank, the arms, and
chocs. t^e paims The square is then welded on to the extre¬
mity of the shank, and the ring let through its hole, and
then the joining welded. The arms are then welded on
to the shank, and the palms to the arms. The forging of
such heavy masses of iron as the larger anchors are com¬
posed of, and the welding of the parts together, is one of
the most difficult operations in smithery, and one which
it has required all the ingenuity of our most skilful artists,
and a long course of experience, to bring to its present
perfection. The shank forms the largest mass. It is
formed of an assemblage of smaller bars, united together
by welding them into solid masses. This mode is prefer¬
able to making a single bar of sufficient size by the forge-
hammer in the original preparation of the iron, because
the compounded bar is not liable to have any internal
flaws or cracks, or at least they will not be in a transverse
direction; for the bars are all examined separately before
uniting them, and any which are imperfect are rejected;
if, therefore, after the welding, any cracks are left between
the bars, they must be in the length of the anchor, and will
not deduct so materially from the strength of the whole.
Formerly the small bars were laid together, so as to form
a square, as in fig. 11; and round these, smaller bars were
piled to complete the circle ; and then this circle was sur¬
rounded by bars to the number of 30 or 40, all arranged
round the circle, and packed together like the staves of a
cask; iron hoops were then driven over all to keep them to¬
gether, and the whole faggot thus united was welded by re¬
peated heats and elaborate hammering, applied successive¬
ly from the one end to the other of the bar. Great difficulty
was always found in heating and welding together the
inside or central bars along with the external ring, the
latter becoming quite overheated before the former could
be brought up to the welding point. In these circum¬
stances it became very difficult to weld the bar equally,
so as to give it all the strength of which the material was
susceptible; and it was often thought sufficient to weld
merely the outside ring, so as to form a perfect covering
or case for the inside bars, which were left in a raw or un¬
welded state. A more perfect method of welding the
heavy bars of the anchor together was introduced some
years ago at Plymouth, by Mr Perring, clerk of the
cheque. This consists in using bars the whole breadth of
the shank laid on one another, as at fig. 12, and hooped.
These are then welded together in two heats, until the
whole is one compact body, which is readily done in this
manner, without overworking any part of the iron. If the
bars do not extend the whole breadth, they are laid so as
to break joint.
H O R.
The arms are formed and welded together into a mass An
in the same manner as the shank. They are then united^!
to the extremity of the shank, by shutting or welding them
all together at the crown, for which purpose the end of the
shank is formed with a flatted surface or scarf, having a
shoulder on each side, and the ends of the arms with similar
scarfs, as at fig. 13. A more perfect method of uniting the
arms and the shank, by Mr Perring, is, to form the crown se¬
parately of bars similarly to the shank, uniting them into one
for half the length only, and the other half remaining split
in two, as at fig. 14 ; then opening this by means of two
rods, welded on the ends on purpose, bending them round
two steady pins, as at fig. 15, so as to form part of the
arms, as at fig. 16. The angular opening being then filled
up by a piece formed of bars properly welded, another
piece half the thickness of the arms is bent over and unit¬
ed with the others, so as together to form the crown and
part of the arms on each side. In this manner a much
firmer joint is formed than by mere scarfing. The crown
piece being thus formed, the shank is welded to one ex¬
tremity, and the two arms and the blades to the two others.
The blades of the arms are formed in a manner similar to
the shank. The palms are made by laying a number of
plates one on another, and welding them all properly to¬
gether, after which the palms are shut on upon the blades.
After the different parts of the anchor are thus forged
and welded together, they are all smoothed and finished
off by working with hammers till the metal becomes quite
cold. This process, besides improving greatly the appear¬
ance of the anchor, is of real use in hardening the surface,
and causing it to withstand better the corrosion of the sea¬
water.
The following is a more particular account of the opera¬
tions of the anchor-smith on a large scale. The hearth AA
of the anchor-smith’s forge, see fig. 6, Plate XLIIL, is built
of brick-work raised about 6 or 9 inches above the ground,
and 6 or 7 feet square ; in the centre is a large cavity, to
contain the fire ; at the back of the hearth a vertical brick
wall B is erected, supporting and forming one side of the
chimney, which is little more than a dome placed over
the hearth, and opening at the top with a low' chimney to
carry off the smoke. Behind the wall the bellows CD are
placed; the noses of the pipes being about the level of
the hearth, and coming through the wall, which at that
part is defended from the action of the fire by a facing of
fire-stone. In this fire-stone the tue-iron is fixed ; it is a
tube made of wrought iron, and very thick in the sub¬
stance, that it may not burn awray in the fire: the pipes
of the bellows are inserted in the tue-iron, and thus con¬
vey the stream of air into the centre of the fire.
The bellows are not like those which ordinary smiths
make use of; but two large pairs of single bellows CD are
placed horizontally by the side of each other, the pipes of
both being inserted into the same tue-iron, and directed
to blow to the same focus in the centre of the fire: these
bellows are exactly like those in use for domestic pur¬
poses, which only throw out air when the upper board is
pressed down. The two are worked alternately by means
of chains c d attached to the ends of the upper boards,
and united to the end of the working level's HI, placed
over each pair of bellows. From the opposite extremities
of these levers other chains ef are extended to the op¬
posite side of a long lever GG, which moves upon the
pivots of a vertical axis E, and is loaded at the ends by
heavy weights, to give it momentum. Now, two or more
men pushing in opposite directions can give it a motion
backwards and forwards, and by the communication of the
chains and upper levers HI, they will alternately lift up the
upper boards CD of the bellows, which being sufficiently
loaded, will subside themselves, and force their contents
$
T
A N C
hr of air into the fire. The men who work the lever G are
>vVaided by six or eight more, who place themselves upon the
board of one pair of bellows, and as soon as it subsides,
they step upon the other pair, which also sinks, and then
they return: they have ropes suspended from the roof to
enable them to lift themselves, and mount from one bel¬
lows upon the other with more ease. The common tue-
iron, which is simply a cone of wrought-iron, set with clay
into fire-stone, composing the back of the hearth, is very
soon burnt by the great heat. The most improved forges,
therefore, are now furnished with what is called the water
tue-iron, which is made hollow, and water introduced into
it to keep it cool. For this purpose two cones are form¬
ed of thick iron plate, each with a small aperture at the
vertex; these, when put one into the other, are welded
together at their bases and their points, so as to form one
cone, which is hollow, with a small space all round; two
pipes communicate with the hollow, one bringing a con¬
tinual supply of cold water, and the other conveying away
that which is heated by the fire. By this means the tue-
iron is kept cool, and can never acquire such a degree of
heat as to be burned away: this tue-iron is set with fire¬
clay into a frame of cast-iron, built up in the brick-work
of the wall B.
The anvil K is only a cubic block of cast-iron, placed on
the ground much lower than the ordinary smith’s anvil;
because, as the anchor-smiths always strike by swinging
their hammers over their heads, at arms’ length, they have
more force when the work lies low on the ground than if
raised up. At a distance of eight or nine feet from the
hearth AA a strong crane-gib LM is erected, so as to turn
freely upon the vertical post M. It has no tackle, but the
upper beam L, which must be horizontal, has a large iron
loop n hung upon it, with a roller o, which admits it to run
freely backwards and forwards upon the beam: the lower
end of the loop suspends the anchor; therefore, by mov¬
ing the rollers along the beam of the gib, and by turning
the gib round on its pivots, the anchor can be placed in
any position in the fire or upon the anvil. To give mo¬
tion to the roller o, a rack p is connected with it; and
this is moved by a pinion upon the axis of the wheel t,
which has an endless rope hanging down, so that a la¬
bourer can reach it, and thus remove the anchor nearer
or farther from the centre, however great its weight may
be. The workmen employ scarcely any other tools than
their sledge-hammers, and a few large punches, cutting
chisels, and sets or prints, which, when urged by the
hammers, will give any particular figure to the work: the
hammers are of the largest kind, and weigh from 14 to
18 pounds, according to the strength of the workmen.
In the Royal dock-yard great use is made of a stamping
machine, which the workmen call Hercules, and which is
very similar to the machine for driving piles. A heavy
iron weight N, guided like the ram of the pile engine, is
drawn up by the strength of several men, and let fall upon
the anchor, to weld the bars, in the same manner as by a
forge-hammer. The machine is erected on a large block
of stone, which supports the anvil O: two square iron
bars PP are fixed on each side of the anvil, in a vertical
position, the angles of the bars being placed towards each
other. These vertical bars are eight or nine feet high,
and are fixed at the top to a beam in the roof of the
building in which the machine is placed. The ram N,
which weighs 47} cwt., is fitted to slide up and down be¬
tween the bars P, having notches in its sides, which re¬
ceive the angles of the bars: it is drawn up by a rope
passing over an iron pulley Q, mounted upon pivots above
the top of the vertical bars ; and the rope has eight or ten
small ones 11 spliced into it, for as many men to act to¬
gether (which they do by a motion similar to that of
107
ringing), to elevate the ram, and let it fall upon the iron Anchor,
placed upon the anvil O. The Hercules is placed in the'^-^v~^->'
same sweep of the crane as the anvil K, so that the iron
can be conveyed to either with equal ease.
The first step in making the different parts of the an¬
chor is to assemble or faggot the bars. For the centre of
the mass which is to make the shank, four large bars are
first laid together; then upon the flat sides of the square
so formed smaller bars are arranged, to make it up to a
circle. The number is various, but in large anchors six
or eight bars are laid on every side. This circle is sur¬
rounded by a number of bars arranged like the staves of
a cask: as many as 36 are often used, and they form a
complete case for the others. The ends are made up by
short bars to a square figure. The faggot is finished by
driving iron hoops upon it at sufficient distances; see W
in the figure; and it is suspended from the crane in such
a manner that it can be moved and turned in any direc¬
tion, by only one or two men, even when it weighs three
tons. For this purpose an iron pulley k is hooked to the
iron loop n of the crane ; and a short endless chain l passed
over the pulley suspends the faggot in its loop. In this
manner the weight of the iron is in reality borne by the
pivot of the pulley k, and the mass can be easily turned
round upon its centre to bring any side upwards. To give
a power to the man who guides it, one of the four central
bars is double the length of the faggot, and projects, see
g} to form a long lever, by which it is steered; and two
holes are made through the end of this bar to insert a
cross lever A, by which the faggot is turned or rolled round
upon its centre. As the faggot hangs very nearly on a
balance in the loop of the chain l, the man, by weighing
on the end of the long bar g, can easily raise up its end
from the anvil K, and, swinging the crane on its pivots,
move it into the fire, which is made up hollow like an
oven. To effect this form, the fireman first spreads the
coals evenly upon the hearth, and with his shovel or slice
makes a flat surface about the level of the tue-hole: he
then arranges some large cinders or cakes round in a
circle upon this surface, and by other cinders builds it up
like an oven or dome, leaving a mouth to introduce the
iron. The oven is adapted in size to the magnitude of
the mass of iron, and must be brought forwards upon the
hearth, to leave a space between its interior cavity and
the orifice of the tue-iron; in which space a passage is
made from the tue-hole to the fire, and filled up with
large lighted coals, and then covered up by small coals.
The blast from the bellows passes through these hot coals,
in order that the cold air may not enter the fire at once
and blow on the iron, but be first converted into flame,
which is urged forcibly into the oven, and reverberated
from the roof and sides upon the iron placed in the centre.
As the floor of the oven is nearly upon a level with the
tue-hole, the flame from the coals between it and the fire
also plays upon the bottom, and thus heats the iron on all
sides. The outside of the dome is covered over with a
considerable thickness of small coals, which cake toge¬
ther, and, as the inside of the oven consumes, settle down
into a dome again, which the smith aids by striking the
outside with the flat of his slice. If the Are breaks out
at any place in the roof, the smith immediately repairs
the breach with fresh coals, and damps them with water,
that they may not burn too fast; for if the inside of the
oven burns very fiercely, the flames will not be reverberated
so forcibly as when it is in the state of burning cake. Care
must likewise be taken to prevent the fire from burning
back to the tue-iron. The mouth of the oven should be
made no larger than to admit the work; and, that as little
heat as possible may escape by the iron, the mouth is
filled round it with coals. F is an iron screen hung on
H O R.
108
Anchor.
ANCHOR.
hinges, to swing before the mouth of the fire when the
iron is withdrawn, that the workmen may not be scorched
by the heat.
All the men unite to assist in blowing the bellows,
which they work in the manner already described, from
half an hour to an hour, according to the size of the an¬
chor, until they have raised the iron to a good welding
heat. The mouth of the fire is opened occasionally to in¬
spect the process, and the faggot is turned in the fire if
it is not found to be heating equally in every part. Eight
men, and sometimes more, are employed to forge an an¬
chor: six of them strike with the hammers, one is sta¬
tioned at the guide-bar, and the eighth, who is master or
foreman, directs the others, and occasionally assists to
euide the anchor. When the whole of that part which is
in the fire comes to a good welding heat, the workmen
leave the bellows and take up their hammers; the coals
are removed from the iron, w hich is swung out of the fire
by the man who guides it, assisted by others, and the hot
end placed on the anvil; during which time one or two
labourers with birch brooms sweep off the coals which ad¬
here to it.
The smiths now begin hammering, one half the number
standing on one side, and the other half on the other:
they use large sledges weighing from sixteen to eighteen
pounds, and faced with steel, striking in regular order,
one after the other, swinging the hammers at arms’ length,
and all striking nearly at the same place. The foreman
places himself near the man who guides, and with a long
wrand points out the part he wishes them to strike, and at
the same time directs and sometimes assists the guide to
turn the faggot round, so as to bring that side uppermost
which requires to be hammered. This is continued as
long as the metal retains sufficient heat for welding. This
process is exceedingly laborious for the workmen, and is
much more effectually performed by means of the Her¬
cules, which strikes such powerful blows upon the iron as
to consolidate the bars much more than the strokes of
small hammers can do, however long they may be conti¬
nued. When the iron has lost so much of the heat that
it will no longer weld, the foreman takes a number of
pins, made like very thick nails without heads: one of
these he holds in the end of a cleft stick, places its point
upon the iron, and two smiths, with their sledges, strike
on it with all their force, to drive it through the bars ; but
this they must do quickly, or the pins will become hot and
soft, so as not to penetrate the bar. These pins are in¬
tended to hold the whole together more firmly, and, by
swelling out the sides, to fill up any small spaces there may
be between the bars. The iron is now returned to the
fire, another mouth being opened on the opposite side of
the oven, to admit the end or part which has been welded
to come through, that a part farther up the faggot may be
heated; and when this is done the welding is performed
in the same manner as before. Thus, by repeated heat¬
ings, the faggot is made into one solid bar of the size and
length intended. It is then hammered over again at weld¬
ing heats to finish it, and make an even surface; and in
this second operation the workmen do not leave off ham¬
mering as soon as the iron loses its full welding heat, but
continue till it turns almost black. This renders the sur¬
face solid and hard, and closes all small pores at which the
sea-water might enter, and by corroding the bars, expand
them, and in time split open the mass of iron.
The shank for an anchor is made larger at the lower
end, where the arms are to be welded to it, and is of a
square figure. A sort of rebate or scarf s is here formed on
each side of the square, in order that the arms may apply
more properly for welding. This scarf is made in the ori¬
ginal shape of the faggot, and finished by cutting away
some of the metal with chisels whilst it is hot, and using k
sets or punches, properly formed, to make a square angled
to the shoulder of the scarf. The upper end of the shank
is likewise square; and the length between these square
parts is worked either to an octagon or round, tapering re¬
gularly from the lower to the upper end. The hole to re¬
ceive the ring of the anchor is pierced through the square
part at the upper end, first by a small punch, and then
larger ones are used till it is sufficiently enlarged. The
punch is made of steel; and when it is observed to change
colour by the heat, it is struck on the opposite end to
drive it out, and is instantly dipped in water to cool it, and
another driven in. The projecting pieces or nuts, which
are to keep the stock or wooden beam of the anchor, and
its place on the shank, are next welded on. To do this the
shank is heated, and at the same time a thick bar is heated
in another forge : the end of this is laid across the shank,
and the men hammer it down to weld it to the shank;
then the piece is cut off by the chisel, and another piece
welded on the opposite side.
Whilst this process of forging the shank is going on,
the smiths of another forge, placed as near as convenient
to the former, are employed in making the arms, which
are made from faggots in the same manner as the shank,
but of less size and shorter: they are made taper (seeX),
one end of each being smaller than the other: the larger
ends are made square, and cut down with scarfs, r, to
correspond with those, s, at the lower end of the shank.
The middle parts of the arms are rounded, and the outer
extremities are cut away as much as the thickness of the
flukes or palms m, that the palms may be flush with the
upper sides when they are welded on. The flukes are gene¬
rally made at the iron-forges in the country, by the forge-
hammer ; but in some yards they are made by faggoting
small bars, leaving a long one for a handle. When finish¬
ed, they are welded to the arms, which have then the ap¬
pearance of X. The next business is to unite the arms to
the end of the shank ; and in doing this particular care is
necessary, as the goodness of the anchor is entirely de¬
pendent upon its being effectually performed. In so large
a weld, the outside is very liable to be welded, and make a
good appearance, while the middle part is not united. To
guard against this, both surfaces of the scarfs should be
rather convex, that they may be certain to touch in the
middle first. When the other arm is welded, the anchor
is complete, except the ring, which is made from several
small bars welded together, and drawn out into a round
rod, then bent to a circle, put through the hole in the
shank, and its ends welded together. If the shank or
other part is crooked, it is set straight by heating it in the
crooked part, and striking it over the anvil, or by the Her¬
cules. After all this the whole is heated, but not to a
white heat, and the anchor hammered in every part, to
finish and make its surface even. This is done by lighter
hammers, worked by both hands, but not swung over the
head. This operation renders the surface of the metal
hard and smooth; and if very effectually performed, the
anchor will not rust materially by the action of the sea¬
water. The hammering is continued till the iron is quite
black and almost cold. It is common with some manufac¬
turers, after they have made up the shank, to heat it again,
and apply the end of a thin flat bar properly heated upon
it; then by turning the large shank round, the har is
wound spirally upon it, so as to form a complete covering
to. the whole. I his method admits of emploving a kind
of iron which is less liable to corrosion, but we fear it is
sometimes resorted to to conceal the bad qualities of the
iron of which the anchor is composed.
I he iron from which anchors are made ought to be ol
the best quality: that kind of it which is called red short
*
v
A N C
An, or will not bear sufficient hammering to weld the bars; and
' cold short, from its brittleness, is not to be depended upon
Amfia. when the anchor is in use. A good anchor should be
forrned of the toughest iron that can be procured.
'atei A new and improved method of fabricating anchors, for
olio which a patent has been taken out by Lieutenant Rodgers,
banM j^g i)een lately introduced. This consists in making the
nflK ‘ shank hollow, and uniting it to a solid square at one end,
and to a solid piece at the other, which forms the crown and
part of the arms. The hollow part is bound at intervals by
hoops, and the whole forms a much stronger anchor, of the
same weight, than those of the common construction. The
stock also is let on over the end of the square, and keyed
up against a collar, by which means the anchor can be un¬
stocked with great facility. See Plate XLIII. fig. 7.
The most extensive establishment for fabricating an¬
chors, &c. is that at Woolwich dock-yard. There the blow¬
ing apparatus, the working of the lift and tilt hammers,
&c. is all done by a steam-engine of from 14 to 16 horse
power. The improvements of Perring and Rodgers have
been there introduced. (c.)
To steer the ship to her Anchor, is to steer the ship’s
head towards the place where the anchor lies when they
are heaving the cable into the ship, that the cable may
thereby enter the hause with less resistance, and the ship
advance towards the anchor with greater facility.
Anchor-Ground is a bottom which is neither too deep,
too shallow, nor rocky; as in the first the cable bears too
nearly perpendicular, and is thereby apt to jerk the anchor
out of the ground; in the second, the ship’s bottom is apt
to strike at low water, or when the sea runs high, by which
she is exposed to the danger of sinking; and in the third,
the anchor is liable to hood the broken and pointed ends
of rocks, and tear away its flukes, whilst the cable, from
the same cause, is constantly in danger of being cut
through as it rubs on their edges.
Anchor, in Architecture, is a sort of carving somewhat
resembling an anchor. It is commonly placed as part of
the enrichment of the boultins of capitals of the Tuscan,
Doric, and Ionic orders, and also of the boultins of bed
mouldings of the Doric, Ionic, and Corinthian cornices,
anchors and eggs being carved alternately through the
whole building.
Anchors, in Heraldry, are emblems of hope, and are
taken for such in a spiritual as well as a temporal sense.
ANCHOVY. See Ichthyology.
ANCIENT, or Antient, a term applied to things
which existed long ago. Thus we say, ancient nations,
ancient customs, &c. See Antiquities.
ANCIENT Demesne, in English Law, is a tenure
whereby all manors belonging to the crown in the times of
William the Conqueror and St Edward were held. The
numbers, names, &c. were entered by the Conqueror in
the record called Domesday Book; so that such lands as
by that book appeared to have belonged to the crown at
that time are called ancient demesne.
ANCIENTY, in some ancient statutes, is used for el¬
dership or seniority. The elder sister can demand no
more than her other sisters, beside the chief mesne, by
reason ot her ancienty. This word is used in the statute
of Ireland, 14 Henry III.
ANCONA, a delegation or province of the Papal
States, in Italy, a part of the ancient mark of Ancona. It
is bounded on the north by Urbino, on the east by the
Adriatic Sea, on the south by Macerata, and on the west
by Urbino. Its extent is 646 square miles, or 413,440
acres. It is a mountainous district, with scarcely any
plains; but between the projections of the Appenines
there are some valleys, watered by the Musone, the Esino,
the Aspino, and several smaller mountain rivers, which
A N c 109
yield good crops of corn, maize, garlic, fruit, almonds, Ancona
tobacco, and some silk. Agriculture is much neglected, II
but more attention is paid to cattle. The delegation con- Ancylo-
tains 3 cities, 17 market-towns, and 34 villages; and in
1816 the number of inhabitants was 147,355, who, besides
agriculture, find employment in manufactures of linen,
silk, stockings, paper, and some other articles. The coun¬
try is remarkably healthful.
Ancona, the capital of the delegation of the same name.
The city is in lat. 43° 43' 36" N. and long. 12° 42' 27" E.
It is situated on the declivity of a tongue of land project¬
ing into the Adriatic Sea, on which, after the destruction
of the fortifications in 1815, a strong fort was built as a
defence towards the sea. It has three gates towards the
land. The most striking objects are the government
palace, the town-house, the exchange, and the cathedral
built at the extremity of the cape, on the site of an
ancient temple of Venus. There is a college, an hospital,
and several monasteries and nunneries. The inhabitants
in 1816 were 29,792, among whom were 5000 Jews, who
live in a separate quarter. The streets are narrow, and far
from clean. There is a fine mole 2000 feet in length, on
which a lazaretto and quarantine-house is built. The har¬
bour is capacious, but complaints are made of the mud
gradually increasing and injuring it. The trade is carried
on by means of about 1100 vessels, which arrive and depart
annually. This place endured a long siege in the year
1799, but at length the French garrison wbo defended it
surrendered to a combined army and navy of Russians,
Austrians, and Turks.
ANCONES, in Architecture, the corners or quoins of
walls, cross beams, or rafters. Vitruvius calls the consoles
by the same name.
ANCOURT, Florent Carton d’, an eminent French
comic writer and actor, was born at Fontainbleau, on the
1st November 1661. He died on the 6th of December 1726,
being 65 years of age. The plays which he wrote were
all, with one exception, of the comic cast. They have
been frequently reprinted, and form, in the best edition,
namely, that of 1760, a collection of 12 vols. 12mo.
ANCRE, a small town of France, in Picardy, with the
title of a marquisate, seated on a little river of the same
name. Long. 2. 45. E. Lat. 49. 59. N.
ANGUS Martius, the fourth king of the Romans, suc¬
ceeded Tullus Hostilius 639 years before Christ. He de¬
feated the Latins, subdued the Fidenates, conquered the
Sabines, Volsci, and Veientines, enlarged Rome by joining
to it Mount Janiculum, and made the harbour of Ostia.
He died about 615 years before the Christian era.
ANCYLE, in Antiquity, a kind of shield that fell, as was
pretended, from heaven, in the reign of Numa Pompilius ;
at which time, likewise, a voice was heard declaring that
Rome should be mistress of the world as long as she
should preserve this holy buckler. It was kept with great
care in the temple of Mars, under the direction of 12
priests ; and, lest any should attempt to steal it, 11 others
were made so like as not to be distinguished from the
sacred one. These ancylia were carried in procession
every year round the city of Rome.
ANCYLOBLEPHARON (from ayxv'kog, bent, and /3Xs-
cpagov, an eyelid), a disease of the eye, which closes the
eyelids.
ANCYLOGLOSSUM (from ayy^Xog, crooked, and
yXuxJm, the tongue), a contraction of the ligaments of the
tongue. Some have this imperfection from their birth,
others from some disease. In the first case, the membrane
which supports the tongue is too short or too hard; in the
latter, an ulcer under the tongue, healing and forming a
cicatrix, is sometimes the case. These speak with some
difficulty. The ancyloglossi by nature are late before
110 AND
Ancylosis they speak ; but when they begin, they soon speak proper¬
'll ly. These we call tongue-tied.
Andaman. ANCYLOSIS, in Surgery, implies immobility or stiff-
ness of the joints, and is used to express such stiffness,
whether proceeding from internal or external causes.
ANDABATiL, in Antiquity, a sort of gladiators, who,
mounted on horseback or in chariots, fought hoodwinked,
having a helmet that covered their eyes.
ANDALUSIA, an extensive province in the south of
Spain, on the Mediterranean Sea. Though its surface is
very unequal, and its soil and climate vary with the eleva¬
tions of the land, it must be considered the most rich and
delightful of all the divisions of the peninsula. It is divid¬
ed into four districts, which, in conformity with ancient
usage, are denominated kingdoms, viz. Jaen, Cordova, Se¬
ville, and Granada, the description of each of which will
be found in their alphabetical place.
Andalusia, New, a division of the province of Terra
Firma in South America, whose boundaries cannot be well
ascertained, as the Spaniards pretend a right to countries
in which they have never established any settlements.
According to the most reasonable limits, it extends in
length 500 miles from north to south, and about 270 in
breadth from east to west. The interior country is woody
and mountainous, variegated with fine valleys that yield
corn and pasturage. The produce of the country consists
chiefly in dyeing-drugs, gums, medicinal roots, brazil wood,
sugar, tobacco, and some valuable timber. To this pro¬
vince also belonged five valuable pearl fisheries. The
capital of New Andalusia is Comana, Cumana, or New
Corduba, situated in lat. 10° 5' N. about nine miles from
the North Sea. Here the Spaniards laid the foundation of
a town in the year 1520. The place is strong by nature,
and fortified by a castle capable of making a vigorous de¬
fence. The country is better known under the name of
Guiana. The revolution which began there in 1810 is not
yet terminated.
ANDAMAN Islands. These islands, which are situ¬
ated on the eastern side of the Bay of Bengal, are a con¬
tinuation of the archipelago which extends from Cape Ne-
grais to Atchein Head, stretching from lat. 10° 32' to 13°
40' N., and from long. 90° 6' to 92° 59' E. They are called
the Great and the Little Andaman. The Great Andaman,
which is the northern island, is 140 miles in length, and
only 20 broad. It was formerly supposed to be one island;
but two straitshave been discovered, which open a clear pass¬
age into the Bay of Bengal, and divide the Great Andaman
into three islands. The Little Andaman, which lies 30 miles
south of the Great Andaman, is 28 miles long and 17 broad.
It does not afford any good harbour, though tolerably safe
anchorage maybe found near its shores. These islands have
an extremely moist temperature. They are situated in
the direct current of the south-west monsoon; and the
central mountains, some of the lofty peaks of which, as
Saddle Peak in the large Andaman, rise to the height of
2400 feet, intercept the clouds, which, for about eight
months in the year, descend in incessant torrents of rain
on the plains below. According to a meteorological table
kept by an officer resident on the island, 98 inches of water
appear to have fallen in the course of seven months. On
the whole, however, the temperature is milder than in
Bengal, and the heats not so intolerable.
. The island is totally uncultivated, and the savage inha¬
bitants glean a miserable subsistence from the spontane¬
ous produce of the woods, in which the researches of the
Europeans have hitherto found little that is either palat¬
able or nutritious. The principal trees are the banyan-
tree, the almond-tree, the oil-tree, which grows to a crreat
height and yields a very useful oil; the poon, the dam-
mer, the red wood, which for furniture is little inferior to
AND
fine mahogany; the ebony, the cotton-tree, the soondry, AndjB,
chingry, and beady; the Alexandrian laurel, the poplar, a Oc¬
tree resembling satin-wood, bamboos, cutch, the melon,
aloes ; the iron-tree, of stupendous size, whose timber al¬
most bids defiance to the axe of the wood-cutter. There
are many other trees well adapted for the construction of
ships ; and, as in all the equatorial forests, there are num¬
berless creepers and ratans, which surround the stems of
the trees, and are so firmly interlaced together, that the
forests are impervious, except a road be previously cut
through them.
The only quadrupeds seen on the island are hogs, rats,
and the ichneumon ; also the guana, of the lizard tribe; all
which are very destructive to poultry. There are several
species of snakes and scorpions, by which the labourers
employed by the British in clearing away the underwood
were frequently bitten; but in no instance did the bite
prove mortal. The patient was frequently affected with
violent convulsions, which gradually yielded to the ope¬
ration of opium and eau-de-luce.
Fish abound on the shores, and are caught in great
numbers during the prevalence of the north-east mon¬
soon, when the weather is mild: grey mullet, rock cod,
skate, and soles, are among the best. There are, besides,
various other species, such as guanas, sardinas, roe-balls,
sable, shad, prawns, shrimps, cray-fish, a species of whale,
and sharks of an enormous size. Shell-fish are in great
plenty, and oysters of an excellent quality. The shores
abound in a variety of beautiful shells, such as gorgonias,
madreporas, murex, and cowries, with many other sorts
equally beautiful.
Birds are not numerous, and they are extremely shy.
Doves, parroquets, and the Indian crow, are the most
common. Hawks from the neighbouring continent are
sometimes seen hovering over the tops of trees; and a
few aquatic birds, such as the king-fisher, a sort of cur¬
lew, and the small sea-gull, frequent the shores. Within
the caverns and recesses of the rocks are found the edi¬
ble birds’ nests so highly prized among the Chinese for
their supposed medicinal and restorative qualities.
The whole population of the islands does not exceed
2000 or 2500, and they are probably the most savage
people on the face of the whole earth. They are far be¬
low the ordinary scale of barbarism; and in their modes
of subsistence, and in their dwellings, they rise very little
above the brute creation. They wear no clothes, and seem
insensible to any feeling of shame from the exposure of
their persons. The woods supply them with little in the
way of food. They are provided with no pot or vessel
that can bear the action of fire, and they cannot there¬
fore derive much advantage from such esculent herbs as
the forests may contain. The cocoa nut, which thrives
so well in the neighbouring islands, is not found in the
Andamans, though the natives are extremely fond of it.
The fruit of the mangrove is principally used by them.
Their principal food consists of fish, in quest of a preca¬
rious meal of which they climb over the rocks, or rove
along the margin of the sea, often without success during
the tempestuous season; but they eagerly' seize on what¬
ever else presents itself, such as lizards, guanas, rats, and
snakes, from their diseased and extenuated figures, it is
plain that they have no abundant or wholesome nourish¬
ment. In stature the inhabitants of the Great Andaman
seldom exceed five feet; their limbs are disproportionably
slender, their bellies protuberant, with high shoulders
and large heads ; and, what is singular and unaccountable,
they have all the characteristic marks of a degenerate
race of negroes, with woolly hair, flat noses, and thick lips;
their eyes are small and red, their skin of a deep sooty
black, while their countenances exhibit a mixed expres-
AND
’ Ibi-. sion of famine and ferocity. Lieutenant Alexander de-
' my-vj gcribes the inhabitants of Little Andaman as far from be¬
ing a puny race. When he landed in a boat he counted six¬
teen strong and able-bodied men, many of them very lusty.
The ingenuity of these savages is principally seen in the
fabrication of a few simple weapons on which they de¬
pend for their subsistence. These are a bow from four to
five feet long, with arrows of reed, headed with fish-bone
or wood hardened in the fire, a spear of heavy wood sharp¬
ly pointed, and a shield made of bark. With these im¬
plements they shoot and spear the fish, which abound in
their bays and creeks, with surprising dexterity. Their
' habitations display little more art than the dens of wild
I beasts. Their canoes are hollowed out of the trunks of
1 trees by fire and instruments of stone, as they have no
> , iron among them. Being much incommoded by insects,
their first occupation in the morning is to plaster their
1 bodies all over with mud, which, hardening in the sun, forms
an effectual defence. They paint their woolly heads with
i a mixture of ochre and water; and, when completely
j dressed, it is observed by Mr Symes, who visited the island
> in his voyage to Ava, that a more hideous appearance is not
i to be found in human form. Their language does not pos-
8 sess the slightest affinity to any spoken either on the conti-
111 nent of India or on the islands. It is not harsh to the ear.
1 Their songs are wildly melodious, and their gesticulations
^ when singing extremely impassioned. The men have all the
c cunning and vindictive dispositions of savages; and they
8 showa marked hatred to all strangers. They have little idea
o of a future state, but they adore the sun and the moon, and
1 the genii of the woods, waters, and mountains as inferior
8 agents. During the south-west monsoon, when tempests
f prevail with unusual violence, they deprecate the wrath
o of the malignant being who, according to their notions,
1' has occasioned the storm, by chanting wild choruses in
s small congregations assembled on the beach or on some
f1 *. rock that overhangs the ocean. These islanders have oc-
c casionally been persuaded to come on board British ships;
b but though they were well fed and kindly treated, no per-
s e suasion could induce them to remain. The settlement
o ; of these islands, with their negro inhabitants, so widely
f different in their appearance not only from all those of the
l § Asiatic continent, in which the Andamans are embayed,
5 but also from the natives of the Nicobar islands, presents
a a curious problem, which has never been satisfactorily
c explained. It is supposed, however, by Symes, that the
of original stock must have been settled on the island by
t « the accidental ship week of some Arab slave-ship. The
1 English made a settlement on the larger Andaman in the
J year 1791. Their object was to procure a commodious
ii harbour on the east side of the Bay of Bengal, to receive
a and shelter ships of war during the continuance of the
o I north-east monsoon; also to provide a place of reception
i for convicts sentenced to transportation from Bengal.
1 But the settlement, proving unhealthy, has been since
a abandoned. These islands have been frequently visited by
! British ships, but the barbarous natives reject all friendly
i | intercourse. Lieutenant Alexander states that they pre-
s sented a hostile aspect to the party who landed in search of
fresh water, assailed them with volleys of arrows, and testi-
t fied, by the most ferocious signs, their determined aversion
t to them. In April 1824 the British armament destined
( |‘ against the Burmese touched at the great island, when
t the natives persevered in their hostility, discharging flights
( of arrows at their boats, and then flying into the woods,
tyiese islands, together with the Nicobar and other smaller
islands, were included by Ptolemy in the general appella-
1 tlon °f Insulae, Bonce Fortunes, and were supposed by him
to be inhabited bj^ a race of anthropophagi, though there
ure no proofs of the modern inhabitants being addicted
and in
to this practice. (Symes’ Embassy to Ava ; Alexander’s Andante
Travels from India to England, comprehending a Visit to II
the Burman Empire, &c.; Hamilton’s Gazetteer.) (f.) Anderson.
ANDANTE, in Music, signifies a movement moderate-
ly slow, between largo and allegro.
ANDEGAVI, or Andegavus, a town of Gallia Celtica
(Pliny, Ptolemy); now Angiers: called Andecavi (Taci¬
tus). Long. 30. W. Lat. 47. 30. N.
ANDELYS, an arrondissement in the department of
the Lower Seine, in France. It extends over 390 square
miles, or 256,440 acres; is divided into six cantons, which
are subdivided into 147 communes; and contains 63,211 in¬
habitants. The chief place, of the same name, has a popu¬
lation of 5256 souls.
ANDENA, in old writings, denotes the swath made in
the mowing of hay, or as much ground as a man could
stride over at once.
ANDEOL, Saint, a town of France, in the department
of Lozere, five miles south of St Viviers, whose bishop
formerly resided there. Long. 2. 50. E. Lat. 44.24. N.
ANDERAB, the most southern city of the province of
Balk, possessed by the Usbec Tartars. The neighbouring
mountains yield excellent quarries of lapis lazuli, in which
the Bukhars drive a great trade with Persia and India.
ANDERAVIA, or Inderabia, a low, level, and nar¬
row island on the Arabian shore of the Persian Gulf, about
three miles in length. It is separated from the mainland
by a strait three miles in length, and free from danger ; but
ships running for shelter under this island must not come
within a mile of its south end, until a remarkable tree,
which will be distinguished standing by itself, bear west-
north-west. Lat. 26. 40. N.
ANDERNACHT, a city in the duchy of the Lower
Rhine, belonging to Prussia. It is situated in a plain on
the river Rhine, and is fortified with a wall, castle, and
bulwarks. It has a trade in stone jugs and pitchers, which
are sent to the mineral waters at Dunchstein. There are
three monasteries here, and several churches. Long. 7.
4. E. Lat. 50. 27. N.
ANDERO, Saint, a seaport town in the Bay of Biscay,
in Old Castile, seated on a small peninsula. It is a trad¬
ing town, and contains about 700 houses, two parish
churches, and four monasteries. Here the Spaniards
build and lay up some of their men of war. Long. 3. 45. W.
Lat. 43. 20. N.
ANDERSON, Alexander, a very eminent mathema¬
tician, who flourished in the early part of the 17th century.
He was born at Aberdeen, but passed over to the Conti¬
nent, and settled as a private teacher or professor of mathe¬
matics at Paris, where he published or edited, between the
years 1612 and 1619, various geometrical and algebraical
tracts, which are conspicuous for their ingenuity and ele¬
gance. It is doubtful whether he was ever acquainted
with the famous Vieta, master of requests at Paris, who
died in 1603; but his pure taste and skill in mathematical
investigation had pointed him out to the executors of that
illustrious man, who had found leisure, in the intervals of
a laborious profession, to cultivate and extend the ancient
geometry, and, by adopting a system of general symbols,
to lay the foundation and begin the superstructure of
algebraical science, as the person most proper for revising
and publishing his valuable manuscripts. Anderson did
not come forward, however, as a mere editor; he enriched
the texts with learned comments, and gave neat demon¬
strations of those propositions which had been left imper¬
fect. He afterwards produced a specimen of the applica¬
tion of geometrical analysis, which is distinguished by its
clearness and classic elegance.
Of this able geometer we are ignorant both of the time
of his birth and of Ins death. His brother David Ander-
112 AND
Anderson, son, a small proprietor in Aberdeenshire, but engaged in
business, had likewise a strong turn for mathematics and
mechanics, which, joined to great versatility of talent,
made him be regarded by his neighbours at that period as
a sort of oracle. The daughter of this cleyei and active
burgess was married to John Gregory, minister of Drum-
oak, in that county, father to the celebrated James Gre¬
gory, inventor of the reflecting telescope; and is suppos¬
ed to have communicated to her children that taste for
mathematical learning which afterwards shone forth so
remarkably in the family of the Gregorys.
The works of Anderson amount to six thin quarto vo¬
lumes, which are now very scarce. Ihese are,
1. Supplementum Apollonii lledivivi; sive, Analysis pro-
blematis hactenus desiderati ad Apollonii Pergsei doc-
trinam i/tvtfsojv, a Murine Ghetaldo Patritio liagu-
sino hucusque non ita pridem restitutam. In qua exhi-
betur Mechanice sequalitatum tertii gradus sive solida-
rum, in quibus magnitude omnino data aequatur homoge-
neae sub altero tantum coefficiente ignoto. Huic sub-
nexa est variorum problematum practice, eodem Auc-
tore. Parisiis, 1612, 4to. This tract refers to the pro¬
blem of inclinations, by which, in certain cases, the ap¬
plication of the curve called the conchoid is superseded.
2. AmoXoyia: Pro Zetetico Apollonian! problematis a sp
jam pridem edito in supplemento Apollonii Redivivi.
Ad clarissimum et ornatissimum virum Marinum Ghe-
taldum Patritium Ragusinum. In qua ad ea quae obiter
inibi perstrinxit Ghetaldus respondetur, et analytices
usus clarius detegitur. Parisiis, 1615, 4to. I his is an
addition to the author’s former work.
3. Francisci Vietae Fontenacensis de iEquationum Recog-
nitione et Emendatione Tractatus Duo. Parisiis, 1615,
4to. To this work Anderson has supplied the dedica¬
tion, preface, and appendix.
4. Ad Angularium Sectionum Analyticen Theoremata
KadoXauT^a, a Francisco Vieta Fontenacensi excogi-
tata, at absque ulla demonstratione ad nos transmissa,
jam tandem demonstrationibus confirmata. Parisiis,
1615, 4to.
5. Vindicise Archimedis; sive, Elenchus Cyclometriae
Novae a Philippo Lansbergio nuper editae. Parisiis, 1616,
4to.
6. Alexandri Andersoni Scoti Exercitationum Mathema-
ticarum Decas prima; continens Quaestionum aliquot,
quae nobilissimorum turn hujus turn veteris aevi Mathe-
maticorum ingenia exercuere, Enodationem. Parisiis,
1619, 4to. C (b.)
Anderson, Sir Edmund, a younger son of an ancient
Scotish family settled in Lincolnshire. He was some time
a student of Lincoln College, Oxford, and removed from
thence to the Inner Temple, where he applied himself
diligently to the study of the law, and became a barrister.
In 1582 he was made lord chief justice of the common
pleas, and in the year following was knighted. He held
his office to the end of his life in 1605. His works are,
1. Reports of many principal Cases argued and adjudged
in the time of Queen Elizabeth in the Common Bench,
Lond. 1644, fol.; 2. Resolutions and Judgments on the
cases and matter agitated in all courts of Westminster in
the latter end of the reign of Queen Elizabeth, Lond.
1655, 4to.
» Anderson, James, LL. D. The subject of this article,
who has been brought into notice principally from the
more recent encouragement given to agriculture, and the
versatility of his own genius, was born at the village of
Hermiston, in the county of Edinburgh, in the year
1739. His parents were in humble life, and had possess¬
ed a farm for some generations, which he was destined to
inherit and to cultivate. At that period improvement
AND
was in infancy, and the husbandman had to contend withAnde
a climate whose uncertainty seemed to keep pace withW ;
the progress of his skill, and which too often disappointed J
him of the fruits of his industry. Anderson, while yet at
an early age, lost his parents: however, his education
was uninterrupted; and conceiving that an acquaintance
with chemistry would promote his profession, he attended
a course of lectures on that science, then delivered by
Dr Cullen. None of the other pupils besides himself took
notes of his lectures, which being afterwards surrepti¬
tiously obtained from him, with the design of publication,
he defeated the intended purpose, apprehensive that his
preceptor’s fame might be diminished by these imperfect
transcripts. His own active occupations had already com¬
menced, and, along with the practice of husbandry, he
prosecuted his original taste for literature.
Enlarging the sphere of his employments, Anderson for¬
sook his first possession, for a farm of 1300 acres, which
he rented in Aberdeenshire, though nearly in a state of
nature, and where agriculture is still behind the southern
districts. But previous to this he became known to men
of letters, by some essays on planting, which, under the
signature Agricola, he ventured to commit to the world
through the medium of the Edinburgh Weekly Magazine,
in 1771. Soon embarking in a higher sphere of literature,
he composed the article Monsoon for the first edition of
this Encyclopaedia, in 1773, wherein he threw out some
luminous ideas, and, among other observations, predicted
from physical facts, and the state of geographical know¬
ledge, that no polar continent would be found by the cir¬
cumnavigators then employed by government. In the
year 1777 he published a considerable quarto volume,
said to have been composed two years preceding, on the
means of exerting a spirit of national industry with regard
to agriculture, commerce, manufactures, and fisheries;
and in this he enters into detailed views of many subjects
of political economy. The interest of the Highlands and
Islands of Scotland is in a particular manner considered;
and the author maintains, that the only effectual means of
increasing agriculture is by promoting manufactures; as
also, that the neglect-which the agriculture of these parts
of the kingdom experienced, resulted from the neglect of
manufactures. Scotland, he affirms, is better adapted than
England for the production of wool; and this, as well as
other products, he thought, would be best encouraged by
premiums. The advantages which might result from at¬
tending to the fisheries, he judged, would be very great,
and the shoals of herrings frequenting the coast could
be converted into a source of national wealth under suit¬
able establishments. Anderson, who soon after had the
degree of doctor of laws conferred on him by the Univer¬
sity of Aberdeen, did not abandon these inquiries. He
printed a tract regarding the fisheries, which was cir¬
culated among his friends ; and, in consequence of being
more widely diffused, he was appointed by the Lords
of the Treasury to survey the western coast of Scot¬
land, for the purpose of obtaining satisfactory informa¬
tion on the subject. This he did in 1784, and received
the full approbation of his employers ; and he published a
brief account of the Hebrides, a chain of islands then as
little within the general acquaintance of the inhabitants of
Great Britain as if they had been under the dominion of
another country. The principal obstacles to the fishery,
Dr Anderson considered, were to be found in a duty on
salt and coals, and he recommended the repeal of both.
It is certain that, from thenceforward, this great branch
of national industry has received infinitely more patronage
than before his report, and, while we only shared the
labours of the Dutch for centuries, the fisheries on our
own coast have since been monopolized by ourselves. No-
AND
non'thing can be more impolitic than to fetter the exertions of
^Mhe industrious by exorbitant duties, or equally oppres¬
sive with denying fuel to the poorer classes, where it is
scarce, by duties on its importation.
Dr Anderson had now withdrawn from his northern
farm, where he resided above 20 years, and settled in the
vicinity of Edinburgh. His agricultural speculations were
still continued ; and when a parliamentary grant was about
to be proposed to Mr Elkington for a particular mode of
draining land, he reclaimed the practice as having been
observed by himself many years anterior. Repeated ex-
unples, indeed, prove that the rewards granted by Parlia¬
ment for improvement are attended with such slight in¬
vestigations, that the merits of real invention are over¬
looked. Dr Anderson now projected a periodical publica¬
tion called The Bee, consisting of miscellaneous original
matter, which attained the extent of 18 volumes in octavo.
It was published weekly, and a large proportion of it
came from his own pen, which is seldom a prudent course
in an editor. The relation of Great Britain and her colo¬
nies, and the political rights of mankind—subjects which
had excited strong interests throughout Europe—also re¬
ceived some commentaries from Dr Anderson. He wrote
a tract called The Interest of Great Britain with respect to
her Colonies, and commenced a correspondence with Ge¬
neral Washington, which was afterwards published.
Towards the year 1797 he again removed to Islesworth,
in the neighbourhood of London, where he undertook
another periodical publication, appearing at more distant
intervals than the former, entitled Recreations in Agricul¬
ture, Natural History, Arts, and Miscellaneous Literature.
This work was prefaced by two copious dissertations, the
one on agriculture, the other on natural history; and
opened with a discussion regarding a very curious and im¬
portant subject, namely, an inquiry into what are deno¬
minated varieties in plants and animals. Many useful
and interesting remarks appear in the course of this pub¬
lication, a portion of which was supplied by other con¬
tributors; and it is embellished by beautiful vignettes
from engravings on wood. Owing to some difficulties
attending the publication, it ceasecH in 1802. Though
natural history is rather predominant, the rest of his lead¬
ing subjects are not overlooked. Dr Anderson hence¬
forward lived in a great measure in retirement, though
occasionally reminding the world of his wonted inqui¬
ries, by the publication of tracts on unconnected sub¬
jects. He obtained a patent for an improved hot-house,
wherein no fuel was used; and employed himself in ex¬
periments regarding the degree of temperature and hu¬
midity most beneficial to plants. Likewise, having ob¬
served the uncommon depredations of wasps, he is said,
after satisfying himself of their manner of increase, to have
devisad a plan for their absolute extermination. This was
chiefly by the destruction of the females before founding
their respective colonies by the depositation of innumer¬
able eggs; and hand-bills were circulated under the aus¬
pices of an association formed by him, offering a reward
for every female brought in dead within a specified time.
It does not appear, however, that the breed was at all di¬
minished by the proposed expedient.
Dr Anderson still remained in his retreat, enjoying the
cultivation of his garden; and nothing of importance is
known to have proceeded from his pen. After a gradual
decline, partly occasioned by the over-exertion of the
mental energies, he died in the year 1808, aged 69. He
was twice married; first, to Miss Seton of Mounie; second¬
ly, to an English lady. By his first marriage he had thir¬
teen children, six of whom survived him. One of his
sons made distinguished progress in the art of engraving
on wood; and, if the vignettes of the Recreations in Agri-
wliii.
AND 113
culture were executed by him, they afford ample testimony Anderson,
of his abilities.
Dr Anderson was endowed with a vigorous understand¬
ing, which he chiefly displayed in treating of agricultural
matters, and those connected with rural economy; but he
was at the same time of a versatile talent, which could
readily be occupied on transient facts and occurrences.
Many of his works were of a fugitive nature, consisting of
small impressions, which were not renewed, and hence
are difficult to be obtained at present, if they have not
totally disappeared. None of them soars to the more lof¬
ty regions of science ; they are directed to practical views
in useful projects, and for the most part relate to subjects
of ordinary detail. Of this the reader will be enabled to
judge by the subjoined list, which we believe is the most
copious that has yet appeared. The industry of Dr An¬
derson was indefatigable, whether in personal exertion
or mental energy; and he possessed elevated sentiments
of independence. During a period of overstrained political
fervour, certain papers formed part of the periodical works
already referred to, which were thought libellous on the
government. Although Dr Anderson’s principles were
noted for attachment to the existing administration, he
was called upon to give up the author of the obnoxious
compositions, which he steadily refused, and, even in the
face of the civil magistrates, charged his printers not to
violate their fidelity to him and the author in betraying
his name. The business terminated here, until a factious
individual insinuated to the same magistrates that the
compositions had proceeded from one of the supreme
judges, whose party politics were avowedly hostile to
those of government. Dr Anderson having learned the
reproach, hastened to relieve the object of it by divulging
the name of the real author, who, to the universal surprise
of the public, proved to be none other than the traducer
himself.
1776. A Practical Treatise on Chimneys, containing full
instructions for constructing them in all cases, so as
to draw well, and for removing smoke, 12mo.
1776. Free Thoughts on the American Contest, 8vo.
1777. Observations on the Means of exciting a Spirit of
National Industry, 4to.
1777. Miscellaneous Observations on Planting and Train¬
ing Timber Trees, by Agricola, in 8vo.
1777. An Inquiry into the Nature of the Corn Laws,
in 8vo.
1777. Essays Relating to Agriculture and Rural Affairs,
8vo. A fifth edition, in 3 volumes, was published
in 1800.
1779. An Inquiry into the Causes that have hitherto re¬
tarded the Advancement of Agriculture in Europe,
4to.
1782. The Interest of Great Britain with regard to her
American Colonies considered, 8vo.
1783. The True Interest of Great Britain considered, or
a Proposal for Establishing the Northern British
Fisheries, 12mo.
1785. An Account of the Present State of the Hebrides
and Western Coast of Scotland, being the Sub¬
stance of a Report to the Lords of the Treasury, 8vo.
1789. Observations on Slavery, particularly with a View
to its Effects on the British Colonies in the West
Indies, 4to.
1790. Papers by Dr Anderson and Sir John Sinclair on
Shetland Wool, 8vo.
1791. The Bee, 18 vols. 8vo.
1792. Observations on the Effects of the Coal Duty, 8vo.
1793. Thoughts on the Privileges and Powers of Juries,
with observations on the State of the Country with
regard to Credit, 8vo.
114 AND
Anderson. 1793. Remarks on the Poor’s Laws of Scotland, 4to.
1794. A Practical Treatise on Peat Moss, 8vo.
1794. A General View of the Agriculture and Rural
Economy of the County of Aberdeen, and the
Means of its Improvement, 8vo.
1794. An Account of the Different Kinds of Sheep found
in the Russian Dominions, by Dr Pallas. With five
Appendixes, by Dr Anderson. 8vo.
1795. Two Letters, to Dr Edward Home, on an Universal
Character, in 8vo.
1797. A Practical Treatise on Draining Bogs and Swampy
Grounds, with Cursory Remarks on the Originality
of Elkington’s Mode of Draining Lands, 8vo.
1799. Recreations in Agriculture, 6 vols. 8vo.
1800. Selections from Correspondence with General
Washington, 8vo.
1801. A Calm Investigation of the Circumstances that
have led to the Present Scarcity of Grain in Great
Britain; suggesting the means of alleviating that
evil, and of preventing the occurrence of such a ca¬
lamity in future; 8vo.
1803. Description of a Patent Hot-house, which operates
chiefly by the Heat of the Sun, and other Subjects,
8vo.
Dr Anderson, besides, wrote many papers in periodi¬
cal publications, and an account of Ancient Fortifications
in the Highlands, read to the Society of Scotish Anti¬
quaries.
Anderson, Robert, the fourth son of William Ander¬
son, and of Margaret Melrose his wife, was born at Carn-
wath in Lanarkshire on the 7th of January 1750. His fa¬
ther was a feuar, that is, a person who possessed some
small parcels of real property by the tenure of a per¬
petual lease. Having received the earlier part of his edu¬
cation in his native town and in the adjacent village of
Libberton, he was afterwards placed under the tuition of
Robert Thomson, master of Lanark school, who had
married a sister of Thomson the poet, and who has been
commended for his uncommon proficiency in classical
learning. Excellence however is always a relative term;
nor must it be forgotten that the grammar schools of
Scotland had about that period descended to their very
lowest level. James Graeme, a native of the same town,
was his companion and friend at all these seminaries: he
appears to have been an amiable young man of promising
talents, and to have been imbued with the love of lite¬
rature. One of their school-fellows at Lanark was John
Pinkerton, who afterwards became a conspicuous mem¬
ber of the republic of letters.
Anderson’s father had died in 1759, in the 40th year
of his age, leaving his widow with a very slender provi¬
sion. Uniting considerable energy of character with a
large share of piety, she made a vigorous effort to educate
her four sons; and as she survived till the year 1796, she
had the satisfaction of seeing one of them arrive at inde¬
pendence and distinction. Having discovered an early
taste for reading, he soon made choice of one of the libe¬
ral professions. His first destination was for the church:
in the year 1767 he was sent to the university of Edin¬
burgh, and in due time was enrolled among the students
of divinity. Graeme, who had entered the university at
the same time and with the same views, died of con¬
sumption in 1772, in the 23d year of his age; and, after
a short interval, his faithful friend published a collection
of Poems on several occasions, by James Grceme. Edinb.
1773, 12mo. These poems he inserted in the 11th vo¬
lume of the British Poets, together with an account of
the author, in which his literary merits are estimated, not
with the discrimination of sober criticism, but with, all the
partiality of friendly zeal. About this period he relin-
A N D
quished the study of divinity, and betook himself to the Ai,
study of medicine. He was for a short time employed 0
as surgeon to the dispensary at Bamborough Castle in
Northumberland; and in a neighbouring town he then
formed connections which had no small influence on his
future destiny. On the 25th of September 1777 he mar¬
ried Anne, the daughter of John Grey, Esq. of Alnwick,
who was related to the noble family of that name. Re.
turning to Scotland, he took the degree of M. D. at St
Andrews on the 20th of May 1778, after having been duly
examined by the professor of physic. He now began to
practise as a physician at Alnwick; but his general habits
were rather those of speculation than exertion, and a
moderate provision, acquired by his marriage, had emanci¬
pated him from the necessity of professional labour. In
1784 he finally returned to Edinburgh, where he continued
to reside for the period of 46 years, in a condition of life
removed from affluence, but perfectly compatible with
genuine independence and comfort. He possessed the
valuable secret of living within his income ; and his house
was long distinguished by a hearty and unostentatious hos¬
pitality. His amiable and affectionate wife died of con¬
sumption on the 25th of December 1785, in the 39th year
of her age, leaving three daughters, the youngest of whom
speedily followed her mother to the grave. He did not re¬
sume the practice of physic, but being satisfied with his
moderate acquisitions, he devoted much of his time to the
education of his two children, and to miscellaneous and
desultory reading, rather than to any systematical course
of study. In 1793, after having remained a widower for
eight years, he married Margaret, the daughter of Mr
David Dali, master of Tester school in the county of
Haddington.
For several years his attention was occupied with his
edition of The Works of the British Poets, with Prefaces
biographical and critical, which was published at Edin¬
burgh, and extends to 14 large octavo volumes. The
earliest volume, which is now the second in the series,
was printed in 1792-3; the 13th was printed in 1795,
and another volume was added in 1807. He was fre¬
quently solicited to revise his Lives of the Poets, and
publish them in a separate form ; but after having collected
some materials for such a work, he finally abandoned the
design. In the mean time he had published The Miscel¬
laneous Works of Tobias Smollett, M. D. with Memoirs of
his Life and Writings. Edinb. 1796, 6 vols. 8vo. The sixth
edition of this collection was printed in the year 1820.
Of his account of the ingenious author, the eighth separate
edition appeared under the title of The Life of Tobias
Smollett, 31. D. with critical Observations on his Works.
Edinb. 1818, 8vo. But the most able and elaborate of
his productions is the third edition of his Life of Samuel
Johnson, LL. D. with critical Observations on his Works.
Edinb. 1815, 8vo. The same service which he rendered
to Dr Smollett he afterwards extended to Dr Moore, hav¬
ing published The Works of John Moore, M.D. with Me¬
moirs of his Life and Writings. Edinb. 1820, 7 vols. 8vo.
At an earlier period he had published The Poetical Works
of Robert Blair ; containing the Grave, and a Poem to tbs
Memory of Mr Law; to which is prefixed the Life of the
Author. Lond. 1794, 8vo. And his latest publication
was The Grave, and other Poems, by Robert Blair: to
which are prefixed, some Account of his Life, and Obser¬
vations on his Writings. Edinb. 1826, 12mo.
Dr Anderson contributed his ready aid to many differ¬
ent publications, and was always influenced, not by the
love of money^but by the love of literature. With many
eminent men in England, Ireland, and America, he main¬
tained a literary correspondence; and having survived
most of his lettered contemporaries, he enjoyed the
AND
AND
115
,. esteem and consideration of a second and even of a third
^generation. In 1802, 1809, and 1810, he paid three long
visits to Dr Percy, the late excellent Bishop of Dromore;
and he likewise enjoyed the friendship of Dr Ledwich, Dr
Ryan, Mr Boyd, Mr Cooper Walker, and many other li¬
terary men of the sister island. No part of his character
was more conspicuous than his uniform and unabating
zeal to promote the success of young men who discovered
any promise, however moderate, of literary talent; and
some of the more distinguished writers of our own age
and nation were not without their obligations to his dis¬
interested friendship. Mr Campbell dedicated to him his
earliest and most popular publication, The Pleasures of
Hope. Miss Bannerman, a very ingenious and accom¬
plished lady, who died at Portobello on the 29th of Sep¬
tember 1829, dedicated to him her first collection of
Poems. Edinb. 1800, 8vo. Thomas Brown, John Leyden,
and Alexander Murray, who all died at too early an age,
were among the most eminent of his young friends. For
Dr Brown, who became professor of moral philosophy in
the university of Edinburgh, he entertained a very cor¬
dial esteem, which suffered no abatement or interruption.
Another prominent feature of his mind, was his ardent
regard for the civil and religious liberties of mankind.
This characteristic he displayed from the first years of
manhood till the last day of his earthly existence; and,
on the very evening before his death, he gave a signal
proof of his unquenchable zeal, by sending for a map of
Greece, in order, as he expressed himself, to form some
notion of the general elements of this new state. His
principles were those of a very decided Whig; and, du¬
ring the extraordinary excitement which attended the
close of the last century, he was sometimes misrepre¬
sented as little better than a republican. The honest
alarm of one class of individuals, and the hollow zeal of
another, had a strong tendency to confound all nice dis¬
tinctions.
His bodily frame had never been robust; but the uni¬
form temperance and regularity of his habits contributed
to prolong a life which was marked by cheerfulness and
benevolence. His faculties, mental and corporeal, be¬
trayed few or no symptoms of old age. During the
greater part of his last winter he was confined to his
own house by what was considered as a common cold,
and was attended by his friend and contemporary Dr
Hamilton. His lungs however seemed to be affected in
an unusual manner; and, five days before his dissolution,
his physician discovered that dropsy in the chest had
supervened. As he had now reached a very advanced
age, he indulged not even the faintest hope of recovery.
Though his chief or only suffering proceeded from diffi¬
culty of respiration, the progress of his malady was swift and
certain: but the native alacrit)r of his mind seemed inca¬
pable of diminution ; and maintaining much and varied con¬
versation during the last days, and indeed during the last
hours ofhis life,heevincedmore than his usual continuity of
thought and accuracy of expression. As the vital tide was
rapidly receding, his heart seemed to expand with new
kindness towards all those who approached his couch.
01 the immediate prospect of death he spoke, not merely
with resignation, but even with cheerfulness; with the
subdued but confident hope of one who had long and ha¬
bitually reposed on the assurances of the Christian faith.
He died on Saturday the 20th of February 1830, after
having completed the 80th year of his age; and, accord¬
ing to his own directions, his remains were interred in
Carnwath churchyard. His eldest daughter, Anne Mar¬
garet, was married in 1810 to David Irving, LL. D. and
died in 1812, leaving an only son. His second daughter,
Margaret Susannah, lived to deplore the loss of a parent,
whose declining years she had soothed by the most ex- Andes,
emplary attention to all his wants and wishes. (x.)
ANDES. The Andes are distinguished above all the
known mountain chains by their immense extent and their
prodigious altitude. They run almost parallel to the west
coast of the southern continent of America, at a mean dis¬
tance of between 100 and 200 miles, rising in some places
to the enormous height of 25,000 feet; and stretch from
the mouth of the river Atrato, on the isthmus of Darien,
in the latitude of 8 degrees north, as far as Cape Pilares,
at the outlet of the Straits of Magellan, in the 53d de¬
gree of south latitude, a range of at least 4200 miles.
They send out, nearly at right angles from their colos¬
sal ridge, between the latitudes of 14° and 20° south,
three dependent branches, called by the Spaniards Cor¬
dilleras.
Of these secondary chains, the first and most northern
is that of the coast of Venezuela, which is likewise the
highest and narrowest. With an irregular altitude, it
bends eastwards from the Atrato, forming the Sierra of
Abibe, the mountains of Cauca, and the high Savannahs
of Folu, till it reaches the stream of Magdalena, in the
province of St Martha. It contracts as it approaches the
Gulf of Mexico, at Cape Vela; and thence extends to the
mountain of Paria, or rather the Galley Point, in the island
of Trinidad, where it terminates. This secondary chain
attains its greatest known elevation where it rears the
snowy summit, or Sierra Nevada, of St Martha and of
Merida, the former being nearly 14,000 and the latter
above 15,000 feet in altitude. These insulated mountains,
covered so near the equator with eternal snow, yet dis¬
charging boiling sulphurous water from their sides, are
higher than the Peak of Tenerifte, and can be compared
only with Mont Blanc. In their descent they leave the
Paramo or lofty desert of Rosa and of Mucachi; and on
the west side of the lake Maracaibo they form long and
very narrow vales, running from south to north, and
covered with forests. At Cape Vela the mountain chain
divides into two parallel ridges, which form three confined
valleys ranging from east to west, and having all the ap¬
pearance of being the beds of ancient lakes. These ridges,
of which the northern is the continuation of the Sierra
Nevada of St Martha, and the southern the extension of
the snowy summits of Merida, are united again by two
arms which seem to have been placed by the hand of
nature as dikes to confine the primeval collections of wa¬
ter. The three valleys thus inclosed are remarkable for
their elevation above the sea, rising like steps one above
another, the eastmost, or that of the Caraccas, being the
highest. This plain was found by Humboldt to be elevated
2660 feet, while the basin of Aragua has only 1350 feet
in height, and the Llanos, or reedy plains of Monai, spread
within 500 or 600 feet above the level of the shore. The
lake of the Caraccas appears to have forced a passage for
itself through the quehrada or cleft of Tipe, while that of
Aragua has been gradually dissipated by a slow process
of evaporation, leaving some vestiges of its former existence
in pools charged with muriate of lime, and in the low islets
called Aparecidas. The medium height of the Cordillera
of the coast is about 4000 or 5000 feet; but its loftiest
summit, next to the Sierra Nevada of Merida, is the Silla
(or saddle) of the Caraccas, which was visited by Hum¬
boldt, and ascertained from barometrical measurement to
have an elevation of 8420 feet. Farther to the eastward
the mountain chain becomes suddenly depressed, espe¬
cially its primitive rocks; the beds of gneiss and mica
slate meeting as they advance with accumulations of se¬
condary calcareous substances, which envelope them com¬
pletely, and rise to a great elevation. The incumbent
mass of sandstone, with a calcareous base, extending from
ANDES.
116
Andes. Capelluarl, forms a detached range of mountains, in which
no trace of primitive rock is found.
The second branch, which stretches from the Andes
across the American continent, and exhibits a chain of
primitive mountains, is named by Humboldt the Cordillera
of the Cataracts of Orinoco. This very enterprising tra¬
veller surveyed it over an extent of upwards of 600 miles,
from the Black River to the frontiers of the Great Bara;
but the rest of the chain is very little known, running
through unexplored wilds and regions almost inaccessible,
occupied by fierce and independent tribes of savages. It
leaves the great trunk between the 3d and 6th degree of
southern latitude, and runs eastward from the Paramo or
high desert of Tuquillo and St Martin, and the sources of
the Guaviari, rearing the lofty summits of Umamaand Ca-
navami, and pouring forth the large rivers Meta, Zama, and
Ymerida, which form the roudals or tremendous rapids of
Ature and Maypure, the only openings existing at present
between the interior of the continent and the plain of the
Amazons. Beyond these cataracts the chain of mountains
again acquires greater elevation and breadth, occupying
the vast tract inclosed between the rivers Caura, Cavony,
and Padamo, and stretching southward to the boundless
forests where the Portuguese settlers gather that potent
drug the sarsaparilla. Farther eastward this chain is
not traced, no European or civilized Indian having ever
explored the sources of the Orinoco; all access in that
quarter being prevented by the ferocity of the Guaicas, a
dwarfish but very fair and warlike race, and by the valour
of the Guajaribos, a most desperate tribe of cannibals.
Beyond these recesses, however, we are made acquainted
with the continuation of the chain of the cataracts, by
the astonishing journey performed by Don Antonio Santos,
who, disguised like a savage, his body naked, and his skin
stained of a copper colour, and speaking fluently the seve¬
ral Indian dialects, penetrated from the mouth of the Rio
Caronis to the' Lake of Parime and the Amazons. The
range of mountains sinks lower, and contracts its breadth
to 200 miles, where it assumes the name of Serrania de
Quimeropaca and Pacaraimo. A few degrees farther east¬
ward it spreads out again, and bends south to the Canno
Pirara along the Mao, near whose banks appears the Cerro
or hill of Ucucuamo, consisting entirely of a very shining
and yellow mica slate, which has therefore procured from
the credulity of early travellers the magnificent appella¬
tion of Dorado or Golden Mountain. East from the river
Essequibo this Cordillera stretches to meet the granitic or
gneiss mountains of Dutch and French Guiana, inhabited
by confederated bands of negroes and Caribs, but giving
birth to the commercial streams of Berbice, Surinam, and
Maroni.
The chain of the cataracts of Orinoco has only a mean
height of about 4000 feet above the level of the sea. The
greatest elevation occurs where the mountain of Duida
rears its enormous mass from the midst of a luxuriant
plain, clothed with the tropical productions of palms and
ananas, and discharges from its steep sides, about the
close of the rainy season, volumes of incessant flames.
Jso one has yet had the resolution or perseverance to
climb through the tangling and rampant bushes to its
peak, which, measured trigonometrically, gives an altitude
of 8465 feet above the sea. The whole mountain group
which forms this Cordillera is distinguished by the
abrupt descent of its south flank; nor is it less remark¬
able for containing no rock of secondary formation, or
exhibiting any vestige of petrifactions and organic re¬
mains. It contains only granite, gneiss, mica slate, and
hornblende, without any casing or admixture of sand¬
stone or calcareous matter.
The third great branch sent out from the trunk of the
Andes is that of the Chiquitos, which province it traverses, a
making a sort of semicircular sweep between the parallels V
of 15 and 20 degrees south latitude, and appearing to con¬
nect the colossal heights of Peru and Chili with the moun-
tains of Brazil and Paraguay. It supplies the rivers that
feed the Maranon on the one side, and the Plata on the
other. The structure and disposition, however, of the
Cordillera of the Chiquitos still remain almost unknown.
These grand chains of mountains divide the southern
continent of America, from the latitude of 19 to that of
52 degrees, into three immense plains, which on the west
side are shut up by the enormous ridge of the Andes, but
are all open on the east, and towards the Atlantic Ocean.
The most northern is the valley of the Orinoco, consist¬
ing of savannahs or level tracts covered with reedy herb¬
age and scattered palms. The next is the plain of the
Maranon, which is entirely covered with dense, impene¬
trable forests. The third and southmost valley is the Pam¬
pas, a dead flat of most prodigious expanse, clothed, like
that of the Orinoco, with a coarse, rank herbage, and aban¬
doned to the occupation of countless herds of wild cattle.
Of these immense plains, the subsoil resembles the com¬
position of the neighbouring mountains. In the valley of
the Orinoco, the primitive rock is generally wrapt in a
coat of sandstone, with calcareous cement, or covered with
calcareous concretions, which betray the vestiges of re¬
cent organic remains, but show none of the older impres¬
sions, such as the belemnites and ammonites, so common
in Europe. The woody plain of Maranon is distinguished
by the thinness of its soil, and the total absence of any
calcareous ingredients, the granite approaching close to
the surface, which is in some places left quite bare over an
extent of many furlongs. But the Pampas of Buenos Ayres
are covered to a great depth with beds of alluvial deposites,
in which the powers of vegetation, fomented by the rays
of a burning sun, luxuriate in wanton profusion.
The lake of Titicaca covers a surface of 16,000 square
miles, being in some places 70 or 80"fathoms deep. It has
an elevation of 12,800 feet above the sea, and terminates
at the mountain Potosi, which rises to 16,000 feet, and is
yet covered with the ruins of the ancient Peruvian civili¬
zation. Near this centre the volcano of Antiquipa stands,
at the height of 17,800 feet, while the double peak of
the Nevados, or snowy Illimani, tow'er to the enormous
elevations of 24,200 and 24,450 feet, or about 3000 feet
above the summit of Chimborazo, which was long regarded
as the loftiest pinnacle of our globe. But, in the northern
extension of the Cordillera, Mount Sorata rears its snowy
head, at the stupendous elevation of 25,000 feet.
In those tropical regions cultivation ascends to very
near the limits of perpetual snow. Various prolific crops,
and particularly wheat and potatoes, are grown at the
height of 14,000 feet above the level of the sea. A con¬
siderable population, dispersed in towns or villages, occupy
tracts about 1000 feet higher, and enjoy health and vi¬
gour in a keen atmosphere, twice as rare as at the level of
the sea. I he ancient Peruvians had worked some gold
mines at the vast altitude of 17,000 feet.
I he disciple of Werner traces with delight, in the ma¬
jestic features of the American continent, the same or¬
der and succession of rocks which the sagacity of that il¬
lustrious geologist had discovered in the mountains ol
Saxony. Granite appears still the oldest material of our
globe: to it succeeds the laminated species, or gneiss;
then mica slate, containing garnets; next primitive slate,
with beds of native alum; now slate mixed with horn¬
blende ; above this greenstone or primitive trap, followed
by amygdaloid; and last of the series, porphyry slate.
Resting or flanked against those primary rocks, beds of
ANDES.
117
mief,. the older limestone begin to appear, followed by a suite
‘■‘yX'''of’minerals bearing indications of organic remains—mica
slate, hornblende, gypsum, and calcareous sandstone. The
only formations which Humboldt did not meet with.in his
extensive travels, were those of chalk, roestone, gray-
wacke, topaz rock, and the compound of serpentine with
granular limestone which occurs in Asia Minor. The
grand ridge of the Andes is everywhere covered with por¬
phyry, basalt, phonolite, and greenstone; which being
often broken into columns, appear at a distance like ruin¬
ed castles, and produce a very striking effect. Near the
bottom of that enormous chain, two different sorts of
limestone occur ; one with a silicious base, inclosing some¬
times cinnabar and coal; and another mostly calcareous,
and cementing the secondary rocks. These formations
are of enormous thickness and elevation. “ Beds of coal
are found in the neighbourhood of Santa Fe, 8650 feet
above the level of the sea; and even at the height of
14,700, near Huanco in Peru. The plains of Bogota, al¬
though elevated 9000 feet, are covered with gypsum,
sandstone, shell-limestone, and even in some parts with
rock salt. Fossil shells, which in the old continent have
not been discovered higher than the summits of the Py¬
renees, or 11,700 feet above the sea, were observed in
Peru, near Micuipampa, at the height of 12,800 feet; and
again at that of 14,120, beside Huancavelica, where sand¬
stone also appears. The basalt of Pichincha, near the
city of Quito, has an elevation of 15,500 feet, while the
top of the Schneekoppe in Silesia is only 4225 feet above
the sea—the highest point in Germany where that spe¬
cies of rock occurs. On the other hand, granite, which
in Europe crowns the loftiest mountains, is not found in
the American continent above the height of 11,500 feet.
It is scarcely known at all in the provinces of Quito and
Peru. The frozen summits of Chimborazo, Cayambe, and
Antisana, consist entirely of porphyry, which, on the
flanks of the Andes, forms a mass of 10,000 or 12,000 feet
in depth. The sandstone near Cuenca has a thickness
of 5000 feet, and the stupendous mass of pure quartz on
the west of Caxamarca measures perpendicularly 9600
feet. It is likewise a remarkable fact, that the porphyry
of those mountains very frequently contains hornblende,
but never quartz, and seldom mica.
“ The central Andes are rich beyond conception in all
the metals, lead only excepted. One of the most curious
ones in the bowels of those mountains is the pacos, a com¬
pound of clay, oxyde of iron, and the muriate of silver
with native silver. The mines of Mexico and Peru, so
long the objects of->envy and admiration, far from being
yet exhausted, promise, under a liberal and improved
system, to become more productive than ever. But na¬
ture has blended with those hidden treasures the active
elements of destruction. The whole chain of the Andes
is subject to the most terrible earthquakes. From Coto¬
paxi to the South Sea no fewer than forty volcanoes are
constantly burning; some of them, especially the lower
ones, ejecting lava, and others discharging the muriate of
ammonia, scorified basalt, and porphyry, enormous quan¬
tities of water, and especially moya, or clay mixed with
sulphur and carbonaceous matter. Eternal snow invests
their sides, and forms a barrier to the animal and vege¬
table kingdoms. Near that confine the torpor of vegeta¬
tion is marked by dreary wastes.” (Edinb. Review, vol.
xv. p. 233.)
\\e may subjoin that, near Quito, the liquid mud eject¬
ed by the volcanoes often involves myriads of small dead
hsh. ^ In some parts, the mountains, like the fabled cave
of /Eolus, seem at times to let out their imprisoned air,
and produce such furious gusts of wind as to sweep every
dung before them to a vast distance. In other districts,
the efforts of the contending elements are betrayed, es- Andes,
pecially during the rainy season, by a doleful moaning
noise, or hollow and portentous groans, enough to cast a
darker shade on the gloom of superstition, and to fill the ima¬
gination of the remotest settler with secret awe and dread.
A person who for the first time climbs the mountains
of Switzerland is astonished to witness, in the space per¬
haps of a few hours, so rapid a change of climate, and
such a wide range of vegetable productions. He may be¬
gin his ascent from the midst of warm vineyards, and pass
through a succession of chesnuts, oaks, and beeches, till
he gains the elevation of the hardy pines and stunted
birches, or treads on Alpine pastures, extending to the
border of perpetual snow. But within the tropics every
thing is formed on a grander scale. The boundary of
permanent congelation is 7500 feet higher at the equator
than at the mean latitude of 45 degrees. Under a burn¬
ing sun ananas and plantains grow profusely near the
shore ; oranges and limes occur a little higher ; then suc¬
ceed fields of maize and luxuriant wheat; and the tra¬
veller has actually reached the high plain of Mexico, or
the still loftier vale of Quito, before he finds a climate
analogous to that of Bordeaux or of Geneva. Now only
commences the series of plants which inhabit the central
parts of Europe.
But the very magnitude of the Andes appears to have
the effect of diminishing the impressions of awe and won¬
der which the sight of them so powerfully excites. The
country on which they rest is heaved to such a vast alti¬
tude above the sea, that the relative elevation of their
summits becomes diminished in comparison with that of
the surrounding amphitheatre. The majestic forms of
Chimborazo, Cotopaxi, and Antisana, though 6000 feet
higher than Mont Blanc, and clothed, like it, with eternal
snow, seem to a traveller scarcely more sublime from the
plains of Riobomba and Quito, than the celebrated moun¬
tain when viewed from the vale of Chamouni. It requires
some time for his imagination to expand itself to the new
scale of grandeur.
The central Andes, with all their magnificence, want a
feature which, in the higher latitudes, contributes so much
to the beauty and sublimity of the Alpine scenery. They
have no vestige whatever of glaciers, those icy belts
dropping from the limits of congelation, and spreading in
concrete sheets, or hanging in disjointed columns fantas¬
tically thrown, which occur alike in the heart of Switzer¬
land and on the northern shores of Norway and Lapland.
This defect is evidently owing to the almost uniform tem¬
perature which prevails near the equator. In those tor¬
rid regions the days are constantly of the same length,
and the sun shines through the whole year with very
nearly equal force. The limit of perpetual congelation is
hence marked on the sides of the mountains of Quito with
singular precision. The temperature decreases regularly
in proportion as one ascends them, till at a certain altitude
it comes to the point of freezing, where the permanent
field of snow begins to appear, defined with an almost un¬
varying border. But in the higher latitudes the sun re¬
mains during the summer so long above the horizon, and
shines with such augmented force, that the heat of the
atmosphere, and consequently of the surface of the ground,
suffers a wide alteration in the different seasons. To the
general investure of snow is therefore annexed every
winter a zone of considerable breadth, which again softens
and partly melts away during the continuance of the sum¬
mer months. This alternate thawing and freezing occa¬
sions the production of glaciers, by converting succes¬
sively the lower detached masses of snow in the precipit¬
ous flanks of the mountains, into a collection of broken
and intermingled pillars of translucid ice.
ANDES.
For the same reason, the Andes, though torn by flaming
volcanoes, and convulsed by frequent and terrible eai t -
quakes, are exempt from those avalanches and eboulements
which in Switzerland and other mountainous parts of Eu¬
rope often bury the helpless traveller in a torrent of snow,
and batter down whole villages by the sudden discharge
of a shower of rocks. Under the equator the variation
of temperature throughout the year is so small as not to
disturb the solidity of the vast collections of snow; but
on the flanks of the Alps or Pyrenees, as the heat of the
summer increases, portions of the upper field of snow be¬
come loosened, and, sliding down, put other masses like¬
wise in motion, till spreading wider, and gaining accele¬
rated force, the whole tide precipitates itself to the plain,
sweeping all before it. Such is the accident of an ava¬
lanche ; "but the occurrence of an eboulement, though less
frequent, is more tremendous. When the alternation of
frost and thaw detaches a mass of rock, it rolls down the
side of the mountain with resistless fury, shivering into frag¬
ments and tearing every thing opposed to it, overwhelm¬
ing men, cattle, and houses, in one common heap of ruins.
But the Andes are distinguished from the chains of the
European mountains by frightful quebradas or perpendi¬
cular rents, which form very narrow vales of immense
depth, whose terrific walls, fringed below with luxuriant
trees and shrubs, seem to lift their naked and barren heads
to the distant skies. The noted crevices of Chota and
Cutaco are nearly a mile deep, the former measuring
4950, and the latter 4300 feet, in a vertical descent. The
task of crossing such tremendous gullies is often a work
of infinite toil and extreme danger. In those mountain¬
ous countries travellers are accustomed to perform their
journeys sitting in chairs fastened to the backs of men
called cargueros or carriers. These porters are mulattoes,
and sometimes whites, of great bodily strength and ac¬
tion, who will climb along the face of precipices, bearing
loads of twelve and fourteen, or even eighteen stone. The
cargueros lead a vagabond life, exposed to incredible fa¬
tigue, but recommended to them by its irregular course.
Often those wretched men toil over mountains for the
space of eight or nine hours every day, till, like beasts of
burthen, they have their backs chafed and made quite
raw with the load. In this deplorable condition they are
not unfrequently abandoned by unfeeling travellers, and
left alone to sicken, pine, or die in the forests. Yet their
earnings would appear inadequate to such violent and
overpowering exertions, since they receive scarcely three
guineas for performing the journey from Ibague to Car¬
tage, which requires fifteen, and perhaps twenty-five or
thirty days.
The Icononzo, remarkable for its natural bridges, is a
small quebrada or cleft of the mountains, through which
flows the river of the Summa Paz, descending from the
highest upland desert. The rocks consist of two differ¬
ent kinds of sandstone, the one extremely compact, and
the other of a slaty texture, divided into their horizontal
strata. The rent was probably caused by an earthquake,
which the harder portion of the stony mass had resisted,
and now connects the upper part of the chasm. This
natural arch is 50 feet long, 40 broad, and 8 feet thick at
the middle. Its height is about 300 feet above the sur¬
face of the torrent, which has a medium depth of twenty
feet. About 60 feet below the natural bridge another
smaller arch occurs, composed of three slanting blocks of
stone wedged together, which had probably fallen from
the roof at the same instant of time, and struck against
the sides of the crevice in their descent.
The natural bridge of Icononzo has perhaps no coun¬
terpart in the old world ; but the writer of this article
had the pleasure of seeing, in early life, a similar pheno¬
menon scarcely inferior to it in the United States of Aire- ^
rica. We allude to the famous arch described by MrU
Jefferson, which crosses the Cedar creek in Rockbridge
county, about a hundred miles beyond the Blue Ridge,
in the higher district of Virginia. The divided rock is a
pure limestone, leaving a chasm about 90 feet wide, of
which the walls are 230 feet high, sprinkled with verdant
bushes, and enamelled with gay flowers, among which the
aquilegia is conspicuous. This bridge, viewed from a
little distance below, has all the appearance of a Gothic
arch ; and is of such solidity, that loaded waggons used
formerly to pass along it, till a more convenient line of
road was formed.
In some places the natives of Peru connect the clefts
of their mountains by pendulous bridges thrown fearlessly
across, and suspended from both sides of a gap. They
are composed of ropes made of the tough fibres of the
agave, hanging in a gently sloping curve, and covered with
reeds or canes, with occasionally a narrow border of bas¬
ket-work. The intrepid Indian, regardless of the horrors I
of the unfathomed abyss which yawns from below, com¬
mits himself to his frail and floating arch, and swiftly
glides along its bending curvature, till he gains the oppo¬
site bank.
The Andes likewise give rise to waterfalls of immense
height and amazing force. The cataract of Tequendama,
considered in all its circumstances, exceeds any other in
the known world. The basin which feeds its streams is
the vast plain of Bogota, 7465 feet above the level of the
sea, encircled completely with lofty mountains, except
where the water, aided probably by the concussion of an
earthquake, has cut for itself a narrow passage. The river
Funcha, swelled by numerous feeders, gradually contracts
its channel to the breadth of about 40 feet, and then ga¬
thering augmented force, dashes at two bounds from a
perpendicular height of near 600 feet into a dark gulf.
Owing to the excessive rapidity and depth of its current,
it must discharge a prodigious volume of water, which
quite stuns the ear by the roar of its crash; while it raises
enormous clouds of thick spray and vapour, that continu¬
ally bedew, and perhaps quicken, the vegetation of the
adjacent grounds. Every thing conspire's to exalt the
beauty and grandeur of , the scenery. “ Independent of
the height and mass of the column of water,” says Hum¬
boldt, “ the figure of the landscape, and the aspect of the
rocks, it is the luxuriant form of the trees and herbace¬
ous plants, their distribution into thickets, the contrast ol
those craggy precipices, and the freshness of vegetation,
which stamp a peculiar character on these great scenes of
nature.” The transition from a temperate to a warm cli¬
mate is rapid and surprising. The plain of Bogota bears
rich crops of wheat, then succeed oaks and elms, inter¬
mingled with aralias, bigonias, and the yellow-bark trees;
but immediately below the cataract a few palms appear,
as if it were to mark the advance to a sultry soil.
A lively idea of the character and grand features of the
Andes may be conceived from the account which the
celebrated Humboldt has given of his journey across that
majestic chain. Our readers will be glad to peruse it in
the author’s own words.
“ The mountain of Quindiu, in the latitude of 4° 36', is
considered as the most difficult passage in the Cordilleras
of the Andes. It is a thick uninhabited forest, which,
in the finest season, cannot be traversed in less than ten
or twelve days. Not even a hut is to be seen, nor can any
means of subsistence be found. Travellers, at all times
of the year, furnish themselves with a month’s provision,
since it often happens that, by the melting of the snows,
and the sudden swell of the torrents, they find themselves
so circumstanced that they can descend neither on the
AND
de side of Cartago nor that of Ibague. The highest point
rv/0f the road, the Garito del Paramo, is 11,500 feet above
the level of the sea. As the foot of the mountain, to¬
wards the banks of the Cauca, is only 3150 feet, the cli¬
mate there is generally mild and temperate. The path¬
way, which forms the passage of the Cordilleras, is only
12 or 15 inches in breadth, and has the appearance, in
several places, of a gallery dug and left open to the sky.
In this part of the Andes, as almost in every other, the
rock is covered with a thick stratum of clay. The stream¬
lets which flow down the mountains have hollowed out
gullies about 20 feet deep. Along these crevices, which
are full of mud, the traveller is forced to grope his pas¬
sage, the darkness of which is increased by the thick
vegetation that covers the opening above. The oxen,
which are the beasts of burden commonly used in this
country, can scarcely force their way through these gal¬
leries, some of which are more than a mile in length; and
,*. if perchance the traveller meets them in one of these
passages, he finds no means of avoiding them but by turn¬
ing back and climbing the earthen wall which borders
the crevice, and keeping himself suspended by laying
hold of the roots which penetrate to this depth from the
surface of the ground.
“ We traversed the mountain of Quindiu in the month
of October 1801, on foot, followed by twelve oxen, which
carried our collections and instruments, amidst a deluge of
rain, to which we were exposed during the last three or
four days, in our descent on the western side of the Cor¬
dilleras. The road passes through a country full of bogs,
and covered with bamboos. Our shoes were so torn by
the prickles which shoot out from the roots of these gi¬
gantic gramina, that we were forced, like all other travel¬
lers who dislike being carried on men’s backs, to go bare¬
footed. This circumstance, the continual humidity, the
length of the passage, the muscular force required to
tread in a thick and muddy clay, the necessity of fording
deep torrents of icy water, render this journey extremely
fatiguing; but, however painful, it is accompanied by none
ol those dangers with which the credulity of the people
alarms travellers. The road is narrow, but the places
where it skirts the precipices are very rare.
“ When travellers reach Ibague, and prepare to cross
the forests of Quindiu, they pluck, in the neighbouring
mountains, several hundred leaves of the vijao, a plant of
the family ol the bananas, which forms a genus approach¬
ing to the Thalia, and which must not be confounded with
the Heiiconia Bibai. These leaves, which are membranous
and silky, like those of the Musa, are of an oval form, two
feet long and 16 inches broad. Their lower surface is a
silvery white, and covered with a farinaceous substance,
which falls oft in scales. This peculiar varnish enables
them to resist the rain during a long time. In gathering
these leaves, an incision is made in the middle rib, which
is the continuation of the foot-stalk; and this serves as a
hook to suspend them when the movable roof is formed.
On taking it down, they are spread out, and carefully rol¬
led up in a cylindrical bundle. It requires about an hun¬
dredweight of leaves to cover a hut large enough to hold
six or eight persons. When the travellers reach a spot in
the midst ot the forests where the ground is dry, and where
they propose to pass the night, the cargueros lop a few
blanches from the trees, with which they make a tent.
In a few minutes this slight timber-work is divided into
squares, by the stalks of some climbing plant, or the
threads of the agave placed in parallel lines 12 or 13
inches from each other. The vijao leaves meanwhile have
sen unrolled, and are now spread over the above work,
tl! aV° ?over .‘t the tiles of a house. These huts,
us hastily built, are cool and commodious. If, during
AND 119
the night, the traveller feels the rain, he points out the Andeuse
spot where it enters, and a leaf is sufficient to obviate the II
inconvenience. We passed several days in the valley of Andrada.
Boquia, under one of those leafy tents, which was perfect-
ly dry amidst violent and incessant rains.”
For further information relative to the structure of the
Andes, see the various sketches given by Humboldt, and
particularly an abstract of his geological observations in¬
serted in the Journal de Physique, vol. liii. for 1801. See
likewise, by the same author, a memoir on the Geographic
and Geognostic labours of M. Pentland, in the Nouvelles
Annates des Voyages et des Sciences Geographiques for
October, November, and December, 1829. (b.)
ANDEUSE, a city of Languedoc in France, situated
in long. 3. 40. E. and lat. 43. 45. N.
ANDORRE, or Andorra, a valley on the Spanish side
of the Pyrenees, of about 190 square miles in extent, con¬
taining 6 parishes, and which has ever been considered as
neutral. It is a hilly district, with some good pasture for
sheep, and several mines of iron, which are worked by the
numerous rapid streams that pass through the district in
their course towards Catalonia. It is a kind of independent
republic, governed by two deputies chosen in each of the
six parishes, and by two syndics. The expenses of govern¬
ing are defrayed by a species of rent paid by owners of
flocks, to the community, for the use of the pasture land.
The king of France is called the protector in civil affairs,
and the bishop of Urgel in ecclesiastical matters. It en¬
joys its peculiar criminal and civil lawrs and courts of
justice. The chief judge is nominated alternately by the
king of France and the bishop of Urgel, but there is no
appeal to either France or Spain from his decisions. As
the land does not produce sufficient corn for the supply of
the inhabitants, a stipulated quantity is allowed annually
to be introduced from France, for which permission a sub¬
sidy of 960 francs is granted to the king. The whole
number of the inhabitants is about 15,000, who are neither
French, nor Spaniards, nor Catalans, but speak a language
containing a mixture of the three idioms. The council of
state and the courts of justice assemble at the village of
Andorra, and the former body retain the ancient Spanish
title of cortes.
ANDOVER, a market and borough town in the hun¬
dred of the same name, in Hampshire. It is on the river
Ande, 63 miles from London, on the great road to the
west of England. It is a clean, well-built town, carry¬
ing on some trade in shalloons, and more in malt. It
is connected with the sea by means of a canal, navigable
to Southampton. Two members are returned to parlia¬
ment, elected by the corporation, consisting of about 24
persons, who are said to be under the influence of Lord
Portsmouth and Mr Etwall. Population in 1801, 3304 ;
in 1811, 3701; and in 1821, 4123.
ANDRA, or Andros, a Turkish paschaliac, including
the island of that name and the neighbouring islands of
Tine, Mitone, Delos, Syra or Syros, Thermia Zea, and
Hydra. The inhabitants are estimated at 96,800, almost
wholly Greeks; the most industrious, and, exclusive of
the effects of the present war, the most flourishing people
of the Archipelago. There are some smaller islands in¬
cluded in the paschaliac, whose whole extent is 474 square
miles. The island of Andros contains 12,000 inhabitants,
mostly Greeks, who raise much silk, wine, and oil, and suf¬
ficient corn for their own consumption.
ANDRADA, Diego de Payva d’, or Andradius, a
learned Portuguese, born at Coimbra in 1528, who dis¬
tinguished himself at the council of Trent, where King
Sebastian sent him as one of his divines. He wrote seve¬
ral volumes of sermons, and other pieces ; one of which,
De Conciliorum Autoritate, was highly esteemed at Rome
120 AND AND
Andrapo- on account of the great extension of authority which it ANDRETTA, a town, with 4049 inhabitants, in the Ai, ^
disraus f^civc to the pope* He died, in l^TS* province Prmcipnto h/lteriore or the Kingdom of Nciplcs* |
,11. fe ANDR APODISMUS, in ancient writers, the selling of ANDREW, St, the apostle, born at Bethsaida in Ga- '
Andrehnus. sons for s]aves> Hence also andrapodistes, a dealer in lilee, brother to Simon Peter. He had been a disciple of^ '
slaves, more particularly a kidnapper, who steals men or John the Baptist, and followed Jesus, upon the testimony '
children to sell them,—a crime for which the Thessalians given of him by the Baptist. (John i. 35, 40, &c.) This
were noted. was tlie first*disciple whom our Saviour received into his
ANDRAPODOC APELI, in Antiquity, a kind of dealers train. Andrew introduced his brother Simon, and they
in slaves. The Andrapodocapeli had a particular process passed a day with Christ, after which they went to the
for taking off moles and the like disfigurements on the faces marriage in Cana (ibid, ii.), and at last returned to their
of the staves they kept for sale, by rubbing them with ordinary occupation. Some months after, Jesus meeting
bran. At Athens, several places in the forum were ap- them while they were both fishing together, called them
pointed for the sale of slaves. Upon the first day of every to him, and promised to make them fishers of men. Im-
month, the merchants called AvcSgawrodoxaOTjXo/ brought them mediately they left their nets, followed him (Matt. iv. 19),
into the market and exposed them to sale: the crier, stand- and never afterwards separated from him. After our Sa-
ing upon a stone erected for that purpose, called the viour’s ascension, his apostles having determined by lot
people together. what parts of the world they should severally take, Scy-
ANDREAS, John, a celebrated canonist of the 14th thia and the neighbouring countries fell to St Andrew,
century, was born at Magello, near Florence ; and was pro- who, according to Eusebius, after he had planted the gos-
lessor of the canon law at Padua, Pisa, and afterwards at pel in several places, came to Patrse in Achaia, where,
Bologna. He had a beautiful daughter, named Novella, endeavouring to convert the proconsul fEgeas, he was by
whom he is said to have instructed so well in all parts of that governor’s orders scourged, and then crucified. The
learning, that when he was engaged in any affair which particular time of his suffering martyrdom is not known;
hindered him from reading lectures to his scholars, he sent but all the ancient and modern martyrologies, both of the
his daughter in his room ; and, lest her beauty should pre- Greeks and Latins, agree in celebrating his festival upon
vent the attention of the hearers, she had a little curtain the 30th of November.
drawn before her. To perpetuate the memory of this Andrew, or an order of knights,
daughter, he entitled his commentary upon the Decretals more usually called the Order of the Thistle,
of Gregory IX. the Novella. He married her to John Knights of St Andrew is also an order instituted by
Calderinus, a learned canonist. The first work of Andreas Peter the Great of Muscovy in 1698, the badge of which
was his Gloss upon the Sixth Book of the Decretals, which is a golden medal, on one side whereof is represented St
he wrote when he was very young. He wrote also Glosses Andrew’s cross, with these words, Czar Pierre, monarque
upon the Clementines ; and a Commentary in Regulas Scxti, de Unit le Kussie. This medal being fastened to a blue
which he entitled Mercuriales, because he either engaged ribbon, is suspended from the right shoulder,
in it on Wednesdays (diebus Mercuni), or because he in- St Andrew's Day, a festival of the Christian church,
serted his Wednesday’s disputes in it. He enlarged the celebrated on the 30th of November in honour of the
Speculum of Durant in the year 1347. He died of the apostle St Andrew.
plague at Bologna in 1348, after he had been a professor ANDREWS, St, a city of Scotland, in the county of
45 years, and was buried in the church of Dominicans. Fife, pleasantly situated in a spacious bay of the German
Andreas, St, a market-town on the Danube, in the Ocean, into which flow the river Eden, the small rivulet
circle of Pilesch, and palatinate of Pest, in Hungary. It of Kinness, and several other streams. It was formerly
contains one Catholic and seven Greek churches, 1040 a place of much greater extent and importance. At pre¬
houses, and 7980 inhabitants, who trade very extensively sent it is only about a mile and a half in circuit, and con-
in the wine produced in the vicinity. It is also the name sists of three leading streets, intex*sected by a few consi-
of an island in the Danube, opposite to the town, which is derable lanes. The principal street is well built, and is
fourteen miles in length and one in breadth, and remark- straight and broad, and of late years its appearance has
able for its great fertility. been much improved. The town contains many* interest-
ANDREASBERG, a bailiwick in the pi'ovince of Gru- ing memorials of antiquity. Of the splendid cathedral,
benhagen, in the kingdom of Hanover. It extends over which was founded by Bishop Arnold in 1159, and at-
87 square miles, or 55,680 acres, containing 4250 inhabit- tained to its highest magnificence in 1318, part of the
ants, who are chiefly employed in mining. The soil is east and west ends, and of the south side, are all that
very poor, and affords scarcely any produce ; but, like the now remain. The length of this edifice from east to west
rest of the Hartz forest, it abounds with metallic sub- was 350 feet within the walls ; that of the transept 180 feet,
stances. The capital of the bailiwick is of the same name. This whole pile of building, which it took 150 years to
It is 1880 feet above the level of the sea, on the declivity complete, was in June 1559 demolished in a single day
of the Hartz mountains, containing 400 houses, and 3206 by John Knox and his infuriated followers. About 40
inhabitants, who subsist chiefly by mining, whilst the fe- yards to the south-east is the chapel of St Regulus, the
males are employed in making lace. Near it is the An- tower of which is a lofty square prism, the side of the base
dreasberg silver mine, from which is produced annually being 20 feet, and the height 108. The chapel to the east
about 40,000 ounces of silver, besides a large quantity of of the tower, which was the principal one, remains; but
lead and copper, all of which are smelted in the town. of a small chapel to the west, which formerly existed,
ANDRELINUS, Publius Faustus, born at Forli in there is now no trace. The arches of the windows
Italy. He was a long time professor of poetry and philoso- and doors are round, and the figure of some of them
phy in the university of Paris. Louis XII. of France made is more than half of the circle, which is an undoubted
him his poet laureat, and Erasmus tells us that he was like- proof of their antiquity. The priory, which was founded
wise poet to the queen. His pen was not wholly employ- by Robert, bishop of St Andrews, during the reign of
ed in making verses, for he wrote also moral and prover- Alexander I. in 1120, was of great extent, and richly
bial letters in prose, which were printed several times, endowed. The prior had precedence of all abbots and
Flis poems, which are chiefly in Latin, are inserted in vol. i. priors, and on festival days had a right to wear a mitre
of the Delicice Poetarum Italorum. He died in 1518. and all episcopal ornaments. The walls of the pre-
AND
AND
121
-c'‘, cinct are all that now remain to mark the vast extent
ros- of this edifice. Part of the top of the great altar towards
“^the east end of the cathedral was discovered between 30
and 40 years ago, in consequence of an excavation made
in the hope of finding concealed treasure. At a much
more recent period, the soil, which had for ages been
permitted to accumulate, having been removed, part
of the pavement was laid open, and several shafts of
two rows of pillars parallel to each other, by which it
is supposed that galleries in the inside of the walls had
been supported. The other religious houses were, that
of the Dominicans, founded in 1274 by Bishop Wishart;
another of Observantines, founded by Bishop Kennedy,
and finished by his successor Patrick Graham in 1478;
and, according to some, the Carmelites had a fourth.
Immediately above the harbour stood the collegiate
church of Kirk-heugh, originally founded by Constantine
III., who, retiring from the world, became here a Culdee.
From its having been first built on a rock, it was styled
Prcepositura Sanctce Marim de Rupe.
On the east side of the city are the remains of the
castle, on a rock overlooking the sea. This fortress was
founded about the year 1200, by Roger, one of the bishops
of St Andrews, and was repaired towards the end of the
14th century by Bishop Trail, who died in it in 1401. Pie
was buried near the high altar of the cathedral, with
this singular epitaph:
Hie fuit ecclesise directa columna, fenestra
Lucida, thuribulum redolens, campana sonora.
The castle was the residence of Cardinal Beaton, who,
after the cruel execution of the celebrated reformer
George Wishart in front of it, was afraid of the fury of
the people; and his knowledge of this, joined to his ap¬
prehension of an invasion from England, induced him to
strengthen the fortifications, with a view of rendering the
castle impregnable. In this fortress he was surprised and
assassinated by Norman Lesley, aided by fifteen others.
Early in the morning of May 29, 1546, they seized on the
gate of the castle, which had been left open for the work¬
men who were finishing the fortifications; and having
placed sentinels at the door of the cardinal’s apartment,
they awakened his numerous domestics one by one, and,
turning them out of the castle, without violence, tu¬
mult, or injury to any other person, inflicted on Beaton
the death he justly merited. The conspirators were im¬
mediately besieged in this castle by the regent, earl of
Arran; and although their strength consisted of only 150
men, they resisted his efforts for five months, owing more
to the unskilfulness of the attack than the strength of
the place, for in 1547 the castle was reduced and demo¬
lished, and its picturesque ruins serve as a land-mark to
mariners. The entrance to the castle, and the window
out of which it is said Cardinal Beaton leaned to witness
the cruel martyrdom of George Wishart, are still pointed
out.
The parish church is a spacious structure, 162 feet in
length by 63 in breadth, and is large enough to accommo¬
date 2500 persons. It contains a lofty monument of white
marble, erected in honour of Archbishop Sharpe, w ho, in
revenge for his oppressive conduct, was murdered by some
of the exasperated reformers of that day. On this monu¬
ment is a rude piece of sculpture representing the tragical
scene of the murder. To the north is situated the col-
lege church, which belongs to the united college of St
Salvator and St Leonard. It was founded in 1458 by
Bishop Kennedy, and contains a beautiful tomb of its
ounder, who died in 1466; wdiich is a fine specimen of
ififtQ °^1*C ar<:llitecture ^iat period. About the year
oo3, on opening this tomb, six highly ornamented silver
vol. m. & J
maces Were discovered, which had been concealed there St
in times of trouble, three of which are still preserved in Andrews,
the university, and three were sent to the other universi-
ties of Scotland. On the top is represented our Saviour;
around are angels with the instruments of his passion.
With these are shown some silver arrows, with large sil¬
ver plates affixed to them, on which are inscribed the arms
and names of those who were victors in the annual compe¬
titions of archery, which were regularly held until within
these few years. Golf is now the reigning game. That
sport, and foot-ball, were formerly prohibited by an act of
parliament passed in the reign of James II. in 1457, as
interfering too much with the acquisition of dexterity in
archery, an accomplishment in those days of much conse¬
quence to the safety of the state. The statute has been
long obsolete, and the inhabitants, and the students who
attend the university, have full permission to enjoy this
elegant amusement.
The celebrated university of this city was founded in
1411 by Bishop Wardlaw. It consisted formerly of three
colleges. 1. St Salvator’s was founded in 1458 by Bishop
Kennedy. This was a handsome building, with a court
or quadrangle, which is 230 feet long by 150 wide, and a
gateway surmounted by a spire 156 feet high. On one
side is the church; on another what was the library of St
Salvator’s; the third contains apartments for students; the
fourth is unfinished. The buildings connected with the
college being in a state of great decay, a grant has been
made by government for erecting a new structure. Part
of this building will soon be finished, and the remainder,
it is expected, will be immediately after commenced.
When it is completed it will be in a high degree elegant
and commodious. 2. St Leonard’s College was founded
by Prior Hepburn in 1522. This is now united with the
last, and the buildings sold, and converted into private
houses. 3. New or St Mary’s College was established by
Archbishop Hamilton in 1552; but the house was com¬
pleted by Archbishop Beaton. This is said to have
been the site of a celebrated school long before the esta¬
blishment even of the university, where several eminent
clergymen taught gratis the sciences and languages ; but
it was called the New College, because of its late erection
into a divinity college by the archbishop. The buildings
of this college have been substantially repaired, and with
great taste.
The university is governed by a chancellor,—an office
which it was originally intended should be permanently
exercised by the archbishop of St Andrews. Subsequent
to the Reformation, the chancellor has been elected by
the two principals and the professors of both colleges.
The rector is the next great officer, to whose care are
committed the privileges, discipline, and statutes of the
university. The colleges have their principals, and pro¬
fessors of different sciences, who are indefatigable in their
attention to the instruction and the morals of the students.
The place possesses, in its pure and salubrious air, and in
its extensive grounds for exercise, very great advantages
for the education of youth. In St Salvator’s College ai’e
taught the languages, philosophy, and the sciences. St
Mary’s, which stands in a different part of the town, is re¬
served exclusively for theology. The classes and disci¬
pline of the two colleges are quite distinct, each having
its respective principal and professors. They have a com¬
mon library, which is entitled to a copy of every work en¬
tered in Stationers Hall, and which now (1830) contains
upwards of 40,000 volumes. An addition has been in the
course of last season made to the library, which was
much required, in consequence of the great increase of
the number of books.
Seventy-five bursaries or endowments belong to the
tt
122
AND
St university, and are conferred on the students. Of these,
Andrews. 58 belong to the United, and 17 to the New College.
The number of students at St Andrews never exceeded
300 at any period. During the present year (1830) they
amount to 190 at both colleges—149 at the United Col¬
lege, 41 at St Mary’s.
The trade of St Andrews was once very considerable.
So late as the reign of Charles I. it had thirty or forty
trading vessels, and carried on a considerable herring and
white fishery, by means of busses, in deep water, which
had for ages been a most profitable branch of commerce,
and a source of wealth. During the troubles which fol¬
lowed the death of this monarch, this whole coast, and St
Andrews in particular, became a scene of murder and ra¬
pine ; and every town suffered in proportion to its magni¬
tude and opulence. St Andrews was required to pay a
contribution of L.1000, which the inhabitants, after being
plundered, were not able to raise : a composition of L.500
was accepted, which was raised by a loan at interest, and
has remained a burden upon the corporation, it is believ¬
ed, ever since.
The harbour of St Andrews is artificial: it is guarded
by piers, and is safe and commodious; but it is difficult of
access, having a narrow entrance, and being exposed to
the east winds, which raise a heavy sea on the coast. The
shore of the bay is low; and, in the storms of winter,
vessels are frequently driven on it and lost.
St Andrews had a manufactory of sail-cloth to some ex¬
tent, but it is now discontinued. The game of golf being
much practised here, there is a manufactory of golf balls,
which, after supplying the home consumption, sends about
9000 annually to other parts. The shipping of the port
consists of about eleven vessels, which are employed in the
coasting trade. St Andrews is a royal borough, uniting
with Cupar, Perth, Dundee, and Forfar, in returning a
member to parliament.
According to early traditions, St Andrews owes its ori¬
gin to a Greek monk, Regulus, who having been warned
in a vision to visit Albion, was shipwrecked in the bay
about the end ot the fourth century. He was hospitably
received, according to these ancient accounts, by the
king, who presented him with his own palace, and built
near it the church of St Regulus, the remains of which
are still to be seen. At this time the place was styled
Mucross, or the land of boars. All around was forest, and
the lands bestowed on the saint were called Byrehid. The
boars equalled in size the ancient Erymanthian ; as a proof
of which, two tusks, each sixteen inches long and four
thick, were chained to the altar of St Andrew. The
king changed the name to Kilrymont, and established here
the first Christian priests of the country, called Culdees.
The church was supreme in the kingdom of the Piets,
Hungus having granted to God and St Andrew that it
should be the head and mother of all the churches in his
dominion. He also directed that the cross of St Andrew
should become the badge of the country. In 818, after
the conquest of the Piets, he removed the episcopal see
to St Andrews, and the bishop was styled maximus Sco-
torum episcopus. In 1471 it was erected into an arch¬
bishopric by Sextus IV. at the intercession of James III.
In 1606 the priory was suppressed; and in 1617 the
power of election was transferred to eight bishops, the
principal of St Leonard’s College, the archdeacon, the
vicars of St Andrews, Leuchars, and Cupar. This see
contained the greater part of the shire of Fife, with a
part of the counties of Perth, Forfar, and Kincardine, and
a great number of parishes, churches, and chapels in other
dioceses.
The town of St Andrews was erected into a royal bo¬
rough by David I. in the year 1140, and its privileges af-
AND
terwards confirmed. The charter of Malcolm II., written Am;
on a small bit of parchment, is preserved in the tolbooth.^i
Here also are kept the silver keys of the city, which, for
form’s sake, are delivered to the king if he should visit :
the place, or to a victorious enemy in token of submission.
In this place, likewise, is to be seen the enormous axe
with which, in 1646, Sir Robert Spotswood and other dis¬
tinguished loyalists were beheaded. The town under¬
went a siege in 1337, at which time it was possessed by
the English and other partisans of Baliol; but the loyal¬
ists, under the earls of March and Fife, made themselves
masters of it in three weeks, by the help of their batter¬
ing machines. It is 9 miles E. of Cupar, and 39 N. N. E.
of Edinburgh. The population, according to the last cen¬
sus, was 4899. Long. 2. 50. W. Lat. 56. 19. 33. N. (f.)
ANDREWS, James Pettit, a late English historian
and miscellaneous writer, was the younger son of Joseph
Andrews, Esq. of Shaw-house, near Newbury, Berks,
where he was born in the year 1737. He was educated
privately, and is said to have discovered an early taste for
literature and the fine arts. He joined the Berkshire mi¬
litia when they were first called out, being then about 18
or 19, and held the rank of lieutenant in that regiment
until it was disbanded. On the institution of the new
system of London police, he was appointed one of the
commissioners for the district ol Queen’s Square and St
Margaret’s, Westminster, and discharged the duties of
that office with great industry and integrity until his
death, which took place at his house in London, on the
6th of August 1797, in the 60th year of his age. He
married Miss Ann Penrose, daughter of the Rev. Mr Pen¬
rose, late rector of Newbury, by whom he had two sons
and a daughter. He seems to have possessed a cheerful
and social disposition, and enjoyed the conversation of a
large circle of literary acquaintance, who frequently met
at his house and experienced his hospitality.
Mr Andrews appears to have devoted a considerable
portion of his time to literary pursuits; and he is the au¬
thor of several works which are not undeserving of notice.
The first publication upon which we find him employed is
an edition of the poems of his friend and relation Penrose,
in 1781; to which he prefixed an introduction, containing
a short account of the life and character of the author.
His first original production, so far as we have been able
to ascertain, was a pamphlet in behalf of the chimney¬
sweepers’ apprentices in 1788, which is said to have led
to the act of parliament passed not long afterwards for
the purpose of ameliorating the condition of that unfortu¬
nate class of beings. In 1789 he published Anecdotes, An¬
cient and Modern, 8vo, a work of pleasantry, in the com¬
position of which he acknowledged having received assist¬
ance from the late laureat Mr Pye, the facetious antiquary
Captain Grose, and others. To this volume he added a
Supplement in 1790.
The most extensive work undertaken by Mr Andrews
was his History of Great Britain, connected with the Chro¬
nology of Europe; with Notes, &c. The first volume,
which commences with Caesar’s invasion, and ends with
the deposition and death of Richard II., was published in
1794 in 4to. A second volume, in which the history is
continued from the deposition and death of Richard II. to
the accession of Edward VI., appeared in 1795. The plan
of this work is new, and in some respects singular; a cer¬
tain portion of the history of England is given on one
page, and a corresponding portion of the contemporaneous
history of Europe on the one opposite. The notes consist
of a variety of curious and amusing particulars, not imme¬
diately connected with the main story. Appendixes are
also added at proper intervals, containing an account ol
the state of literature, science, religion, government, ma11’
AND
tew ners, &c. at different periods. The author, however, did
| not live to complete this curious and extensive work, no
Uro- more of it having appeared than the two volumes above
nes* mentioned. In 1796 he published a continuation of
/^Henry’s History of Britain, in one volume 4to and two
volumes 8vo. t „ 1 .
The other productions of this author are, An Account oj
Saxon Coins found in Kintbury Churchyard, Berks, print¬
ed in the seventh volume of the Archceologia; the Ac¬
count of Shaw, in Mr Mores’s Berkshire Collections; The
Savages of Europe, a popular French novel, which he
translated, and illustrated by prints from his own designs.
Mr Andrews was also a frequent contributor to the
Gentlemans Magazine. See the Gen. Biog. Diet, by
Chalmers; Introduction to Poems by the Rev. Thomas
Penrose, 1781; Gent. Mag. for 1797 and 1801; and Ly-
sons’ Supplement to Environs of London, 1811. (k.)
Andrews, Lancelot, bishop of Winchester, was born at
London in 1555, and educated at Cambridge. After se¬
veral preferments he was made bishop, first of Chiches¬
ter, then of Ely, and in 1610 was raised to the see of
Winchester. This very learned prelate, who was distin¬
guished by his piety, charity, and integrity, may be justly
ranked with the best preachers and scholars of his age.
He appeared, however, to much greater advantage in the
pulpit than he does now in his works, which abound with
Latin quotations and trivial witticisms. He died at Win¬
chester House in Southwark, September 27, 1626, in the
71st year of his age, and was buried in the parish church
of St Saviour’s, where his executors erected to him a
very fair monument of marble and alabaster, on which is
an elegant inscription in Latin, written by one of his
chaplains. His most popular works are, his Sermons, his
Lectures on the Ten Commandments, and his Orphan Lec¬
tures, each forming a folio volume. There is a collection
by Felix Kyngston, of some other pieces written by him,
which was published in 4to in 1629.
ANDRIA, in Grecian Antiquity, public entertainments
first instituted by Minos of Crete, and, after his example,
appointed by Lycurgus at Sparta, at which a whole city
or a tribe assisted. They were managed with the utmost
frugality, and persons of all ages were admitted.
Andria, a city and a bishop’s see in the territory of
Bari, in the kingdom of Naples. It is pretty large, well
peopled, and seated in a spacious plain, four miles from
the Adriatic coast. Long. 17. 4. E. Lat. 41. 15. N.
ANDRISCUS, a man of mean extraction, who, pre¬
tending to be the son of Perseus, last king of Macedonia,
took upon him the name of Philip, for which reason he
was called Pseudo-Philippus, the False Philip. After a
complete victory over Juventus, the Roman pretor who
was sent against him, he assumed kingly power, but ex¬
ercised it with vast cruelty. At last the Romans obliged
him to fly into Thrace, where he was betrayed and de¬
livered into the hands of Metellus. This victory placed
Macedonia once more in the power of the Romans, and
gained for Metellus the name of Macedonicus, but cost the
Romans 25,000 men. Andriscus adorned the triumph of
Metellus, walking in chains before the general’s chariot.
ANDROGEUS, in Fabulous History, the son of Minos,
king of Crete, was murdered by the Athenian youth and
those of Megara, who envied his being always victor at
the Attic games. But Minos having taken Athens and
Megara, obliged the inhabitants to send him an annual
tribute of seven young men and as many virgins, to be
devoured by the Minotaur. From this tribute they were
delivered by Theseus.
androgynes, in Ancient Mythology, creatures of
whom, according to the fable, each individual possessed the
powers and characters of both sexes, having two heads,
AND 123
four arms, and two feet. The word itself is compounded Andro-
of two Greek radical words ; oo^g, in the genitive avSgog, a gynes
male; and yuvTj, & female. Many of the rabbinical writers
pretend that Adam was created double, one body being
male, the other female, which in their origin not being
essentially joined, God afterwards did nothing but sepa¬
rate them.
Androgynes, in Natural History, a name given to
those living creatures which, by a monstrous formation
of their generative parts, seem (for it is only seeming) to
unite in themselves the two sexes, that of the male and
of the female. See Hermaphrodite.
ANDROIDES, in Mechanics, a human figure, which,
by certain springs or other movements, is capable of per¬
forming some of the natural motions of a living man.
The motions of the human body are more complicated,
and consequently more difficult to be imitated, than those
of any other creature; whence the construction of an an-
droides, in such a manner as to imitate any of these ac¬
tions with tolerable exactness, is justly supposed to indi¬
cate a greater skill in mechanics than any other piece of
workmanship whatever.
A very remarkable figure of this kind appeared in Pa¬
ris in the year 1738. It represented a flute-player, and
wras capable of performing different pieces of music on
the German flute; which, considering the difficulty of
blowing that instrument, the different contractions of the
lips necessary to produce the distinctions between the
high and low notes, and the complicated motions of the
fingers, must appear truly wonderful.
This machine was the invention of M. Yaucanson,
member of the Royal Academy of Sciences; and a par¬
ticular description of it was published in the Memoirs of
the Academy for that year.
The figure itself was about 51 feet in height, situated
at the end of an artificial rock, and placed upon a square
pedestal 41 feet high and 31 broad. The air entered the
body by three pipes separated one from the other. It
was conveyed to them by nine pairs of bellows, three of
which were placed above and six below. These were
made to expand and contract regularly in succession by
means of an axis of steel turned round by some clock¬
work. On this axis were different protuberances at pro¬
per distances, to which were fixed cords thrown over pul¬
leys, and terminating in the upper boards of the bellows,
so that, as the axis turned, these boards were alternately
raised and let down. A contrivance was also used to
prevent the disagreeable hissing fluttering noise usually
attending the motion of bellows. This was by making
the cord by which the bellows was moved press, in its
descent, upon one end of a smaller lever, the other end
of which ascending, forced open the small leathern valve
that admitted the air, and kept it so till, the cord being
relaxed by the descent of the upper board, the lever fell,
and the air was forced out. Thus the bellows performed
their functions constantly without the least hissing, or
other noise by which it could be judged in what manner
the air was conveyed to the machine. The upper boards
of three of the pairs of bellows were pressed down by a
weight of 41bs., those of three others by a weight of 21bs.,
and those of the three remaining ones by nothing but
their own weight.
The three tubes by which the air entered terminated
in three small reservoirs in the trunk of the figure.
There they united, and, ascending towards the throat,
formed the cavity of the mouth, which terminated in two
small lips adapted in some measure to perform their pro¬
per functions. Within this cavity also was a small mov¬
able tongue, which, by its play, at proper periods ad¬
mitted the air, or intercepted its passage to the flute.
124
AND
AND
Androides. The fingers, lips, and tongue, received their proper di-
rections by means of a steel cylinder turned by clock¬
work. It was divided into 15 equal parts, which, by
means of pegs pressing upon the ends of 15 different le¬
vers, caused the other extremities to ascend. Seven of
these levers directed the fingers, having wires and chains
affixed to their ascending extremities, which being at¬
tached to the fingers, caused them to ascend in proportion
as the other extremity was pressed down by the motion
of the cylinder, and vice versa. Thus the ascent or
descent of one end of a lever produced a similar ascent
or descent in the corresponding finger, by which one
of the holes of the flute was occasionally opened or
stopped, as by a living performer. Three of the levers
served to regulate the ingress of the air, being contrived
so as to open and shut, by means of valves, the three re¬
servoirs of air above mentioned, so that more or less
strength might be given, and a higher or lower note pro¬
duced, as occasion required. The lips were, by a similar
mechanism, directed by four levers, one of which opened
them, to give the air a freer passage; the other contract¬
ed them; the third drew them backward; and the fourth
pushed them forward. The lips were projected upon that
part of the flute which receives the air; and, by the dif¬
ferent motions already mentioned, modified the tone in a
proper manner. The remaining lever was employed in
the direction of the tongue, which it easily moved so as
to shut or open the mouth of the flute.
Thus we see how all the motions necessary for a flute-
player could be performed by this machine; but a con¬
siderable difficulty still remains, namely, how to regulate
these motions properly, and make each of them follow in
just succession. This, however, was effected by the fol¬
lowing simple method: the extremity of the axis of the
cylinder was terminated on the right side by an endless
screw, consisting of twelve threads, each placed at the
distance of a line and a half from the other. Above this
screw was fixed a piece of copper, and in it a steel pivot,
which, falling in between the threads of the screw, ob¬
liged the cylinder to follow the threads, and instead of
turning directly round, it was continually pushed to one
side. Hence, if a lever was moved by a peg placed on
the cylinder in any one revolution, it could not be moved
by the same peg in the succeeding revolution, because
the peg would be moved a line and a half beyond it by
the lateral motion of the cylinder. Thus, by an artificial
disposition of those pegs in different parts of the cylinder,
the statue was made, by the successive elevation of the
proper levers, to exhibit all the different motions of a
flute-player, to the admiration of every one who saw it.
The construction of machines capable of imitating even
the mechanical actions of the human body shows exquisite
skill; but what shall we say of one capable, not only of
imitating actions of this kind, but of acting as external
circumstances require, as though it were endued with life
and reason ? This, nevertheless, has been done. M. de
Kempelen, a gentleman of Presburg in Hungary, excited
by the performances of M. de Vaucanson, at first endea¬
voured to imitate them, and at last far excelled them.
This gentleman constructed an androides capable of play¬
ing at chess ! Every one who is in the least acquainted
with this game must know that it is so far from being me¬
chanically performed, as to require a greater exertion of
the judgment and rational faculties than is sufficient to
accomplish many matters of greater importance. That
this machine really was made, however, the public have
had ocular demonstration. The inventor came over to
Britain in 1783, where he remained above a year with his
automaton.
It is a figure as large as life, in a Turkish dress, sitting
behind a table, with doors of three feet and a half in -
length, two in depth, and two and a half in height. The
chair on which it sits is fixed to the table, which runs i
on four wheels. The automaton leans its right arm on ^
the table, and in its left hand holds a pipe: with this^1
hand it plays after the pipe is removed. A chess-board
of 18 inches is fixed before it. This table, or rather cup.
board, contains wheels, levers, cylinders, and other pieces
of mechanism, all which are publicly displayed. The vest¬
ments of the automaton are then lifted over its head, and
the body is seen full of similar wheels and levers. There
is a little door in its thigh, which is likewise opened; and
with this, and the table also open, and the automaton un¬
covered, the whole is wheeled about the room. The doors
are then shut, and the automaton is ready to play; and it
always takes the first move.
At every motion the wheels are heard; the image
moves its head, and looks over every part of the chess¬
board. When it checks the queen it shakes its head
twice, and thrice in giving check to the king. It likewise
shakes its head when a false move is made, replaces the
piece, and makes its own move ; by which means the ad¬
versary loses one.
M. de Kempelen remarks as the most surprising cir¬
cumstance attending his automaton, that it had been ex¬
hibited at Presburg, Vienna, Paris, and London, to thou¬
sands, many of whom were mathematicians and chess¬
players, and yet the secret by which he governed the mo¬
tion of its arm was never discovered. He prided himself
solely in the construction of the mechanical powers, by
which the arm could perform ten or twelve moves. It
then required to be wound up like a watch, after which it
was capable of continuing the same number of motions.
The automaton could not play unless M. de Kempelen
or his substitute was near it to direct its moves. A small
square box, during the game, was frequently consulted
by the exhibiter; and herein consisted the secret, which
he said he could in a moment communicate. He who
could beat M. de Kempelen was, of course, certain of con¬
quering the automaton. It was made in 1769. His own
account of it was, “ (Test une bagatelle qui n’est pas sans
merite du cote du mechanisme; mais les effets n’en pa*
roissent si merveilleux que par la hardiesse de 1’idee, et
par I’heureux choix des moyens employes pour faire il¬
lusion.” See Automaton.
ANDROLEPSY, in Grecian Antiquity, an action al¬
lowed by the Athenians against such as protected persons
guilty of murder. The relations of the deceased were
empowered to seize three men in the city or house whither
the malefactor had fled, till he should be either surren¬
dered, or satisfaction made some way or other for the
murder.
ANDROMACHE, the wife of Hector, the mother of
Astyanax, and daughter of Eetion king of Thebes in Ci¬
licia. After the death of Hector and the destruction of
Troy she married Pyrrhus, and afterwards Helenus the
son of Priam, with whom she reigned over part of Epirus.
ANDROMEDA, in Astronomy, a northern constella¬
tion, behind Pegasus, Cassiopeia, and Perseus. It re¬
presents the figure of a woman chained, and is fabled to
have been formed in memory of Andromeda, daughter of
Cepheus and Cassiopeia, and wife of Perseus, by whom
she had been delivered from a sea monster, to which she
had been exposed to be devoured for her mother’s pride.
Minerva translated her into the heavens.
ANDRON, in Grecian Antiquity, denotes the apartment
in houses designed for the use of men; in which sense it
stands opposed to Gynceceum.—The Greeks also gave
their dining-rooms the title of andron, because the wo¬
men had no admittance to feasts with the men.
AND
AND
125
flilr a ANDRONA, in ancient writers, denotes a street or
T|| public place where people met and conversed together,
udrc- jn some writers androna is more expressly used for the
' ^ J space between two houses; in which sense the Greeks
*v"" alSo use the term for the way or passage between
two apartments.
Androna is also used, in ecclesiastical writers, for that
part in churches destined for the men. Anciently it was
the custom for the men and women to have separate apart¬
ments in places of worship, where they performed their
devotions asunder; which method is still religiously ob¬
served in the Greek church. The avdguv, or androna, was
in the southern side of the church, and the women’s apart¬
ment on the northern.
ANDRONICUS I. Comnenus, emperor of the East,
was the son of Isaac, and grandson of Alexius Comnenus.
Naturally active, martial, and eloquent, he shines as one of
the most conspicuous characters of his age. Following the
bent of his inclination, he attended the Roman army in
their retreat; but in their march through Asia Minor, wan¬
dering into the mountains, he fell into the hands of some
Turkish huntsmen, was carried to the sultan, and remained
his prisoner; but regaining his liberty, both his virtues
and vices soon recommended him to the favour of his
cousin Manuel, the reigning emperor. The vicious heart
of Andronicus manifested itself clearly in maintaining a
licentious correspondence with Eudocia, the emperor’s
niece, while the emperor himself lived in public incest
with her sister Theodora. His martial spirit gained him
a considerable command in Cilicia, where he laid siege to
Mopsuestia; but by a successful sally of the enemy he
was obliged to raise the siege, and retire in considerable
disorder. Inflamed with a desire of revenging the infamy
of their sister in his blood, the brothers of Eudocia made
an unsuccessful attempt to assassinate Andronicus at mid¬
night in his tent; but being awakened, he defended him¬
self with surprising bravery, forced his way through his
enemies, and escaped in safety. Afterwards engaging in
a treasonable correspondence with the emperor of Ger¬
many and the king of Hungary, he was arrested and
thrown into confinement. He remained in this state
about twelve years, and after several repeated attempts
to escape, he at last effected his purpose, and fled for re¬
fuge to the court of the great duke of Russia. The cun¬
ning of Andronicus soon found means to regain his favour
with the emperor Manuel; for having exerted all his in¬
fluence, he succeeded in obtaining the Russian prince to
engage to join his troops with those of Manuel, in the
invasion of Hungary. Accordingly, on account of his
important service, he obtained a free pardon from the em¬
peror, and after an expedition to the Danube returned
with him to Constantinople. He again fell under the dis¬
pleasure of the emperor, by refusing to take an oath of
allegiance to the prince of Hungary, his intended son-in-
law, and consequently presumptive heir to the crown, and
was thereupon returned to his former command in Cilicia.
W Idle residing here, his powerful address captivated the
heart of Philippa, daughter of the Latin prince of Antioch,
and sister to the empress Maria; and in her company he
spent his time in all the amusements that country could
afford, till the emperor’s resentment put a stop to their
correspondence. Thus circumstanced, he collected a
hand of adventurers, and undertook a pilgrimage to the
Holy Land, where, by his insinuating turn of mind, he so
far succeeded in gaining the favour of the king and clergy,
as to be invested with the lordship of Berytus, on the coast
of Phoenicia. In this neighbourhood Theodora, the beau¬
tiful widow of Baldwin, king of Jerusalem, and nearly
allied in blood to him, resided. The personal accomplish¬
ments and address of Andronicus captivated her heart,
and she became the third victim to his artful seduction,
and lived publicly as his concubine. Still pursued by the
emperor with unabating resentment, he was forced to take
refuge in Damascus, and then in several other places in
the east, till at length he settled in Asia Minor. While
residing here he made frequent incursions into the pro¬
vince of Trebizond, and seldom returned without success.
After several occurrences Theodora was made captive by
the governor of Trebizond, along with her two children,
and sent to Constantinople; upon which Andronicus im¬
plored and obtained pardon. He acted the affected peni¬
tent in such a manner, that he again ingratiated himself
into the favour both of the church and state; but was
sent to dwell at G£noe, a town situated on the Euxine
coast.
In the year 1177 Manuel died, and was succeeded by
his son Alexius II., a youth about twelve or fourteen
years of age, without wisdom or experience, by which the
ambition of Andronicus was again called into action. A
civil war having been occasioned by the misconduct of
the empress in Constantinople, the public mind was di¬
rected towards Andronicus, as the only person whose rank
and accomplishments could restore the public tranquillity.
Incited by the patriarchs and patricians, he marched to¬
wards Constantinople, which he entered, took possession
of the palace, confined the empress, consigned her minis¬
ter to death, assumed the office of protector, put to death
many persons of distinction, tried and executed the queen
on a charge of corresponding with the king of Hungary,
and vowed fidelity to the young emperor upon his corona¬
tion, at the same time teaching the necessity of an expe¬
rienced ruler, to assuage the evils that threatened the em¬
pire ; upon which his adherents called out, “ Long live
Alexius and Andronicus, Roman emperors.” While he af¬
fected reluctance, he was elevated to a partnership in the
empire. This conjunction of the royal power was soon
dissolved by the murder of the unfortunate Alexius. The
body of the deceased being brought into his presence,
striking it with his foot, he said, “ Thy father was a
knave, thy mother a whore, and thyself a fool.” Having
arrived at the dignity of sole emperor, a. d. 1183, he con¬
tinued to sway the sceptre with a mixture of justice and
bounty towards his subjects at large; but those whom he
feared or hated he governed with the most cruel tyranny.
The noble families that were either cut off or exiled by
him were all allied to the Comneni. Some of these were
engaged in revolt; and the public calamity was height¬
ened by an invasion of the Sicilians, in which they took
and sacked Thessalonica. A rival without merit, and a
people without arms, at last overturned his throne. A
descendant from the first Alexius in the female line,
named Isaac Angelus, being singled out by Andronicus
as a victim to his cruelty, he with courage and resolution
defended his life and liberty, slew his executioner, fled to
the church of St Sophia, and there took refuge with se¬
veral of his friends. Isaac was instantly raised by the po¬
pulace from a sanctuary to a throne. When this event
took place Andronicus was absent from Constantinople;
but he no sooner heard of it than he with the utmost
speed returned. Upon his arrival there he found himself
deserted by all, and was seized and dragged in chains be¬
fore the new emperor. All the eloquence he displayed
was of no avail; for Isaac delivered him into the hands of
those whom he had injured, and for the space of three
days he endured with uncommon patience all the insults
and torments that were inflicted upon him. At last two
friendly or furious Italians, plunging their swords into his
body, put a period to his life. His death, in the 73d year
of his age, terminated the dynasty of the Comneni.
Andhonicus of Cyrrhus, an Athenian astronomer, built
126 AND
Andro- at Athens an octagon tower, with figures carved on each
phagi side, representing the eight principal winds. A brazen
li Triton at the summit, with a rod in its hand, turned round
Andry- t]ie w[n^ pointed to the quarter from whence it blew.
this model is derived the custom of placing wea¬
thercocks on steeples.
ANDROPHAGI, in Ancient Geography, the name of
a nation whose country, according to Herodotus, was ad¬
jacent to Scythia. Their name, compounded of two
Greek words, signifies man-eaters. See Anthropophagi.
ANDROS, one of the ancient Cyclades, lying between
Tenos and Euboea, being one mile distant from the former,
and ten from the latter. The ancients gave it various
names, viz. Cauros, Lasia, Nonagria, Epagris, Antandros,
and Hydrusia. The name of Andros it received from one
Andreus, appointed, according to Diodorus Siculus, by
Rhadamanthus, one of the generals, to govern the Cy¬
clades after they had of their own accord submitted to
him. It had formerly a city of great note, bearing the
same name, and situated very advantageously on the brow
of a hill which commanded the whole coast. In this city,
according to Strabo and Pliny, stood a famous temple
dedicated to Bacchus. Near this temple Mutianus, as
quoted by Pliny, tells us there was a spring called the
gift of Jupiter, the water of which had the taste of wine
in the month of January, during the feast of Bacchus,
which lasted seven days. The Andrians were the first of
all the islanders who joined the Persians when Xerxes
invaded Greece; and therefore Themistocles, after the
victory at Salamis, resolved to attack the city of An¬
dros, and oblige the inhabitants to pay large contributions
for the maintenance of his fleet. Having landed his men
on the island, he sent heralds to the magistrates, acquaint¬
ing them that the Athenians were coming against them
with two powerful divinities, Persuasion and Force, and
therefore they must part with their money by fair means
or foul. The Andrians replied that they likewise had two
mighty deities, who were very fond of their island, viz.
Poverty and Impossibility, and therefore could give no
money. Themistocles, not satisfied with this answer, laid
siege to the town, which he probably made himself mas¬
ter of and destroyed, as we are informed by Plutarch that
Pericles, a few years after, sent thither a colony of 250
Athenians. It was, however, soon retaken by the Per¬
sians, and, on the overthrow of that empire by Alexander
the Great, submitted to him, along with the other islands.
On his death it sided with Antigonus, who was driven
out by Ptolemy. The successors of the last-mentioned
prince held it till the time of the Romans, when Attalus,
king of Pergamus, besieged the metropolis at the head of
a Roman army, and, having taken it, was by them put in
possession of the whole island. Upon the death of Atta¬
ins the republic claimed this island, as well as his other
dominions, in virtue of his last will.
Andros is now subject to the Turks, and contains a
town of the same name, with a great many villages. It is
the most fruitful island in the Archipelago, and yields
a great quantity of silk. Andros, when visited by Tour-
nefort, contained about 4000 inhabitants. There were
seven monasteries, a great number of churches, and a ca¬
thedral for the bishops of the Roman Catholic persuasion;
but most of the inhabitants were of the Greek communion.
It forms a part of the new Greek republic. It is about
23 miles long and 6 broad. Long. 24.50. E. Lat. 37.50. N.
ANDRUM, a kind of hydrocele, to which the people
of Malabar are very subject. It is said to be derived from
the bad quality of the country waters, impregnated with
certain salts.
ANDRYCHOW, a city in the circle of Myslenicze, in
the Austrian province of Galizia, on the river Wieprzow-
A N G
ka, with a castle, and 2805 inhabitants, amongst whom Ar.
are several manufacturers of fine damask and other table-
linen, who produce annually about 30,000 pieces.
ANDUJAN, a city of Spain, in the province of Jaen, |
in Andalusia. It is situated on the south side of the
Sierra Morena, which defends it from the cold winds of
the north, near the sources of the Jandula. There is a
very fine bridge over the Guadalquivir at this place. The
surrounding country is well watered, and yields abundant
harvests of wheat, barley, oil, and wine; and numerous
hives of bees furnish abundant supplies of honey and wax.
From a whitish clay found here there are manufactured a
vast quantity of jars called alcarrasas, which are highly
esteemed for their property of keeping water cool in the
hottest summer weather. It contains a castle, six churches,
nine monasteries, a theatre, and 14,000 inhabitants.
Long. 3. 28. 25. W. Lat. 38. 1. 32. N.
ANDUZE, a town of France, in the department of the
Gard, seated on the river Gardon. It carries on a consi¬
derable trade in serges and woollen cloth. Long. 3. 42. E.
Lat. 43. 39. N.
ANECDOTES (Anecdota), a term used by some authors
for the titles of Secret Histories ; but it more properly de¬
notes a relation of detached and interesting particulars.
The word is Greek, avwdora,, signifying things not yet
known or hitherto kept secret. Procopius gives this title to
a book which he published against Justinian and his wife
Theodora. Anecdotes is also an appellation given to such
works of the ancients as have not yet been published;
in which sense Muratori gives the name Anecdota Grceca
to several writings of the Greek fathers, found in the li¬
braries, and first published by him. Martene and Du¬
rand have given a Thesaurus novus Anecdotorum, in 5 vols.
folio.
ANEMOMETER, or Anemoscope, machines for mea¬
suring the force, and indicating the course, of the wind.
See Wind-gage.
ANEMUR, the most southern point of Asia Minor, on
the south coast of Caramania. The castle of Anemur
stands six miles east of the cape, on the edge of the sea,
and extends about 800 feet by 300. Its citadel is placed
on a small rocky eminence, and is in a ruinous state. Long.
32. 30. E. Lat. 36. 15. N.
ANGAR, Angan, or Hindsham, a barren and unin¬
habited island on the Arabian shore of the Persian Gulf,
on the south side of the island of Kishma, about 12 miles
in circuit. It must have been formerly inhabited, as it
contains the ruins of a considerable town, and many reser¬
voirs of water. It has also two wells, and a stream of
good water, which unfortunately become dry in the hot
wreather. It is covered with pits of salt and metallic ores,
and a soft rocky substance resembling lava. The hills,
which are overspread with shells of oysters and other fish,
abound in wild goats, rabbits, and partridges.
ANGARA, a river of Siberia, which has its rise in
the Lake Baikal. It passes the town of Irkutsk with a
rapid course, and receiving the Oka, it changes its name
to Toungooska, and falls into the Yeneseior Jenesei after
a course of 700 miles. It is navigable, and is noted for
the clearness of its waters.
ANGARI, or Angarii, in Antiquity, public couriers,
appointed for the carrying of messages. The ancient
Persians, Budaeus observes, had their ayyugeiov tyoyriya,
which was a set of couriers on horseback, posted at cer¬
tain stages or distances, always in readiness to receive the
dispatches from one, and forward them to another, with
wonderful celerity, answering to what the moderns call
posts (positi), as being posted at certain places or stages.
The angari wrere also called by the Persians astandce; by
the Greeks on account of the long journeys
A N G
A N G
127
they made in one day, which, according to Suidas, amount¬
ed to not less than 1500 stadia.
ANGARIA, in Homan Antiquity, a kind of public
service imposed on the provincials, which consisted in pro¬
viding horses and carriages for the conveyance of military
stores and other public burdens. It is sometimes also
used for a guard of soldiers, posted for the defence of a
place. In a more general sense it is used for any kind of
oppression, or services performed through compulsion.
1 ANGAZYA, one of the Comora Islands, lying between
the north end of Madagascar and the coast of Zanguebar
in Africa, from lat. 10. to 15. S. It is inhabited by
Moors, who trade with divers parts of the continent, in
cattle, fruits, and other commodities of the island, which
they exchange for calicoes and other cotton cloths.
ANGEIOTOMY, in Surgery, implies the opening of a
vein or artery, as in bleeding; and consequently includes
both arteriotomy and phlebotomy.
ANGEL, a spiritual intelligent substance, the first in
rank and dignity among created beings. The word angel
is Greek, and signifies a messenger: the Hebrew “ixbn
signifies the same thing. The angels are in Daniel, chap,
iv. ver. 13, &c. called ow-, or watchers, from their vigi¬
lance : for the same reason they are, in the remains we
have of the prophecy attributed to Enoch, named/fyrcyon;
which word imports the same in Greek.
The term Angel, therefore, in the proper signification of
the word, does not import the nature of any being, but
only an office; in which sense angels are called the minis¬
ters of God, and ministering spirits. That there are such
beings, invisible and imperceptible to our senses, endued
with understanding and power superior to those of human
nature, created by God, and subject to him,—ministering
to his divine providence in the government of the world,—
are truths fully attested by Scripture. Nay, the existence
of such invisible beings was generally acknowledged
by the heathens, though under different appellations : the
Greeks called them demons, and the Romans genii or lares.
Epicurus seems to have been the only one among the
ancient philosophers who absolutely rejected them.
As to the nature of these beings, we are told that they
are spirits; but whether pure spirits divested of all matter*,
or united to some corporeal vehicles, has been a contro¬
versy of long standing. Not only the ancient philosophers,
but some of the Christian fathers, were of opinion that
angels were clothed with ethereal or fiery bodies, of the
same nature with those which we shall one day have when
we come to be equal to them. But the more general opi¬
nion, especially of later times, has been, that they are sub¬
stances entirely spiritual, though they can at any time as¬
sume bodies, and appear in human or other shapes.
Besides their attendance on God, and their waiting and
executing his commands, they are also presumed to be
employed in taking care of mankind and their concerns:
and that every man had such a tutelar or guardian angel,
even from his birth, was a firm belief and tradition among
the Jews; and our Saviour himself seems to have been of
the same sentiment. The heathens were also of that per¬
suasion, and thought it a crime to neglect the admonitions
of so divine a guide. The Romans thought the tutelar
genii of those who attained the empire to be of an eminent
order, on which account they had great honours shown
them. Nations and cities also had their several genii.
Ihe ancient Persians so firmly believed the ministry of
angels, and their superintendence over human affairs, that
they gave their names to their months, and the days of
their months, and assigned them distinct offices and pro¬
vinces : and it is from them the Jews confess to have re¬
ceived the names of the months and angels, which they
brought with them when they returned from the Babylo¬
nish captivity; after which, we find they also assigned Angelics
charges to the angels, and in particular the patronage of II
empires and nations; Michael being the prince of the Jews, ^nger*
as Raphael is supposed to have been of the Persians.
Although the angels were originally created perfect, Of the fal-
good, and obedient to their Master’s will, yet some of themlen angels,
sinned and kept not their first estate, but left their habi¬
tation, and so, from the most blessed and glorious, became
the most vile and miserable, of all God’s creatures. They
were expelled the regions of light, and cast down to hell,
to be reserved in everlasting chains under darkness, until
the day of judgment. With heaven they lost their heaven¬
ly disposition, which delighted once in doing good and
praising God ; and fell into a settled rancour against the
Deity, and malice against men. Their inward peace was
gone ; all desire of doing good departed from them, and
instead thereof, revengeful thoughts and despair took pos¬
session of them, and created an eternal hell within them.
ANGELICS, Angelici, in Ecclesiastical History, an
ancient sect of heretics, supposed by some to have got this
appellation from their excessive veneration of angels; and
by others, from their maintaining that the world was cre¬
ated by angels.
Angelics is the name of an order of knights, instituted
in 1191, by Angelus Flavius Comnenus, emperor of Con¬
stantinople : also of a congregation of nuns, founded at
Milan in 1534, by Louisa Torelli, countess of Guastalla.
They observe the rule of St Augustin.
ANGELITES, in Ecclesiastical History, a sect of
Christian heretics in the reign of the emperor Anastasius,
and the pontificate of Symmachus, about the year 494 ; so
called from Angelium, a place in the city of Alexandria
where they held their first meetings. They were called
likewise Severites, from one Severus, who was the head of
their sect; as also Theodosians, from one among them
named Theodosius, whom they made pope at Alexandria.
They held that the persons of the Trinity are not the
same ; that none of them exists of himself, and of his own
nature, but that there is a common god or deity existing
in them all, and that each is God, by a participation of
this deity.
ANGELO, Michael. See Buonaroti, Michael Angelo.
Angelo, St, a small but strong town of Italy, in the Ca-
pitanata. There are several other towns and castles of
the same name in Italy, and particularly the castle of St
Angelo at Rome. Long. 15. 56. E. Lat. 41. 43. N.
ANGELOT, an ancient English gold coin, struck at
Paris while under subjection to the English. It was thus
called from the figure of an angel supporting the scutcheon
of the arms of England and France. There was another
coin of the same denomination struck under Philip de
Valois.
Angelot is also used in Commerce to denote a small,
fat, rich sort of cheese brought from Normandy. Skinner
supposes it to have been thus called from the name of the
person who first made it up in that form, and perhaps
stamped it with his own name. Menage supposes it to have
been denominated from the resemblance it bears to the
English coin called angelot. It is made chiefly in the Pays
de Bray, whence it is also denominated angelot de Bray.
It is commonly made in vats, either square or shaped like
a heart.
ANGER, a painful feeling of the mind, excited by the
receipt of an injury or affront, and accompanied with a
disposition to retaliate on the author of the injury. Bishop
Butler observes that anger is far from being a selfish
passion, since it is produced by injuries offered to others
as well as to ourselves, and was designed by the Author
of nature not only to excite us to act vigorously in defend¬
ing ourselves from evil, but to interest us in the defence or
128 A N G
Angerburgrescue of the injured and helpless, and to raise us above
H the fear of the proud and mighty oppressor.
Angers. The same author makes an important distinction, as
Dr Reid observes (Active Powers, Essay 3), “ between
sudden anger or resentment, which is a blind impulse
arising from our constitution, and that which is delibe¬
rate. The first may be raised by hurt of any kind; but
the last can only be raised by injury, real or conceived.
Both these kinds of anger or resentment are raised
whether the hurt or injury be done to ourselves or to those
we are interested in.”
Physicians and naturalists have recorded instances of
extraordinary cases produced by anger. Borrichius cured
a woman of an inveterate tertian ague, which had baffled
the art of physic, by putting the patient in a furious fit of
anger. Valeriola made use of the same means, with the
like success, in a quartan ague. The same passion has
been equally salutary to paralytic, gouty, and even dumb
persons ; to which last it has sometimes given the use of
speech. Etmuller gives divers instances of very singular
cures wrought by anger: among others, he mentions a
person laid up by the gout, who being provoked by his
physician, flew upon him, and was cured. It has often, on
the other hand, been productive of fatal effects. We meet
with several instances of princes to whom it has proved
mortal, e. g. Valentinian the First, Wenceslaus, Matthias
Corvinus, king of Hungary, and others. There are also
instances where it produced epilepsy, jaundice, cholera
morbus, diarrhoea, &c.
ANGERBURG, a circle in the government of Gum-
binnen, or province of East Prussia, formerly a part of
Poland. It extends over 374 square miles, or 239,360
acres. It is watered by the Angerap, which rises in seve¬
ral lakes, with which the district abounds. The inhabit¬
ants are 21,172, who produce some corn and flax, and
much fresh-water fish and fire-wood. The females are all
employed in spinning linen yarn. The capital is of the
same name, and contains 250 houses and 2619 inhabitants.
ANGERMANLANDS-LAPMARK, or ^Esle-Lap-
mark, a province in the northern part of Sweden, of the
vast extent of 6560 square miles. The inhabitants are
only 1200, partly Laplanders, with a few Swedes denomi¬
nated colonists. The chief productions to spare are butter
and some iron wares. Aisle is the chief place, and be¬
sides it there are two parishes with churches.
ANGERMUNDE, a circle in the government of Pots¬
dam, and province of Brandenburg, in Prussia. It extends
over 503 square miles, or 321,920 acres ; and comprehends
six cities, three market-towns, 109 villages, and 4201
dwellings, with 34,896 inhabitants. The river Oder washes
its eastern boundary, and receives the several smaller
streams by which it is watered. The borders of the rivers
present some excellent meadow-land, on which many cat¬
tle are pastured. It produces good corn, tobacco, flax, and
abundance of garden fruit. There is much wood land,
and several lakes which yield fish in great plenty. The
capital, of the same name, contains three churches, 291
houses, and 2654 inhabitants, whose chief occupation is
making snuff and tobacco.
ANGERONA, in Mythology, the name of a pagan
deity whom the Romans prayed to for the cure of the
quinsy, in Latin angina. Pliny calls her the goddess of
silence and calmness of mind, who banishes all uneasiness
and melancholy. She is represented with her mouth
covered, to denote patience and refraining from complaints.
Her statue was set up and sacrificed to in the temple of
the goddess Volupia, to show that a patient enduring of
affliction leads to pleasure.
ANGERS, an arrondissement in the department of the
Mayenne and Loire, in France, extending over 436 square
A N G
miles, or 279,040 acres. It is divided into seven cantons,
and those again into 59 communes, containing 92,810 I'
inhabitants. The chief city, of the same name, contains i|
33,100 inhabitants. M
ANGHIERA, a town of Italy, in the duchy of Milan,
and capital of a county of the same name. It is seated on
the eastern side of the lake Maggiore, in lat. 45. 42. N.
long. 8. 40. E.
ANGLE. This term is, owing to the poverty of lan¬
guage, employed to signify very different things. In
Plane Geometry, it means the opening or separation of
two straight lines which meet in a point; but in Solid
Geometry, it variously denotes the deviation of a straight
line from a plane, the divergence of one plane from ano¬
ther at their line of junction, or even a cluster of plane
angles terminating in a common summit. This diversified
application of the same word is not likely, however, among
mathematicians, to occasion any misconception. But it
would be more perspicuous, and certainly more philo¬
sophical, to imitate the practice of naturalists in framing
a set of cognate words to express the several transitions
of meaning.
The word angle was drawn from common discourse into
the vocabulary of science. Its primitive sense, in all the
languages in which it can be traced, is merely a nook or cor¬
ner ; but it has acquired a more precise and extensive appli¬
cation in its transfer to geometry. In its simplest form, it
now denotes generally the divergence or difference of direc¬
tion between two concurring straight lines. Yet a learner
still experiences some difficulty in seizing the correct idea
of its nature, which has always baffled the attempts of
authors to reduce to the terms of a strict definition.
Apollonius, at once the most elegant and inventive of the
Greek geometers, was satisfied with representing an angle
as a collection of space about a point,—a description which
is not only extremely loose, but which intimates quite a
different conception. Euclid, the great compiler of the
Elements, has defined an angle to be the xX/<r/;, or mutual
inclination of two straight lines that meet. But, in strict
language, this definition should apply only to the acute
angle, in which one of the sides leans towards the other,
and deflects from the perpendicular. Without an exten¬
sion of the meaning of the term inclination, it will not in¬
clude the obtuse angle, and far less comprehend angles
in general; which, since they are capable of repeated
additions, must evidently, as much as lines themselves,
be susceptible of all degrees of magnitude.
It is indeed impossible, by any combination of words, to
express completely and accurately the primary notions
which form the ground of geometrical science. The more
profitable task is to trace the process by which the mind,
refining on external observation, comes to acquire such
abstract ideas. We seem to get the idea of length, or of
linear extension, by viewing progressive motion; and the
enlarged conception of angles, or of angular magnitude, is
easily attained, from the contemplation of revolving vnoiwn.
In opening, for instance, the legs of a pair of compasses,
we perceive that their difference in direction gradually
increases, keeping pace with the turning at the joint.
The quantity of this opening pi-operly constitutes the mea¬
sure of an angle; and an entire revolution, which brings
the moving side of the angle back to its first position, fur¬
nishes a standard of reference. The bisected revolution
marks the divergence of a directly opposite position, or
that of two segments of a straight line at their point of
separation; and the half of this, again, or the divergence
of a line proceeding from the same point, and turned equal¬
ly aside from both segments, is the right angle, which,
therefore, being constant, serves to measure all the rest.
Suppose an inflexible straight line AB to turn from right
ANGLE.
to left, about the point or vertex A. It first comes to the
'position AC, then to AD, next to AE, and now returning
it reaches AF, and lastly it
gains its original site AB. The
angles thus formed at the
point A arise from the combi¬
nation of successive openings.
The angle BAD is composed
of BAG and CAD ; the angle
BAE, or that of direct oppo¬
sition, is compounded of BAG,
CAD, and DAE; and the en¬
tire circuit is made of the ac¬
cumulated angle BAG, CAD, DAE, EAF, and FAB. This
circuit, being quartered by the straight lines BE and DF, is
divided at the vertex A into four right angles. By compa¬
rison, therefore, the angle BAG is acute, and CAE obtuse.
But the side AB can attain the direction AC either by
moving onwards, or by turning backwards through the
points F, E, and D. The angle compounded of the open¬
ings BAF, FAE, EAD, and DAC, may hence be termed
appropriately the reverse of BAG. The defect of an angle
from a right angle is called its complement^ the defect from
two right angles its supplement, and the defect from four
right angles, or the entire circuit, might be conveniently
named its explement. Thus, CAD is the complement of
the angle BAG, CAE is its supplement, and the reverse
angle BAC its explement.
If we consider attentively the formation of angles about
a point, we shall be convinced that two concurring straight
lines do not contain merely a single angle, but involve an
indefinite multitude of angles; in short, that they com¬
prehend all the revolutions and parts of a revolution by
which the one line would successively attain the direction
of the other. Hence AB will, after describing repeated
revolutions, always return into the same position AC.
Thus, if A represent the measure of an angle, and C that
of a whole circuit, or four right angles ; then the primary
anglewill include likewise A + C, A + 2C, A + 3C, A + 4C,
continued for ever. Of those successive angles, A, A + C,
A-1-2C, A + 3C, A + 4C, &c. the sines, tangents, and
secants are severally the same; and so are the versed
sines, the cosines, cotangents, and cosecants. This ex¬
tension of the doctrine of angles is of the greatest impor¬
tance in the higher branches of geometry, in the applica¬
tion of trigonometrical formulae, and in algebraical analysis.
Euclid, in the course of his reasoning, has frequent oc¬
casion to combine angles together; and yet he never ven¬
tures beyond the consideration of those angles which are
less than two right angles. Had he composed his Ele¬
ments after the science of trigonometry came to be culti¬
vated, he could not have failed to take more enlarged
views of angular magnitude. In consequence of his nar¬
row conception of the constitution of angles, the Greek
geometer is not a little cramped sometimes, and obliged
to adopt a circuitous mode of demonstration. For instance,
in the 20th prop, of his third book, that “ the angles at
the circumference are the halves of those at the centre
standing on the same arc,” ~
he quite overlooks the case
of obtuse angles at the cir¬
cumference. But, in the
annexed figure, the angle
ABC is clearly the half of
the reverse angle AOC at
the centre, which is subtend¬
ed by the large arc AEC.
It hence follows that the ob¬
tuse angles ABC and ADC
contained in the same seg-
vol. in.
ment must be equal, since they are both of them halves
of the same reverse angle AOC. Yet, in demonstrating'
this very obvious corollary, Euclid is constrained to divide
the obtuse angles into portions which are shown to be the
halves of corresponding angles at the centre. For the
same reason he finds it necessary to give a distinct de¬
monstration of the celebrated proposition, that “ the angle
contained in a semicircle is a right angle.” But this pro¬
perty ought likewise to be considered as a mere corollary;
for if the radii OA and OC were supposed to extend in
one straight line, and thus form the diameter of the circle,
their angle AOC would become equal to two right angles,
and consequently ABC, its half, would be one right angle.
See Leslie’s Geometry. (b.)
Angle of Incidence, in Optics, the angle which a ray of
light makes with a perpendicular to that point of the sur¬
face of any medium on which it falls ; though it is some¬
times understood of the angle which it makes with the
surface itself.
Angle of Refraction now generally means the angle
which a ray of light, refracted by any medium, makes with
a perpendicular to that point on the surface of which it
was incident; but has sometimes been understood of the
angle which it makes with the surface of the refracting
medium itself.
Angle, Trisection of. The attempts of the Greek ma¬
thematicians to Double a Cube, and to Trisect an Angle,
were their first steps beyond the limits of elementary
geometry. They soon perceived that such problems can¬
not be solved by any combination of mere straight lines or
circles. To this conclusion they were led directly by the
application of geometrical analysis, a beautiful instrument
of discovery which Plato had recently invented or im¬
proved. Their investigations pointed at some curves of a
higher order than the circle, and opened to them a wide
and interesting field of research.
The analysis of the trisection of an angle, conducted
in two different ways, terminates in the construction of
the conchoid, a complex curve which was first proposed by
Nicomedes. As the subject is very curious, and throws
great light on the theory of angular magnitude, we shall
here not only give both the ancient methods of investiga¬
tion, but subjoin a third which is due to the sagacity of
Newton.
1. Let it be required to trisect the angle BAC or the
arc BC. Suppose the thing already done, and the angle
BAD to be the third part of the given angle. From the
point C draw CE parallel to AD, meeting the extended
diameter in E, and cutting the circumference of the cir-
129
Angle.
cle in the point F; join FD and FA. It is obvious that
the angle BAD is the half of DAC, the remaining part of
the whole angle, and therefore equal to the angle DFC
at the circumference. But AD and EC being parallel,
the angle BAD is equal to AEF, which is hence equal to
DFC ; and consequently FD is parallel to EB. Wherefore
the arc BD is equal to GF, and the angle BAD equal to
GAF. The angle AEF is thus equal to EAF, and hence
the side EF is equal to AF, the radius of the circle.
R
130 ANGLE.
Angle. To solve the problem, therefore, it would be requisite
inflect from C a straight line CFE, such, that the por¬
tion FE, intercepted between the circumference and the
diameter, or its extension, should be equal to the radius of
the circle. The radius AD, drawn parallel to this inflect¬
ed line CE, would cut off an angle BAD, which is the
third part of the given angle BAG.
But elementary geometry will not in general furnish
the means of inflecting CE, according to the required
conditions. This must be done either tentatively, that
is, by repeated trials, or by the application of a curve, so
constituted that every straight line drawn from the pole
C to the directrix BG shall have the portion EF, inter¬
cepted by the curve, equal to AB. This curve is, from
its general shape or resemblance to a conch or shell, named
the conchoid: it consists of two branches, one above the di¬
rectrix called the interior conchoid, and the other below it
called the exterior conchoid. The conchoid being describ¬
ed, will, by its intersection with the circumference of the
circle, give the point F, and consequently the position of the
trisecting line AD'. But such a complex curve must cut the
circumference in more points than one, and consequently
the problem of angular trisection, viewed in its genera¬
lity, admits of several answers. In fact, there are always
three distinct positions of the inflected line CE, which
will fulfil the conditions of the problem.
It is curious to examine these different positions of the
inflected line. Draw AD' parallel to the second position
CE', and join D'F, AD', and AF'. Because AF' is equal
to E'F', the angle E'AF' is equal to A E'F'; and, conse¬
quently, the exterior angle AF'C is the double of either
of these. But CAF' being an isosceles triangle, AFC is
equal to ACF', which again is equal to the alternate angle
CAD'; wherefore CAD' is the double of the angle AE'F';
and being likewise the double of CF'D' at the circumfer¬
ence, the angles CF'D' and AE'F' are equal, and, conse¬
quently, F'D' and E'A parallel. Now the angle CAD'
being double of E'AF or D'AG, and the angle CAD
double of DAB, the arc DCD' is double of the arcs
cumference; wherefore this arc DCD' is two third parts
of the semicircumference, or one third of the whole cir¬
cumference.
In the third position AD" of the trisecting line, draw
CF" parallel to it, and join AF" and D"F". The isosceles
triangles D"AF" and AF"E" have equal vertical angles;
and, consequently, the angles at their base are likewise
equal; wherefore AF"D" is equal to the alternate angle
F"AE", and the chord D"F" parallel to the diameter BG.
But the reverse angle CAD" standing on the arc CD'D"
is double of the angle CF"D" at the circumference, and
therefore double of BE"F" or of BAD"; and the angle
CAD being by the first construction likewise double of
BAD, the reverse angle CAD", together with CAD, must
be double of BAD" and BAD, or the arc CD'GD" is dou¬
ble of DBD", which completes the circumference. Hence
the arc DD'D" is two thirds of the circumference.
It thus appears that the construction of the problem
assumes three different aspects, and that the trisecting ^
lines, to which a close analogy conducts us, mutually di-^
vide the whole circuit into equal portions. These results
are perfectly conformable with the theory of angular
magnitude. For if A denote the arc BC, and C the whole
circumference, this arc will be generally expressed by A,
A + C, A + 2C, &c.; consequently, the third part will be
expressed byr ^A, ^A + ^C, ^A + |C, &c., which evidently
correspond to BD, BD' and BD". But any farther exten-
sion of this progression only brings the trisecting line
back into its former positions.
To solve completely, therefore, the problem of the tri¬
section of an angle ; from the pole C, on either side of the
directrix BG, with a measure equal to the radius of the
circle, describe the exterior and the interior or nodated
conchoid; draw CF, CF, and CF" to the three points of
intersection with the circumference, and the radii AD,
AD', and AD" parallel to these will mark the triple sec¬
tion of the angle BAG.
It may be perceived that the exterior branch of the
conchoid cuts the under semicircle in another point be¬
sides F. This occurs in the extension of the radius CA,
or where the diameter passing through C, the extremity
of the original arc, meets the opposite circumference ; the
portion of the inflected line, intercepted below BG by the
conchoid, being evidently equal to the radius. The fourth
intersection, however, affords no real solution, but only
exhibits the amount of repeated division, as completing
the arc itself.
2. But another analysis leads to a similar result. Let the
angle BAD, as before, be the third part of BAG ; draw BC
perpendicular to AB, and CE parallel to it, meeting AD
produced in E. The right angle DCE would be contain¬
ed in a semicircle having DE for its diameter ; join C with
the centre H, and the triangle CHE being isosceles, the
exterior angle CHA is double of CEH, or of the alternate
angle BAD, and therefore equal to the remaining portion
CAD of the divided angle BAG. Whence the triangle
ACH is isosceles, and the side CA equal to HC, or the
diameter DE must be double of AC.
The construction of the problem is thus reduced to the
drawing from the vertex of the given angle a straight line
ADE, such, that the part DE, intercepted between the per¬
pendiculars BC and CE, shall be equal to the double of
AC. This can only be done by describing a conchoid
from the pole A to the directrix BC, and with the double
of AC as the measure ; the intersection of the curve with
the perpendicular CE will determine the position of the
trisecting line ADE. The exterior branch of the conchoid
will cut the perpendicular in the point E, and the interior
or nodated branch will meet and cross it at the two points
E' and E". The radiating lines AE, AE', and AE", or its
extension Ae", will indicate the complete trisection of the
angle BAG. These lines will be found, as in the first
construction, to make angles with each other that are equal
to the thirds of an entire circuit. It may be worth while
to examine the several cases.
ANGLE. : 131
Second Order, the locus of the point of section D is an hy- Angle.
perbola, of which B is a focus, and IH a directrix, with the^-«^v^»^
determining ratio of two to one. Let this construction be
made, and the arc CDB
is trisected in D. For
since BD is, from the
property of the curve,
double of DK, it is evi¬
dent that BC is to Cl as
BD to DK ; and the tri¬
angles CIH and KDH
being similar, and Cl to
CH as DK to DH, it
follows that BC is to
CH as BD to DH, or al¬
ternately BC is to BD
as CH to DH. Where¬
fore the vertical angle
CBD is bisected by BH,
or the angle CBD is
double of CBH or of
BCD, and consequently
the arc CD is double of BD, or BD itself is the third part
of the whole arc CDB.
In the second position D'AE' of the trisecting line, draw But the opposite branch of the hyperbola, which passes
CH' to the middle point. Because the triangle E'H'C is through C, also comes into play; and the intersection of
isosceles, its exterior angle CH'A is double of CE'H', or these two branches with the circle assigns three different
of the angle BAD'; but H'CA being also an isosceles tri- positions of the point D, separated from each other by
angle, CH'A is equal to CAH', and consequently double intervals equal to the third of the whole circumference,
of BAD. Add CAD, which is double of BAD, and the Thus, in the second position D', produce the perpendicu-
compound angle DAE' is double of DAD', which would lar D'K' to the opposite circumference L; and since BD'
complete two right angles; whence DAE' is two thirds is double of D'K, it must be equal to the chord D'L, and
of two right angles, or one third of a whole circuit. consequently the arc BDCD' is equal to LD"MD'. Where¬
in the third position, AE"D" of the trisecting line, or fore the double of BDCD', together with the interval BL
rather its extension Ae", draw CH" to bisect E"D". The or CD', is equal to the whole circumference; that is, the
triangles CH"D" and ACH" are then isosceles, and conse- double of DCD', with the double of BD and CD', is equal
quently the angle CAD" or CH"A is double of CD"A; to the whole circumference; and since the double of BD
but CAE is likewise double of CEA, and therefore the is DC, the triple of the arc DCD' must complete the cir-
combined angle D"AE is double of the angles CD"A and cumference. In the third position D", produce the per-
CEA. Now this angle D"AE, together with the two pendicular D"K" as before: the double of this, or the chord
angles CD"A and CEA, is evidently equal to the exterior MD", is hence equal to D"B, and the arc BLD" equal to
angle DC"E or a right angle. Whence D"AE is twm DM: consequently the double of BLD", with the corn-
thirds of a right angle, or one third of two right angles, pound arc BDCM, completes the circumference; but
and therefore the adjacent angle DAe" is two thirds of D"M being parallel to BC, the arc BLD" is equal to
two right angles, or one third of a whole circuit. CD'M, and therefore three times the arc BLD", with the
3. The simplest and most elegant solution of the tri- arc BDC, or the triple of BD, will fill up the circum-
section of an arc was indicated by Pappus, and is given in ference, or the arc DBD" is a third part of it.1
Castillon’s Commentary on Newton’s Universal Arithmetic.
The problem is there reduced to the combination of the The trisection of innumerable arcs described on the
circle with a certain kind of hyperbola. But the general pro- same chord is rendered very conspicuous by combining
perty of the directrix, which belongs to all the conic sec- the separate branches of two hyperbolas that have the
tions, or the lines of the second order, affords the readiest determining ratio of two to
mode of investigation. Let the arc BD be the third part one, and their foci situate in
of BDC. Complete the circle, and draw the chords BD, the extremities of the given
BC, and CD. The arc CD is evidently double of BD, line. Thus, let the chord BC
and therefore the angle CBD is double of BCD. Bisect be trisected at the points N
the angle CBD by the straight line BH, let fall the ex- and O, and from B and C, as
tended perpendicular, and draw the parallel DK. The distinct foci, and in the deter-
triangle CHB is evidently isosceles, and HI bisects the mining ratio of two to one,
base CB. But the triangle CBD having its vertical describe branches of inde¬
angle at B bisected, the side CB is to BD as the seg- pendent hyperbolas. All the
ment CH of the base to HD; that is, since the triangles arcs erected on BC are each
CHI and DHK are similar, as Cl to KD; wherefore, CB of them divided by those
being the double of Cl, BD is likewise double of DK. curves into three equal por-
The ratio of the distances BD and DK is thus given, tions. These arcs, as they
while the point B is given, and the straight line IH given flatten, approach to the tri¬
in position. Whence, from the theory of lines of the sected chord CNOB on the
1 For more illustration of this subject, see Leslie’s Geometry of Curve Lina.
132 A N G
Angle one hand; and as they become enlarged, they constantly
II. tend, on the other, to the complete circumference which
Angling. ,he asymptotes of the hyperbola, making angles on each
side of the axis equal to two thirds ot a right angle, would
themselves trisect.
It may be observed in general, that the section of an
arc or angle admits of as many different answers as the
number of divisions proposed, dhus, the quadrisection
would give four distinct re¬
sults, and a quinsection would
involve no fewer than five se¬
parate products. Nay, the
bisection itself of an arc,
though within the limits of
the most elementary geome¬
try, yet brings out a double
result. Thus, the arc CDB is
bisected by the perpendicular
or diameter DID', which not
only gives BD for the half of
that arc, but also BDCD', or
the same half-arc augmented by a semicircumference.
These conclusions agree with the results derived from
the general theory of equations. The expression for the
sine of a multiple arc is always an equation of corre¬
sponding dimensions, which therefore admits of as many
distinct roots as the index contains units.
The ancient geometers were only acquainted with the
original division of the circumference into two, three, or
five equal portions. The only subdivisions were obtained
from the differences of those arcs or their continued bi¬
section. But the very ingenious Professor Gauss has
discovered a series of more complex regular polygons,
which may be inscribed in a circle by elementary geo¬
metry. The expression 2M + 1, when a prime number,
will represent the sides of the figure: for the general
equation of a cosine of the section can be decomposed
into quadratics of the simplest kind, which can be con¬
structed by the repeated application of circles and straight
lines. A polygon of 17 sides is the first that occurs after
the pentagon; and then follow the polygons of 257,
65537, &c. ? _ (b.)
Angles, an ancient German nation, originally a branch
of the Suevi; who, after various migrations, settled in
that part of Denmark, and duchy of Sleswick, of which
the city of Flensborg is the capital. Here they were
known, even in the time of Tacitus, by the name of An-
gli. The origin of this name is variously accounted for.
According to Saxo Grammaticus, they were called Angli,
from one Angulus, son of Plumblus king of Denmark.
Goropius derives their name from the Saxon word Angel
A N G
or Engel, signifying a fish-hook; the Angles, like the Aiw
other Saxon nations, being greatly addicted to piracy, and i
on that account being so named by the neighbouring na- ^
tions; as if, like hooks, they caught all that was in the^
sea. To this nation the British ambassadors are said to
have applied when soliciting succours against the Scots
and Piets. The Angles, therefore, came over in greater
numbers than any other Saxon nation, and accordingly
had the honour of giving the name of Anglia to England.
ANGLESEA, or Anglesey, a county in North Wales,
comprehending the island of that name. It is divided
from the main island of Great Britain by the narrow river,
or rather armlet of the sea, called the Straits of Menai.
Over this water a most magnificent suspension bridge has
been recently completed, which affords a great facility to
the intercourse between London and Dublin. The extent
of the county is about 271 square miles, or 174,000 acres.
The soil is but moderately fertile; but in average years
it yields more barley and oats than the consumption re¬
quires. The surplus generally finds a vent in Liver¬
pool. A number of horned cattle, sheep, and hogs, are
annually sent over the Menai. The most valuable pro¬
duct of the island arises from the mines. The chief of
these, the Parys mine, is the most abundant in copper ore
of any mine known in the world; and even in the water
lodged beneath the bed of ore, quantities of nearly pure
copper are obtained by exposing it to iron. A mine of
lead, but rich in silver, has been discovered near the same
mountain. Quarries of various kinds of marble, and mines
of asbestos, are also found on the island. Coal is obtained
at Maltreath in considerable quantities. The mines have,
however, of late years diminished in productiveness, especi¬
ally those of copper. The herring fishery is a branch of
industry which in some years gives employment to a por¬
tion of the inhabitants.
The island has been celebrated in the most remote
periods as the seat of the druidical pontiff, and the great
nursery of the instructors in that kind of religion or super¬
stition, of which but little has been handed down by any
other mode than by tradition, and which is attended with
the doubts and uncertainty naturally arising from that
mode of communication. See the article Druid.
At present the Welsh language, of the northern dialect,
is almost the exclusive language of the peasantry; but in
the towns, especially at Holyhead, English is very ge¬
nerally understood. The county contains 5 towns and
67 parishes. The number of inhabitants in 1801 was
35,000; in 1811, 38,300; and in 1821, 46,000. The
county returns one member to parliament, and one is
also returned by the borough of Beaumaris. The towns,
with their population, are, Holyhead, 4071; Amlwch,
5292 ; Aberfraw, 1204 ; Beaumaris, 2205. (g.)
ANGLING.
ANGLING, or the art of fishing with rod and line, in¬
cludes those branches of the piscatorial trade which are
usually followed, not so much for profit, as for pleasant re¬
creation. That the practice of “ casting angles into the
brook” had its origin in necessity, the mother of so many
inventions, can hardly be doubted; but it is equally clear
that the refined skill exhibited in this pursuit at the pre¬
sent day has been derived from leisure and the love of
sport, aided by the more delicate gear which modern
ingenuity has invented for the deception of the finny
race.
The comparative merits of angling, and of the kindred
occupations of the fowler and the huntsman, are not likely
to be determined by any portraiture which a lover of
these exciting amusements might draw of their various
excellencies, but must depend on the tone and temper ot
mind possessed by different persons, and their greater or
less accordance with individual tastes. This much, how¬
ever, may be safely stated as a general and admitted
truth, that the value of a pursuit increases in proportion
as it becomes attainable by the mass of our fellow-crea¬
tures ; and as angling is a much cheaper and more con¬
venient pleasure than either hunting or shooting, it ma}’)
in so far as regards those advantages, claim a decided pre¬
ference. Be it remembered that Dr Johnson’s descrip¬
tion of a rod with a fly at one end and a fool at the other
ANGLING.
133
; s not admitted among the memorabilia of the lovers of
-x^dd Izaak Walton.
The recreation of angling has been followed by many
f 1 tf the best and wisest of men in modern ages. Sir Henry
1 ~ Cotton found from experience, that after prolonged study
f rt. worldly occupation, it was “ a rest to his mind, a cheer-
: :r of his spirits, a diverter of sadness, a calmer of un-
" [uiet thoughts, a moderator of passions, a procurer of
5 :ontentednessand, besides the immediate excitement
if the sport itself, few occupations yield so much plea-
1 ure to the lovers of rural scenery and the admirers of
1 he picturesque. The most beautiful scenes in nature
1 isually adorn or consist of the banks of lakes and rivers ;
I md the composition of a perfect landscape, whether in na-
II ure or art, is incomplete without the accessory of either
11 ranquil or flowing waters. The pursuits of the artist
11 ind the angler are therefore peculiarly compatible, and
ii ;ach lends an interest to the other.
The lofty woods, the forests wide and long,
Adorn’d with leaves and branches fresh and green,
In whose cool bowers the birds with many a song
Do welcome with their quire the summer’s queen ;
The meadows fair, where Flora’s gifts among
Are intermixed with verdant grass between ;
The silver scaled fish that softly swim
Within the sweet brook’s crystal watery stream :
All these, and many more of His creation,
That made the heavens, the angler oft doth see ;
Taking therein no little delectation,
To think how strange, how wonderful they be;
Framing thereof an inward contemplation,
To set his heart from other fancies free ;
And whilst he looks on these wbh joyful eye,
His mind is rapt above the starry sky.
- Markham, in his Country Contentments, describes not only
f he outward apparel, but the inward qualities, of an angler,
f de must be generally accomplished in all the liberal
i | ciences, and, as a grammarian, ought to be qualified to
4 vrite and discourse of his art in true and fitting terms,
f de must be possessed of sweetness of speech to entice
1 tthers to so laudable an exercise, and of strength of ar-
i jument to defend it against envy and slander. “ Then
i flj oust he be strong and valiant, neither to be amazed with
o ! torms, nor affrighted with thunder; and if he is not tem-
£ I >erate, but has a gnawing stomach that will not endure
i I nuch fasting, but must observe hours, it troubleth the
i nind and body, and loseth that delight which only mak-
il :th pastime pleasing.” “ He must be of a well-settled
8 md constant belief, to enjoy the benefit of his expecta-
(■ ion; for then to despair, it were better never to be put
n practice: and he must ever think when the waters are
Peasant, and any thing likely, that there the Creator of
1 til good things hath stored up much of plenty; and
)■ hough your satisfaction be not as ready as your wishes,
( 1 fet you must hope still, that with perseverance you shall
; eap the fulness of your harvest with contentment. Then
I r 16 must be full of love both to his pleasure and his neigh-
xmr—to his pleasure, which otherwise will be irksome
' md tedious—and to his neighbour, that he never give of-
( ence in any particular, nor be guilty of any general de-
t truction : then he must be exceeding patient, and neither
f 'ex nor excruciate himself with losses or mischances, as
5 n losing the prey when it is almost in the hand, or by
II waking his tools by ignorance or negligence; but with
^leased sufferance amend errors, and think mischances
nstructions to better carefulness.”
In regard to the antiquity of angling, it has been traced
) >y some to the time of Seth, who is asserted to have
\ fght it to his sons ; and so highly have others esteemed
li 16 *no'vledge of the art, as to maintain that its rules and
3 naxims were engraven on those pillars by which an ac¬
quaintance with music, the mathematics, and other branch¬
es of useful knowledge, was preserved by God’s appoint¬
ment from extinction in the days of Noah. It is fre¬
quently alluded to in the holy Scriptures; as in Isaiah,
xix. 8, “ The fishers also shall mourn, and all they that
cast angle into the brooks shall lament, and they that
spread nets upon the waters shall languish;” so in the
prophet Habbakuk, i. 15, “ They take up all of them
with the angle, they catch them in their net, and gather
them in their drag; therefore they rejoice and are glad.”
We deem it unnecessary to multiply quotations from an¬
cient authors, whether sacred or profane; but shall rest
satisfied with pointing out, at the close of this article, the
principal works on angling which have appeared in our
own language, and in relation to the practice of the art
in British streams.
As expert angling never was and never will be success¬
fully taught by rule, but is almost entirely the result of
assiduous and long-continued practice, we purpose being
very brief in our disquisition on the subject. We shall
commence by stating our belief that fly-fishing, by far the
most elegant and interesting branch of the art, ought not
to be regarded exclusively as an art of imitation. It no
doubt depends on deception, which usually proceeds on
the principle of one thing being successfully substituted
in the likeness of another ; but Bacon’s distinctive defini¬
tions of simulation and dissimulation place the subject in
a truer light. As simulation consists in the adoption or
affectation of what is not, while dissimulation consists in
the careful concealment of what really is—the one being a
positive, the other rather a negative act—so the great ob¬
ject of the fly-fisher is to dissimulate in such a manner as
to prevent his expected prey from detecting the artificial
nature of his lure, without troubling himself by a vain effort
to simulate or assume, with his fly, the appearance of any
individual or specific form of insect life. There is, in
truth, little or no connection between the art of angling
and the science of entomology ; and therefore the success
of the angler, in by far the greater proportion of cases,
does not depend on the resemblance which subsists be¬
tween his artificial fly and the natural insect. This state¬
ment is no doubt greatly at variance, as well with the
principles as the practice of all who have deemed fishing
worthy of consideration, from the days of Isaiah and Theo¬
critus, to those of Carrol and Bainbridge. But we are not
the less decidedly of opinion, that in nine instances out of
ten a fish seizes upon an artificial fly as upon an insect
or moving creature sui generis, and not on account of its
exact and successful resemblance to any accustomed and
familiar object.
It may be asked, upon what principle of imitative art
the different varieties of salmon-fly can be supposed to
bear the most distant resemblance to any species of dragon-
ffy, to imitate which we are frequently told that they are
intended ? Certainly no perceptible similarity in form or
aspect exists between them, all the species of dragonfly,
with the exception of one or two of the sub-genus Calep-
terix, being characterized by very clear, lace-like, pellucid
wings, entirely unadorned by those fantastic and gaudy
colours, borrowed from the peacock and other “ birds of
gayest plume,” which are made to distinguish the suppos¬
ed resemblance. Besides, the finest salmon-fishing is in
mild weather during the colder seasons of the year, and
in early spring, several months before any dragonfly has
become visible on the face of the waters, as it is a sum¬
mer insect, and rarely makes its appearance in the perfect
state till the month of June. If they bear no resemblance
to each other in form or colour, how much more unlike
must they be, when, instead of being swept down the cur¬
rent, as a real one would be, the artificial fly is seen cross-
Angling.
134
ANGLING.
Angling, ing and recrossing every stream and torrent, with the
agility of an otter, and the strength of an alligator ? Now,
as it is demonstrable that the artificial fly generally used
for salmon bears no resemblance, except in size, to any
living one ; that the only tribe which, from their respec¬
tive dimensions, it may be supposed to represent, does not
exist in the winged state during the period when the
imitation is most generally and most successfully practis¬
ed ; and if they did, that their habits and natural powers
totally disenable them from being at any time seen under
such circumstances as would give a colour to the supposi¬
tion of the one being ever mistaken for the other ; may
we not fairly conclude that, in this instance at least, the
fish proceed upon other grounds, and are deceived by an
appearance of life and motion, rather than by a specific
resemblance to any thing which they had previously been
in the habit of capturing? What natural insect do the
large flies, at which sea-trout rise so readily, resemble ?
These, as well as gilse and salmon, frequently take the
lure far within the bounds of the salt-water mark; and yet
naturalists know that no such thing as a salt-water fly
exists, or at least has ever been discovered by their re¬
searches. Indeed no true insect inhabits the sea. What
species are imitated by the palmer, or by three fourths of
the dressed flies in common use ? An artificial fly can, at
the best, be considered only as the representation of a natu¬
ral one which has been drowned, as it is impossible to
imitate the dancing or hovering flight of the real insect
over the surface of the stream; and, even with that re¬
stricted idea of its resemblance to nature, the likeness
must be scarcely perceptible, owing to the difference of
motion, and the great variety of directions in which the
angler drags his flies, according to the nature and special
localities of the current, and the prevailing direction of
the wind.
The same observations apply, with almost equally few
exceptions, to bait-fishing. The minnow is fastened upon
swivels, which cause it to revolve upon its axis with such
rapidity, that it loses every vestige of its original appear¬
ance ; and in angling with the par tail, one of the most
killing lures for large trout, the bait consists of the nether
half of a small fish, mangled and mis-shapen, and in every
point of view divested of its natural form.
Fly-fishing has been compared, though by a somewhat
circuitous mode of reasoning, to sculpture. It proceeds
upon a few simple principles, and the theory is easily ac¬
quired, although it may require long and severe labour to
become a great master in the art. Yet it is needless to
encompass it with difficulties which have no existence in
reality, or to render a subject intricate and confused,
which is in itself so plain and unencumbered. In truth,
the ideas which at present prevail on the matter degrade
it beneath its real dignity and importance. When Plato,
speaking of painting, says that it is merely an art of imi¬
tation, and that our pleasure arises from the truth and
accuracy of the likeness, he is surely wrong; for if it
were so, where would be the superiority of the Homan
and Bolognese over the Dutch and Flemish schools ? So
also in regard to fishing: The accomplished angler does
not condescend to imitate specifically, and in a servile
manner, the detail of things; he attends, or ought to at¬
tend, only to the great and invariable ideas which are in¬
herent in universal nature. He throws his fly lightly
and with elegance on the surface of the glittering wa¬
ters, because he knows that an insect with outspread
gawzy wings would so fall; but he does not imitate (or if
he does so, his practice proceeds upon an erroneous prin¬
ciple), either in the air or on his favourite element, the
flight or the motion of a particular species, because he
also knows that trouts are much less conversant in ento¬
mology than M. Latreille, and that their omnivorous pro- u
pensities induce them, when inclined for food, to rise with Jr
equal eagerness at every minute thing which creepeth ^
upon the earth or swimmeth in the waters. On this fact
he generalizes,—and this is the philosophy of fishing.
We are therefore of opinion that all, or a great pro.
portion, of what has been so often and sometimes so well
said about the great variety of flies necessary to an angler,
—about the necessity of changing his tackle according to
each particular month throughout the season,—about one
fly being adapted solely to the morning, another to noon¬
day, and a third to the evening,—and about every river
having its own particular flies, &c. is, if not erroneous, at
least exaggerated and misconceived. That determinate
relations exist between flies of a certain colour and parti¬
cular conditions of a river, is, we doubt not, true; but
these are rather connected with angling as an artificial
science, and have but little to do with any analogous re¬
lations in nature. The great object, by whatever means
it is to be accomplished, is to render the fly deceptive;
and this, in fact, we believe to be more frequently effect¬
ed when fishing with flies which differ in colour and ge¬
neral appearance from those which are upon the water.
When a particular fly prevails upon a river, an artificial
one in imitation of it will never resemble it so closely as
to appear the same to those below (i. e. the fish): on the
contrary, a certain degree of resemblance, without any
thing like an exact similitude, will only render the finny
tribe the more cautious through suspicion; while a differ¬
ent shape and colour, by exciting no minute or invidious
comparisons, would probably have been swallowed with¬
out examination. Indeed, it seems sufficiently plain, that
where means of comparison are allowed, and where exact
imitation is at the same time impossible, it is much better
to have recourse to a general idea, than to an awkward
and bungling individual representation. How often has
it been asserted, with all the gravity of sententious wis¬
dom, that the true mode of proceeding in fly-fishing is to
busk your hook by the river-side, after beating the shrubs
to see what colour of insect prevails. A very expert
angler, who perhaps carried the opposite theory rather
too far (although he always filled his pannier), wras in
the habit of stirring the briars and willows to ascertain
what manner of fly was not there, and with that he tempt¬
ed the fishes.
It is admitted, that during mid-summer, when the wea¬
ther is calm, the sky cleai’, and the river low, and when
what is called fine fishing is necessary, a close imitation
both of the appearance and motions of the natural fly
may frequently be tried with advantage; in which case
the tackle may be allowed to drop gently down the
stream: but it more usually happens, from the style of
fishing practised during the vernal and autumnal states of
a river, that the hook is not deceptive from its appearing
like a winged fly which has fallen from its native element,
but from its motion and aspect resembling that of some
aquatic insect. When the end of the line first falls on
the surface of the water, the fish may be deceived by the
idea of a natural fly; and it is on that account that the
angler should throw his tackle lightly and with accuracy,
and it is on that account also that we would advise the
more frequent throwing of the line: but so soon as the
practitioner begins to describe his semicircle across the
river, the character of the lure is changed, and the trout
then seizes the bait, not as a drowning insect, but as a
creature inhabiting its own element, which had ventured
too far from the protection of the shallow shore or the
sedgy bank. That this is the case, a subsidiary argument
may also be drawn from the fact, that in most rivers the
greater number and the finest fish are generally killed by
ANGLING.
135
r he drag-fly, which, during the process of angling, swims
LL inch or two under water.
Nevertheless, as these opinions of ours may not accord
dth the practice of other anglers, we shall proceed some¬
what more methodically to explain a few of the principles
f the art as usually received and followed.
The great secret in fly-fishing, after a person has ac-
|uired the art of throwing a long and a light line, is perse-
erance,—that is, constant and continuous exertion. Fish
re whimsical creatures, even when the angler, with all
ppliances and means to boot, is placed apparently under
he most favourable circumstances. Let him, however,
ommence his operations with flies which, upon general
irinciples, he knows to be good,—for example, a water-
nouse body and dark wing, hare-ear and moorfowl wing,
ed hackle and teal or mallard wing. It may frequently
mppen that for an hour, or even two hours, he will kill
tothing; but then it will as often happen that for another
ouple of hours he will pull them ashore with a most
leasing celerity.
Awake but one, and, lo, what myriads rise!
Next comes a pause of another hour or more, during
which little or nothing is obtained, so that if the inter-
nediate period is frittered away, success is doubtful or
mpossible. We believe that the appetites and motions
if the finny tribes are regulated and directed by certain
to us) almost imperceptible changes in the state of the
tmosphere, with which, as they do not proceed from any
leterminate or ascertained principles of meteorological
cience, it is not easy for the angler to become acquaint-
id; and therefore the only method to remedy the des-
igrdment thus arising, is to fish without ceasing as long
:is he remains by the “ pure element of waters.” The
irt of angling, if worthily followed, and with an observant
ye, will probably one day or other be the means of
browing considerable light on the science of electricity,
it present one of the most obscure, though at the same
line the most important and influential, of all the subjects
pf physical learning.
The best natural flies, either to use fresh, or to serve
is models for the artificial kinds, are, first, the different
iorts of stoneflies (Phryganea and Limnephilus), which
ire usually found by the water-side. Their common co-
ours are various shades of brown ; they have pretty long
feelers or antennae, which, in a state of repose, are bent
>ver their shoulders and along their sides; their wings
ire held decumbent, or close to the sides. They fly
leavily, and are produced from aquatic larvae called caddis
3r case-worms, remarkable for their curious dwelling-
places, which are hollow tubes composed of sand, small
shells, and pieces of wood, agglutinated together, and
made heavier or lighter, according to circumstances, that
they may the more easily sink or swim. They are open
at either end, and the worm crawls along the stones and
gravel, by protruding its legs at the anterior extremity.
They disencumber themselves from their aquatic habita¬
tions, and assume the winged state in spring and the ear¬
lier part of summer. Secondly, The different kinds of May
Hies {Ephemerae), called green drakes, &c. are also pro¬
duced from larvae, which, for a long time previous to their
appearance as perfect insects, have inhabited the waters.
There are many species of this genus, all of which are Angling,
greedily sought for by trout. They are easily known by'
their tapering abdomens, veined wings, short antennae,
and the long slender setae or hairs which terminate their
bodies. They chiefly abound from May to mid-sum¬
mer. Thirdly, The small black or ant-fly, is the winged
female of the common black ant, and occurs in the nests
or hills of that insect during the summer and autumnal
months.
There is scarcely any season of the year, excepting the
winter months, in which an experienced angler may not suc¬
cessfully ply his trade.1 In the mid-summer season, when
the pools are very clear and shallow, and the streams al¬
most dried up, little can be done without a stirring breeze ;
so also after a heavy summer flood, immediately ensuing a
continuance of dry weather, when the mountain torrents
are a sheet of dingy foam, and the crystal depths of the
river are converted for a time into an opaque flow of
muddy water, the fly-fisher’s occupation’s gone. But when
the turmoil ceases, and the soft south wind begins to
disperse or break in upon the dense array of clouds, so as
to chequer the streams, and rocks, and “ pastoral melan¬
choly” of the green mountains with the enlivening beams
of the returning sun, with what pleasure does the angler
approach the banks of a favourite and accustomed river !
How various and delightful are his sensations! Custom
cannot stale their infinite variety:—on the contrary, the
longer and more assiduously the pleasure is pursued, the
greater the immediate enjoyment, and the more extended
the train of agreeable remembrances for after-days. How
exciting the first cast into a breeze-ruffled pool, when the
unwetted gut still lies in rebellious and unyielding circles
on the surface, and yet almost at the same moment the
sounding reel gives notice that these circles have been
instantaneously stretched into a straight and tightened
line ! Then comes the long and continuous vibration of rod
and reel, indicating the secure hooking of a goodly fish ;
or that sullen and pulse-like tug, by which a still good¬
lier one, when hooked in a deep pool, frequently manifests
a desire to dig its way to the bottom ; or that more inter¬
rupted music which results from the fantastic leaps of
some whimsical individual, which skims and flounders on
the top of the water like a juvenile wild-duck.
The ordinary rules for fly-fishing are, to be most assi¬
duous when the streams are somewhat disturbed and in¬
creased by rain,—when the day is cloudy, and the waters
moved by a gentle breeze, especially from the south. If
the river contains long placid pools, then a steady stirring
breeze is very desirable, as angling in such situations re¬
sembles lake-fishing, where nothing can be achieved upon
a glassy surface. If the wind is low and the weather
clear, of course the best angling is in the swiftest streams,
and in those curling and perturbed eddies which head
the smoother depths. In fishing the smoother pools of
no great depth, be careful that the shadows of neither
rod nor angler come upon the surface; but if a person is
skilful in other respects, he need not fear his own sha¬
dow in a broad river, but w'ade boldly down the centre of
the stream, fishing its various depths and currents before
him and on either side. In clear rivers the flies should
be small and rather slender-winged; but when the waters
are muddy or increased by rain, a larger lure may be
1 Although Izaak Walton, that “ great master in the art of angling,” informs us that no man should in honesty catch a trout till
the middle of March, yet the grayling is in best condition during the winter season. “ I do assure you,” says Charles Cotton, in
the second part of the Complete Angler, “ which I remember by a very remarkable token, I did once take, upon the sixth day of
December, one, and only one, of the biggest graylings, and the best in season, that ever I yet saw or tasted ; and do usually take
trouts too, and with a fly, not only before the middle of this month, but, almost every year, in February, unless it be a very ill spring
indeed; and have sometimes in January, so early as new-year’s tide, and in frost and snow, taken grayling in a warm sun-shine day
Lr an hour or two about noon; and to fish for him with a grub it is then the best time of all.”
136
ANGLING.
Angling, made use of. When the streams are brown with rain, an
orange-coloured fly is good; in very clear weather a light-
coloured one ; and a dark fly is advisable for troubled wa¬
ters.
Though a great deal no doubt depends on a quick eye
and an active and delicate hand, we are no great advo¬
cates for what is called striking a fish. If a large trout
rises in a deep pool, it may be of advantage so to do; and
this will be sufficiently accomplished by inclining the rod
quickly aside, so as to draw out a few inches of the line;
for if the reel is not allowed to run, this operation is apt
to snap the gut, or otherwise injure the tackle. But if a
trout, whether great or small, rises in a current or rapid
stream, the sudden change in its position, immediately
after it has seized the fly, is generally quite sufficient to
fix the barb, without any exertion on the part of the
angler.
A variable state of the atmosphere is bad for angling;
but neither is a uniformly dull gloomy day the most fa¬
vourable. It is scarcely possible to lay down any general
rules on this branch of the subject. We have half filled
a pannier during an electric hail-storm, when “ sky low¬
ered and muttered thunder,” and the aspect of the day
was such as to deter more experienced though less zealous
sportsmen from leaving the shelter of their homes. If the
river is not too low, we always prefer what in ordinary
language might be called a fine cheerful day, more parti¬
cularly if there is a fresh breeze. And what we would
more particularly press upon the notice of the angler, as
soon as he becomes master of the line, is, that he should
cast his flies more frequently than is the usual practice,
and, generally speaking, fish rapidly. This should be
more especially attended to in streams where the trout
are numerous and not large.
Before enumerating and describing the different kinds
of artificial flies in greatest repute, we shall mention a
few of the principal materials used by the fly-fisher. The
articles which he employs in common with those who pro¬
secute the other branches of the trade, are of course rods,
hair and gut lines, reels and hooks, panniers and land¬
ing-nets ; but in addition to these he must be provided
with a great variety of feathers, such as the slender
plumes called hackles, from the necks and backs of com¬
mon poultry, and the wings of a considerable number of
birds, such as woodcocks, snipes, rails, plovers, ducks,
grouse, partridges, and others. The furs of quadrupeds
are also indispensable; and of these the most useful are
hares, squirrels, moles, martens, mice, and water-rats.
The most esteemed hackles are the duns. The red,
striped down the centi-e with black, and the red with a
blackish root, are likewise useful, and more easily ob¬
tained. Since the introduction of Spanish poultry (by
which name are designated the black breed with white
tops), black hackles are now more common than for¬
merly. The proper time for plucking hackles is about
Christmas. The feathers of the ostrich and peacock are
of frequent service; and for salmon and sea-trout the
gaudy plumes of parrots and other brilliantly attired fo¬
reign species, however unlike the generality of our north¬
ern insects, ought to be collected by every fly-fisher.
The silks commonly used by the angler are of three
kinds:—Is#, Barbers’ silk, used double, for splicing the
top-pieces of rods ; 2<%, a more delicate kind, for fasten¬
ing on the rings through which the reel-line runs; 3t%,
fine netting silk for whipping hooks and dressing flies.
When we mention a pair of small pliers, fine-pointed scis¬
sors, needles, and wax, we have noted the principal mate¬
rials for the angler’s trade.
In regard to rods, their length and formation are so
much matters of individual taste, that few general rules
can be laid down upon the subject. According to Da-^,1
niel, the wood should be cut about Christmas, and allowed^1 rl
to season for a twelvemonth. Hazel is very generally
used, especially that from the cob-nut, which grows to a
great length, and is for the most part very straight and
taper. The but-end should rather exceed an inch in dia-
meter, and the shoots for stocks, middle pieces, and tops,
should be as free from knots as possible. The tops are
made from the best rush ground shoots. All these pieces
should be kept free from moisture till the ensuing autumn,
when such as are required to form a rod are selected;
and, after being warmed over a gentle fire, they are set
as straight as possible, and laid aside for several days.
They are then rubbed over, by means of a piece of flannel,
with linseed oil, which produces a polish, and brings off the
superfluous bark: they are then bound tight to a straight
pole, and kept till next spring, by which time they will be
seasoned for use. They are then matched together in due
proportions, in two, three, or more parts, according to the
desired length, or the opinion of the maker as to the num¬
ber of pieces of which a rod should be composed. A well-
constructed spliced rod of no more than two pieces casts a
line with fully as much force, neatness, and accuracy as
any other; but it is inconvenient to a traveller, or to any
one whose dwelling is not close upon a stream. If the
pieces are not ferruled, they must be spliced so as to join
each other with great exactness. The principal object
to be kept in view in the formation of rods in general is,
that they should taper gradually and bend regularly. A
frequent defect is their bending too much in the middle,
owing to that part not being sufficiently strong.
We have said that the length of a rod is rather a mat¬
ter of taste than of established rule. It must, however,
bear a relation to the size of the river and the nature of
the expected capture. A trouting rod is usually made
from 12 to 14 feet in length, though some prefer them of
greater extent, as giving more command over lakes and
spreading pools. It should be made as light as is con¬
sistent with strength and durability, as a heavy rod is
cumbersome, fatiguing, and unwieldy ; and a light one
gives a more ready power in casting under hollow banks,
or among trees or bushes. For pike and barbel a proper
length is 16 feet; for perch, chub, bream, carp, eels,
and tench, a shorter rod may be used; and 8 or 10 feet
is sufficient for dace, gudgeon, ruff, bleak, &c. The port¬
ability of a rod depends of course on the number of
joints; but its excellence being almost in the inverse ra¬
tio, care must be taken not to sacrifice its goodness mere¬
ly for the sake of a convenient form.
According to Mr Bainbridge, the best rods are made
from ash, hickery, and lance-wood; ash for the bottom
piece, hickery for the middle, and lance-wood for the top-
joints. If real bamboo can be procured of good quality,
it is preferable to lance-wood. Rose-wood and partridge-
wood from the Brazils may also be used for the top-pieces.
The extreme length of the top-piece is usually composed
of a few inches of whalebone. The rings for the reel¬
line may be made by twisting a piece of soft brass-wire
round a tobacco-pipe, and soldering the ends together.
They ought to diminish in size as they are made to ap¬
proach the top, and must form a straight and regular line
with each other when the rod is put up for use.
In finishing a rod the usual varnish is copal varnish, or
Indian rubber dissolved over a slow fire in linseed oil. h
may be stained by a dilution of nitric acid or oil of vitriol.
When rods are stored for the winter, after use, they ought
to be rubbed over with tallow or salad oil. As few anglers
require to make their own rods, we deem it unnecessary
to enter into a full detail of a mechanical practice which
can only be sufficiently executed by an individual of pro-
ANGLING. 137
essional experience. We shall merely mention, that, in
addition to the woods already named, elder, holly, yew,
nountain ash, and briar, all of which are indigenous to
his country, furnish materials to the makers of rods.
As lines may be purchased from the tackle-makers at a
;heaper rate than they can be made by an amateur whose
;ime and labour are of value for any other purpose, we
hall not here enter into a detail of their formation. The
I jest hair is procured from the tail of a well-grown stallion.
1 dlack hair is generally strong, but the colour is not very
serviceable. Transparent and almost colourless hair is
he most approved; and it ought to be round, regular, and
I ree from blemishes. In the formation of Fines each hair
n a link should be equal, round, and even, which propor-
ions the strength and prevents single hairs from break-
ng, and thus weakening the others. Chesnut or brown-
■ boloured hairs are best for ground angling, especially in
nuddy water. Some anglers stain their lines a pale green
f or fishing in weedy waters. Black is occasionally used in
■ (streams which flow from mosses, and are themselves of an
jnusually dingy hue.
The following are some of the methods used by anglers
or dyeing their lines, whether of hair or gut.
For a pale watery green.—To a pint of strong ale add
lalf a pound of soot, a small quantity of walnut leaves,
ind a little powdered alum; boil these materials for half
J jr three quarters of an hour, and when the mixture is cold
steep the gut or hair in it for ten or twelve hours.
For a brown.—Boil some powdered alum till it is dis-
• solved; add a pound of walnut-tree bark from the branches
when the sap is in them, or from the buds, or the unripe
| :ruit. Let the liquid stand till nearly cool, and skim it;
, then put in the gut or hair, and stir it round for about a
minute, or till it appears to have imbibed the desired tint.
It ought not to be strongly tinctured, as it is apt to rot
ivhen too dark. For a bluish watery tint the above ingre-
t dients are also used, with the substitution of logwood in¬
stead of walnut.
For a yelloiv.—The inner bark of a crab-tree boiled in
water, with some alum, makes a good yellow, excellent for
staining tackle used among decayed weeds, the colour of
which it closely resembles.
A tawny hue is obtained by steeping hair among lime
and water for four or five hours, and then allowing it to
soak for a day in a tan-pit. In the absence of other ingre¬
dients, both gut and hair may be easily stained by being
left for twenty-four hours in strong tea, either with or
without a few log-wood scrapings.
The hair to be dyed ought to be selected from the best
white. Silken or hempen lines may be tinted by a decoc¬
tion of oak bark, which is said to add to the durability of
these materials.
We shall now proceed to consider the subject in relation
to the different species of fish which form the principal
| objects of the angler’s art.
The Salmon. (Salmo Salar.)
As the natural history, classification, and characteristic
distinctions of fishes will be given at length under the ar¬
ticle Ichthyology in this work, we shall not here enter
into any description of either the structure or habits of
the class, but confine ourselves for the present almost
i, entirely to such points as are most essential to the prac¬
tical knowledge of the angler.
'I his fine fish delights in large and rapid rivers. It bites
best from six in the morning till eleven in the forenoon,
and from three in the afternoon till sunset. A moderate Angling,
breeze is of advantage; and the best months are March,
April, May, and June. The salmon is justly regarded by
the angler as the king of fish; and when we consider that
they occasionally measure four feet in length, and weigh
upwards of 70 pounds, we may conceive how difficult a
capture and how valuable a prize they sometimes prove.
The most successful bait, as well as the most agreeable in
the usage, is the artificial fly. This is made in imitation
both of dragonflies and butterflies of various kinds; but
the principles which we have already endeavoured to es¬
tablish at the commencement of this article make it un¬
necessary to describe the natural species. Even those
who most warmly advocate the necessity of imitating ex¬
isting insects in the formation of their lures, admit that
the salmon is so capricious as frequently to rise at an ar¬
tificial fly which bears no resemblance to any natural form
of insect life.
The following are the descriptions of six artificial flies
which have been found very successful in raising salmon.
No. 1 (see Plate XLV. fig. 1) is recommended as a
spring fly, and is composed of the following materials:
Wings of the dark mottled brown or blackish feather of a
turkey; body of orange camlet mixed with a little mohair;
and a dusky red or bright brown cock’s hackle, plucked
from the back where the fibres are longest, for the legs.
The hook should be of the same size as represented in
the plate ; and it has been observed that all large salmon-
flies should be dressed upon two or three lengths of gut
twisted together, and that the silk in dressing be brought
beyond the shank of the hook, and wrapped four or five
times round the gut, so that it may not be speedily cut by
the sharpness of the steel.1 This same fly, dressed with
the wings of a somewhat brighter shade, and with the
addition of a little gold wire or thread wrapped round the
body at equal distances, will also serve for a more ad¬
vanced season of the year. No. 2 (see Plate XLV. fig. 2)
is of smaller size, and may sometimes be dressed upon
very strong single gut. Any feather of a coppery or
dingy yellow colour, if not too coarse in the fibres, will be
suitable for the wings; the body is of lemon-coloured mo¬
hair, mixed with a small portion of light brown fur or
camlet, with a pale dusky ginger hackle over the whole.
The chief object to be attended to in dressing this fly is
to produce that uniform hue, devoid of gaudy colouring,
from which it has received the name of the quaker fly.
Of No. 3 (see Plate XLV. fig. 3) the wings are made
fi'om the plumes of a cormorant, or from the mottled fea¬
thers of a dark mallard : the body is of dark sable, ribbed
with gold wire, over which a dusky red hackle is thickly
wound: the mottled feathers of a drake are used for the
tail; and previous to fastening off, a small portion of flos
silk should be unravelled and fastened at the extremity of
the hook. This fly, though, like the preceding, of a some¬
what sombre cast, is frequently used with success in
summer. No. 4 (see Plate XLV. fig. 4) belongs to the
gaudy class of lures, “ which,” says Mr Bainbridge,
“ however fanciful or varied in shade or materials, will
frequently raise fish when all the imitations of nature
have proved unsuccessful; indeed so fastidious and whim¬
sical are the salmon at times, that the more brilliant and
extravagant the fly, the more certain is the angler of di¬
version.” In this, of course, we perfectly agree. The
wings of the fly in question are formed of the extreme
end of a Guinea fowl’s feather, not stripped, but having the
fibres remaining on both sides of the middle stem. A blood-
red hackle is fastened on with the wings, and so arranged
vol. in.
1 Bftinbridge’s Fly-F'uher's Guide, p. 96.
s
138
ANGLING.
Angling, as to extend beyond them: the dyed feathers used by
military men will suit, if another showy biped, the scarlet
maccaw, is not accessible. The green feather which
forms the eye of the peacock’s tail should be fastened at
the head, and left hanging downwards, so as to cover the
body for the space of half an inch ; and a few filaments of
the same part of the feather may be fastened at the tail.
No. 5 has the wings formed from the darkish brown
speckled portion of a bittei-n’s wing stripped off from the
stem: the head ought to be of the same colours as the
body, which is formed of the reddish brown part of a
hare’s fur, and deep copper-coloured mohair; a bittern’s
hackle is put over the body for legs, and a forked tail is
added, made of a pair of single filaments of the same fea¬
ther as the wings. Of No. 6 the wings are formed of
the mottled feathers of a peacock’s wing, intermixed with
any fine plain dusky red ; the best mixture for the body
is the light brown inner hair from a bear’s skin, sable fur,
and gold-coloured mohair; gold twist, a large black cock’s
hackle, and a red one a little larger, with a bit of deep
red mohair for the head. In addition to these, we might
enumerate the brown fly, the blue fly, the king-fisher, the
prime dun, the great palmer, the golden pheasant, the
gray mallard, and many others; but such as are above de¬
scribed will suffice for the purposes of the present trea¬
tise. Fig. 6 of Plate XLV. represents an excellent spring
fly; and an approved summer kind is shown on the same
plate, fig. 5.
It may be stated at once, that so far from imitating na¬
ture, the maker of salmon flies can scarcely form them in
too unnatural and extravagant a manner. Let him call in
the aid of fancy at all times and places, at least in this
country; for the cold and cloudy clime of Scotland assur¬
edly furnishes nothing resembling the lures most frequent¬
ly and most successfully used. The superabundant use of
gold and silver wire ought, however, to be avoided, as it
not only causes the fly to sink too much in the water, but
prevents its being neatly or lightly thrown. Spring flies
for salmon are usually made of a larger size, though not
so gaudily dressed as those of summer.
A salmon rod is generally proportioned to the size of
the river which the angler frequents; but it ought not to
be less than 15 feet in length. The reel ought to be large
enough to contain 80 or 90 yards, so as to admit of abund¬
ance of line being given out when required; for many fish,
when struck, run out to a great distance, and with such
immense rapidity as to prevent the possibility of the
angler’s moving in the proper direction with sufficient
quickness. A salmon, for the most part, darts violently
up the stream; and, as the command and direction of the
fish is more easily kept with a short than a long line, it is
advisable to prevent his getting too far ahead, by keeping
the rod well back in the opposite direction, and by run¬
ning towards him along the margin of the stream. When
he gains the head of the current, a salmon frequently
throws himself several times out of the water, on which
occasions the angler must yield him freely a little of the
line ; but during his general and less violent manoeuvring,
he will of course be the sooner exhausted the more firmly
he is held. When he appears to be making for some safe
haunt or secret sheltering place, the great object is to
turn him towards safer ground, either by relying on the
soundness of the tackle, or, if he proves very powerful
as well as very obstinate, then a pebble or two may be
thrown, so as to fall a little in advance of his position, and
he will probably turn himself round. Some fish become
very sulky, and will lie after being hooked, for a long
time, motionless near the bottom. In this case also the
pebbles must be had recourse to; for the more a fish is
kept in motion, the sooner he becomes exhausted. When
he begins to show his side, and exhibits other unequivocal %
symptoms of exhaustion, a favourable landing-place should\
be looked for; and when the proper time arrives, which
can only be learned by the (sometimes dearly bought)
lessons of experience, then is he to be drawn by degrees
to the gravel bank, or the gaff applied, and the prize
secured.
When feeding, salmon are usually found at the foot of
a strong stream, terminating in an eddy or whirlpool.
“ And first,” says our father Walton, “ you shall observe
that usually he stays not long in a place, as trouts will,
but, as I said, covets still to go nearer the spring-head;
and that he does not, as the trout and many other fish,
lie near the water side or bank, or roots of trees, but swims
in the deep and broad parts of the water, and usually in
the middle, and near the ground; and that there you are
to fish for him; and that he is to be caught as the trout
is, with a worm, a minnow, which some call a penk, or
with a fly.”
When the water is either too much discoloured for the
use of the artificial fly, or, running into the opposite ex¬
treme, becomes (especially in very still weather) too clear
and bright, salmon may be successfully angled for with
the worm. In this case trolling tackle is sometimes used.
In trolling with minnow or other small fish, the foot
lengths ought to be about three yards long, and furnished
with one or two swivels, to prevent the line from twisting,
as well as to enable the bait to play freely. A lead or
shot proportioned to the strength of the stream should be
fastened to the line, about a foot above the bait. The top
of the rod should be stiffer than that used for fly-fishing;
and when the hook is baited, it ought to be thrown first
across, and then drawn up the stream.
The salmon fry leave the spawning beds early in spring,
and ere long make their way towards the sea. In a few
months they again seek their native streams, having, du¬
ring a very short period, attained to the weight of several
pounds. Without entering into the merits of the much-
disputed question (still in some points of difficult solution)
as to the difference or the identity of samlets, salmon fry,
salmon trout, white trout, gilse, and salmon, suffice it to
say, that all the migratory kinds of trout, usually charac¬
terized by their small number of spots, their silvery co¬
lour, and the superiority of their flesh, may be angled for
with much larger and more gaudily plumed flies than
those used in the capture of river-trout. Flies dressed
upon the same principles as those used for salmon, but of
smaller size, will be found well adapted for whitings, and
the different kinds of sea or migratory trouts above men¬
tioned.
The Common Fresh-water or Fiver Trout. (Salmo Fario.)
This species varies greatly in size and colour, in accord¬
ance probably with the nature and abundance of its food,
the strength and depth of the river in which it occurs,
and the physical properties of soil and climate. Fish
seem, more than most animals, to depend on peculiar
and unappreciable circumstances, for the full and charac¬
teristic development of their characters ; and they conse¬
quently exhibit great contrariety of aspect among indivi¬
duals of the same species. If a canal or reservoir, or any
other great accumulation of water, is formed by the hand
of man, where the hand of nature had from time imme¬
morial recognised only some small and solitary streamlet,
the lapse of a very few years produces large and heavy
fish, where none but trouts of the most trifling size had
ever been seen before. The writer of these observations
kept a minnow little more than half an inch long in a
glass tumbler for a period of two years, during which
time there was no perceptible increase in its dimensions.
ANGLING.
n*. lad it continued in its native stream, subjected to the
-w ittening influence of a continuous flow of water, and a
11 f onsequent increase in the quantity and variety of its
0 jod, its cubic dimensions would probably have been 20
I lines greater; yet it must have attained, prior to the lapse
fa couple of years, to the usual period of the adult state,
n regard to birds and quadrupeds, the individuals of the
II ame species are not distinguishable from each other by
r ny peculiarities either of form or colour, at least within
e he limits of a restricted locality; but it appears to be
1 therwise with several species of fish, more especially
1 1 routs. Those of the Clyde and Tweed, although both
I ivers draw their primary sources almost from the same
> , icuntain, present a constant and well-marked difference
> i their external aspect; and a corresponding dissimilarity
xists among the characteristic varieties of almost every
< iver and lake in Scotland; “ which I tell you that you
1 nay the better believe that I am certain, if I catch a
II rout in one meadow he shall be white and faint, and very
:( ke to be lousy; and as certainly, if I catch a trout in
2 he next meadow, he shall be strong, and red, and lusty,
( , nd much better meat. Trust me, scholar, I have caught
ii viany a trout in a particular meadow, that the very shape
d nd the enamelled colour of him hath been such as hath
i . )yed me to look on him; and I have then with much
! Measure concluded with Solomon, ‘ Every thing is beau-
11 iful in his season.’ ”
• No fish affords the angler more varied or more constant
) port than the trout. For nine months in the year, under
" . avourable circumstances, fly-fishing may be practised for
i t with success. Westerly and southerly winds are the
1 nost favourable, especially in spring; but during warm
t K nd cloudy summer weather, the point from which the
” . find blows is of slight consequence. “ He who considers
e he wind,” says Solomon, “ will never sow;” and the same
» emark is not inapplicable to angling. Whoever desires
I ! o become a successful practitioner in the art, must angle
i n all weathers, and under every variety of circumstances,
' towever unpropitious the prospect may be. Trout are
i generally supposed to rise more freely during a dark and
5 owering day, following a clear bright night, as brilliant
i) noonshine detains them in their lurking-places; and on
I he ensuing day they are consequently more inclined for
(1 bod. On the other hand, after a gloomy or darkish night
ii hey are less easily tempted, having glutted themselves
i I vith moths and other nocturnal insects, which, during the
i 1 summer months, are abundant on the waters. In throw-
i| | Jig the line the angler should endeavour to make his
e ‘ ^ear fall as lightly as possible on the surface, and his flies
i f should drop opposite, or somewhat above his own position,
a ind then be played gently and neatly downwards and
i icross the stream. When a trout is seen to rise at a na-
] tural fly or other insect, the artificial one should be of-
i’ered him by being thrown, not directly over him, but
!) t ibout a yard higher up the stream; and, if he is inclined
o to rise again, he will probably meet it half-way. When a
E * hsh, on being hooked, descends beneath the surface, and
t | struggles in the depths below, it is a pretty sure sign that
i f he is well secured; but when he flounders on the surface,
» 1 or leaps occasionally into the air, more care is necessary,
ii as in that case the hook will frequently be found to be
i] I only skin-deep. In playing and landing a large trout the
ii same precautions are necessary as in salmon-fishing, al¬
ii though in regard to smaller fish, if the angler is standing
» in the centre of a stream, and finds it inconvenient to
« wade frequently ashore, a few additional turns will ex¬
haust the capture, which may then be drawn rapidly and
139
steadily to the hand, and secured by a firm grasp behind Angling,
the gills. We have frequently practised a summary me-'v-<<~v->^'
thod of landing even tolerably sized fish, which, though
it cannot always be effected, is, when possible, a great
saving of time. If, from the moment the trout is struck,
he is prevented from redescending in such a manner that
the upper part of his head and eyes are retained above or
on a level with the surface, he will for the space of a good
many seconds be so much astonished as to be incapable of
any active exertions, and will frequently allow himself to
be drawn in that position, and without resistance, straight
ashore.
The following flies are in repute among anglers. The
black gnat appears about the end of April. The body is
formed of a black strip from an ostrich feather, and ought
to be dressed thick and short; the wings of a pale star¬
ling’s feather, or dressed as a hackle with a pale dun.
The March brown or dun drake is frequently visible by
the middle of March. The wings are made from the
mottled feathers of a partridge’s tail, and the body of hare-
ear fur, intermixed with a little yellow worsted; a grizzled
hackle for legs.
The hazel fly is of a round form, and difficult of imita¬
tion. It is a killing fly in May and June, especially where
bushes abound. The body is composed of ostrich harl of
two colours, black and purple twisted together; the wings
of the sandy-coloured feathers from under the w ings of a
thrush, or the reddish plumes of a partridge’s tail; a bluish
hackle, twisted pretty full, serves both for the under wings
and legs.
The great dark dun., according to Mr Bainbridge, is one
of the earliest flies which appear upon the water, and may
be used in February, if the weather is mild. The wings
are formed from the dun feathers of a mallard’s wing; the
body of mole-fur, mixed with a little dark brown mohair;
a dark grizzled hackle for legs. Salmon frequently rise at
this fly, which may be used with success early in the
morning during the whole fishing season.
The wrens tail has no wings: the body is of sable fur,
with a little gold-coloured mohair, and a feather from the
tail of a wren.
The grouse hackle is also wingless: the mixture for the
body is dark olive, dusky yellow, and a little gold-coloured
mohair. It is formed of a fine mottled grouse’s feather of
a reddish brown, running a little dusky towards the but-
end of the stem, and the downy portion, if any, plucked
away.
The stonefly is found along the edges of streams, and
is a favourite article of food among trout. It is a species
of Phryganea, and springs from a caddis or aquatic larva.
The wings lie flat, and are imitated by the mottled fea¬
ther of a hen-pheasant or peahen. The body is com¬
posed of dark brown fur from a bear’s skin, or the deeper
part of a hare’s ear, mixed with yellow camlet or mohair;
a longish grizzled hackle is wrapped under the wings.
The mealy brown or fern fly is excellent for grayling in
May. Its wings should be formed from the under part of
a throstle or fieldfare’s wing, especially from such feathers
as have a yellowish tinge. Its body is of a dusky orange,
from the light brown fur of a fox’s breast, with a pale dun
hackle for legs.
The orange fly has four wings made of the blue feather
of a mallard-teal. The head is of the dark fur from a
hare’s ear; the body gold-coloured mohair mixed with
orange-camlet and brown fur, a small blue cock’s hackle
for legs. This is said to be an alluring fly to young
salmon.
1 Walton’s Complete Angler, p. 128, edit. 1823.
140
ANGLING.
Angling. The hares ear is chiefly used as a drop-fly. The wings
-^v^/are from the light part of a starling’s wing feather, and
the body of dark hare-ear fur. According to Daniel, when
the streams are deep, the same body winged with a rail¬
wing’s feather and a red hackle is very killing during the
summer season.
The yellow dun is used in the morning and evening
during the months of April and May, and again in Sep¬
tember. The body, is made of yellow yarn unravelled, or
with marten’s fur, and mixed with a little pale ash-colour¬
ed fox-cub fur ; the wings are formed upright, from the
under part of a snipe’s wing, with a pale dun hackle for
legs.
The hawthorn fly is in use from the middle of April to
the end of May, from ten o’clock till three. It has trans¬
parent wings, which may be imitated with the palest fea¬
ther of a snipe or mallard’s wing; horn shavings, or the
membranous substance found in the core of an apple, serve
the same purpose ; the body is of black ostrich harl, with
a black hackle for legs.
The summer dun has a thicker form than most of the
dun flies, and is dressed upon a short-shanked hook.
Mole-fur ribbed with ash-coloured silk is employed for
the body; the wings are from the wood-pigeon, with an
ash-coloured hackle for legs.
The black-hackle fly is an approved lure during warm
weather, early in a summer morning. The body is form¬
ed of a thin-dressed ostrich harl, cut close; the wings,
four in number, are from the pale feather of the starling’s
wing.
The red spinner is used as a dropper. The wings are
formed of the grayish feather of a drake, tinged with
reddish yellow; the body a red hackle, with a twist of
gold. This fly is eagerly taken by chub in the evenings
of July.
The little yellow May or willow fly resembles the green
drake, on a small scale. The body is formed of yellow fur
from the marten’s neck, or of yellow worsted unravelled,
and mixed with a very small portion of hare-ear fur; the
wings are of mallard’s feather dyed yellow. This fly ap¬
pears early in May, and may be used till the appearance
of the green drake, of which it is the usual precursor.
The brown dun is made of otter’s fur mixed with le¬
mon-coloured mohair; the wings are from the fieldfare,
with a ginger hackle for legs. This is an excellent fly
towards the approach of twilight.
The green drake or May fly appears about the second
or third week of May, and continues about a month. The
body is made of hog’s down, or light bear’s hair, inter¬
mixed with yellow mohair; or of barbers’ yellow silk only,
warped with pale flos silk, and a small strip of peacock’s
harl for the head : a bittern’s hackle is the best imitation
of the legs and dark stripes of the body; with the long
hairs of the sable or polecat for the tail. The rayed
feathers of a wild mallard, dyed of a greenish yellow, suf¬
fice for wings.
The blue blow is a very small fly used during the sum¬
mer months, and for the first fortnight in August. It is
made of a lapwing’s top, or any dark blue fur, dressed on a
very small hook. The wings are of thistle-down or bluish-
white hackle.
The black midge is also a small species, the body of
which is dressed with brownish-black silk, and a blue
cock’s hackle. It is taken freely after a shower in the
summer evenings.
The gray drake follows the green of the same name,
although they sometimes occur together. It is an excel¬
lent afternoon fly for large trouts. The body is formed
of a dirty-white ostrich harl, dressed with flesh-coloured
silk, and ribbed with a dark-grizzled cock’s hackle; the
head is made of peacock’s harl, like that of the green
drake; the wings from a mottled mallard feather, or thatC^J ''l
of a mallard-teal, and the tail of sable or polecat’s hair.
The cinnamon fly has four wings, large in proportion to
the body. They are made from the pale reddish-brown
feathers of a hen, dressed full; the body of dark brown
fur, with a ginger hackle for legs. This fly, according to
Mr Bainbriclge, is excellent for the Welsh rivers during
the months of August and September.
The sandfly forms an excellent lure, and may be very
generally used from April to September. The wings are
formed from the sandy-coloured feathers of the landrail’s
wing, with a ginger hackle for legs ; and the bright sandy,
coloured fur from the neck of a hare, mixed with a little
orange mohair for the body. If dressed as a hackle, the
feathers from under the thrush’s wing resemble the na¬
tural hue of the wings of the insect.
The great black ant makes its appearance in sultry
weather, from the middle of June to the latter end of Au¬
gust. The wings are made of the pale-blue feathers from
beneath a snipe’s wing, or from a tomtit's tail. The body is
of black ostrich harl, made thick towards the tail and be¬
neath the but of the wings; the legs of a reddish-brown
hackle.
The great red ant is nearly contemporaneous with the
preceding, which it resembles in size and form. The
wings are made of a light starling’s feathers ; the body of
gold-coloured mohair, or copper-coloured peacock’s harl,
with a ginger hackle for legs.
Among the preceding flies will be found some which
will assuredly suit for any river, or for any period of the
fishing season. The angler who places implicit confidence
in the generally received opinion, that in every stream,
and at each season, there is one particular fly in much
more special request than any other, will do well to pre¬
pare for an unknown river, by making ready a couple of
lines, each with three flies all of different kinds. For
example, a March brown at the end of the line, a dun
hackle, with a lighter or darker body to suit the weather
or complexion of the stream, for the first dropper, and a
red hackle with peacock body for the second dropper; or,
2dly, a sand fly at the end, with a grouse hackle or wren’s
tail, with orange body, for the first dropper; and a pale
yellow or cream-coloured hackle over a bluish body, or
one of the ant flies, as the second dropper. These are
promising flies for most seasons of the year, though, like
the others, they require to be changed according to the
circumstances of time and place, or the varying caprices
of the finny tribes.
As night fishing is a favourite amusement with many
anglers, we shall describe a few of the flies in most repute
for the practice of nocturnal sport.
The white moth, with wings made from the feathers of
a white owl, the body of white ostrich harl, with a white
cock’s hackle over it.
The brown moth is winged from the feathers of a brown
owl, or the back feathers of a brown hen; the body is of
dark bear’s hair, covered with a brown cock’s hackle.
The mealy cream is made from the tawny feathers of a
white owj for the wings, with some soft fur of the same
colour, and a pale yellow hackle for the body.
The following selection has been recommended by an
experienced angler, in relation to the alleged succession
of flies during several of the principal months of the
fishing season. Ltf, For March, a dun fly, made of dun
wool, and the feathers of a partridge wing; or the body
made of black wool, and the feathers of a black drake:
2d, For April, a stonefly, the body made of dark wool, dyed
yellow under the wings and tail: 3r/, For the beginning of
May, a ruddy fly, made of red wool, and bound about
A N G L
'ith black silk, with the feathers of a black cock hanging
•angling on his sides next his tail: 4/4, For June, a green-
jh fly, the body made of black wool, with a yellow list
n either side, the wings taken off the wing of a buzzard,
ound with black broken hemp : 5/4, The moorish fly, the
ody made of dusky wool, and the wings of the blackish
mil of a drake: 6/4, The tawny fly, in great repute till
ie middle of June ; the body made of tawny wool, the
ings contrary, one against another, composed of the
hitish mail of a white drake: 7/4, For July, the wasp
y, the body made of black wool, cast about with yellow
Ik, and the wings of drakes’ feathers: 8/4, The steel fly,
jproved in the middle of July; the body made with
reenish wool, cast about with the feathers of a peacock’s
lil, and the wings made of those of a buzzard: 9/4, For
aigust, the drake fly, the body made with black wool
ist about with black silk, the wings of the mail of a
lack drake, with a black head.
When rivers are very low and clear, from a long conti-
uance of summer drought, it has been recommended to
se a pair of wings made from the feather of a landrail,
i r the mottled feather of a teal, with a well-cleaned gen-
e fixed upon the hook. During a similar condition of
ie water, even when no wind is stirring, and the sun
fining in its greatest lustre, trouts may be taken with a
nail wrens tail, grouse, smoky dun, or black hackles, the
igler fishing straight down the water, by the sides of
reams and banks, and keeping well out of sight, with as
Iing a line as can be neatly managed, and the foot-lengths
iry fine. At these times the fish may be often seen with
leir dorsal fins above water, and with skilful manage-
icnt may be made to snap at the above-named flies,
/hen one is hooked, the rest dart off; but if the angler
3eps concealed, they will return again in a very short
me; and thus several fish may be taken even in summer
om the clearest pools. Another plan has also been re-
| ommended as likely to prove successful when the wea-
icr is bright and the water low: Take a line of about a
ard in length, and fix it to a short, stiff rod, and having
lited the hook with a natural fly, such as the stonefly,
1 r the gray or green drake (Ephemeree), drop it between
ushes over steep hollow banks, or under the projecting
)ots of trees.
In fishing a river with which the angler has no previous
’! cquaintance, the most approved practice is to try the
ddies which are frequent at the corners of streams, and
here the circular movement of the current throws out a
'• 'equent sustenance for the finny race. There the larger
•out often lie; and it must consist with the experience
1 every angler, that an excellent capture is sometimes
lade repeatedly from some small spot behind or beside a
articular stone, where from day to day one well-sized
sh seems to succeed another in the favourite feeding
round. In this knowledge of peculiar localities consists
ie chief advantage of a previous acquaintance with the
ater. The smaller fish are found in most abundance in
ie widely spread and shallow streams, as well as in the
i xtended parts of pools of no great depth. As a general
ule, the angler may be advised to fish with the wind on
is back and the sun in front, which not .only gives him
greater command of his line, but prevents himself or
is shadow from being so distinctly perceived. A strict
dherence, however, to this plan is by no means advisable,
s the angler’s position in relation to sun and wind must
equently vary with the natural course of the river, the
Instruction of overhanging wood, and the greater or less
ommand of pool and stream presented by the varying
^ nrm of the adjoining shore.
As bait-fishing for trout, though regularly followed by
ome> less generally admired and practised than the
I N G. 141
more elegant use of the artificial fly, fewer words will suf- Angling,
fice. When the streams are swollen and discoloured, fine^^v^^
trout may be taken with a running line without float, and
so leaded that it shall touch the ground without resisting
the force of the stream. The lead should be fixed about
eight or ten inches above the hook; and the best baits are
well-scoured earthworms. The dew, the garden, and the
lob worms are one and the same in species, although they
vary considerably in form, size, and colour, according to
age, and season, and the nature of the soils. The lob¬
worm, according to Daniel, is of two sorts, the old, knotted,
the young, without knots, which some for distinction call
maiden lobs, and others red worms. The latter kind, with
a red head, a streak down the back, and a broad tail, are
the most esteemed. By some they are called squirrel-
tails. These and other worms, it need scarcely be ob¬
served, are easily obtained in fields and gardens, espe¬
cially where there has been any recent mixture of veget¬
able or animal remains. They may be preserved for a
considerable period, and even improved in their texture
and condition, by being kept in damp moss, changed
from time to time, and occasionally wetted with a little
new milk. In dry weather, when worms are difficult to
be obtained, they may be procured by emptying a few
buckets of water in situations where they were known to
occur during a moister season. The brandling worm is
streaked from head to tail in alternate circles of a red and
yellow hue, and is darker at its anterior than posterior
portion. They occur in old dunghills, in heaps of inch
vegetable mould, and among rotten tan bark. They have
this advantage over the others, that they may be used
without preparation or scouring. Though the choice of
wrorms does not seem a very suitable subject for poetry,
it has been thus versified by Mr Gay in the Rural Sports :
You must not every worm promiscuous use,
Judgment will tell thee proper baits to choose :
The worm that draws a long immod’rate size,
The trout abhors, and the rank morsel flies;
And if too small, the naked fraud’s in sight,
And fear forbids, while hunger does invite.
Those baits will best reward the fisher’s pains.
Whose polish’d tails a shining yellow stains;
Cleanse them from filth, to give a tempting gloss
Cherish the sullied reptile race with moss ;
Amid the verdant bed they twine, they toil,
And from their bodies wipe their native soil.
The preceding rhymes apply chiefly to the kind called
gilt-tails. Gentles are the larvae of different kinds of car¬
nivorous winged flies. They may be kept in a mixture
of oatmeal and bran, and are readily produced in a piece
of liver, or any other flesh or fish, exposed in an earthen
vessel to prevent their escape when grown to a proper
size. All kinds of maggots, as well as those called gen¬
tles, serve admirably for the more delicate kinds of bait¬
fishing. The caddis worms, before alluded to as the larvae
of the Phryganea or stonefly, when taken out of their
cases, are a favourite bait for trout; and different kinds of
grasshoppers are likewise used with great success. The
creeper or water cricket, an aquatic - larva, found under
stones within the water-mark, ought also to be attended
to by the natural bait-fisher.
The palmer worms or wool beds are the hairy catei'pil-
lars of certain nocturnal moths. Though refused by al¬
most all birds except the cuckoo, they are swallowred by
trouts, and may be preserved alive for many weeks in a
box with damp earth, strewed over with the leaves of the
tree or bush on which the species was observed naturally
to feed.
The young brood of wasps and bees are useful to the
angler; and for eight or ten days after their first appear¬
ance in summer there is no better or more killing bait
142
ANGLING.
Angling, than a small reddish beetle called the bracken clock in the
—north of England, the Melolontha horticola of naturalists.
Salmon roe is greatly lauded by Barker, who appears to
have been the first to discover its merits. “ I have found
an experience of late which you may angle with, and take
great store of this kind of fish. First, it is the best bait
for trout that I have seen in all my time, and will take
great store, and not fail if they be there. Secondly, it is
a special bait for dace or dare, good for chub, or bottlin,
or grayling. The bait is a roe of a salmon or trout. If it
be a large trout, that the spawns be any thing great, you
must angle for the trout with this bait as you angle with
the brandling, taking a pair of scissors and cut so much
as a large hazel-nut, and bait your hook; so fall to your
sport,—there is no doubt of pleasure. If I had known it
but twenty years ago, I would have gained a hundred
pounds only with that bait: I am bound in duty to di¬
vulge it to your honour, and not to carry it to my grave
with me. I do desire that men of quality should have it,
that delight in that pleasure. The greedy angler will
murmur at me, but for that I care not.”
Many kinds of pastes are prized by the bait-fisher.
They may be used for chub, carp, and bream in Septem¬
ber and during all the winter months, and may be made
up about the size of a hazel-nut; if foj1 2 roach and dace,
the bigness of a pea will suffice. All pastes are improved
by being mixed up in the making with a little cotton
wool, which makes them firmer and more tenacious, and
hang better on the hook. They suit well for fishing in
quiet places, with a small hook and quill float. We shall
here subjoin a few recipes for the making of fishing pastes,
which, although we introduce them under the head of the
river-trout, may be regarded as equally efficacious in the
capture of other kinds of fish.1
Minnow-fishing for trout is a favourite pastime with
many anglers, and the process is one by which very large
fish are frequently captured. The tackle used resembles
that for salmon, but is lighter and finer, with a single line of
gut at the bottom. The hooks vary in size according to the
general dimensions of the trout angled tor; and the middle-
sized and whitest minnows are the most esteemed. The
following were Walton’s directions for baiting, with a view
to this department of the sport. Put your hook in at his
mouth and out at his gill; then having drawn your hook two A
or three inches beyond or through his gill, put it againO n
into his mouth, and the point and beard out at his tail, ^
and then tie the hook and his tail about very neatly with
a white thread, which will make it the apter to turn quick
in the water : that done, pull back that part of your line
which was slack when you did put your hook into the
minnow the second time; I say, says Walton, pull that
part of your line back so that it shall fasten the head, so
that the body of the minnow shall be almost straight on
your hook : this done, try how it will turn by drawing it
across the water or against a stream ; and if it do not turn
nimbly, then turn the tail a little to the right or left hand,
and try again, till it turn quick. We may add, that the
practice of fishing with the artificial minnow is justly dis¬
carded by all judicious anglers. For representations of
the minnow tackle, and hooks baited, see Plate XLV.,
fig. 12, 13, and 19.
The Great Lake Trout. (Salmo Ferox.'f
It appears that the gray or great trout of the British
fresh-water lakes, though never described or characterized
as a distinct species, has at various times excited the at¬
tention of ichthyologists. Trout of enormous dimensions
are mentioned by Pennant as occurring in the Welsh
lakes; and Donovan gives Loch Neagh in Ireland as an¬
other locality. Very large trout have been killed in Ulls-
water in Cumberland, and still larger in Loch Awe in
Argyllshire. The late Mr Morrison of Glasgow claimed
the merit of discovering these fish in the last-named lo¬
cality about 40 years ago; and the largest recorded to
have been killed there weighed 25 pounds. Mr Lascelles,
a Liverpool gentleman, has also of late years been equally
assiduous and successful in their capture; and it appears
that any persevering sportsman is almost certain, with the
proper tackle, to obtain specimens in Loch Awe, of this
gi'eat fish, weighing from 10 to 20 pounds. The largest
we have lately heard of weighed 191 pounds. It is said
to be by far the most powerful of our fresh-water fishes,
exceeding the salmon in actual strength, though not in
activity. The most general size caught by trolling ranges
from 3 to 15 pounds: beyond that weight they are of
uncommon occurrence. If hooked upon tackle of mode-
1 Red paste may be made with a large spoonful of fine wheat-flour, moistened with the white of an egg, and worked with the hands
until tough. A small quantity of honey or loaf-sugar finely powdered must be added, together with some cotton-wool spread equally
over the paste when pressed flat in the hand; it must be well kneaded, to mix the cotton thoroughly; colour it with a little vermi¬
lion. A small piece ot fresh butter will prevent it from becoming hard, and it will keep good a week. White paste may be composed
of the same ingredients, omitting the vermilion; and yellow paste in like manner, with the addition of turmeric.
Salmon paste.— lake one pound of salmon-spawn in September or October; boil it about 15 minutes, then beat it in a mortar until
sufficiently mixed, with an ounce of salt and a quarter of an ounce of saltpetre; carefully pick out the membrane in which the spawn
is contained, as it is disengaged from it; when beat to a proper consistence, put it into gallipots, and cover it over with bladders tied
down close, and it will keep good for many months.
Various oils were formerly in great repute among anglers for rubbing over their baits, but as we believe their beneficial effects
were entirely imaginary, we shall not occupy our pages by their repetition. A single extract from Izaak Walton will suffice. “ And
now I shall tell you that which may be called a secret: I have been a-fishing with old Oliver Henley, now with God, a noted fisher
both for trout and salmon, and have observed that he would usually take three or four worms out of his bag, and put them into a
little box in his pocket, where he would usually let them continue half an hour or more before he would bait his hook with them. I
have asked him his reason, and he has replied, ‘ he did but pick the best out, to be in readiness against he baited his hook the next
time. But he has been observed, both by others and myself, to catch more fish than I or any other body that has ever gone a-fishing
With him could do, and especially salmons; and I have been told lately, by one of his most intimate and secret friends, that the box
in which he put those worms was anointed with a drop, or two or three, of the oil of ivy-herries made by expression or infusion; and
told that by the worms remaining in that box an hour, or a like time, they had incorporated a kind of smell, that was irresistibly at-
tractive, enough to force any fish within the smell of them to bite.” We need scarcely remind the reader of the “ Complete Angler,”
that that admirable work is of higher value for the manner in which the subject is discussed, and the beautiful accessories of pure
style, poetical sentiment, and picturesque illustration, than for the amount of direct practical information which it conveys. The
simplicity and goodness of Izaak alton’s nature seem to have induced a greater degree of credulity than was always consistent
with an accurate perception of the truth, and hence every chapter abounds with statements which could not pass current in these more
critical days. As a useful work in relation to the mere angler, it cannot be said to hold a high rank, although it must ever delight
the general reader, and all who desire to refresh themselves by “ the pure well of English undefiled ”
2 We are indebted for the principal materials of the following account of this interesting fish to a manuscript of Sir William Jar-
dine s, with which we have been kindly favoured by the author. It forms part of a series of Memoirs on British Fishes, which that
assiduous naturalist has been for some time past preparing for the press.
ANGLING.
ling,irate strength, they afford excellent sport; but the gene-
/■^■ral method of fishing for them is almost as well adapted
for catching sharks as trout; the angler being apparently
more anxious to have it in his power to state that he had
^ught a fish of such a size, than to enjoy the pleasure of
die sport itself. However, to the credit of both parties, it
nay be stated, that the very strongest tackle is sometimes
mapped in two by its first tremendous springs. The or-
linary method of fishing for this king of trouts is with a
powerful rod, from a boat rowing at the rate of from three
;o four miles an hour, the lure a common trout from three
;o ten inches in length, baited upon six or eight salmon
looks, tied back to back upon strong gimp, assisted by
wo swivels, and the wheel-line strong whip-cord. Yet
ill this, in the first impetuous efforts of the fish to regain
ts liberty, is frequently carried away for ever into the
crystal depths of Loch Awe !
When in their highest health and condition, and in-
leed during the whole of the time in which they are not
•mployed in the operation of spawning, these fish will
carcely ever rise at a fly. At these periods they appear
o be almost entirely piscivorous; so, with the exception of
light lines, baited also with trout, trolling is the only ad-
isable mode of angling for them. The young, however,
ise very freely at ordinary lake-trout flies, and are general-
Y caught in this way from one to one and a half pound
/eight. They occur abundantly near the outlet of the lake.
About the middle of August, and during the three fol¬
ding months, the parent fish retire, for the purpose of
pawning, to the deep banks of the lake in the neighbour-
ood of the gorge, and into the gorge of the lake itself,
/here it empties its immense waters, forming the river Awe.
"hey arc said to remain engaged in this operation for two
r three months, and at this time their instinctive tenden-
ies are so far changed, that they will rise eagerly at
irge and gaudily dressed salmon-flies, and may be either
ngled for from the banks, or trolled with a cross line,
'here the outlet of the lake is narrow. They do not ap-
ear either to ascend the rivers which enter the loch, or
) descend the Awe to any extent, though an occasional
traggler has been taken some way down the river. Their
I pawning places are exclusively on the banks, or at
. ie gorge of the loch, and they never attempt to seek
ie salt-water.. When in good season, and in their
rongest condition, they appear to roam indiscriminately
nough every part of the loch, though there are certain
>ots which may be more depended upon than others,
■ ipd where an experienced angler will have little difficulty
i hooking one of these fine fish. To their great strength
o may observe that they add unequalled rapacity; and
tor attaining to the weight of three or four pounds, they
fj ipear to feed almost exclusively on smaller fish, and do
| at spare even their own young. A small trout of this
>ecies, not weighing more than 11 pound, will often dash
■ ; a, bait not much inferior to itself in size ; and instances
e recorded of larger fish following with eager eye, and
- tempting to seize upon others of their own kind after
l'ey Had been hooked and were in the act of being land-
y t ie angler. It is probably on account of this
ng manifestation of a more than usually" predaceous
143
]mlmofoTx Sir WiUiam Jardine has named the sPecies Angling.
When in perfect season, and full-grown, it is a very
handsome fish, though the head is always too large and
long to be in accordance with our ideas of perfect sym¬
metry in a trout. The body is deep and thickly formed,
and all the members seem conducive to the exercise of
great strength. The colours are deep purplish brown on
the upper parts, changing into reddish gray, and thence
into fine orange-yellow on the breast and belly. The
whole body, when the fish is newly caught, appears as if
glazed over with a thin tint of rich lake-colour, which
fades away as the fish dies, and so rapidly, that the pro¬
gressive changes of colour are easily perceived by an at¬
tentive eye. The gill-covers are marked with large dark
spots; and the whole body is covered with markings of
different sizes, and varying in amount in different indivi¬
duals. In some these markings are few, scattered, and of
a laige size ; in others they are thickly set, and of small¬
er dimensions. Each spot is surrounded byr a paler rin0-,
which sometimes assumes a reddish hue; and the spots
become more distant from each other as they descend
beneath the lateral line. The lower parts of these fish
are spotless. All the fins are broad, muscular, and ex¬
tremely powerful; and it is from the number of their
bony rays that the specific characters which distinguish
this species from the common trout (salmofario) are the
most easily and accurately evolved. The dorsal fin is of
the same colour with the upper part of the fish; it is
marked with large dark spots, and contains fifteen rays,
which number exceeds by three that which characterizes
the common trout. The caudal fin is much larger and
more fleshy. The pectoral, ventral, and anal fins, are
very muscular on their anterior edges, and of a rich yel¬
lowish-green colour, darker towards their extremities.
They contain respectively 14, 10, and 12 rays, whereas
the numbers in the corresponding fins of the common
trout are 13, 9, and 11. The tail is remarkable for its
breadth and consequent power. In adults it is perfectly
square, or might even be described as slightly rounded
at its extremity: in the young it is slightly forked, and
appears to fill up gradually as the fish advances in age.
In the common trout, on the contrary, the forked shape
of the tail is a permanent characteristic.
The flavour of this great lacustrine species is coarse
and indifferent. The colour of the flesh is orange-yellow,
not the rich salmon-colour of a fine common trout in good
season. The stomach is very capacious, and on dissec¬
tion (differing singularly in this respect from the salmon)
is almost always found gorged with fish.
W e have bestowed a somewhat lengthened notice on
the species above described ; but we doubt not that the
novelty of the subject will not only plead our excuse, but
render the information now given highly acceptable both
to the sportsman and the naturalist. It is certain that a
more attentive examination of the finny tribes which in¬
habit our lakes and rivers would bring to light several
new species, and more clearly illustrate the history of
others which are still involved in obscurity.1
The gigantic species of the Swiss lakes, one of which,
ith the great troits of Loch Awe In , r T " ' '^'7 ,12, Poundf. each* These were probably of the same species
-xles Grassmere and Rvdal we HdnWl chain of English lakes of which Windermere is the chief, and which in-
Hed, of these beautiful 2ers when f t PmeS /^"onymous with the salmo ferox of Jardine. The lake trouts, properly so
ken of the weight of ^ t0 three t0 ^pounds, and have in one or two rare instances been
indermere chain corresnond more iP • n •S' l08?,0* ^ hwater, again, which does not belong to what we have denominated the
e would particularly reifommend t fu °ther characters with the species found in the lakes of the Scotish Highlands,
nietiines called This is rl a i u 16 attentl,on of T01'tsmcn the great fresh-water river trout, or bull trout as we believe it is
hers, especially when fmimHn Z,8?"16 anSlers as an agedt overgrown individual of the ordinary kind (mlmo fario); and by
curacy of the latter onininn ; - i utumlh as a lake trout which had left its more usual haunts for the purpose of spawning. The
p mon is, however, interfered with by the occasional occurrence of this variety in such unambiguous situa-
144
Angling, killed in the lake of Geneva, weighed 67 pounds, are
probably identical with those of Loch Awe, Ullswater,
&c. Though equal to salmon, both in size and strength,
they differ in their habits from those fish, and do not
appear at any time to seek the waters of the ocean. In¬
deed their existence in the lake of Constance, the avail¬
able communication of which with the sea is cut oft by
the falls of Schaffhausen, demonstrates their independence
of saline waters. It does not appear, from any informa¬
tion which has reached us on the subject, that these great
continental lake-trouts ever rise at the artificial fly.
In Loch Ard there is a finely formed and beautiful va¬
riety of the common trout, varying in its matured condi¬
tion from one and a half to three pounds in weight. It
affords excellent sport to the angler fishing from a boat
about 50 yards off the deeper parts of the shores. Ihey
rise freely to small salmon or sea-trout flies, dressed after
the model of a gray or green drake.
ANGLING.
The Grayling. (Salmo Thymdllns.)
This fish loves the clear streams of mountainous coun¬
it is common in Lapland, where its intestine is usod
i , I.  !„ A wiillr ifno Tnrma + inr*
tries. al ia   r-;   . . „ .
as rennet, along with rein-deer milk, in the formation of
cheese. It is a bold and sportive fish, but more tender in
the mouth than the trout. It rises well to the camlet fly,
and to several of the other small-sized trout-flies. We
killed it readily in Switzerland with a moorfowl wing and
hare-ear body. They may also be taken with the caddis
worm and other ground baits. According to the Rev.
Mr Low, the grayling is frequent in the streams of the
Orkney Islands, though very rare in the rivers of the
mainland of Scotland.
The Pike. (Esox Lucius.)
This “ fell tyrant of the liquid plain” is not regarded
as indigenous to the waters of Britain, but is said to have
been introduced in the time of Henry VIII. That it
was well known in England at an earlier period is how-
ever evident, both from the book of St Alban’s, printed by
Wynken de Worde in 1496, and from the account of the
great feast given by George Nevil, archbishop of York,
in the year 1466. There is in truth no evidence either of
its non-existence in this country at a remote peiiod, or of
its importation during comparatively recent times.
The voracity of this fish is almost unexampled, even
in a class remarkable for their omnivorous propensities.
Goslings, young ducks, and coots, water-rats, kittens, and
the young of its own species, besides every kind of fresh¬
water fish, have been found in the stomach of the pike.
The rich and varied supply of all kinds of tackle, which
may be obtained in the shops of the principal dealers m
our larger cities, induces us to abstain from any descrip¬
tion of "the different hooks employed in minnow and other
bait-fishing, as such details are not very intelligible with¬
out the aid of numerous engravings. More knowledge
will be gained by a few minutes inspection of the articles
themselves in the hands of an intelligent workman, than
can be conveyed by the most elaborate treatise on the
Aaving described the characteristic modes of angling
surpasfaU the^others yielded to’lhe ftTslidlo contend with the otter for its prey, and h>
amder we shall now proceed to a briefer consideration of been known to pull a mule into die water by t e no e.
Lme of the remaking subjects of our sport. This fish is in season from May to February, and is angled
some ot tne remaning j for by trolUng with a strong-topped rod. I he hooks are
The Char or Case Char. (Salmo Alpinus.) generally fastened to a bit of brass wire for a few inches
The Torgoch or Bed Char. (Sahno Salvelinus.) from the shaft, to prevent the line from being snapped.
These fish which in a culinary point of view, are deserv- Different methods are used in angling for pike. Troll-
edly the most highly prized of all the permanently fresh- ing, in the more limited sense of the word, signifies ca.c i-
miter species, ar? scarcely attainable by the angler's skill, ing fish with the gorge hook which .s com^o edof
Of late Tears they have risen more freely than m former or what is called *
times in the meres of the north of England ; but the cap- practised with the aid of a floated hne mid
tore of a char by rod and line is still regarded as an uncom- consists in the use ot large hooks, so baited as .
mon occurrence. They appear to retire during the warmer the angler to strike the fish the moment he feels it bite,
months to the deepest of the still waters, as the fisher- immediately after which he d™f ®
men engaged in throwing their nets for pike, perch, and Trolling for pike may be practised during the want
trout, over the very grounds where, during the colder months, when trout fishing has ceased, and t e
season of the year, the char abound, never catch any of season of the year is in fact more convenient for the sp
these fish in summer. Although a good deal has been owing to the decay or diminution of the weeds wh ch
written upon the subject, it does not appear that the dis- usually surround their favourite ^aunts; ^1^ t^ ^
tinctive history of the two species above named has been tion of chub and dace, which bite pretty flee y
as yet made out. Both the case char and the red char bottom all winter, scarcely any other fish can be
are1 found in Windermere; and the principal distinc- upon for sport during the more inclement portion
tion in their habits and history consists in this, that the year. To bait a gorge hook take a baiting needle, and ho
former ascends the rivers, where it spawns about Michael- the curved end to the loop of the gimp, to which the hook,
mas; whereas the latter deposits its ova along the shores tied; see Plate XL V. fig. 20; then introduce the point oDh
of the lake, and not till the end of December or the be- needle into a dead bait s mouth, and bring it out at the miu
sinning of the year. In angling for char the same flies may die of the fork of the tail, by which means the piece o
be used as those best adapted for the smaller-sized lake- which covers the shank of the hook, and partof the conne
trouts; and as the latter occur wherever the former is found, ing wire, will lie concealed m the interior ot the bait. '
the sportsman has the better chance of making amends shank will be in the inside of its mouth, and the ha
for the probable disappointment which will attend his pur- the outside, turning upwards. See 1 late L^ V. hg.
suit of the one, by a more successful capture of the other, keep the bait steady on the hook, fasten the tai pa J
lions as the Clyde above the falls, the waters of which have no communication with any lake. Ihis species sometimes attains
weight of 8, 10, or even 12 pounds; hut it differs from the Loch Awe trout n being generally, it not exclusively, tound i
Those of many of the lesser Highland lakes, such as Loch Ard and Loch Chon, ascend the mountain streams in the autumn to p
and in the ordinary practice of angling (with the. artificial fly) are rarely caught above the weight of three pounds. W e lastyeart ^
received some very singular trouts from a small loch called Lochdow, near Pit main, in Inverness-shire. Their heads were si
round and their upper jaws were truncated like that of a bull-dog. They do not occur in any of the neighbouring lochs, an
not been observed above the weight of half a pound. Trouts of the ordinary shape likewise occur in Lochdow.
ANGLING.
: linn above the fork to the gimp, with a silk or cotton thread;
5^.0r a neater method is, to pass the needle and thread
through the side of the bait, about half an inch above the
tail so as to encircle the gimp in the interior. The baits
used vary in weight from one to four ounces, and the hooks
must be proportioned to the size of the fish with which
they are baited. The barbs of the hook ought not to pro¬
ject much beyond the sides of the mouth, because, as the
pike generally seizes his prey crosswise, and turns it be¬
fore it is pouched or swallowed, if he feels the points of
the hook he may cast it out entirely.
In trolling for pike, it is advised to keep as far from the
water as possible, and to commence casting close by the
near shore, with the wind blowing from behind. When
the water is clear and the weather bright, some prefer to
fish against the wind. “ After trying closely,” says Mr
Salter, “ make your next throw further in the water, and
draw and sink the baited hook, drawing it straight up¬
wards near to the surface of the water, and also to right
and left, searching carefully every foot of water; and draw
your bait with the stream, because you must know that
jack and pike lay in wait for food with their heads and
eyes pointing up the stream, to catch what may be com¬
ing down; therefore experienced trollers fish a river or
stream down, or obliquely across ; but the inconsiderate
as frequently troll against the stream, which is improper,
because they then draw their baited hook behind either
I jack or pike when they are stationary, instead of bringing
it before his eyes and mouth to tempt him. Note—Be
particularly careful, in drawing up or taking the baited
hook out of the water, not to do it too hastily, because you
will find by experience that the jack and pike strike or
seize your bait more frequently when you are drawing it
upwards than when it is sinking. And also further observe,
that when drawing your bait upwards, if you occasionally
shake the rod, it will cause the bait to spin and twist
about, which is very likely to attract either jack or pike.”1
These fish are partial to the bends of rivers and the
bays of lakes, where the water is shallow, and abounding
in weeds, reeds, water lilies, &c. In fishing with the gorge
hook, and the angler feels a run, he ought not to strike
for several minutes after the fish has become stationary,
lest he pull the bait away before it is fairly pouched. If
a pike makes a very short run, then remains stationary for
about a minute, and again makes one or two short runs,
he is probably merely retiring to some quiet haunt before
he swallows the bait; but if, after remaining still for three
or four minutes, he begins to shake the line and move
about, the inference is that he has pouched the bait, and
feels some annoyance from the hook within, then such
part of the line as has been slackened may be wound up,
and the fish struck. It is an unsafe practice to lay down
the rod during the interval between a run and the sup¬
posed pouching of the bait, because it not unfrequently
happens that a heavy fish, when he first feels the hooks in
his interior, will make a sudden and most violent rush up
the river or along the lake, and the line is either instantly
broken, or is carried, together with both the rod and reel,
for ever beyond the angler’s reach. “ When the pike
cometh,” says Colonel Venables, “ you may see the water
move, at least you may feel him; then slack your line
and give him length enough to run away to his hould,
whither he will go directly, and there pouch it, ever be¬
ginning (as you may observe) with the head, swallowing
that first. Thus let him lye untill you see the line move in
the water, and then you may certainly conclude he hath Angl'
pouched your bait, and rangeth about for more; then^-^v-
with your trowl wind up your line till you think you have
it almost streight, then with a smart jerk hook him, and
make your pleasure to your content.”2
The fresher and cleaner the bait is kept, whether for
trolling, live-bait, or snap-fishing, the greater is the
chance of success.
As pike, notwithstanding their usual voracity, are some¬
times, as the anglers phrase it, more on the play than
the feed, they will occasionally seize the bait across the
body, and, instead of swallowing it, blow it from them re¬
peatedly and then take no further notice of it. The skil¬
ful and wily angler must instantly convert his gorge into
a snap, and strike him in the lips or jaws when he next
attempts such dangerous amusement. The dead snap
may be made either with two or four hooks. (See Plate
XLV. fig. 21.) Take about twelve inches of stout gimp,
make a loop at one end, at the other tie a hook (size No.
2), and about an inch farther up the gimp tie another
hook of the same dimensions; then pass the loop of the
gimp into the gill of a dead bait-fish, and out at its mouth,
and draw the gimp till the hook at the bottom comes just
behind the back fin of the bait, and the point and barb
are made to pierce slightly through its skin, which keeps
the whole steady; now pass the ring of a drop-bead lead
over theloop of the gimp,fix the leadinsidethebait’smouth,
and sew the mouth up. (See Plate XLV. fig. 22.) This will
suffice for the snap with a couple of hooks. If the four-
hooked snap is desired (and it is very killing), take a piece
of stout gimp about four inches long, and making a loop at
one end, tie a couple of hooks of the same size, and in the
same manner as those before described. After the first two
and the lead are in their places, and previous to the sewing
up of the mouth, pass the loop of the shorter gimp through
the opposite gill, and out at the mouth of the bait; then
draw up the hooks till they occupy a position correspond¬
ing to those of the other side: next pass the loop of the
longer piece of gimp through that of the shorter, and pull
all straight: finally, tie the two pieces of gimp together
close to the fish’s mouth, and sew the latter up.
Some anglers prefer fishing for pike with a floated line
and a live bait. When a single hook is used for this pur¬
pose, it is baited in one or other of the two following ways:
Either pass the point and barb of the hook through the
lips of the bait, towards the side of the mouth, or through
beneath the base of the anterior portion of the dorsal fin.
(See Plate XLV. fig. 25.) W’hen a double hook is used
take a baiting needle, hook its curved end into the loop of
the gimp, and pass its point beneath the skin of the bait
from behind the gills upwards in a sloping direction, bring¬
ing it out behind the extremity of the dorsal fin; then
draw the gimp till the bend of the hooks are brought to
the place where the needle entered, and attach the loop
to the trolling line. (See Plate XLV. fig. 23.) Unless a
kind of snap-fishing is intended, the hooks for the above
purpose should be of such a size as that neither the points
nor the barbs project beyond either the shoulder or the
belly of the bait.
. Snap-fishing is certainly a less scientific method of ang¬
ling for pike than that with the gorge or live bait; for
when the hooks are baited the angler casts in search,
draws, raises, and sinks his bait, until he feels a bite. He
then strikes with violence, and drags or throws his victim
on shore; for there is little fear of his tackle giving way,
1 The Troller'i Guide, by T. F. Salter, Lond. 1820. In the work above quoted will be found a full account of the necessary imple¬
ments, and the most approved practice, in this department of the art.
The Experienced Angler, p. 36. Third edit. Lond. 1668.
VOL. III.
T
14G A N G
Angling, as that used in snap-fishing is of the largest and strongest
kind. “This hurried and unsportsman-like way of taking
fish,” it is observed in the Trailers Guide, “ can only
please those who value the game more than the sport af¬
forded by killing a jack or pike with tackle which gives
the fish a chance of escaping, and excites the angler’s
skill and patience, mixed with a certain pleasing anxiety,
and the reward of his hopes. Neither has the snap-fisher
so good a chance of success, unless he angles in a pond or
piece of water where the jack or pike are very numerous
or half starved, and will hazard their lives for almost any
thing that comes in their way. But in rivers where they
are well fed, worth killing, and rather scarce, the coarse
snap-tackle, large hooks, &c. generally alarm them. On
the whole, I think it is two to one against the snap in most
rivers; and if there are many weeds in the water, the
large hooks of the snap, by standing rank, are continu¬
ally getting foul, damaging the bait, and causing much
trouble and loss of time.”
Pike sometimes rise at an artificial fly, especially in
dark, windy days. The fly ought to be dressed upon
a double hook, and composed of very gaudy materials.
The head is formed of a little fur, some gold twist, and
(if the angler’s taste inclines that way, for it is probably
a matter of indifference to the fish) two small black or
blue beads for eyes. The body is framed rough, full, and
round, the wings not parted, but made to stand upright
on the back, with some small feathers continued down
the back to the end of the tail, so that when finished they
may exceed the length of the hook. The whole should
be about the bulk of a wren. The largest pike ever killed
in Britain was taken with a peacock-feather fly in Loch
Ken, near New Galloway. It weighed 72 pounds.1
During clear and calm wreather in summer and autumn,
pike take most freely about three in the afternoon: in
winter they may be angled for with equal chances of suc¬
cess during the whole day: early in the morning and late
in the evening are the periods best adapted for the spring.
The Carp. (Cyprinus Carpio.')
This fish, like the preceding, is asserted to have been
introduced into England by Leonard Mascal, a gentleman
of Sussex, early in the 16th century; and in good com¬
pany, if there is truth in the old distich,
Turkies, carps, hops, pickerell, and beer,
Came into England all in one year.
The carp is, however, mentioned as a dayntous fysshe,
though scarce, by Juliana Barnes, in the year 1496. It
attains to a prodigious size in the waters of the south of
Europe, and in the Lake of Como is said sometimes to
weigh 200 pounds. It breeds more freely in ponds than
in rivers, although those of the latter are more esteemed.
Angling for carp requires, according to Walton, “ a very
large measure of patience.” The haunts of this fish in
the winter months are the broadest and least disturbed
parts of rivers, where the bottom is soft and muddy; but
in summer it usually lies in deep holes, near some scour,
under roots of trees, and beneath hollow banks, or in the
neighbourhood of beds of aquatic weeds. In ponds they
thrive best in a rich marl or clayey soil, where they have
the benefit of shade from an overhanging grove of trees.
Small carp hite eagerly, but the larger and more experi¬
enced fish are deceived with difficulty. The rod should
be of good length, the line strong, furnished with a quill
float, and ending in a few lengths of the best silk-worm
gut. The hook is proportioned to the size of the bait, and
a single shot is fixed about 12 inches above it. “ Three
LING.
rods,” says Daniel, “ may be employed; one with the baiti
at mid-water, another a foot or less from the bottom, and®
the third to lie upon it when the line and lead are not *
discovered, as in the two former ; the places intended to
be fished in should, the night before, be ground-baited with
grains, blood, and broken worms, incorporated together
with clay, the hook baits should be red worms taken out
of tan, flag or marsh-worms, green peas so boiled as to
soften, but not to break the skin, and throwing some in now
and then. When this bait is used (which should be with
one on the hook to swim a foot from the ground), in case
of a bite, strike immediately; a large carp, upon taking
the bait, directly steers for the opposite side of the river
or pond.”2 During hot weather, when these fish are about
to spawn, and whilst lying among the weeds near the sur¬
face, they may be angled for with a fine line, without
either sink or float. The hook may be baited with a red
worm, a pair of gentles, a caterpillar, or a cad bait, and
thrown lightly as in fly-fishing, and then drawn towards
the angler. If it can be made to fall first upon the leaf of!
some water plant, and then dropped upon the surface, the
chance of success will be increased. The best months are
May, June, and July, and the most advisable times of the
day are from sunrise to eight in the morning, and from
sunset during the continuance of twilight, and onwards
through the night. It is the opinion of many, though we
cannot trace the origin of the idea, no doubt an erroneous
one, that the 10th of April is a fatal day for carp.
The Bream. {Cyprinus Brama.)
This fish breeds both in deep, slow-running rivers, and
in ponds. It prefers the latter. The most enticing bait
is a well-conditioned earthworm, although the angler also
uses paste made of bread and honey, wasp grubs, grass¬
hoppers, &c. Boiled wheat serves well for ground-baiting
the spot on the preceding nights, and some fasten a num¬
ber of worms to a piece of turf, and sink it to the bottom.
When the ground has been thus prepared, and the tackle
put in order, the angler should commence his labours by
three or four in the morning. Let him approach the
place with caution, so as not to be perceived by the
fish, and cast his hook neatly baited with a live and mov¬
ing worm, in such manner that the lead may lie about
the centre of the prepared ground. The bream is a strong
fish, and runs smartly wdien first struck; but after a few
turns he falls over on his side, and allows the angler to
land him without much trouble. He is by no means so
lively as the carp. The best hours for bream are from
four till eight in the morning, and from four in the after¬
noon till eight in the evening. In the river Trent, near
Newark, there are two kinds of bream. The common
species is that called the carp bream, from its yellow
colour; and it sometimes attains the weight of eight pounds.
The other species or variety, regarded by Mr Revett
Shepherd as a nondescript, never exceeds a pound in
weight. It is of a silvery hue, and is known by the name
of white bream.3 The bream, though rare in Scotland,
occurs in Loch Maben.
The Tench. {Cyprinus Tinea.)
This species is a lover of still waters, and his haunts
in rivers are among weeds, or pools well screened by
bushes. Tench are found spawning from June till Septem¬
ber, and they are in the best condition from the latter
month till the end of May. The tackle should be strong,
with a swan or goose-quill float for ponds, and a piece of
cork for rivers. The hook (in size from No. 4 to 6) should
1 Daniel’s Rural Sports, vol. ii. p. 270.
“ Ibid. p. 257*
3 Linn. Trans, vol. xiv. p. 037*
A N G I
,r be whint to sound silk-worm gut, with two or three shot
«^xed to it at the distance of a foot. The bait should float
about a couple of feet from the surface, and should be
drawn occasionally gently upwards, and allowed slowly to
sink again. Small marsh worms, middle-sized lobs, or the
red species found in rotten tan, are to be recommended.
« He will bite,” says Walton, “ at a paste made of brown
bread and honey, or at a marsh-worm, or a lob-worm : he
inclines very much to any paste with which tan is mixed,
and he will bite also at a smaller worm with his head
nipped off, and a sod-worm put on the hook before that
worm ; and I doubt not but that he will also in the three
hot months, for in the nine colder he stirs not much, bite
at a flag-worm, or at a green gentle: but can positively
say no more of the tench, he being a fish that I have not
often angled for; but I wish my honest scholar may, and
be ever fortunate when he fishes.”
The Barbel. ( Cyprinus Barbus.)
In a culinary point of view this is one of the worst of
the fresh-water fishes. It is gregarious, and roots among
the soft banks with its nose, like a sow. The angling
season commences in May, and continues till September.
The most approved hours are from daylight till ten in the
morning, and from four in the afternoon till about sunset.
The line should be strong and rather heavily leaded, so
that the bait may float about half an inch from the ground.
Considerable caution is required in playing this fish, as
he is apt to run off when struck, with great violence, to¬
wards some stronghold, and in so doing sometimes breaks
both rod and line. He is rather nice in his baits, which
must be kept clean and sweet, and untainted by musty
moss. “ One caution,” says Mr Daniel, “ in angling for
barbel, will bear repetition: never throw in the bait far¬
ther than enabled by a gentle cast of the rod, letting the
plumb fall into the water with the least possible noise. It
is an error to think that large fish are in the middle of the
river: experience teaches the fallacy of this opinion : they
naturally seek their food near the banks, and agitating
the waters by an injudicious management of the plumb
will certainly drive them away. It is incredible the quan¬
tities of barbel sometimes caught by this method. Per¬
sons of great veracity have asserted that upwards of one
hundredweight have been taken in one morning.”
The Chub. (Cyprinus Cephalus.)
The rivers of England are stored with a much finer
variety of fresh-water fish than those of Scotland. The
chub occurs in the Annan. It is however a fish but
lightly esteemed, either for sport or the table. He is a
dull fish on the hook, bites eagerly, and is soon tired.
Caution is requisite on the part of the angler, as the chub
is naturally fearful, and sinks towards the bottom of the
stream on the slightest alarm. The baits used are mag¬
gots, beetles, grasshoppers, salmon-roe, &c. Black and
dun flies gaudily dressed, and ribbed with gold or silver
twist, are well adapted to take them in streams. They
likewise rise at the red-spinner. But perhaps the best
way to secure this fish is by dibbing with a grasshopper.
As chub are often seen in some favourite haunt lying near
the surface of the pool, the angler, concealing himself as
much as possible, ought to move his rod cautiously over
the spot, and drop his bait gently upon the water, a few
inches in advance of the fish’s head. The landing net is
particularly necessary in angling for chub, as the best
spots are generally encumbered by trees or bushes, which
prevent the fish from being drawn to hand, or pulled
ashore.
. I N G. 147
The Dace. (Cyprinus Leuciscus.) Angling.
This fish is of gregarious habits, and haunts the deeper
waters near the piles of bridges, shady pools, and beneath
the masses of collected foam caused by eddies. In the
warmer months of the year they also congregate in the
shallows. They rise at a variety of flies, and are likewise
angled for with red worms, brandlings, &c. Above Rich¬
mond, as soon as the weeds begin to rot, a grasshopper
used as an artificial fly is found very successful in hot
weather among the shallows. This mode can only be
practised in a boat, with a heavy stone to serve as an an¬
chor, fastened to a few yards of rope. The boat drifts
gently down the stream, and the stone is dropped when¬
ever the angler considers himself in the neighbourhood
of a likely place. Standing in the stern, he first throws
directly down the stream, and then to the right and left;
and after trying for about a quarter of an hour in one
spot, he again weighs anchor, and proceeds to another
station.
The Roach. ( Cyprinus Rutilus.)
The carp has been named the “ water-fox” on account
of his subtlety, and the roach the “ water-sheep,” by rea¬
son of his silliness. This fish makes good soup, though
very bony, and otherwise not much esteemed. The sea¬
son for roach fishing in the Thames, where it attains to a
larger size than elsewhere, commences about the end of
August. “ Next let me tell you,” says Walton, “ you
shall fish for this roach in winter with paste or gentles, in
April with worms or caddis, in the very hot months with
little white snails, or with flies under water; for he sel¬
dom takes them at the top, though the dace will. In
many of the hot months roaches may be also caught
thus :—Take a May-fly or ant-fly; sink him with a little
lead to the bottom, near the piles or posts of a bridge, or
near to any posts of a wear—I mean any deep place
where roaches lie quietly—and then pull your fly up very
leisurely, and usually a roach will follow your bait to the
very top of the water, and gaze on it there, and run at it,
and take it, lest the fly should fly away from him.”1 Vast
shoals of this species ascend the streams in the parish of
Killearn, from Loch Lomond, and are caught by nets in
thousands. Their emigration from the loch, however,
continues only for the space of three or four days towards
the end of May.2
The Bleak. ( Cyprinus Alburnus.)
This small and active fish may be angled for with what
is called a pater noster line, which consists of half a dozen
fine hooks fastened about 6 or 8 inches from each other.
These may be baited with gentles, or more variously, to
increase the temptation, with a gentle, a small red woi'm,
a fly, &c. and thus several fish may be hooked at the same
time. In angling for bleak the tackle must be very fine.
In fresh streams they rise well at the black gnat, or any
other small sad-coloured fly.
The Gudgeon. (Cyprinus Gobio.)
Gudgeons are angled for near the ground with a small red
worm. They frequent the shallows during the hot months,
and retire before winter to the stiller and deeper waters.
As an article of food they are highly esteemed.
The Minnow. ( Cyprinus Phoxinus.)
This is the fish by means of which most youthful ang¬
lers commence their experience of the art. “ He is a
sharp biter,” says Walton, “ at a small worm, and in hot
1 Complete Angler, p. 218. 2 Statistical Account of Scotland, vol. xvi. p. 100.
148
ANGLING.
Angling, weather makes excellent sport for young anglers, or boys,
or women that love that recreation; and in the spring
they make of them excellent minnow-tansies ; for being
washed well in salt, and their heads and tails cut olf, and
their guts taken out, and not washed after, they prove
excellent for that use; that is, being fried with yolks of
eggs, the flower of cowslips and of primroses, and a little
tansie. Thus used, they make a dainty dish of meat.”
The Loach. ( Cobitis Barbatula.)
The loach is entirely a ground fish,living in clear and gra¬
velly streams. It is an excellent bait for eels, and is also
a nutritious food for man, though of a slimy and somewhat
forbidding aspect.
The Eel. (Anguilla Vulgaris.)
This well-known and snake-like species has its favourite
haunts in the muddy bottom of the bays of lakes, among
weeds, under large stones, and in the clefts of the banks
of rivers. The habits of the eel are nocturnal, and the
largest and finest are usually caught with night-lines.
They are troublesome fish, from their great tenacity of
life, and the tortuous motions by which, in their endea¬
vours to disengage themselves, they entangle or destroy
the angler’s tackle. They afford little amusement to those
accustomed to the more elegant branches of the art.
The isle of Ely, according to some authorities, was so
called in consequence of its being the place from whence
the kings of England were anciently supplied with eels.
Indeed Cambridgeshire is still famous for this fish.1
The Perch. (Perea Fluviatilis.)
This gregarious fish is angled for with a worm or min¬
now. It is a bold biter during the warm months of the
year, though very abstemious in the winter season. When
a shoal is met with, great sport is frequently obtained. A
small cork float is used, and the bait is hung at various
depths, according to circumstances, a knowledge of which
can only be obtained by practice. In angling near the
bottom, the bait should be frequently raised nearly to the
surface, and then allowed gently to sink again. When
the weather is cool and cloudy, with a ruffling breeze
from the south, perch will bite during the whole day.
The best hours towards the end of spring are from seven
to eleven in the morning, and from two to six in the af¬
ternoon. In warm and bright summer weather, excellent
times are from sunrise till six or seven in the morning,
and from six in the evening till sunset.
The first printed work on angling in the English lan¬
guage is by Dame Juliana Barnes or Berners ( The Trea-
tyse of Fgsshinge with an Angle), and forms part of the
JBooh of St Albans, emprented at Westmestre by Wynken
de Worde, in 1496. Of this book there are various old
editions, and it has, we believe, been twice reprinted in
modern times. It is less useful to the angler than curious
in the eyes of the bibliographer. Hawking, Hunting,
Fouling, and Fishing, with the true measures of Blowing,
&c. now newly collected by W. G. Faukener. 4to, Lond.
1596. A Book of Fishing with Hooke and Line, and of all
other Instruments thereunto belonginge, made by L. M.
4to, Lond. 1590. This work contains remarks on the pre¬
servation of fish in pools, and some improvements on the
directions of the “ religious sportswoman” Juliana Barnes.
L. M. signifies Leonard Mascall. A Neu Book of good
Husbandry, very pleasaunt, and of great profite, both for
gentlemen and yeomen ; conteining the Order and Maner
of Making of Fish-pondes, with the Breeding, Preseruing,
and Multiplyinge of the Carpe, 1 ench, Pike, and Troute,
and diverse kindes of other Fresh Fish. Written in La-
tine by Janus Dubrauius, and translated into English at
the speciale request of George Churchey, Fellow of Lion’s
Inne, the 9th Februarie 1599. 4to, Lond. 1599. Certain
Experiments concerning Fish and Fruit, practised by
John Taverner, Gentleman, and by him published for the
benefit of others. 4to, Lond. 1600. The Secrets of Ang-
ling; teaching the Choicest Tooles, Baytes, and.Seasons
for the taking of any Fish in Pond or River: practised
and 'familiarly opened in Three Bookes. By J. D., Esquire.
8vo, Lond. 1613. The author of this work is named in
the third edition of Walton’s Angler as one Jo. Davors;
but, from an entry in the books of Stationers Hall, as given
in the second volume of “ British Bibliography,” p. 355,
he is mentioned as John Dennys, Esquire. Large ex¬
tracts from this work are given by Sir Egerton Bridges, in
the last volume of his Censura Literaria. The poetry, of
which several passages are quoted by Walton, is remark¬
able for its beauty. As the volume is rare, we shall here
present the reader with a few stanzas.
You nymphs that in the springs and waters sweet
Your dwelling have, of every hill and dale,
And oft amid the meadows green do meet
To sport and play, and hear the nightingale,
And in the rivers fresh do wash your feet,
While Progne’s sister tells her wofull tale ;
Such ayd and power unto my verses lend
As may suffice this little work to end.
And thou, sweet Boyd, that with thy wat’ry sway
Dost wash the cliffes of Deignton and of Week,
And through their rocks with crooked winding way
Thy mother Avon runnest soft to seek;
In whose fair streams the speckled trout doth play,
The roach, the dace, the gudgin, and the bleike;
Teach me the skill, with slender line and hook,
To take each fish of river, pond, and brook.
In comparing the amusement of angling with the ex¬
citement to be derived from gaming and other pleasures,
he adds—
O let me rather on the pleasant brinke
Of Tyne and Trent possess some dwelling place,
Where I may see my quill and corke down sinke.
With eager bite of barbel, bleike, or dace ;
And on the world and his Creatour thinke.
While they proud Thais painted sheet embrace ;
And with the fume of strong tobacco smoke
And quaffing round are ready for to choke.
Let them that list these pastimes then pursue,
And on their pleasing fancies feed their fill;
So I the fields and meadows green may view,
And by the rivers fresh may walke at wille,
Among the dazies and the violets blue,
Bed hyacinth and yellow daffodil,
Purple narcissus like the morning rayes,
Pale ganderglas, and azore culverkayes.
I count it better pleasure to behold
The goodly compasse of the lofty skie;
And in the midst thereof, like burning gold.
The flaming chariot of the world’s great eye;
1 “ Here I hope I shall not tresspass upon gravity, in mentioning a passage observed by the reverend professor of Oxford, Doc*®1
Prideaux, referring the reader to him for the author’s attesting the same. When the priests in this part of the country would st
retain their wives, in despight of whatever the pope or monks would doe to the contrary, their wives and children were miraculous}
turned all into eels (surely the great into Congers, the less into Greggs), whence it had the name of Eely. I understand him, a Li -
of Eels.” (Fuller’s Worthies. Cambridgeshire.)
ANGLING.
149
The wat’ry clouds that in the ayre uproPd
With sundry kinds of painted colours flie ;
And faire Aurora lifting up her head,
All blushing rise from old Tithonus bed.
The hills and mountains raised from the plains,
The plains extended levell with the ground,
The ground divided into sundry vains,
The vains enclos’d with running rivers round,
The rivers making way thro’ nature’s chains,
With headlong course into the sea profound;
The surging sea beneath the vallies low,
The vallies sweet, and lakes that lovely flow.
Then follow the two stanzas quoted at the beginning of
this article. Our next work on angling is The Pleasures
of Princes, or Good Men’s Recreations; containing a Dis¬
course of the General Art of Fishing with the Angle, or
otherwise, and of all the hidden secrets belonging tfiere-
unto; together with the Choyce, Ordering, Breeding, and
Dyetting of the Fighting Cocke ; being a worke never in
that nature handled by any former author. Lond. 1614,
4to. This work forms part of the second book of the
English Husbandman, by G. M. (Gervais Markham.) A
Briefe Treatise of Fishing; with the Art of Angling.
Lond. 1614, 4to. This work is little else than a reprint
from a portion of the Book of St Alban’s, and forms part
of the Jewell for Gentrie, by T. S. Cheap and Good
Husbandry, by Gervais Markham. 4to, Lond. 1616. This
work contains a chapter on Fish and Fish-Ponds. Country
Contentments; or the Husbandman’s Recreations, bjr J. M.
In the fifth and sixth editions of this volume (4to, Lond.
1633 and 1639), will be found, the Whole Art of Angling,
as it was written in a small treatise in rime, and now, for
the better understanding of the reader, put into prose, and
adorned and enlarged. This work is a prose version, with
additions, of Davors’ Secrets of Angling. The Country
Gentleman’s Companion, 2 vols. 12mo, Lond. 1753, is a
reprint, without acknowledgement, of Markham’s work.
The Art of Angling ; wherein are discovered many rare
secrets very necessary to be known by all that delight in
that recreation, written by Thomas Barker, an antient
practitioner in the said art. 12mo, Lond. 1651. In an
epistle to the reader, prefixed to the first edition, and in
the dedication of the two last to Edward Lord Montague,
Barker speaks of himself as having practised angling
for more than half a century. He also says he was
born and educated at Bracemeall, in the liberty of Sa¬
lop, being a freeman and burgesse of the same city;
adding, “ if any noble or gentle angler, of whatever de¬
gree soever he be, have a mind to discourse of any of
these wayes and experiments, I live in Henry the 7th’s
Gifts, the next doore to the Gatehouse, in Westm. My
name is Barker, where I shall be ready, as long as please
God, to satisfye them, and maintain my art during life,
which is not like to be long.” See British Bibliography,
by Sir Eg. Bridges and Joseph Haselwood, vol. ii. p. 356.
I he Compleat Angler, or the Contemplative Man’s Recrea¬
tion ; being a discourse of Fish and Fishing, not unworthy
the perusal of most anglers. 12mo, Lond. 1653. This is
the first edition of Izaak Walton’s celebrated work. It
werrt through five editions during the author’s lifetime;
and in the course of its republication was enlarged and
improved. I he fifth edition forms the first part of the
niversal Angler, by Walton, Cotton, and Venables, 12mo,
°nd. 1676 ; and is accompanied hy & second part (written
J Gotten), which treats more fully of fly-fishing. The
I'- Ji' an(^ seventh editions were published in 1750 and
‘J' ’ Moses Browne, author of the Piscatory Eclogues
M ° i\er " ?r^s; The eighth edition was published by Sir
‘Oin Hawkins in 1760, and has been succeeded by many
er® 81nce that period, of which the most recent and
°s eautifully adorned is that by John Major, with an
introductory essay and illustrative notes. 8vo, Lond. Angling.
1823. The third edition of the Compleat Gentleman, by'^v^.
Henry Peacham, 4to, Lond. 1661, contains a chapter
concerning Fishing. The Experienced Angler, or Ang¬
ling Improved ; being a general discourse of Angling.
8vo, Lond. 1662. This work, of which there are seve¬
ral editions, is by Colonel Robert Venables. Its fourth
edition forms the third part of the Universal Angler.
Angling Improved to Spiritual Uses, forms part of an
octavo volume entitled Occasional Reflections upon se¬
veral Subjects, by the Hon. Robert Boyle. 8vo, Lond.
1665. In a volume called The Epitome of the Art
of Husbandry, by J. B. Gent. 12mo, Lond. 1669, are
brief experimental directions for the right use of the
angle. The author’s name was Blagrave. The Angler’s
Delight; containing the whole Art of Neat and Clean
Angling; wherein is taught the readiest way to take all
sorts of Fish, from the Pike to the Minnow, together with
their proper baits, haunts, and time of fishing for them,
whether in mere, pond, or river. As also the method of
fishing in Hackney River, and the names of all the best
stands there; with the manner of making all sorts of good „
tackle fit for any water whatsoever. The like never be¬
fore in print. By William Gilbert, Gent. 12mo, Lond.
1676. The Compleat Troller, or the Art of Trolling, by
Robert Nobbes. 8vo, Lond. 1682. There are several
editions of this work, of which the third and fourth are
appended to the Angler’s Pocket-Book. Gentleman’s
Recreations ; treating of the Art of Horsemanship, Hunt¬
ing, Fowling, Fishing, and Agriculture. Fol. Lond. 1686.
The Gentleman’s Recreation, in four parts, viz. Hunting,
Hawking, Fowling, Fishing. 8vo, Lond. 1674. (By Ni¬
cholas Cox.) The Angler’s Vade Mecum, or a compen¬
dious yet full Discourse of Angling. By T. Cheetham.
8vo, Lond. 1681. Northern Memoirs, calculated for the
meridian of Scotland; wherein most or all of the Cities,
Citadels, Seaports, Castles, Forts, Fortresses, Rivers, and
Rivulets, are compendiously described; to which is added,
the Contemplative and Practical Angler, by way of diver¬
sion ; with a Narrative of that dextrous and mysterious
Art experimented in England, and perfected in more
remote and solitary parts of Scotland; by way of Dia¬
logue : writ in the year 1658, but not till now made
publick. By Richard Franck, Philanthropus. 8vo, Lond.
1694. Of this curious volume a reprint was published of
late years. The Gentleman Fisher; or the Whole Art of
Angling. 8vo, Lond., second edition, 1727. The True Art of
Angling, by J. S. 24to, Lond. 1696. The Compleat Fisher,
or the True Art of Angling, by J. S., third edition, 1704.
The preceding work, revised and corrected by W. Wright
and other experienced anglers, was republished in 1740.
The Compleat Fisherman; being a large and particular
account of all the several ways of Fishing now practised
in Europe ; by James Saunders, Esq. of Newton-Awbery,
upon Trent. 12mo, Lond. 1724. The Genteel Recrea¬
tion, or the Pleasure of Angling; a Poem: with a dia¬
logue between Piscator and Corydon. By John Whitney,
a lover of the Angle. 8vo, Lond. 1700. The School of
Recreation, or a Guide to the most ingenious Exercises;
by R. H. 8vo, Lond. 1701. The Secrets of Angling, by
C. G. 12mo, Lond. 1705. The Angler’s Sure Guide, or
Angling Improved and Methodically Digested, by R. H.
Esq. 8vo, Lond. 1706. The Innocent Epicure, or the
Art of Angling; a Poem. 8vo, Lond. 1697. The whole
Art of Fishing, being a Collection and Improvement of all
that has been written on this subject; with many new ex¬
periments. 12mo, Lond. 1714. The second edition of
this work is entitled The Gentleman Fisher, or the whole
Art of Angling. 8vo, Lond. 1727. A Discourse of Fish
and Fish-Ponds-, by a Person of Honour. 8vo, London.
ANGLING.
The author of this work was the Hon. Roger North. A
subsequent edition (of which there were more than one}
bears the date of 1713. It was also published as an ap¬
pendage to the Gentleman Farmer. 8vo, Lond. 1 /26.
The Country Gentleman’s Vade Mecum, by G. Jacob,
Gent. 8vo, Lond. 1717; and the Compleat Sportsman, by
the same author (1718), of which the 3d part relates to
Fish and Fishing. England’s Interest, or the Gentleman
and Farmer’s Friend, by Sir John Moore. 8vo, Lond. 1721.
The Gentleman Angler, Lond. 1726. Piscatory Eclogues
(by Moses Browne). 8vo, Lond. 1729. Of this work there
are several editions. Sportsman’s Dictionary, or the Gentle¬
man’s Companion in all Rural Recreations. 2 vols. 8vo,
1735. The British Angler, or a Pocket Companion for Gen-
tlemenFisherSjby John Williamson, Gent. 8vo,Lond. 1740.
The Art of Angling, Rock and Sea Fishing, with a Natu¬
ral History of River, Pond, and Sea Fish, by R. Brookes.
8vo, Lond. 1740. Of this treatise there have been various
reprints, at different periods, up to the year 1807. Ang¬
ling, a Poem. 12mo, Lond. 1741, 2d edit. The Art of
Angling improved in all its Parts, especially Fly-fishing,
by Richard Bowlker. 12mo, Worcester. Published some
time preceding the year 1759. There is a recent edition
(1806) by Charles Bowlker, Ludlow. The Angler’s Ma¬
gazine, or Necessary and Delightful Store House ; where¬
in every thing proper to be known relating to his art is
digested in such a method as to assist his knowledge and
practice upon bare inspection; being the completest
manual ever published upon the subject, largely treating
of all things relating to Fish and Fishing, and whereby
the angler may acquire his experience without the help
of a master. By a Lover of that innocent and healthful
diversion. 12mo, Lond. 1754. The Angler’s Eight Dia¬
logues, in Verse. 8vo, Lond. 1758. The Art of Angling,
eight Dialogues, in Verse. 8vo. The Universal Angler, or
that art Improved in all its Parts, especially in Fly-fishing.
8vo, Lond. 1766. The Complete Sportsman, or Country
Gentleman’s Recreation, by Thomas Fairfax. 8vo, London.
The Complete Fisherman, or Universal Angler. 8vo,
Lond. (2d edit.) Lond. 1778. The Angler’s Complete
Assistant, being an Epitome of the whole Art of Angling.
4th edit. 4to, London. The True Art of Angling. 12mo,
Lond. 1770. Translation of a Letter from the Hanover
Magazine, No. 23, March 21, 1763; giving an account of
a method to breed fish to advantage. 8vo, Lond. 1778.
The Angler’s Museum, or the whole Art of Float and Fly
Fishing, by Thomas Shirley. 12mo, Lond. 1784. The
Fisherman, or Art of Angling made Easy, by Guiniad
Charfey, Esq. 8vo, London. The North Country Ang¬
ler, or the Art of Angling as practised in the Northern
Counties of England. 8vo, Lond. 1786. A Concise Trea¬
tise on the Art of Angling, by Thomas Best, Gent. 8vo,
Lond. 1787. Of this work there have been published many
editions, of which the 9th is dated 1810. An Essay on
the Right of Angling in the River Thames, and in all the
other public Navigable Rivers. 8vo, Reading. A Letter
to a Proprietor of a Fishery in the River Thames; in
which an attempt is made to show in whom the right of
Fishing in public streams now resides. 2d edit. 8vo,
Reading, 1787. The Natural History of Fishes and Ser¬
pents, by R. Brookes; to which is added, an Appendix,
containing the whole Art of Float and Fly Fishing. 8vo,
Lond. 1790. The Young Angler’s Pocket Companion,
by Ralph Cole, Gent. 12mo, Lond. 1795. The Modern
Angler, being a practical Treatise on the Art of Fishing,
&c., in a series of Letters to a Friend; by Robert Salter,
Esq. 12mo, London. Angling in all its branches reduced
to a complete Science, in three parts, by Samuel Taylor,
Gent. 8vo, London, 1800. Practical Observations on
Angling in the River Trent. 8vo, Newark, 1801. Every
Man his own Fisherman, by Thomas Smith. 24to, Lon- Atj
don. The Driffield Angler, in two parts, by Alexander^,
Mackintosh of Great Driffield, Yorkshire. 8vo, Gains¬
borough. The Angler’s Pocket Book; to which is pre-
fixed, Nobbes’ celebrated Treatise on the Art of Trolling.
8vo, Norw. The New and Complete Angler, or Univer-
sal Fisherman, by Richard Pollard, Esq. of Clapton, Mid¬
dlesex. 8vo, Lond. 1802. Rural Sports, by W. B. Da¬
niel. 4to, Lond. 1802. Part of vol. ii. relates to fly-fish¬
ing, and the other kinds of angling. The Kentish Ang-
ler, or the Young Fisherman’s Instructor; showing the
nature and properties of Fish which are angled for in Kent.
12mo, Canterb. 1804. The Complete Angler’s Vade Me¬
cum, being a perfect Code of Instruction on the above
pleasing Science, &c., by Captain T. Williamson. 8vo,
London, 1808. The Angler’s Manual, or concise Les¬
sons of Experience, which the proficient in the delightful
recreation of Angling will not despise, and the Learners
will find the advantage of practising; containing useful
Instructions on every approved method of Angling, and
particularly on the management of the Hand and Rodin
each method. 4to, Liverpool, 1808. The Fisher s Boy,
a Poem, by W. H. Ireland. 8vo, 1808. The Angler’s
Manual, or concise Lessons of Experience, &c. 8vo, 1809.
Practical Observations on Angling in the River Trent.
12mo, 1812. Daniel’s Rural Sports. Royal 8vo, 1812.
Howitt’s Foreign Field Sports, Fisheries, &c. 4to, 1814.
The Secrets of Angling, by J. D. (Davors); augmented
by W. Lawson. 8vo, 1814. The Angler’s Guide, by T.
F. Salter. 8vo, 1815. Art of Angling, by Charles Bowl¬
ker. 12mo, 1815. The Fly-Fisher’s Guide, by G. C.
Bainbridge. 8vo, 1816. W. H. Scot’s British Field
Sports. Royal 8vo, 1818. The Angler’s Vade Mecum,
by W. Carroll. 12mo, 1818. Sportsman’s Repository,
by J. Scott, 1820. The Troller’s Guide, a new and com¬
plete Practical Treatise on the Art of Trolling for Jack
and Pike ; to which is added, the Best Method of Baiting
and Laying Lines for large Eels. By T. F. Salter, author
of the Angler’s Guide. Small 8vo, Lond. 1820. Instruc¬
tions to Young Sportsmen, by Lieutenant-Colonel Haw¬
ker. Royal 8vo, 1824. Salmonia, or Days of Fly-Fishing.
By an Angler (the late Sir Humphry Davy). 12mo,
Lond. 1828.
The preceding extensive list will probably suffice for
the instruction and guidance of the most studious angler.
Those who are curious in regard to bibliographical de¬
tails concerning the different editions of the earlier works
may consult a Catalogue of Books on Angling, 8vo, 1811,
published by Mr Ellis of the British Museum, and ori¬
ginally printed in the British Bibliographer, (t.)
A
Explanation of Plate XLV-
Fig. 1. Salmon-fly for spring.
2. Ditto ditto.
3. Ditto ditto.
4. Ditto for summer.
5. Ditto ditto.
6. Ditto for spring.
7. May fly.
8. Red-brown fly.
9. Green-drake fly.
10. Ditto.
11. Dun cut fly.
12.1 Minnow-tackle
13. J hooks, baited.
14. Moth fly.
15. Palmer fly,
16. Ditto.
Jif
Fig. 17. Ant fly.
18. Hawthorn fly.
19. Minnow-tackle.
20. Gorge hook andbait*
ing-needle.
21. Dead-snap with four
hooks.
22. Dead-snap with two
hooks, baited.
23. Live bait double
hook, baited.
24. Gorge hook, baited.
25. Live bait singlehook,
baited accordingto
two different me¬
thods.
A N G
to. ANGLO-CALVINISTS, a name given by some writers
Ipujo the members of the church of England, as agreeing
'B pith the other Calvinists in most points except church
fP’ 'overnment.
AxGLO-Saxon, an appellation given to the language
* % poken by the English Saxons, in contradistinction to the
11 rue Saxon, as well as to the modern English.
ANGLUS, Thomas. See White, Thomas.
ANGOLA, an extensive coast and territory of Western
Vfrica, extending to the south oi the river Congo or
1R iaire. According to Degrandpre, the name is given to
he whole coast, from Cape Lopez Gonsalvo, in 0. 44. to St
f I Felipe de Benguela, in lat. 12. 14. S., a range of nearly 12
l|| agrees, or about 800 miles. The country strictly called
4 Angola, however, occupies only the middle part of this
! § pace between Congo on the north and Benguela on the
;( 5 outh, being watered by the large rivers Coanza and
E)ando, to the former of which especially, the Portuguese
n iaps assign a very long course through the interior; but
1,1 • either of these rivers has been ascended to any consi-
•1' | erable height.
From the early Portuguese accounts, it would appear
hat Angola or Ngola was a title assumed by the kings,
!■ nd transmitted by one to another from the original
T )under of their dynasty. The first Ngola was reported
tySti y tradition to have been raised to distinction by the skill
if i; dth which he exercised the occupation of a smith ; and
til hough this mode of elevation may be somewhat foreign
to It 3 our ideas, yet this trade is in its products so important
tup .3 a warlike people, and in the infancy of art is attended
w it dth such difficulty, that among the nations of Africa ge-
erally it is held in peculiar honour. Ngola seems also
top 3 have secured the attachment of his countrymen by va-
mf ious benefits, particularly by forming a store of grain,
•om which, during periods of scarcity, he supplied their
Kfl ecessities. Among his successors, several were fierce
aiif; nd warlike; one, in particular, named Chilivagni Angola,
ready extended the boundaries of the kingdom, making
it p . comprehend Matamba and great part of Benguela. His
uccessor Bandi Angola, however, being hard pressed
1 y the Giagas, a fierce and wandering tribe from the
ill iterior, applied for aid to the king of Congo, and was
n ^ ided by a body of Portuguese, who were then established
in | i that territory. Through their valour and discipline
ii iandi was enabled to repel the invaders, and was thus
iif iduced for some time to lavish on the strangers the
li lighest honours. Becoming, however, jealous of their
Pp ower, and perhaps disgusted with their haughty deport-
i| lent, he formed a scheme to cut them off, which they
scaped only partially, and by a very hasty flight. Re-
til li ning to Portugal, they recommended very strongly An-
w ola as a theatre both of commerce and conquest,—an
n| tlvice highly accordant with the enterprising and ambi-
ous views by which that court was then actuated.
Ihe river Congo had in 1484 been discovered, and in
; ime degree explored, by Diego Cam ; but his successors,
i artholomew Diaz and Vasco de Gama, when sailing
J long the coast to the southward, were solely intent on
' B 'aching and passing the dangerous cape which formed
l ie utmost boundary of the African continent. After the
ilendid discoveries and settlements attempted to be
•rmed on the coast of India, the Almeidas and the Al-
aquerques pushed onwards to that region without allow-
*g themselves to be detained by undertaking any settle-
icnts on this barbarous coast. The king, however,
lout the middle of the 16th century, sent out an arma-
icnt under Paulo de Diaz, a descendant of Bartholo-
icvv, constituting him viceroy of all the territories which
e should conquer in this part of Africa. Diaz landed,
K established the Portuguese headquarters at a place
A N G
which he called Loando St Paul, near the mouth of the
Coanza; then proceeded with an armament up that river,
and erected a fort on its banks, whence his troops began
to spread over the surrounding country. The king, un¬
able to brook such rivals to his power, assembled an
army, which, with absurd exaggeration, is represented as
exceeding 100,000 men. It was probalbly, indeed, much
superior in numbers to the handful which the Portuguese
could oppose to it; but such was their superiority in arms
and discipline, that both the king, and his son, who soon
succeeded him, were beaten in successive encounters. At
length there arrived, as ambassadress at the camp of the
Portuguese, no less a person than the king’s sister,
Zingha Bandi, whose manners and address struck them
with surprise and a sort of admiration. They relate, that
on being introduced to Don John, who had succeeded to
the rank of viceroy, and seeing no chair provided for her,
without making any complaint, she caused her attendant
to bend down on her hands and knees, and made use of
her back as a seat. A demand being made of vassalage
and tribute, she rejected it with indignation; and it was
finally agreed that both parties should remain in their
present position, and a mutual exchange of prisoners take
place,—terms which leave much room to doubt if the suc¬
cesses of the Portuguese were so decided as they chose
to represent. Zingha, on the whole highly pleased with
her reception, remained with them a considerable time,
during which she became a convert to Christianity, and
finally parted on the most friendly terms.
The Portuguese were not long in receiving very un¬
favourable tidings of their new convert. By the murder
of her brother and his son, she paved her way to the
sovereignty; and then began, equally with her predeces¬
sors, to feel deep dissatisfaction at the great extent of
valuable territory possessed by this foreign nation. Un¬
able to hope for its recovery by fair means, she form¬
ed alliances with the neighbouring states, and even with
the ferocious and formerly hostile tribe of Giagas; after
which she commenced war, and for many years carried
it on with the utmost fury, putting to death, amid the
most cruel tortures, all Europeans who fell into her
hands. The Portuguese boast of their numerous vic¬
tories over Zingha; yet admit that they were often very
hard pressed, and had at one time their whole force cooped
up and closely besieged on an island in the Coanza. They
were at the same time involved in war with the Dutch,
who in 1641 took their principal settlement of St Paul de
Loando, which was recovered, however, by an expedition
sent thither on the 15th August 1648. As Zingha reject¬
ed all terms of peace which did not include the entire
restoration of the conquered country, the Portuguese en¬
deavoured to set up in opposition to her two successive
members of the royal family, whom they called John I.
and II.; but these phantom monarchs never enjoyed any
weight with the people in general. At length the queen,
having attained to an advanced age, being no longer
seconded by the Dutch, and finding all her efforts to ex¬
pel the Portuguese abortive, listened to overtures of peace.
She indignantly rejected any demand of homage, or of the
most trifling tribute; and the treaty was concluded alto¬
gether on equal terms, except that she paid a high ransom
for one of her sisters, who had fallen into the hands of the
Portuguese. Permission was then obtained to send mis¬
sionaries to her coast, who persuaded her to resume the
profession of Christianity, which she had renounced dur¬
ing her long period of enmity; and, on the 15th July 1662,
her union with the church of Rome was celebrated with
extraordinary pomp.
Zingha died at the age of eighty, and the crown then
devolved on her sister’s husband Mona Zingha, who com-
152 A N G
Angola, menced a violent war against the Europeans, which was in a
few years terminated by his death. Since that time the af¬
fairs of the Portuguese have been involved in that mystery
which they studiously throw over all their colonial trans¬
actions ; but it is not believed that they now occupy
more than a very limited range of territory around their
ports of St Paul de Loando and St Phelipe de. Benguela,
which they maintain for the purpose of carrying on the
slave-trade.
The whole of this coast, according to Degrandpre, to
whom we are indebted for the only recent account of. it,
has been singularly favoured by nature. 1 he soil consists
generally of a rich black loam, fitted for yielding.in the
utmost luxuriance all the productions of tropical climates.
In its present uncultivated state, it is covered with dense
and varied vegetation. The forests reach to the top of the
hills, and their trunks are often washed by the waves.
This vegetation bears generally the same character as in
other parts of tropical Africa. Some of the trees, under
the influence of heat and moisture on a rich soil, arrive at
the most extraordinary dimensions. Mention is made of
the mapou, which seems to be the same species with the
calabash of Adanson, and whose trunk it has required a
boat’s crew, with arms extended, to embrace. This huge
production of nature is unfortunately incapable of being
applied to any use whatever : the wood, moist and spongy,
is fitted neither for carpentry nor even fuel; the fruit is
small and unpalatable ; the foliage too scanty to afford any
grateful shade. On the other hand, the family of the
palms are profusely distributed, and minister to the
most important uses of human life. The cocoa-palm, in
particular, serves almost every economical purpose.. Its
juices afford both food and drink ; its wood is hard and
durable ; its filaments form strong ropes; the leaves afford a
roofing which resists the rain ; even the rind of the fruit
is made into vessels for domestic purposes. The date-
palm exists, but the soil is too moist to produce it in
abundance. The culinary vegetables of Europe, when
planted, grow to an extraordinary size, but soon degene¬
rate in a soil which appears foreign to their nature. Cul¬
tivation is confined to small spots resembling gardens, in
the immediate vicinity of the towns and villages, leaving
all the open country in a state of nature. Its efforts are
chiefly bestowed on the manioc, plantations of which sur¬
round all the villages; and the root, ground down by a
species of mill, and then dried in little furnaces, affords
the bread generally used in the country.
The animal races are numerous, all wild, and of the
same species which generally prevail throughout Africa.
Elephants are less numerous than in some other quarters;
but hyaenas, ounces, and tiger-cats people the forests; and
there are all the various species of antelope. Apes and mon¬
keys of various and often peculiar species fill all the woods;
and some are distinguished by a remarkable share of intelli¬
gence. It seems chiefly in this quarter of the continent
that the orang-outang, called by the natives kimpezey,
sometimes, though rarely, makes his appearance. De¬
grandpre saw one on board a slave-vessel four feet two
inches high, of a mixed red and black colour, and which
seemed almost to make an approach to the intellect as
well as the form of humanity. It assisted the sailors in
drawing the ropes, and was employed to heat the oven,
giving notice to the baker exactly at the time when it
was fit to receive the bread. Here also are found in great
numbers those remarkable insects, the termites or white
ants, with their conical structures raised three feet from
the ground, and which often destroy in a short time the
slight habitations of the natives, with every thing they
contain. The inhabitants of this coast rank below those
of the rest of the continent, in not having succeeded in
A N G
taming any description of domestic animals. They have W
neither horses, asses, oxen, nor sheep, of which last two'J [
species such large herds are in the possession of the most !
barbarous among the other African tribes. The Portu-
guese reared them in great numbers round their settle¬
ment of Loando, whence individuals occasionally strayed
into the bordering districts; but no care having been
taken to preserve them, they were soon either killed by
the natives, or devoured by wild beasts.
The mineral character of this region seems not without
interest, though very little explored. Little scope is in¬
deed afforded for geological observation, the surface being
everywhere covered with a deep stratum of clay, from be¬
neath which, even on the highest hills, no trace of rock
is discoverable; nor have petrifactions or marine re¬
mains been anywhere observed. The metallic products,
however, are supposed to be of importance, though neither
examined nor turned to account. The indications of iron
are very widely diffused; but the Angolans are supplied
by European powers with all they require. Copper, to
the utmost extent of their wants, is found on the surface
of the ground. The Portuguese are said to work gold¬
mines of considerable value in the vicinity of Loando; but
the nature and amount of these is studiously concealed,
and perhaps exaggerated.
The nations on the coast of Angola seem to rank lower
in the scale of improvement than almost any other native
African race, except the Hottentots. Their habitations
are formed merely of straw, or rather dried leafy plants,
cemented by a frame-work of wooden stakes. Containing
no aperture for the admission of light, they form not so
properly houses, as dark dens for sleeping in, while the ten¬
ants spend the clay and receive company in an open space
in front, covered with a slight roof. The abodes of the
grandees are in no respect superior, except that they con¬
sist of a number of these hovels grouped together, and in¬
closed by a hedge or earthen wall. A village or town con¬
sists merely of a cluster of these inclosures, separated by
narrow and winding footpaths, and leaving extensive open
spaces, which serve for markets or for scenes of recrea¬
tion. Loango, which seems to be the largest native town,
though four leagues in circuit, is not supposed to contain
above 15,000 inhabitants. A town in this country at a
little distance resembles a wood, from the multitude of
trees with which it is filled; but on a near approach its
nature is soon detected by the fetid odour exhaling from
its precincts.
The people on this coast, like most rude nations in a
tropical climate, wear scarcely any clothes, yet studiously
load their persons with ornaments. Even the rich wear
only a cotton cloth round the middle, hanging down to
the knee ; but their legs and arms are profusely covered
with rings of iron or copper, while strings of beads or
coral are fastened round the neck, or hang down the
breast. Peculiar pride is felt when they can procure a
cast-off European suit, covered with gaudy colours and
tarnished embroidery. This they display in triumph for
several days, when, becoming tired, they bestow it on one
of their inferiors.
The natives here, like other unenlightened tribes, are
deeply addicted to superstition; and it is remarked as
a singular circumstance, that their idols do not present at
all the negro visage, but one more nearly approaching to
the European. From the slight description that is given,
we should suspect the face to be Copt; nor does it seem
improbable that the superstitions of Egypt may have found
their way throughout the continent. The priests pretend
to bestow rain, favourable winds, and various other bless¬
ings, upon those who have propitiated them by libera
gifts. Much use is made in criminal cases, of what our
A N G A N G 153
ancestors called “ the judgments of God.” The accused
is made to swallow poison, to plunge into water, or to take
in his hand burning coals, and, unless he escapes unhurt
';from these trials, is at once pronounced guilty. It seems
reasonably concluded, that the priests who administer
these tests contrive to secure immunity to their favourites,
or to those who bestow upon them liberal donations. M.
Deorandpre considers it as marvellous that such a coin¬
cidence should exist between the customs of Africa and
those of Europe during the middle ages ; but both are de¬
rived from the same principle in human nature; and in¬
deed nothing can appear more probable to the uncultivat¬
ed mind, which has made little observation on the actual
course of nature, than the idea that a special interposi¬
tion will take place in favour of innocence.
The government of these countries seems established
oh a species of feudal polity. Each towm or village has a
sovereign of its own, in whose family the dignity is here¬
ditary; but a number of these princes pay homage and
perform certain services to a general head of the nation.
Most of the great capitals are situated at some distance
in the interior. The succession is transmitted exclusively
in the female line. The son of a prince has no dignity
above the rest of the nation. The son of a princess alone
is a prince by birth, or capable of succeeding to the crown.
This is a custom not without example in rude states; and
the dissolute manners prevalent and sanctioned in this
country seem to afford otherwise no security that the off¬
spring will be of royal blood.
The only employment carried on with any activity
throughout these countries seems to be the trade in slaves.
The personage next in dignity to the sovereign is the
Masook, who conducts all the royal sales, levies the du¬
ties, and regulates all the transactions of the private mer¬
chants. The engagement entered into by Portugal not
to practise this odious traffic to the north of the line
does not extend to this coast, where it appears to be car¬
ried on still on an immense scale. The slaves imported
into Brazil in the year 1828 are said to have amounted to
46,000, who, with the exception of 3000 or 4000 from
Mosambique, must all have been drawn from Angola. St
Paul de Loando is supposed by Malte-Brun to contain
3000 white inhabitants, besides a much greater number
of negroes. An abundant supply of provisions is drawn
from the surrounding country, but the water is bad. The
Portuguese hold also St Phelipe de Benguela.
Vessels destined for the coast of Angola, after reaching
Cape Verde, have two routes by which they may proceed.
1 hey may take the short route by steering directly along
the African coast, through the Gulf of Benin. If favoured
by winds and currents, they may make this voyage very
speedily; but in the event of these circumstances proving
adverse, they are liable to great detention; and the na¬
vigation has even occupied eleven months. The other,
called the long route, is performed by proceeding due
south, and even south-west, till they pass the 20th degree
ot latitude, when a favourable wind and tide carries them
directly eastward to the African coast. This route neces¬
sarily occupies a considerable time; but it is liable to no
vicissitude, and the period may be calculated almost to a
day.
ANGON, in the ancient military art, a kind of javelin
used by the^ French. They darted it at a considerable
distance. I he iron head of this weapon resembled a
eur-de-luce. It is the opinion of some writers that the
aims of France are not fleurs-de-luce, but the iron point
° A \ ?n^on or jave^n °f the ancient French.
NGORA, Angura, or Ankora, a city of Asia in
natoha, the ancient Ancyra, situated on a stream called
t a una. It is large and neatly built, and its streets are
vol. in. J
causewayed with large blocks of granite, but have no Angot
footpaths. Its position is lofty and imposing, surrounded II
by mountains, with numerous gardens which yield the
finest fruits. The city was celebrated in the ancient
world for its fine edifices; and it still contains the remains
of its former, grandeur. In its streets are to be seen pil¬
lars, some of porphyry, and jasper, and fine marbles. The
city has been encompassed by a substantial wall, appa¬
rently double in some places, formed of durable stone.
Some of the gates exhibit Greek inscriptions, and the
masonry is intermixed with pillars, architraves, capitals, and
other ancient ornaments. The vestiges of an amphitheatre
are still to be seen, and the ruins of a magnificent coria or
senate-house, of Corinthian architecture, with inscriptions
complimentary to Augustus, in whose reign Angora was
built. The inhabitants are distinguished in Natolia for
their polished manners: they consist of Mahometans
and Christians, there being 9000 of the latter, who are
subjected to grievous tyranny and exactions from the for¬
mer. The Christians have a Greek and an Arminian
archbishop, and seven churches. Although the trade and
population of this place have declined, a great quantity
of yarn, Angora stuffs, and shawls, are still manufactured.
The shawls, which rival those of Cashmere, are fabricat¬
ed from the hair of the Angora goat, which is of a fine
silken texture. The soil of the adjacent territory is en¬
tirely employed in rearing these animals; and the city is
supplied with grain from a distance. This city was con¬
stituted the capital of Galatia by Nero. It was taken by
the Saracens, and afterwards by Tamerlane in 1402, after
the battle in which Bajazet was overthrown. The popu¬
lation, which was formerly 80,000, does not now exceed
20,000. 212 miles E. S. E. of Constantinople. Long. 33.
18. E. Lat. 40. 4. N.
ANGOT, a considerable province in the southern part
of the kingdom of Abyssinia, which Alvarez, who visited
it in the sixteenth century, describes as an extremely
rich and beautiful territory. It has not since been reach¬
ed by any European traveller, and is entirely in the pos¬
session of the Galla, who have overrun all the central
provinces of Abyssinia. The tribe now in possession of
Angot is called the Betzuma Galla.
ANGOU, a small province in the kingdom of Congo,
of which, nearly two centuries ago, it rendered itself inde¬
pendent. It extends along the northern bank of the Congo
or Zaire, from its junction with the sea upwards. A great
proportion of the surface is covered with forests and
swamps: cultivation has made little progress, and the po¬
pulation is thin. Captain Tuckey’s expedition must have
sailed along the coast of Angou, though it did not recog¬
nise it under that name, which was given by the old Por¬
tuguese writers. Bomangoi, in the interior, is stated to
be the capital; but Cabenda, near the mouth of the Zaire,
is the seat of trade, which consists chiefly in slaves, and
was considerable previous to the prohibition of that traf¬
fic by the British government. See Congo.
ANGOULEME, an arrondissement in the department
of the Charente in France, extending over 556 square
miles, or 355,840 acres. It is divided into nine cantons,
and these again into 144 communes, with 118,871 inhabi¬
tants. The chief city, of the same name, contains 2101
houses, 15,011 inhabitants, a cathedral, an hospital, and
seven churches.
ANGOUMOIS, formerly a province of France, now a
district, bounded on the north by Poitou, on the east by
Limosin and Marche, on the south by Perigord, and on
the west by Saintonge. Through this province run the
rivers Touvre and Charente. This last is full of excel¬
lent fish ; and though it often overflows its banks, it is so
far from doing any damage, that it greatly enriches the
v
154 A N H
A N H
Angra
II
Anhalt-
Bernburg.
soil. The Touvre is full of trouts. The air is generally
warmer than at Paris, though the country is hilly, 'live
soil produces plenty of wheat, rye, oats, Spanish corn,
saffron, grapes, and all sorts of fruits. Here are several
iron mines, which yield a very good sort of iron.
ANGRA, a city of Tercera, one of the Azores; the
capital, not only of that island, but of all the group, and
the residence of the governor. It is seated on the south¬
ern shore, and the harbour is the only tolerable one in the
whole island. It is in the form of a crescent, the ex¬
tremities of which are defended by two high rocks, that
run so far into the sea as to render the entrance narrow,
and easily covered by the batteries on each side. From
this harbour the town is said to derive its name, the
word Angra signifying a creek, bay, or station for ships.
Here ships may ride in great safety during the summer;
but as soon as the winter begins, the storms are so furi¬
ous, that the only safety is in putting to sea with all pos¬
sible expedition. Happily these storms are preceded by
infallible signs, with which experience has made the in¬
habitants perfectly acquainted.
The town is well built and populous, and forms the see
of a bishop, under the jurisdiction of the archbishop of
Lisbon. It contains five parishes, a cathedral, four mo¬
nasteries, as many nunneries, besides a bishop’s court,
which extends its jurisdiction over all the Azores. The
fortifications are strong, but not in good repair.
At Angra are kept the royal magazines for anchors,
cables, sails, and other stores for the royal navy, and
occasionally for merchant vessels in great distress. All
maritime affairs are under the inspection of an officer,
Desembergrador, who has subordinate officers and pilots
for conducting ships into the harbour, or to proper water¬
ing places. The English, French, and Dutch, have each
a consul residing at Angra, though the commerce of any
of these nations with the Azores is very inconsiderable.
Long. 27. 14. W. Lat. 38. 38. N.
ANGRI, a town with 4426 inhabitants, in the province
of Principato Citeriore, in the kingdom of Naples.
ANGUILLIFORM, an appellation given by zoologists,
not only to the different species of eels, but to other ani¬
mals resembling them in shape.
ANGUINUM Ovum, a fabulous kind of egg, said to be
produced by the saliva of a cluster of serpents, and pos¬
sessed of certain magical virtues. The superstition in
respect to these was very prevalent among the ancient
Britons, and there still remains a strong tradition of it in
Wales. This wondrous egg seems to be nothing more
than a bead of glass, used by the Druids as a charm to
impose on the vulgar, whom they taught to believe that
the possessor would be fortunate in all his attempts, and
that it would gain the favour of the great.
ANGUS, a district of the county of Forfar, in Scotland.
It was an earldom belonging to the Douglases, now extinct.
ANGUSTICLAVIA, in Raman Antiquity, a tunica
embroidered with little purple studs. It was worn by the
Roman knights, as the laticlavia was by the senators.
ANHALT-BERNBURG, one of those small indepen¬
dent sovereignties still left in Germany, and one of the
monuments of its ancient state. The sovereign bears the
title of duke. His territories are much scattered between
the Hartz forest and the rivers Saale and Elbe. Their
whole extent is nearly 242 square miles, or 154,880 Eng¬
lish acres. It is divided into two parts, each of which is
denominated a duchy. The upper duchy lies on the side
and at the foot of the Hartz Mountains, and, though
hilly and woody, has in it some beautiful valleys. The
lower duchy, on the Elbe, is a flat marshy district, but the
part which touches the Saale is dry and healthy. In the
lower duchy the climate is temperate and mild> but in
the upper it is cold and raw, the harvests are late, and the ^
fruits rarely come to perfect ripeness. The principal pro- I,
ducts are corn, flax, rapeseed, tobacco, garden fruits, and i
some wine. The country abounds with game, and the ^
lakes and rivers with fish. There are some mines, which J)'
yield silver, copper, iron, sulphur, alum, and gypsum. The
inhabitants in 1817 were 37,046, in 7 cities, 54 villages,
and 33 hamlets, and are all of the Protestant profession.
The chief employment is agriculture, the next is mining,
and preparing the metals; but some little woollen cloth
and paper are manufactured. The sovereign rules without
limitation. The revenue of the state is about L.45,000
annually, of which L.9000 is derived from the royalties
of the forests and mines. The remainder is chiefly de¬
rived from the patrimonial lands of the prince, and a
part from taxes imposed on the subjects, who are mostly
in poor circumstances. The military force required for
the contingent is 370 men, of whom 120 are kept up, but
the landsturm, a kind of militia, including every man be¬
tween 20 and 30, amounts to 7000, only 30 of whom have
fire-arms. (G-)
ANHALT-DESSAU, an independent sovereignty in
Germany, with the title of duchy. It takes the first name
from the family that governs it, and the second from the
chief place in the territory. The greater part lies in a
compact manner on the left bank of the Elbe, and on both
sides of the Mulde. The other parts are scattered and se¬
parated from each other by the dominions of other princes.
It is in general a level country, and the compact part on
the left bank of the Elbe is cultivated with great care, and
yields abundant produce; and though, in the scattered parts
on the right bank of that river, there are some heaths and
a poorer soil, yet the whole produces sufficient necessaries
for its dense population. The whole duchy is divided into
15 amts or bailiwicks. Its extent is 363 square miles, or
232,320 English acres. The number of inhabitants in
1817 amounted to 52,947, living in 8 cities, 2 market-
towns, and 115 villages and hamlets. The almost exclu¬
sive employment is husbandry, except that the females spin
both linen and woollen yarn. All kinds of grain are raised.
Flax, rapeseed and its oil, hops, madder, fruit, especially
apples, wood, butter, cheese, game, and fish, are conveyed
to the great markets of Berlin and Leipsic, and consti¬
tute the external trade. With the exception of 1200 Jews
and two Catholic congregations, the whole of the inhabi¬
tants are Protestants, with 32 reformed and 21 Lutheran
churches. The revenue of the state amounts to L.70,000
annually, of which the personal domains of the duke pro¬
duce L.20,000; the remainder arises from his feudal dues,
and from some moderate taxes; It has no debt, and is the
most favoured part of Germany. Though it suffered dread¬
fully by the war in the year 1813, it was enabled very
speedily to recover from its losses, by the productive
qualities of its soil, and the parsimonious industry of its
cultivators. The whole military force is nominally 600
men, but scarcely an eighth are mustered at any one
time. - yiov’S n (G-)
ANHALT-KOTHEN, an independent duchy in Ger¬
many. It consists of four fragments, intermingled with
the territories of surrounding princes. The most compact
portion are the three bailiwicks around the capital. The
duchy is on both sides of the river Elbe, though only one
of its towns, Roslau, comes in contact with that stream,
the others reaching it by the rivers Ziethe, the Saale, the
Ruthe, or the Wipper. The land is generally a level pla®j
in some parts with a sandy soil, but for the most part
cultivated, especially on the left side of the Elbe, and very
productive. The extent of the dominion is 324 square
miles, or 140,800 acres. It is divided into nine amts or
bailiwicks, and comprehends four;cities, one market-town,
1
I
A N I
and 106 villages and hamlets. The inhabitants in 1817
were 32,454, nearly all Protestants, the Lutherans having
19, and the reformed 28 churches. Husbandry is almost
the exclusive occupation, and there is no other trade than
that of exchanging its surplus productions for foreign
commodities. The chief of that surplus consists of corn,
wool, and fruit, especially apples, with which the duchy
supplies Berlin to a great extent. The revenue amounts
to about L.23,000 sterling, of which the ducal patrimony
in Silesia forms L.9000. The state has a debt which in
1816 amounted to L.160,000; but, by means of a sinking
fund, which was then established, it has been regularly
diminishing. There are no military beyond a small body¬
guard. A militia is established, but not called out. The
duke, besides this land, is also in possession of the princi¬
pality of Plesse, in the Prussian province of Silesia, and, in
right of it, is a member of the states of that country, (g.)
ANHOLT, a Danish island in the Cattegat, 32 miles
north-east of Greenae, and 36 south-west from Lassoe. It
is a barren spot, scarcely affording subsistence to 100 in¬
habitants, who from their language, which is Erse mixed
with a few Danish words, are supposed to be emigrants
from the Highlands of Scotland. Their chief pursuit is
fishing. It is surrounded by dangerous banks of sand, for
which reason a light-house is built on it, the occupation
of which was a subject of contest with England during the
war. It is in lat. 56. 32. 2. N. and long. 11. 49. 17. E.
ANJAR, a fortified town of Hindostan, and capital of
a district of the same name, in the province of Cutch,
which was ceded to the British government in 1816. The
country is dry and sandy, and depends entirely on irriga-
A N I 155
tion by means of wells, the expense of sinking which is Anjengo
great. The town is situated nearly 10 miles from the .11
gulf of Cutch. In 1816 it surrendered to the British. T^nil?aV
It suffered severely from an earthquake in 1819, about
3000 houses being either destroyed or rendered uninhabi¬
table, and 165 persons having lost their lives; while the
other half of the town, situated on low rocky ridges, suf¬
fered comparatively nothing. In 1820 the population
was estimated at 10,000. The port named Toonea is
fronted by a creek from the gulf. Long. 70. 11. E. Lat.
23. 3. N.
ANIELLO. See Massaniello.
ANJENGO, a small seaport town and fortress of Hin¬
dostan, in Travancore, nearly encircled by a deep and
broad river, at the mouth of which it is situated. The fort
was built by the English in 1684, and it was retained till
1813, when the factory was abolished on account of the
useless expense attending it. Anjengo is infested with
snakes, scorpions, and centipedes; those animals finding
shelter in the matted leaves of the cocoa-tree, with which
the houses are mostly thatched. Here and at Cochin are
manufactured, of the fibres of the Lucadine cocoa-nut, the
best coir cables on the Malabar coast. The exports are
pepper, coarse piece goods, coir, and some drugs.
ANIMAL. See Animal Kingdom.
Animal-Flower, a name applied to certain species of
the genus Actinia, remarkable for the brilliant colours
which ornament their tentacula, and which produce an
appearance resembling the variegated corolla of a plant.
The name is of vicious construction, and is falling into
disuse. See Zoophytes.
ANIMAL KINGDOM.
We embrace the earliest opportunity afforded by our
alphabetical arrangement to present a few introductory
observations in illustration of a science unrivalled in inte¬
rest, and not greatly surpassed in importance by any de¬
partment of human knowledge. Zoology, or the science
which treats of the nature and history of animals (from <£wov,
an animal, and Xoyo;, a discourse), embraces so vast a field
of observation, that although it cannot be regarded other¬
wise than as a single and beautifully connected science,
its great extent of general doctrine, and multiplied va¬
riety of details, render necessary a subdivision into many
branches, each of which, if worthily followed, is in truth
more than sufficient to occupy the undivided attention of
the most zealous votary. If in voluminous works exclu¬
sively devoted to natural history a single department of the
science usually engrosses the entire attention of an author,
it is evident that, in the present publication, it would not
only be in vain to attempt a complete exposition of the sub-
iect under a single head, but that even the various treatises
under which its different branches will be exhibited must
I presented in a very abridged and compendious form,
t shall be our endeavour, however, in the course of our
natural history treatises, so to select and methodize the
?reat leading facts of the science, as to enable our readers
to orm an accurate idea of the present state of zoological
nowledge, even though certain minuter details, hitherto
orming too conspicuous a feature of the subject, yet not
essential to its truthful representation, should in some
measure be curtailed.
With a view to obviate to a certain extent the inconve¬
nience arising from the disconnection of the different parts of
wkich the nature of an alphabetic encyclopaedia
zlm,6880/<x'caK*ons) we now propose, under the words
Xi Kingdom, to give, Ijf, an exposition of such of
the general doctrines of zoology as, not pertaining more
to one department than another, may with the greater
propriety be separated from the history of particular
classes, and presented as a useful and appropriate intro¬
duction to the whole,—thus uniting the advantages of an
alphabetical and systematic arrangement; 2dly, to pre¬
sent outlines of some of the prevailing systems of zoology,
so as to exhibit in a condensed form the general princi¬
ples of classification, and enable the student more clearly
to understand the relative connections which exist be¬
tween the scattered treatises in which the subjects (in
their alphabetical order) will be afterwards more fully
developed; and Sdly, to give a sketch of the arrangement
to be followed during the future progress of this work,
which will not only serve as a guide or general index to
the separate articles, but will, on the completion of the
Encyclopaedia, enable the attentive reader to methodize
these articles in such a manner as to form a complete
and consistent system of zoology.
It is by no means so easy as it may at first appear, to
define precisely what is meant by the term animal, be¬
cause, as we descend in the scale of beings, we find a
transition so gradual from those whose powers and pro¬
perties are strongly characterized, to others which, along
with a scarcely perceptible share of sensation and volun¬
tary motion, partake so greatly of the nature of plants,
that the most acute naturalists have varied in opinion re¬
garding the exact line of their demarcation. There are
also many plants which appear to differ less from certain
animals than they do from other plants of an opposite na¬
ture arid construction. This connected series of orga¬
nized bodies, however, is not graduated after the mode
established by some vague writers on natural history;
156 ‘ANIMAL KINGDOM.
Animal for it is not the most perfectly composed, but rather the
Kingdom. ieast complex plants, which follow the most simply orga-
"^^^^nized animals. It has been said that nature follows a con¬
tinuous and ascending chain, from the mineral to the
plant, and from the vegetable to the animal kingdom, the
apex of which is crowned by the most perfect work of
creation,—the human race. Certain minerals, such as
amianthus or asbestos, no doubt exhibit a fibrous or woody
structure; and coral, which has a stony texture, a vege¬
table form, and polypus inhabitants, has been adduced in
illustration of the union of the three kingdoms.^ But all
such fanciful speculations are the result of partial and in¬
accurate observation. The calcareous basis of the cox-al is
formed by a species of polypus, and has no more principle of
increase in itself than the shell of the oyster or the waxen
cells of the honey-bee. Its elegant branches are created
by the instinctive labours of the animal inhabitants, which
alone are possessed of life. The animal and vegetable
kingdoms are more correctly compared to two great py¬
ramids, intimately united at their bases, but diverging
more and more as they ascend.
The extraordinary beings which by their ambiguous
nature may be said to have thus blended two kingdoms
into one, are called zoophytes or animal plants. They
were arranged by Tournefort among vegetables, and were
at an after-period removed to the class to which they
really belong, chiefly on the authority and through the
labours of Linnmus and Pallas. These naturalists bore
in mind what few of their predecessors seem to have re¬
membered, that locomotion, that is to say, the movement
of a body from place to place ere masse, though a general
characteristic, is not an essential or indispensable attri¬
bute, of animality; for numerous animals of the mollus¬
cous and radiated kinds are as permanently fixed to their
native rocks and coral reefs as the most deeply rooted
plants are to the soil which gave them birth.
As sensation and the power of voluntary movement, in
whole or in part, are the principal characteristics of ani¬
mals, it is evident that the more these faculties become
developed, the greater will be their removal from the ve¬
getable kingdom. The more perfect the plant, and the
more complicated the animal becomes, the greater dispa¬
rity will be perceived to exist between them. If, in dis¬
tinguishing the animal from the vegetable, nothing more
were required than to point out the differences between
an oak and an elephant, the line of demarcation would be
easily drawn, and the characters of the respective classes
could never more be confounded. But there are many
plants which, though less aspiring than the oak, lay claim
to a closer alliance to a higher kingdom; and many ani¬
mals of a more carnivorous nature than the elephant are
much more nearly connected by their nature and attri¬
butes with the vegetable tribes. When we perceive a
living or animalized substance producing by suckers,
buds, or offsets from its own body,—when we see that
by the influence of light, air, and humidity, it is rendered
capable of re-assuming the functions of vitality after a
long period of suspended animation and apparent death,—
when we ascertain that it cannot live except in water, or
when saturated with moisture,—and that although it may
be capable of certain languid and partial motions, it is yet
fixed for life to a single point of space, where it derives
its nourishment by means of external pores,—we have
certainly the description of an animal of the lowest order,
which applies at the same time almost equally well to
vegetable life.
The following were the dicta of Linnaeus in relation to
the three kingdoms of nature:—“ Minerals grow; vege- \h
tables grow and live ; animals grow, live, and feel.” Ihe Kit)
only character common to these kingdoms, according to^'
the above definitions, is that of growth, or the power of
adding to previous bulk. _ “ The vegetation of stones,” it
is observed by the late bishop of Llandaff, in his Chemical
Essays, “ hath been admitted by many; and some have
contended that minerals, as well as animals and vegetables,
spring from seed, the greatest being nothing but the ex¬
pansion of the parts of a minute grain of sand. But mi¬
neral bodies in truth cannot be said to grow'. They re¬
ceive by aggregation or superposition, by mechanical or
chemical agency, an increase of particles. Tournefort,
indeed, was of opinion that stalactites in caves actually
increased by an internal growth or propulsion like that
of plants and animals. But it is known that these con¬
cretions add to their bulk by successive depositions of 1
stony particles contained in the water which bathes their
sides or percolates through the canal by which their
centres are frequently perforated. They possess no attri¬
bute which bears the slightest affinity to that internal
life which propels the fluids or assimilates the nutritive
juices in the animal and vegetable kingdoms. Minerals,
then, are destitute of that active power by which animals
and plants effect an individual appropriation of such ma¬
terials as conduce to their nourishment and increase, and
which is carried on, not by casual juxtaposition, or the
addition of similar particles previously prepared, but by
an admirable and elaborate process, through which the
ponderous bullock, w'ith its immense load of fleshy fibre,
converts into its own muscular and sanguiferous system the
sweet-smelling grass of the meadow; and through which
also the size and flavour of our most delicious fruits are often
primarily derived, from an addition to their natural soil
of substances of a very different and less inviting nature.
Rome de Lisle has accurately observed that straight lines
and plane surfaces are characteristic of mineral bodies,
but that animals and plants are composed of curved lines
or rounded surfaces, resulting from that central power of
life which dilates the internal organs in all directions, and
tends to produce spherical or cylindrical forms. The
seeds of plants, the eggs of birds, and the young of all
animals, are remarkable for the roundness of their out¬
lines.
The objects of natural history, however, are not now
divided into three kingdoms; for the characters which
connect together plants and animals on the one hand, and
distinguish both of these kingdoms from minerals on the
other, are so obvious and strongly marked, that the di¬
visions now established are those of (rrgame and inorganic
bodies ; the former including all animals and plants, the
latter all mineral substances. The definition of an ani¬
mal, given by M. Virey, is as follows: A being, organized,
sensible, endowed with voluntary motion, and provided with
a central organ of digestion. And he thus defines a plant:
A body, organized, insensible, not endowed with voluntary
motion, nourished by external pores. To these he adds
another character, that the reproductive organs of plants
are developed and thrown off every year, whereas those
of animals are persistent. It is evident that the last
clause of his first definition—that which relates to the cen¬
tral organ of digestion—if rigorously applied, wrould ex¬
clude almost the entire of the infusoria from the animal
kingdom.
Perhaps the most efficient mode of distinguishing be¬
tween animals and plants is by haying recourse to a cer¬
tain range of characters, derived from the study of their
1 Virey, Mccurs ct Instinct des Animaux.
ANIMAL KINGDOM.
157
ah internal structure and organic functions: thus the pos- mits them to introduce solid substances into it. It was AnimaJ
nisession of nerves, muscles, and a stomach, with the con- necessary then that they should have instruments for di- Kingdom,
-sequent attributes of sensation, voluntary motion, and di- viding those substances, and liquors for dissolving them.v—
gestion, will be found to separate animals properly so call- In a word, with such animals nutrition does not immedi-
ed from all other organized matter. . If these leading ately commence upon the absorption of the substances
characters are not common to all animals, they are at which the soil or the atmosphere furnishes. It is necessa-
least proper to them alone; and if the whole of these rily preceded by a vast number of preparatory operations,
characters are not always united in the same animal, we the whole of which constitute digestion."^ The motion of
invariably find at least one of the three. Thus certain the nutritive fluid in plants, from the simplicity of their
species of polypus, the sensibility and voluntary move- structure, and the fixity of their position, seems to be
ments of which cannot be said decidedly to manifest preserved by simple external agents. “ It appears to
themselves, are obviously furnished with a digestive cavity proceed upwards by the effect of their spongy or capillary
ar stomach; and many of the infusory animals, of the texture; and the evaporation which takes place at their
digestion of which we know nothing, are as perfect in re- top, and its motion in that direction, is the more rapid in
Tard to their varied powers of locomotion as any of the proportion as the evaporation is great. It appears also
higher classes. Numerous zoophytical species, indeed, are that the motion of this fluid may even become retrograde,
)f so simple a nature, that in them we cannot perceive when it ceases to flow in its usual course, or changes into
either a distinct tissue or a nourishing fluid; but we can absorption by the coldness and humidity of the atmo-
brm some opinion of the nature of their elements from sphere.”2 In regard to animals, however, the case is dif-
the character of their properties. Irritability indicates ferent. Being destined continually to change their locaii-
icrves, motion supposes the existence of muscles, and ties, and to live exposed to a variety of temperatures, they
die continued maintenance of life attests nutrition. Thus require an active principle within themselves for the con-
Jie materials of animal life, so vaguely constituted in veyance of their nourishing fluid. This fluid is therefore
base creatures, are detected by their general properties, contained in a multiplicity of canals, which are ramified
In relation to their chemical characters, animals may be from two trunks, communicating with each other in such
said to be principally composed of azote; and vegetables, a manner that the roots of the one, called the venous
vith the exception of crucifewe, of carbon. Animals ab- system, receive the contents which the other, known as
;orb oxygen, plants disengage it; the former reject car- the arterial system, has propelled to the extremity of its
ion, the latter become impregnated with it. An exchange branches, and restore them to the centre, from which
if principles is thus effected between the two great divi- they are again driven forward. It is this rotation- which
dons of organized existence; but it has been observed constitutes what is called the circulation of the blood. It
hat plants merely fix or organize carbon, whereas animals may be regarded as a function of a secondary order pro-
ippear to transform into azote, both the air which they per to animals, but not universal to that kingdom, as it
espire, and the aliments by which they are nourished. depends in a great measure on the existence of that cen-
It has been asserted that a single mouth, or opening to tral organ called the heart, of which some classes are en-
he digestive canal, sufficiently characterizes animals from tirely destitute. It is therefore less essential to life than
dants, as the latter always possess innumerable pores, digestion, and not so intimately related to the faculties of
vhich with them are the representatives of the mouth, sensation and locomotion. In regard to respiration, ani-
tnd conduce to the same ends; but this distinction is in mals which are unprovided with a regular circulating sys-
act inaccurate, as some species of Fasciola possess two tem respire, like vegetables, over the whole of their surface,
nouths, certain Tristomae three, and the genus called by or by various vessels which are placed at difterent points,
>uvier Rhisostoma many more; to say nothing of the in- and convey the air to the interior of their bodies. “ No
usorial tribes, most of which have no mouth at all, but animals,” says Cuvier, “respire by a particular organ, except
lerive their nourishment by imbibition through the me- such as have a real circulation; because in them the blood
lium of external pores. Nutrition, or the power of de- coming from one common source, the heart, to which it
iving nourishment from other bodies, is common alike to constantly returns, the vessels that contain it are so dis-
•lants and animals, and effects for organized and living posed that it cannot arrive at the other parts until it has
>odies that increase of bulk which inorganic or disorgan- passed through the lungs. This, however, cannot take place
zed substances can only attain through the medium of an in vegetables, or in those animals in which this fluid is
dfinity of particles, or by mechanical aggregation. The everywhere diffused in a uniform manner, without being
unctions of nutrition, however, as manifested in the ani- contained in vessels.” Pulmonary or branchial respira-
nal and vegetable kingdoms, are very differently perform- tion is therefore an animal function of a third order, in-
•d in each, fixed for ever to the soil which gave them variably connected with circulation, and one degree re-
>11 th, plants are rendered incapable of* searching after moved from such faculties as are essential to animal life,
lounshment by a voluntary change of place, but derive When a vegetable dies of old age, it begins to decay in
len chief support from roots, the pores of which absorb the centre. We frequently see ancient willow-trees en-
ic nutritive portions from the humid soil, and by a uni- tirely dead, except in a few slender twigs, or in small por-
orin and continuous action, which is only interrupted by tions of their superficial bark. An animal, on the con-
m absence of the necessary moisture. The generality of trary, first dies in its extremities and circumference, whilst
aninals, on the contrary, being possessed of the power of the heart or central portion continues for a time to per-
ocomotion, are also endowed with the capacity of trans- form, however languidly, its accustomed actions.
xji ting with themselves a supply of necessary nourish- Among plants both sexes usually occur in the same
iitnt, for which purpose they are provided with an in- individual, or even on the same flower; but in a far
ciua cavity or stomach, the inward surfaces of which greater proportion of animals the two sexes are repre-
ire provided with absorbing pores, which Boerhaave ex- sented by separate individuals. There is indeed no
•ressive y named internal roots. “ The magnitude of this genuine hermaphrodital union among mammiferous ani-
<ni y, observes Cuvier, “ in a number of animals, per- mals, birds, reptiles, fishes, cuttle-fish, Crustacea, or in-
Lcctures on Comparative Anatomy, lecture i. 3 Ibid.
158
ANIMAL KINGDOM.
Animal sects. Among many molluscous animals, however, such
Kingdom. as the oyster and other bivalves, both sexes are found on
same individual, which is consequently sufficient of it¬
self for the purposes of reproduction, and may be regard¬
ed as a genuine hermaphrodite. This singular order of
things is in fact indispensable to the nature of bivalve
testacea, which, being almost entirely deprived of the
power of locomotion, and destitute of eyes or other organs
by which to distinguish each other, require to possess
within themselves the power of reproduction, lest their
kind should cease. The species is both represented and
continued by a single individual. In the earthworm,
again, the same union of the sexes occurs, but modified
in such a way that the concurrence of two individuals is
required for the continuance of the race, and each acts in
relation to the other both as male and female. This is
also the case with slugs, and a great proportion of uni¬
valve and turbinated shells. Lastly, the zoophytical ani¬
mals are not distinguished by any sex, but are multiplied
by separation or excision of parts of their own bodies.
The law which establishes a perfect distinction and se¬
paration of the sexes in animals seems likewise to produce
a double and symmetrical structure, and is of great extent
in that kingdom ; whilst the circular or radiated form more
especially distinguishes plants, and is also characteristic
of those zoophytical tribes which, both by name and na¬
ture, claim an alliance to the vegetable world.
The grain, and the fruit or kernel, may be said to bear
the same relation to a vegetable as the egg or the embryo
does to an animal,—with this difference to be borne in
mind, that the concurrence of the sexes is necessary to
the formation of the vegetable egg, whereas in the animal
kingdom that circumstance is indispensable only to the
fecundation of the pre-existing germ. The perfection
of a plant, and the ultimate aim of its existence, if we
may use such a phrase to an inanimate structure, con¬
sist in the continuance of its kind. In such as are
named annuals especially, the term of whose existence is
limited in many instances to a small portion of the year,
the ripening of the seeds is speedily effected, and, after a
very brief period, death succeeds “ the bright consum¬
mate flower.” In numerous tribes of insects the same
fleeting existence is observable, though the ephemeral
nature of these last-named tribes is rather apparent than
real, as the wonderful metamorphoses to which they are
subjected conceal their identity from the eye of the un¬
initiated, and greatly interfere with a continuous tracing
of the same individual from the egg to the perfect form.
For example, many aquatic flies, such as the Ephemerae
and others, whose declared and more obvious existence
does not exceed a few hours, have, previous to their as¬
suming the winged state, spent months or even years in
the banks of rivers, and beneath the surface of the stream.
Even the mode of reproduction among the lower tribes
of the animal kingdom bears some analogy to that of ve¬
getables ; and as the vital principle in the smallest branch
or portion of a willow-tree is* easily continued and increas¬
ed though separated from the parent stem, so in many
zoophytical animals a bud, branch, or other section, re¬
moved from the full-grown individual, suffers no injury
from such partition, but, on the contrary, acquires almost
immediately a complete and independent power of exist¬
ence within itself, and is ere long capable of exercising or
enduring a like division in favour of posterity. Animals
as well as plants are liable to be affected by the revolu¬
tions of the seasons; for the period of flowering in the
one class is answered by the season of love in the other,
and the fall of the leaf is only analogous to the periodical
renewal of the feathers of birds and the hair of qua¬
drupeds. The platanus quits and renews its superficial
bark, while serpents and cray-fish cast off and reproduce
their scaly and crustaceous covering. rlo be produced
and nourished, to increase, to engender, and to die, are
characters common to every class of organized existence;
but animals properly so called are alone endowed with in-
stinct and voluntary motion,—they alone possess nerves,
muscles, digestive organs, and blood, with the faculties of
perception, &c. consequent on these attributes.
The preceding observations will serve to illustrate the
principal relations and analogies which exist between
animal and vegetable life. But there are other characters
proper to animals, the whole of which, however, are not
universally bestowed on that class, of which it will now be
proper to say a few words. The substance of which even
the most perfect animal is composed may be resolved
into four tissues,—the cellular, the muscular, the Jibrous,
and the medullary.
The cellular tissue is the most extensively bestowed,
and forms, according to an expression of the French phy¬
siologists, the canvass of all the organs, and of every ani¬
mal. It is even common to vegetables, and serves at
once to compose, to unite, and to separate the organs.
Formed of laminae or plates interlacing each other in
every direction, and perforated by small cavities which
have intimate communication, it also sometimes presents
itself under the form of membranes, which, when they
assume a tunnelled or cylindrical shape, are denominated
vessels. It is in this tissue that the gelatine accumulates
for the formation of the cartilages, and the calcareous salts
for that of the bones. It is amongst its meshes that the
fat is amassed, the small vessels distributed, and warmth
developed. It forms the basis of the organs.
The muscular tissue is composed of fibrin, and its chief
property is that of contraction. It forms what are called
the fleshy parts of bodies. Bundles of this tissue crossing
each other compose the heart, and, under another aspect,
form the stomach and intestines. It is the agent of move¬
ment.
The medullary or nervous substance is conrposed of a
soft albuminous pulp, and is protected by powerful mem¬
branes. It enjoys the admirable faculties of perceiving,
comparing, judging, remembering, and willing; it gives
to the senses their special properties, to the muscles their
moving force, and is the seat of that mysterious union be¬
tween mind and body through which the intellectual fa¬
culties result or become manifested, and the exact nature
of which the most acute of metaphysical inquirers, and
the most accurate and thoughtful observers of nature,
have as yet sought in vain to illustrate. Sensation is the
attribute of the nerves.
The fibrous tissue, the most resistant and unfeeling of
all, fastens the bones to each other, and connects the
bones and the muscles. It forms the ligaments, the ten¬
dons, many vessels, and some resisting membranes em¬
ployed for the protection of the more important organs.
In composition it approaches the cellular tissue, but its
properties are dissimilar. Its character is resistance.
Each of these tissues is destined to the performance of
a special purpose: The cellular organizes, the muscular
moves, the nervous perceives, the fibrous attaches and
resists; but one and all are under the influence of that
nourishing fluid, so different in various animals, known by
the name of blood. This fluid is red, circulating, of a
high temperature, in animals of the superior classes—that
is, the mammalia and birds; less red; colder, and not so
charged with oxygen, in fishes and reptiles; colourless,
but still circulating, in the molluscawithout eithfer co-
lour or movement in insects; scarcely perceptible in cer¬
tain worms; and apparently wanting in zoophytes. It18
this fluid which animates all the organs, and presides ever
ANIMAL KINGDOM.
159
:very function. Nutrition exhausts its principles, diges- its nature, it is obvious that it could not exist. An animal, Animal
yon repairs them, respiration elaborates and renders it therefore, which can only digest flesh, must, to preserve’ Kingdom,
•icrfect, and the action of the heart gives it circulation. its species, have the power of discovering its prey, of pur-
All these elements united and variously combined com- suing it, of seizing it, of overcoming it, and of tearing it
ose the different organs of animated beings, the harmo- in pieces. It is necessary then that this animal should
ious action of which organs forms the essence of our have a penetrating eye, a quick smell, a swift motion,
wellbeing, physically considered, in the present stage of address and strength in the jaws and talons. Agreeably
ur existence. The human race possesses the attributes to this necessity, a sharp tooth, fitted for cutting^flesh, is
f animal life in common with the brute creation ; but we
mst ever bear about with us a firm conviction that these
re “ the accidents, not the essentials of our nature j”1 and
hat however proper it may be to mention them as the
^clinical statements of physiology, yet that they are to-
illy inadequate to the description of a being who bears
bout with him the germ of immortal life, and knows that
e was created “ but a little lower than the angels.”
Those persons,” says Buffon, “ who see, hear, or smell
nperfectly, are of no less intellectual capacity than others;
n evident proof that in man there is something more
lan an internal sense. This is the soul of man, which is
u independent and superior sense, a lofty and spiritual
xistence, entirely different in its essence and action from
ic nature of the external senses.”
It is easy to perceive that one set of organs may be so
jlated to another as constantly to require its co-exist-
oce. Thus, circumscribed respiratory organs are always
:companied by a heart, which causes the blood to flow
trough them ; and a brain is never found without nerves
id muscles, which serve it as faithful ministers and at-
mdants. The brain receives impressions, and is enabled
i judge of them through the medium of nervous sensa-
ons: this is the first mode of the functions of relation,
ut the order is inverse so far as relates to the pheno-
icna of the will as connected with the exercise of the
lice and the organs of movement. The brain wills or
immands, the nerves transmit the order, and the muscles
xecute it.
There are other co-existences in the animal economy
s apparent as those above alluded to, the motives of
Inch are not, however, so easily comprehended. We are
ill ignorant why the viscus called the liver should al-
ays exist where there is a heart; and why all orthop-
;rous insects should have the forehead furnished with a
i road plate.
It will readily be conceived that the diversified circum-
ances of life in the various tribes of animals necessitate
i infinite variety of phenomena in their functions and
.culties. An animal which respires, and has its dwelling
i the waters, can neither feel nor move after the manner
one which breathes in the pure air; and wherever there
e branchiae or gills instead of lungs, we are sure also to
ad oviparous generation, an incomplete circulation, an
)sence ot voice, and imperfect organs of hearing and
smell. But the existence of lungs alters the relation
the whole of these functions.
Ihe same principle may be applied to the different
nds of aliment. A carnivorous animal is endowed with
Tee and courage: it has a strait stomach, short intes-
nes, and a lank or somewhat slender form. Herbivorous
umals, on the contrary, are usually mild and timid, dull
action, of a sluggish nature, and unapt to self-defence ;
leir intestines are spacious, and their external forms
ore or less massive. “ The disposition of the alimen-
•iy canal determines, in a manner perfectly absolute, the
. °f ipod by which the animal is nourished ; but if the
nmul did not possess, in its senses and organs of motion,
le nieaa8 0* distinguishing the kinds of aliment suited to
never co-existent in the same species with a hoof cover¬
ed with horn, which can only support the animal, but
with which it cannot grasp any thing: hence the law ac¬
cording to which all hoofed animals are herbivorous, and
also those still more detailed laws, which are but corol¬
laries of the first, that hoofs indicate molar teeth with
flat crowns, a very long alimentary canal, a capacious or
multiplied stomach, and several other relations of the
same kind.’2 In short, such harmony exists between the
different organs, according to the leading forms after
which they are modelled, that an experienced anatomist,
from an inspection of a very limited portion of a body,
can form an accurate opinion regarding the entire charac¬
ters of an animal. It is thus that Cuvier, combining pro¬
found knowledge of detail with a commanding power of
generalization, has, as it were, called back into existence
those long-extinguished races whose scattered and im¬
perfect remains attest the wonderful revolutions to which
our planet has of old been subjected.
The aid which natural history has derived from the
sister sciences of anatomy and physiology, is in nothing
more apparent than in the improved systems of modern
classification. It was formerly the practice to adopt, as
the basis of arrangement, the modifications of some single
organ, chosen arbitrarily and at hazard. Of course it did
not follow that all the other organs would resemble each
other in all the animals in which the likeness of this one
organ might be preserved. Nothing, therefore, could be
affirmed respecting the other organs belonging to the
whole of a class or genus of animals, which we should
have attempted to distinguish by characters taken from
this unimportant organ. “ Suppose, for example,” says
Cuvier, “ that we had made three divisions of animals,
the aerial, terrestrial, and aquatic, as they were anciently
classed ; there would be included in the first class, besides
what are commonly called birds, some mammiferous ani¬
mals, such as bats—some reptiles, as the dragon—some
fishes, as the flying fish—and an infinite multitude of in¬
sects. Similar difficulties would occiw, in a greater or less
degree, in the other two classes.” “ This example is well
calculated to show how important it is that the characters
of our divisions should be well chosen ; for, though in the
formation of methods and systems of natural history, er¬
rors so flagrant as the above are not now committed, se¬
veral naturalists, even in modern times, have adopted di¬
visions which, in the detail, tend to similar results.”3
It is both interesting and important to trace the dif¬
ferent systems of organs in the animal kingdom, from
their first feeble rudiments, through a gradual and long-
continued chain of increasing manifestation, to their com¬
plete development in some particular class or order, in
which the perfect exercise of a special function is indis¬
pensable to its wellbeing. It is in accordance with such
development that the improved classifications of recent
times have been established; and it is now admitted as
an axiom, that a natural and philosophical arrangement of
animals can have no other foundation than a knowledge
more or less perfect of anatomical structure. It does not
follow from this that every naturalist must be a profound
1 Griufieltl’s Letters to Laurence.
Lectures on Comparative Anatomy, vol. i. p. 56.
3 hoc. cit. p. G2.
160
ANIMAL K IN G D O M.
Animal anatomist; for such is the multiplicity of details connect-
Kingdom. ed with the history of the haunts and habits of species,
and with the discrimination and description of their ex¬
ternal characters, which in truth form the proper object
of the zoological inquirer, that a much longer period than
that allotted to the life of man would be required like¬
wise to ascertain the distinctions of internal structure,
were it necessary to apply anatomical science to all the
minor details, or even to the less important divisions, of
natural history. But the beauty and excellence of the
anatomical system consists in the admirable co-ordination
of characters which it exhibits, and through which, with
rare exceptions, we are able to arrange the subjects of in¬
vestigation in a natural manner, even according to their
external aspect, as soon as we have established certain
great leading principles of classification drawn from the
facts of anatomical science. The more essential and im¬
portant characters even of internal structure are mani¬
fested externally by the influence which they exert over
more obvious though less dominating attributes ; and thus,
even in the absence of a positive and direct knowledge
of general laws, these are indicated with wonderful cer¬
tainty, though somewhat empirically, by means of su¬
perficial observation. It is thus that, through the com¬
bined efforts of the naturalist and anatomist, the conve¬
nience and facility of application which characterize arti¬
ficial systems, and constitute indeed their sole value, may
be combined with that philosophical accuracy and con¬
sonance with the march of nature which results from
deeper and more substantial views.
The object of every good method, according to Cuvier,
is to reduce a science to its simplest terms, by reducing
the propositions it comprehends to the greatest degree of
generality of which they are susceptible. A good system
must therefore be such as will enable us to assign to each
class, and to each of its subdivisions, some qualities com¬
mon to the greater part of the organs. This object is to
be attained by two different means, which may serve to
prove or verify one another. “ The first, and that to
which all men will naturally have recourse, is to proceed
from the observation of species to uniting them in genera,
and to collecting them into a superior order, according as
we find ourselves conducted to that classification by a
view of the whole of their attributes. The second, and
that which the greater part of modern naturalists have
employed, is to fix beforehand upon certain bases of
division agreeably ta which beings, when observed, are
arranged in their proper places. The first method cannot
mislead us, but it is applicable only to those beings of
which we have a perfect knowledge ; the second is more
generally practised, but it is subject to error. When the
bases that have been adopted remain consistent with the
combinations which observation discovers, and when the
same foundations are again pointed out by the results de¬
duced from observation, the two means are then in uni¬
son, and we may be certain that the method is good.”
The true distinction between the value of an artificial
and of a natural method in zoology consists in this, that
the former teaches us little more than the name of an ani¬
mal, whereas, in relation to the other, we have no sooner
ascertained the name of a species, or its position in the
system, than we become at the same time acquainted with
numerous facts in its character and history, which we
never could have discovered, except by actual observation,
had it formed part of those miscellaneous and falsely con¬
nected groups which so often constitute the divisions of
an artificial system. A natural arrangement is also of
great advantage in facilitating general views, by rendering
a single animal a type or representative of many, as con¬
taining in itself the essential characters of a numerous
tribe; and thus the whole animal kingdom may be repre-
sented by a few hundred species. By a too strict adhe-
rence, however, to the natural method, we are apt to lose
the advantage of precision in individual definitions, and,
in the case of the numerous transitions, find ourselves un¬
able to fix any limits, if these have not been already es¬
tablished by nature. To discover a medium between
these two methods, so as to unite the advantages of each,
is now more than ever desirable in the formation of sys¬
tems.1 He indeed who flatters himself with the idea that
the families, tribes, genera, and sections, which he has
laid down on paper, are so many natural divisions, can
only be compared to the person who, because he may find
the meridians and other circles of an armillary sphere con¬
venient for the division of the heavens, should therefore
imagine that they must exist in nature. “ In one and the
other case,” Mr Macleay observes, “ artificial modes of
distribution are resorted to, which, however ingenious in
themselves, are but sad proofs of the limited state of our
faculties, when we consider, that without such instru¬
ments the vastness and sublimity of the creation cannot
be comprehended.” (Horce Entom.) There is in fact no
such thing as classification in nature. In the animal as
well as in the vegetable kingdom certain species are
grouped together by such analogies of form and structure,
as to render their mutual resemblances apparent even to
an ordinary observer. To these groups the name of na¬
tural families may, without impropriety, be applied; but
that no general system of arrangement exists in nature,
by which the various genera may be made to follow each
other, like the links of a linear chain, is evident from the
discordant, ever-varying, and frequently arbitrary me¬
thods employed even by the most accomplished natural¬
ists of the clay. We must probably rest satisfied with
such a system as presents the objects of natural history
in conveniently arranged groups, the component parts of
each of which bear a considerable resemblance to each
other, without seeking after what is unattainable, namely,
the establishment among these groups of a perfectly na¬
tural and well-graduated sequence. “ When there are,"
says Mr Vigors, “ no absolute divisions except species in
nature—and this, from ever}' observation I have been en¬
abled to make, I firmly believe to be the case—every di¬
vision which we are forced to institute in our arrange¬
ments for the convenience of illustration, and indeed for
the purpose of mutual communication with those who are
engaged in similar researches with ourselves, must be to
a certain extent arbitrary and artificial; and every in¬
quirer into nature may cause the line of demarcation that
separates his conterminous groups to infringe more or less
on the limits of either, according to his peculiar mode of
viewing his subject.”2
No satisfactory argument can be adduced to prove, as
some have imagined, that the specific differences of ani¬
mals have resulted from the lapse of time, and the effects
of climate, or other secondary causes. The variation ol
specific character, though sometimes remarkable, is re¬
stricted ; and Cuvier has shown, from a minute examina
tion and comparison of mummies of the ancient Egypt'31
Ibis with individuals of the modern race, that in rega«
to that species no perceptible change has taken place du
ring the last three or four thousand years. The origin3
creation of distinct and predetermined species is the ra
tional and well-founded belief of all who have studied tin
1 See Carus’s Introduction to Comp. Anat. translated by Gore.
t Linncean Transactions, vol- xiv. p. 312.
ANIMAL KINGDOM.
ima subject with attention, unbiassed by any prejudice in fa-
fioi vour of imaginative views, which have no foundation in
Jk> the facts of nature. “ It is certain by revelation,” says
Buffon, “ that all creatures have equally participated in
the favours of creation; that the first two of each species
were formed by the hands of the Creator; and we ought
to believe that they were then nearly such as they appear
at present in their descendants. We must also consider,
that although nature proceeds by gradual, and frequently
by imperceptible degrees, the intervals are not always the
same. The more exalted the species, the fewer they are
in number; and the shades by which they are separated
are more conspicuous. The smaller species, on the con¬
trary, are very numerous, and have more affinity to each
other, so that we are the more tempted to confound them
together in the same family. But we should not forget
that these families are our own works; that we have
made them for the ease of our memories; and that if we
cannot comprehend the real relations of all beings, it is
ourselves, not nature, that are in fault; for she in truth
knows not our pretended families, and recognises indivi¬
duals alone.”
Omnipotence, the first, the greatest, and indeed the
only truly creative powder, formed the species of animals ;
and the influence of man and of physical agents has pro¬
duced the varieties. But it is only superficial characters
which either the one or the other of these ulterior causes
has the power of modifying. The basis of organization,
or real specific mould, remains unalterable, though a
thousand circumstances constantly tend to produce varia¬
tions in the external forms. Of these circumstances the
most powerful is no doubt climate; under which name it
is necessary to comprehend the differences of local situa¬
tion and temperature, the nature of the soil and its pro¬
ductions. It is climate, in the first place, which chiefly de¬
termines the geographical position of animals, and thus
commences the action of the modifying powers. The na¬
ture of their food is also highly influential; and as it de¬
pends so immediately on the qualities of temperature and
soil, the climate is still the modifying cause. If the same
animals usually accompany the same vegetables, it is be¬
cause the constitution of both demands similar influences,
' and because through each other they are both dependent
upon the same support. Certain animals are leagued with
certain plants, and these again with certain soils and cli¬
mates ; and a careful observance of these mutual depend¬
encies exhibits one of the finest and most beautiful har¬
monies of nature. This, howrever, is not the place in
which to discuss the intricate and important subject of
the geographical distribution of animals.
Certain original forms have been continued since the
creation ot organized beings, and all the individuals which
represent or belong to one of these forms constitute what
is called a species. The slighter differences which occa¬
sionally prevail among the individuals themselves, inde-
pendent ot the customary distinctions of age and sex, are
railed varieties. Such varieties are seldom permanent,
nid are usually lost by the progeny re-assuming the ordi-
mry and characteristic form or colour, except in some
emarkable instances, such as the horse, dog, and other
ong-domesticated species, of which man has so thorough-
y altered the original condition, as to have impressed
lem with a second and more pliant nature. An indivi-
' I ’ according to Buffon, is a separate detached being,
i . nothing in common with other beings, excepting
. )at it resembles, or rather differs from them. All simi-
ai individuals which exist on the earth are considered as
161
composing the species of those individuals. Yet it is nei- Animal
ther the number nor collection of similar individuals which Kingdom,
constitutes them ; for a being which existed for ever would
not be a species. “ Species then is an abstract and ge¬
neral term, the meaning of which can only be determined
by considering nature in the succession of time, and in
the constant destruction and renewal of beings;” and it
is by comparing the present state of nature with the past,
and actual individuals with their predecessors in kind,
that we come to attain a clear idea of what is called spe¬
cies ; for a comparison of the number or resemblance of
individuals is only an accessory idea, and frequently inde¬
pendent of the first. The ass resembles the horse more
than the barbet the greyhound; yet the latter are but one
species, since they produce a fertile progeny; but the
horse and the ass are certainly of different species, “ since
they produce together vicious and unfertile young.”
It is indeed difficult to define the term species, other¬
wise than as an assemblage of individuals descended from
common parents, which bear as great a resemblance to
them as they do to each other. Species then are distin¬
guished by fixed forms, which, though to a certain extent
alterable, and for a limited time, by external or accidental
causes, are yet handed down unimpaired from generation
to generation ; and although certain species seem to have
disappeared entirely from the earth, in consequence of the
great natural catastrophes which have taken place in an¬
cient times, and the local distribution of many still exist¬
ing races has been modified or changed by the influence
of man no less than by the accidents of nature, there is no
reason to believe that any one species has sprung from the
gradual alteration of another, or that the circumstances
under which an individual may have been at first casually
placed were sufficient to develope both form and function,
without an impress from a higher and more powerful hand,
by which it was fitted to perform its part (pre-ordained)
in the great theatre of the world.
Animals which by their union produce^/erft’/e individuals,
are generally reputed of the same species. This law of
nature, as it was formerly called, having been found to
admit of certain though rare exceptions, is not now so
broadly insisted on as a test of specific identity as it was
in preceding times. But it appears, from the result of nu¬
merous experiments, that the generality of animals pro¬
duced from a cross between even the most nearly allied
species, are either altogether incapable of reproduction,
or fertile in so imperfect a degree, that their descendants
speedily become entirely sterile. It has been said that
birds alone were unsubjected to this rule, and that hence
has arisen the wonderful variety which that beautiful class
exhibits. There is no doubt of the occasional fertility of
their hybrids, as in the case of those mule birds produced
between the goldfinch and canary ; but as it has not been
proved that such unions of distinct kinds ever take place
when uncontrolled by the depraving influence of domesti¬
cation, there is no reason to attribute the origin of any of
those species or varieties which are known to exist in a
wild state to any such improbable alliance.
It is known that a productive union may take place be¬
tween animals of a different species, provided such species
belong to what naturalists call the same natural family.
Thus the ass and the mare, or the horse and the female
ass, produce the well-known animals called mules: the
zebra also produces both with the horse and the ass; but
in order to deceive the female zebra, it is said to be neces¬
sary to paint the hides of the former with those bizarre
colours which adorn her accustomed mate.1 It is probable,
VOL. Ml.
1 Diet. Class. d'Hist. Nat. tome i. p. Hi.
X
ANIMAL KINGDOM.
162
Animal however, that all these unions are so far forced and unnatu-
Kingdom. ral, that they never take place except through the influence
of man, when domestication, and the numerous changes
consequent upon it, have altered or impaired their natui'al
instincts; for it has been observed that, however educa¬
tion may perfect certain special qualities, which man has
the art to render subservient to his own convenience, yet
a more extended view of the effects of domestication will
convince us, that it is almost always to the disadvantage
of their natural capacities that the brute creation are
made to borrow the mask of human intelligence.
Buffon appears to have adopted from Ray a rule which
many now regard as inaccurate and artificial, but which he
made use of to determine the identity of animal species,
viz. “ any two animals that can procreate together, and
whose issue can also procreate, are specifically the same.”
In this, however, it has been observed that he contradicts
himself by afterwards admitting that the sheep and goat
are of difl'erent species, at the same time that he asserts
that the he-goat and the ewe produce a mixed breed
which continue fertile for ever. Dr John Hunter (a great
authority) was also of opinion that the true distinction
between different species of animals must ultimately be
gathered from their incapacity of propagating with each
other an offspring capable of again continuing the kind.
Thus the horse and ass beget a mule capable of copulation,
but incapable of begetting or producing offspring. The acci¬
dent of a mule breeding, according to the same authority,
even if it were proved, would only show that as many per¬
fect animals of true species and distinct sexes are incapable
of breeding at all,—(thus showing that nature, even in her
greatest perfection, sometimes deviates from general prin-
. ciples),—so it may occasionally happen that a mule shall
breed from the circumstance of its being “ a monster re¬
specting mules.”
The doctrine of equivocal generation has received no
support from any recent investigations. All that is known
decidedly leads to the opposite conclusion ; and if certain
mysterious or unaccountable phenomena have perplexed
the physiologist, the only legitimate deduction is, that he
has met with something which he cannot comprehend; for
those aberrations (if such they really are) from the usual
laws of nature are not so much exceptions to the general
rule, as additional instances of effects in nature, the re¬
gulating causes of which we are as yet incapable of de¬
monstrating. The rules of philosophizing lead us to reject
the admission of more causes than are sufficient for the
explanation of phenomena ; and if, for example, mites, and
“ such small deer,” derived their origin solely from the
caseous and other substances in which they are generally
found, the sexual distinctions which prevail among other
animals would in them be unnecessary, and would not
therefore be observable. But we know that distinct sexes
do exist among these minute creatures—that they propa¬
gate their kinds after the accustomed mode—and we hence
fairly infer that fortuitous generation does not take place
among them. May we not therefore conclude that the
origin of those first observed is similar to that of the
thousands which we afterwards see 'produced according to
the usual process ? Nature does nothing in vain, and it is
not consonant with her usual practice to suppose that she
would authorize two distinct modes of creation in the same
animal, where one of these is evidently perfect and self-
sufficing. It may therefore be laid down as a general rule,
that all living beings proceed from others of a similar na¬
ture, either by generation, offset, or some other means;
and that, in all instances of apparently spontaneous pro¬
duction, there has existed some minute or imperceptible a
germs, which deceive us by their sudden development Kin ,1
when placed under favourable circumstances. “ In fact,”^
says Cuvier, “ however feeble and minute the parts of an /f
embryo or the seed of a plant may be at the moment we
are first capable of perceiving them, they then enjoy a
real life, and possess the germ of all the phenomena which
that life may afterwards develope. These observations,
extended to all the classes of living bodies, lead to this ge¬
neral fact, that there are none of those bodies which have
not heretofore formed part of a body similar to itself, from
which it has been detached.” “ It is from them (their
parents) they have received the vital impulse ; and hence
it is evident that, in the actual state of things, life pro¬
ceeds only from life, and that there exists no other, except
that which has been transmitted from one living body to
another by an uninterrupted succession.” “ Origin by '
generation, growth by nutrition, termination by death, are
the general and common characteristics of all organized
beings.1”
At the same time it must be admitted, that the origin
of many infusory and intestinal animals is sufficiently ob¬
scure. Of the latter class, one of the most extraordinary
is a monstrous worm, as it may be called, which at distant
intervals, and in parts of the world far removed from each
other, has been found to inhabit the liver of the human
race. The means by which it is bred, or the circumstances
favourable to its production, are quite unknown; and some
of the most philosophical inquirers of the present day
have been unable to account for its origin, otherwise than
by supposing that the viscus called the liver becomes,
under certain circumstances, endowed with the power of
actually secreting a substance capable of assuming and
presenting the phenomena of distinct animal existence,
and which, prior to the period of its being observed, had
in fact become a specific animal;—at least its existence,
unlike that of mites, flies, &c. which so often misled the
ancient naturalists (though “in limo non ex limo” is Ovid’s
more accurate expression), cannot be accounted for in any
other way. “ There are,” Mr W. S. Macleay observes, in
his excellent and ingenious Horce Entomologies, “ many
circumstances which might be adduced to support the
belief that, whether from disease or other causes, there
are periods when other parts of a body besides the ova¬
rium may produce living germs, and demonstrate thus the
polype nature of the cellular substance.”
A polypus has been sometimes described as an anima-
lized tube, capable of digestion, and possessed of a certain
power of motion and reproduction; and these few words
may be said to contain almost all that we know of its es¬
sential nature and attributes. As we advance in the scale
of creation, we find a more complicated system of organs,
with more varied powers of action, and a higher develop¬
ment of those accommodating instincts which, though
circumscribed within certain impassable boundaries, yet
seem at times to form such an approach to reason, as to
connect the unvarying mechanical actions of the most
simple zoophytical tribes with the conscious self-regulat¬
ing power which has its final and most perfect develop¬
ment in the human race. The excellence of man, how¬
ever, physically considered, consists more in the balance
of various powers than in any one bodily superiority; for
there is in fact no single sense in which he is not excelled
by one or other of the brute creation. Materialists, who
regard the intellectual superiority of man as the result ot
hisphysical structure, must also, for the sake of consistency,
maintain his excellence as a machine to be infinitely he‘
1 Lectures on Qomp. Amt. voi. i.
ANIMAL KINGDOM.
163
U1 ore that of every other’animal. But as his indubitable
m superiority depends on something totally immaterial, which
,< tiirows him out of the group of animals, and makes him
in insulated being,” there is the less necessity for either
laturalists or metaphysical inquirers endeavouring to de-
nonstrate the superexcellence of his physical condition.
Vlan is in all cases “ wonderfully,” and in many cases
< fearfully made;” but in the powers of sight, touch, hear-
iv, and smell, he is greatly surpassed by many animals ;
aid even in the sense of taste, in which his practice is
nore varied and extensive, he is at least equalled by the
Teat majority. It is indeed somewhat remarkable that
lie last-named sense, the only one in regard to which the
mman race can lay claim to the possession of equal excel-
ence with the brutes that perish, should be the grossest
md least intellectual of the whole.
Although it is by no means strictly true that the brain,
■onsidered in relation to the size of the body, decreases as
ve descend from man to the lower tribes, because in many
mail birds, such as sparrows and finches, the brain is re-
atively much larger than in the human race, yet, exclu¬
de of some such exceptions, it may be asserted that that
Important organ becomes less as we descend from mam-
niferous animals and birds, to reptiles, fishes, and other
ower forms. Yet no very accurate conclusion can be de-
luced regarding the degrees of intelligence in different
inimals, from the proportion which the quantity of brain
iears to the mass of the whole body, particularly when we
:ome to compare animals of the same class with each
ither. It is in fact by no means easy to ascertain with
:ccuracy what that proportion really is, because the weight
if the brain is supposed to remain the same, while that
if the animal varies according to its temporary condition,
n this way only can we account for the contradictions
rhich appear in the tabular views which have been given
if these proportions by physiologists. Upon the whole,
he smaller animals pertaining to the higher classes ap-
iear to have proportionally the largest brain, though man
s in this respect seldom surpassed. The proportional
veight of the brain to the body of man varies from l-22d
o l-35th part, that of the gibbon or long-armed ape is
is 1 to 40, that of the young malbrouk (Simia Faunus) as
l to 24, that of the fox as 1 to 205, that of the beaver as
1 to 290, that of the field-mouse as 1 to 31, that of the
dephant as 1 to 500, that of the horse as 1 to 400, that
>f the eagle as 1 to 160, that of the sparrow as 1 to 25,
hat of the canary-bird as 1 to 14, that of the cock as 1
o 25, that of the goose as 1 to 360, that of the land-
ortoise as 1 to 2240, and that of the sea-tortoise as 1 to
>688.
Soemmering, Ebell, Vicq-d’Azir, Gall, and Tiedemann,
upposed that every thing depended on the volume of the
irain. But as Button and Daubenton had proved that the
sapajous have the brain proportionally larger than man,
without surpassing their congeners in intelligence, it has
>een maintained by others that the volume alone was not
i condition of superiority. Now the Sapajous in question
lave no convolutions to the brain, so that the surface of
hat organ is represented by that of the interior of the
iramum, and exceeds it in other cases in proportion as its
olds are numerous and profound; and as there appears
o be a constant relation among mammiferous animals be-
ween the diminution of the cerebral surfaces and their in¬
effectual degradation, whilst no such relation can be traced
ictween the degrees of degradation and the variations of
he brain in respect to size, it has hence been inferred by
>ome that the extent of surface, and not the volume of
the brain, ought to be regarded as co-relative with the in- Animal
tellectual faculties.1 Kingdom.
In proportion, however, as the superior portion called
the brain decreases in size, the medullary matter appears
to collect in other parts of the body, or in the cords which
emanate from the brain; so that many animals with
much smaller brains have nerves more voluminous in pro¬
portion to their bodies than those of man. This medul¬
lary substance, the medium of sensation^is, in the human
race especially, collected into one principal mass as the
engine of thought and reflection, the intellectual attributes
by which man is characterized ; but it becomes dispersed
in the inferior animals, or ramified over the whole body
in the form of ganglions or nervous chords, without any
preponderating superior brain. It is owing to this dis¬
persion of the nervous system into these small separate
centres in the polypus and other tribes, that almost every
portion of the body, wdien separated from the rest, is cap¬
able of becoming a distinct animal, and of assuming an in¬
dependent existence. In the lowest tribes of all, in which
the nervous system has not yet been demonstrated, it pro¬
bably consists of molecules of inconceivable minuteness,
disseminated through the pulpy or gelatinous masses of
which the bodies of many radiated and infusory animals
are composed.
Singular effects result from the dispersion of the brain
into so many small and separate centres; and this class of
phenomena also illustrates the analogy wrhich exists be¬
tween the lower animals and the vegetable world. Among
the superior creatures no reproduction takes place except
of the fluids, and of whatever partakes of the nature of
the epidermis. Injury is repaired and superficial parts
renewed, but nothing resembling regeneration of impor¬
tant organs ever takes place. But it is otherwise with the
inferior orders. The tentacula of the polypus and of many
molluscous animals, the rays of the star-fish, the external
members of the salamander, and the entire head, with the
eyes and antennae of the snail, when cut off, are speedily
renewed. There are also animals, such as the planaria,
which reproduce by offsets after the manner of plants; and
a polypus may be divided into many portions, each of
which becomes perfect according to its kind;—thus in a
manner realizing what the ancient poets have feigned re¬
garding the hydi’a of the Lernean marshes.
If the head of a mammiferous quadruped, or of a bird,
is cut off, the consequences are of course fatal. But the
most dreadful wounds that imagination can figure or cruel¬
ty inflict have scarcely any destructive influence on the
vital functions of many of the inferior creatures. Riboud
stuck different beetles through with pins, and cut and la¬
cerated others in the severest manner, without greatly ac¬
celerating death. Leeuwenhoeck had a mite which lived
eleven weeks transfixed on a point for microscopical in¬
vestigation. Vaillant caught a locust at the Cape of Good
Hope, and after excavating the intestines, he filled the
abdomen with cotton, and stuck a stout pin through the
thorax, yet the feet and antennae were in full play after the
lapse of five months. In the beginning of November, Redi
opened the scull of a land-tortoise, and removed the entire
brain. A fleshy integument was observed to form over
the opening, and the animal lived for six months. Spal¬
lanzani cut the heart out of three newts, which immedi¬
ately took to flight, leapt, swam, and executed their usual
functions for 48 hours. M. Virey informs us, “ Nous avons
vu une salamandre vivant depuis deux mois, quoique
decapitee au moyen d’une ligature serree du cou.” A de¬
capitated beetle will advance over a table, and recognise
1 See Desmoulins, Rcch. Anat. ct Phys., and the Journ. Compt. du Diet, des Sciences Med. Septembre 1822.
164
ANIMAL KINGDOM.
Animal a precipice on approaching the edge. Redi cut off the
Kingdom, head of a tortoise, which survived 18 days. Colonel
Pringle decapitated several libellulse or dragonflies, one
of which afterwards lived for four months, and another
for six ; and, which seems rather odd, he could never keep
alive those with their heads on above a few days.1
Some curious particulars connected with the great te¬
nacity of life in the lower animals are mentioned by Mr
Fothergill.2 A friend being employed one day in the pur¬
suit of insects, caught a large yellow dragonfly (Libellula
varia), and had actually fastened it down in his insect box,
by thrusting a pin through the thorax, before he perceiv¬
ed that the voracious creature held a small fly, which still
struggled for liberty, in its jaws. The dragonfly continu¬
ed devouring its victim with great deliberation, and with¬
out expressing either pain or constraint, and seemed total¬
ly unconscious of being pinned down to the cork, till its
prey was devoured, after which it made several desperate
efforts to regain its liberty. A common flesh-fly was then
presented to it, when it immediately became quiet, and
ate the fly with greediness: when its repast was over it
renewed its efforts to escape. This fact being mentioned
to Mr Haworth, the well-known English entomologist, he
confirmed the truth of the remarkable insensibility to
pain manifested by insects, by narrating an additional cir¬
cumstance. Being in a garden with a friend who firmly
believed in the delicate susceptibility of these creatures,
he struck down a large dragonfly, and in so doing unfor¬
tunately severed its long abdomen from the rest of the
body. He caught a small fly, which he presented to the
mutilated insect, by which it was instantly seized and de¬
voured ; and a second was treated in the same manner.
Mr Haworth then contrived to form a false abdomen, by
means of a slender portion of a geranium; and after this
operation was performed the dragonfly devoured another
small insect as greedily as before. When set at liberty, it
flew away with as much apparent glee as if it had received
no injury. It is a fact well known to practical entomolo¬
gists, that lai'ge moths found asleep during the daytime
may be pinned to the trunks of trees without their appear¬
ing to suffer such a degree of pain as even to awake them.
It is only on the approach of the evening twilight that
they seek to free themselves from what they must no
doubt regard as an inconvenient situation.
The cruelty of zoological, especially of entomological
pursuits, has too often been stated as an objection to the
practical parts of the study of natural history. When a
noble aristocrat (who thinks it sport to shoot a shep¬
herd’s dog) slaughters 100 brace of grouse in a single day,
we hear nothing of such an objection, possibly because the
flavour of moor-game is very exquisite ; and the reason
of defence is good. But the tastes of men differ, and
fortunately, as all have not the means of an equal gratifi¬
cation from the same source. “ Cruelty,” say Messrs Kirby
and Spence, “ is an unnecessary infliction of suffering,
when a person is fond of torturing or destroying God’s
creatures from mere wantonness, with no useful end in
view; or when, if their death be useful and lawful, he has
recourse to circuitous modes of killing them, where direct
ones would answer equally well. This is cruelty, and
this with you we abominate; but not the infliction of
death when a just occasion calls for it. They who see no
cruelty in the sports of the field, as they are called, can
never, of course, consistently allege such a charge against
the entomologist; the tortures of wounded birds, of fish
that swallow the hook and break the line, or of the hunted
hare, being beyond comparison greater than those of in¬
sects destroyed in the usual mode. With respect to uti-
lity, the sportsman, who, though he adds indeed to the
general stock of food, makes amusement his primary ob.
ject, must surely yield the palm to the entomologist, who
adds to the general stock of mental food, often supplies
hints for useful improvement in the arts and sciences,
and the objects of whose pursuit, unlike that of the for!
mer, are preserved, and may be applied to use for many
years. But in the view of those even who think inhuma¬
nity chargeable upon the sportsman, it will be easy to
place considerations which may secure the entomologist
from such reproof. It is well known, that in proportion as
we descend in the scale of being, the sensibility of the
objects that constitute it diminishes. The tortoise walks
about after losing its head ; and the polypus, so far from
being injured by the application of the knife, thereby ac¬
quires an extension of existence. Insensibility almost
equally great may be found in the insect world. This,
indeed, might be inferred a priori, since providence seems
to have been more prodigal of insect life than of that of
any other order of creatures, animalcula perhaps alone
excepted. No part of the creation is exposed to the at¬
tack of so many enemies, or subject to so many disasters;
so that the few individuals of each kind which enrich the
valued museum of the entomologist, many of which are
dearer to him than gold or gems, are snatched from the
ravenous maw of some bird or fish, or rapacious insect,
would have been driven by the winds into the waters and
drowned, or trodden under foot by man or beasts; for it
is not easy in some parts of the year to set foot to the
ground without crushing these minute animals ; and thus
also, instead of being buried in oblivion, they have a kind
of immortality conferred upon them. Can it be believed
that the beneficent Creator, whose tender mercies are
over all his works, would expose these helpless beings to
such innumerable enemies and injuries, wTere they endued
with the same sense of pain and irritability of nerve with
the higher orders of animals?”3 Instead, therefore, of
believing, and being grieved by the belief, that the insect
we tread upon,
In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great
As when a giant dies,
the very converse is nearer the truth. “ Had a giant lost
an arm or a leg,” continue the authors just quoted, “or
were a sword or spear run through his body, he would
feel no great inclination for running about, dancing, or
eating. Yet a tipula will leave half its legs in the hands
of an unlucky boy who has endeavoured to catch it, and
will fly here and there with as much agility and uncon¬
cern as if nothing had happened to it; and an insect im¬
paled upon a pin will often devour its prey with as much
avidity as when at liberty. Were a giant eviscerated, his
body divided in the middle, or his head cut off, it would
be all over with him ; he would move no more ; he would
be dead to the calls of hunger, or the emotions of fear,
anger, or love. Not so our insects : I have seen the com¬
mon cockchafer walk about with apparent indifference
after some bird had nearly emptied its body of its vis¬
cera ; a humble bee will eat honey with greediness though
deprived of its abdomen; and I myself lately saw an ant,
which had been brought out of the nest by its comrades,
walk when deprived of its head. The head of a wasp
will attempt to bite after it is separated from the rest of
the body ; and the abdomen, under similar circumstances,
if the finger be moved to it, will attempt to sting.” Query,
which part felt conscious of being the original wasp?
That the acuteness of bodily suffering, even among the
1 See the observations prefixed to the translation of Sj/allanzani's Tracts, by John Graham Dalyell, Esq.
* Essay on Natural History. a Introduction to Entomology, vol. L p. 56.
ANIMAL KINGDOM.
i Ml lirfier classes of the brute creation, is in some manner
f En. .rovidentially subdued, and rendered so much less acute
pkL,.s not to be a fit subject of comparison with the suffering
,f the human race, is indeed evident from various pheno-
aena, whatever the cause may be. The writer of this
rticle has seen a turtle-dove (Columba risoria) which
^as so severely lacerated by a cat, that the contents of
Ml ts stomach were torn out. The painfully excited sym-
I ,athy of those who had long cherished the gentle crea-
f ure was, however, in a great measure allayed by see-
' il ng the bird immediately afterwards proceed to pick up
lj5 he fresh grains of barley which (till the aid of the sur-
| eon was called in) continued to fall from its wounded
I aunch. , , . . ,
Considerations of the nature glanced at in the preced-
i >i .ig paragraphs can never, of course, be so misconstrued
i sDto afford any palliation to wanton or inconsiderate
M| ruelty to the brute creation. The judges of the Areo-
[ iagus who condemned to death the child whose amuse-
i tient it had been to pluck out the eyes of quails, were
i egulated in their determination by the motives imput-
( d to the young criminal, and which they deemed ex-
[ iressive of so cruel and pernicious a character, that in
«5f, fter-times he would assuredly offend the state. “ Nec
i nihi videntur Areopagitae,” says Quintilian, “ cum dam-
taverunt puerum coturnicum oculos eruentem, aliud ju-
<r licasse, quam id signum esse perniciosissimm mentis,
i§ nultisque malo futurm, si adolevisset.”1 But had some
!| ;reat oculist, intent on the structure and physiology of
he human eye, and engaged in a difficult course of«x-
[| terimental observation, by means of which the “ dim
; :K uffusion” which often veils the orbs of his fellow-men
ife night be obviated or decreased, found himself under the
> r lecessity of having recourse to a somewhat similar opera-
ion, the case would have assumed another character, and
hi he most sentimental philanthropist must have applauded
i W he practice of the philosopher. So it is in a great mea-
il are with the pursuits of the naturalist. If the wonderful
tructure of the lower orders of creation cannot be studied
ir understood, or their infinitely varied forms held in re-
nembrance, without hastening by a few days or hours the
ennination of that brief career which in truth scarcely
wer meets with a strictly natural end, then is the student
>f nature, following out the principles of an elevating and
ntellectual pursuit, as well entitled to command a por-
ion of animal life as he who, to pamper the refined gross-
less of a sensual appetite, bleeds his turkeys to death
)y cutting the roots of their tongues, boils crabs and
obsters alive, and swallows unsuspecting oysters by the
>core.
The more perfect the nervous system, the greater is the
legree of intelligence. Indeed, were it not that no trace
>f that system has yet been discovered in many zoophytes,
ve might almost assert that the presence of nerves con¬
stitutes animal life, and that their absence in organized
natter reduces it to the vegetable state. The greater
ffie extent of brain in proportion to the size of the body,
tlie greater in general the degree of sensibility. A French
matomist, in dissecting a horse of which he had admired
the noble qualities, exclaimed, “ J’ai long temps doute si
nous avions le droit de monter sur ton dos ; mais en voyant
la petite capacite de ton cerveau, je n’en doute plus main-
tenant ; tu n’est qu’une bete.” The most perfect animals
ire such as are provided with a head which serves as
the centre of their sentiments and sensations, and with a
mouth for the reception of their nourishment. Their forms
lire symmetrical, or composed of two equal parts; they
165
change their place by a voluntary act; their sexes are Animal
distinct, and separately incapable of continuing the spe- Kingdom,
cies; they are provided with five senses, and endowed
with the perception of pleasure and of pain. The inferior
tribes, on the contrary, which present so many analogies
to the vegetable kingdom, have no distinct head, or single
organ of life; they are not symmetrical or composed ex¬
actly of two equal parts, but rather affect the circular or
radiated form; and for the most part they either remain
fixed to the place which gave them birth, or with difficul¬
ty change their places of abode. The sexes are frequent¬
ly united in the same individual, and their senses are
limited to such as are necessary to a very confined and
almost vegetative existence.
Though no animal has more than five senses, a great
many are much more sparingly endowed. The only uni¬
versal sense seems that of touch. The next to be deve¬
loped is probably that of taste, then sight, hearing, and,
lastly, smell. In the human race the senses are more
equally balanced than in the brute creation, among the
different tribes of which we find many animals as remark¬
able for their extreme acuteness in certain senses, as for
their obtuseness in respect to others. The sense of smell
in the dog, excepting some artificial varieties, such as the
greyhound, prevails over every other; birds of prey are re¬
markable for their keenness of sight; the sense of hearing
is strong in the hare; that of touch in the trunk of the
elephant; that of taste in the lord of the creation. It
follows as a consequence that the dog is by nature a hunt¬
ing animal; that the eagle, upborne upon resplendent
wing, describes its magnificent circles in the air, “ saga¬
cious of its quarry from afar;” that the hare couches se¬
curely among the long dewy grass, with its head so low
that its eyes must be almost useless, but trusting to its
quicker ears, which warn it of an approaching foe; that
the elephant examines the exact nature of all objects by
touching them with the fleshy finger of its proboscis; and
that Mrs Rundell’s work on cookery has run through nine¬
teen editions. All insects in the perfect state, and the
greater proportion of their larvae, a part only of the mollus¬
cous tribes (such as the inhabitants of univalve shells),
crustaceous animals, such as crabs and lobsters, and all
fishes, reptiles, birds, and quadrupeds, enjoy the sense of
sight; and all these classes (with the exception of in¬
sects and many of the mollusca) are also furnished with
the organs of hearing. That the latter sense, however,
also exists in insects, may be fairly inferred from the fre¬
quent and varied sounds which they are capable of pro¬
ducing, although the seat of the faculty has not yet been
ascertained. Many zoophytical tribes, which have no
special organs of sight, appear to become sensible to the
presence and action of light, through a delicate perception
of the sense of touch. According to Buffon, the sense
which has the strongest affinity to thought is that of touch ;
and he regards it as being enjoyed by man in greater per¬
fection than by animals. That which has the strongest
affinity to instinct and appetite is smell,—a sense in which
man must acknowledge an infinite inferiority. Hence,
according to the Frenchman, man has the greatest ten¬
dency to knowledge, and the brute to appetite. There is
no doubt that in man and the different species of monkeys
the sense of touch is highly discriminating; but it is as¬
suredly a false view of the subject which has led Helve-
tius and others to attach such an extraordinary degree of
importance to the hand, as the medium of intellectual su¬
periority in the human race.
Whatever exhibits the phenomena of either animal or
1 Dc Inst. Of at. lib. v. cap. ix. de Signis.
166
ANIMAL KINGDOM.
Animal vegetable life, advances towards the perfect development
Kingdom. 0f its parts through the medium of aliment. This name
appiie(i to the numerous and diversified substances
which, when introduced into the system of an organized
body, have the power of identifying themselves in part with
that system, in such a manner as to effect its nourishment,
reparation, and increase. “ Nourishment,” says Bacon,
“ ought to bee of an inferior nature and more simple sub¬
stance than the thing nourished. Plants are nourished with
the earth and water, living creatures with plants, man with
living creatures. There are also certain creatures feeding
upon flesh ; and man himself takes plants into a part of his
nourishment: but man and creatures feeding upon flesh
are scarcely nourished with plants alone. Perhaps fruits
or graines, baked or boyled, may with long use nourish
them, but leaves of plants or herbs will not doe it; as
the order of the Foliatanes showed by experience living
creatures are nourished by the mouth; plants by the
root; young ones in the womb by the navill; birds for a
while are nourished with the yolke in the egge, whereof
some is found in their crops after they are hatched. All
nourishment moveth from the centre to the circumference,
or from the inward to the outward: yet it is to be noted,
that in trees and plants the nourishment passeth rather
by the barke and outward parts than by the pith and in¬
ward parts ; for if the barke be pilled off, though but for
a small bredth round, they live no more : and the blood in
the veines of living creatures doth no lesse nourish the
flesh beneath it than the flesh above it. Vegetables as¬
similate their nourishment simply without excerning; for
gums and teares of trees are rather exuberances than ex¬
crements ; and knots or knobs are nothing but diseases.
But the substance of living creatures is more perceptible
of the like; and therefore it is conjoyned with a kinde of
disdaine, whereby it rejecteth the bad and assimilateth
the good. It is a strange thing of the stalkes of fruits,
that all the nourishment which produceth sometimes such
great fruits should be forced to passe thorow so narrow
necks, for the fruit is never joyn’d to the stock without
some stalkes. It is to be noted, that the seeds of living
creatures will not be fruitful but when they are new;
but the seeds of plants will be fruitful a long time after
they are gathered ; yet the slips or cions of trees will not
grow unlesse they be grafted green, neither will the roots
keepe long fresh unlesse they be covered with earth.”1
Nutritive substances of course vary according to the
nature of the bodies which consume or absorb them.
Plants derive their chief nourishment from air and water,
the former of which must contain carbonic acid gas, the
latter the dissolved remains of animal or vegetable sub¬
stances. It is, however, possible to produce vegetable
growth from pure wTater, assisted by warmth and air.
Vegetables, again, serve as food to the greater proportion
of animals, and these in their turn are devoured by the
carnivorous few. It is thus that the productions of na¬
ture are connected together in one great circle, and are
reciprocally dependent on each other. Without water
there could be neither plants nor herbivorous animals,
and without herbivorous animals there could be no carni¬
vorous ones; therefore, without water there could be no
life. Inorganic matter furnishes the first and most sim¬
ple materials of existence ; organic bodies perish and be¬
come decomposed, and thus adding to the mass of inor¬
ganic matter which they had for a short period abandon¬
ed, they enter again as elements into the composition of
other and more complex forms. Indeed, according to Mr
W. S. Macleay, organized matter is nothing but a pecu¬
liar modification of brute matter acted upon by the vital 1 .«4
principle ; but this form of expression probably throws 1? 5C
no new light upon the subject. 0 /'*
We may here present a remark not unworthy of atten¬
tion regarding the nature of the flesh in the different
classes of the animal kingdom. Considered as a viand, the
flesh of animals becomes less substantially nourishing as
we descend in the scale. For example, the flesh of a
quadruped contains a greater quantity of nourishment in
proportion to size and weight than that of a bird, while
the latter exceeds in that respect both reptiles and fishes.
Hence in catholic countries the latter are justly regarded
as meagre, and form an exclusive food during the frequent
days of abstinence by which it is sought to mortify the *
flesh. Shell-fish and Crustacea, and a fortiori the zoo-
phytical tribes, yield a still smaller proportion of nutritious
matter. A revolting conclusion has been drawn from
this alleged relation between the flesh of a highly organ¬
ized animal and the power and excellence of its nutritive
qualities; viz. that cannibalism, or the habit of anthropopha¬
gous nations, opens up to those unnatural tribes a pleasure
connected w ith the indulgence of the sense of taste greatly
surpassing what is enjoyed by those who confine their
mastication to the brute creation; because, in accordance
with the rule supposed, the organic perfection and highly
animalized nature of man is productive of a higher degree
of nutrition, and of a greater capability of direct assimila¬
tion, when the substance of which he is composed is used
as food by his fellow-mortals. But the scale of alimentary
substances may rather be said to commence with air and
water, and to terminate with the herbivorous animals; for
the flesh of carnivorous kinds is, with very few exceptions,
of a nature inadequate to the healthy sustenance of life.
It is of a quality too putrescent, and decomposes with too
great rapidity, as if the organization of matter could make
no further progress, but passing rapidly from one extreme
to another, hastened to throw off even the semblance
of life, to assume again the simplest elementary form.
“ Over-great affinity,” says Bacon, “ or consubstantiality
of the nourishment to the thing nourished, proveth not
well; for creatures feeding upon herbs touch no flesh;
and of creatures feeding upon flesh few of them eat their
owne kinde. As for men which are cannibals, they feed
not ordinarily upon men’s flesh, but reserve it as a dainty
either to serve their revenge upon their enemies, or tosa-
tisfie their appetite at some times. So the ground is
best sowne with seed growing elsewhere; and men do not
use to graft or innoculate upon the same stocke.”
Mineral bodies are still more unfit for the purposes of
nutrition. They furnish both medicines and poisons in
abundance, but never aliments. The difference between
these objects may be shortly stated as follows: Aliments
are substances alterable by the action of the organs which
appropriate them; medicines act on the organs, of which
they alter or modify the action; poisons attack and ex¬
tinguish life itself. But according to the specific nature
of different animals, and various other circumstances, the
qualities of these agents are convertible, so that aliments
become poisonous, and poisons alimentary. Thus opium,
which among European nations is a medicine, and too
frequently a poison, has become, according to the prac¬
tice of several eastern nations, an alimentary substance.
Aloes, which are simply^ medicinal for the human race, are
a destructive poison to many carnivorous animals. On
the other hand, according to Pallas, hedgehogs eat abun¬
dantly of cantharides without being in the slightest de¬
gree incommoded by them; and bees are known to feed
History, Naturall and Experimental, of Life and Death. English translation, 1638.
ANIMAL KINGDOM.
167
t
pon and form their honey from the secretions of many
iernicious and even poisonous plants. The caterpillar of
- certain sphinx moth is highly delighted with the acrid
nd venomous fluid of a tithymalis.
The more that animals enjoy the qualities of youth,
trength, and activity, the greater is the increase and de-
elopment of their parts, and the greater the necessity for
n abundant supply of food. Of many individuals exposed
3 an absolute abstinence of many days, the young are
[ways the first to perish. Of this the history of war and
bipwreck offers in all ages too many frightful examples,
'here are several instances on record of an almost total
bstinence from food for an extraordinary length of time,
laptain Bligh, of the Bounty, sailed nearly 4-000 miles in
a open boat, with occasionally a single small bird not
lany ounces in weight for the daily sustenance of 17
eople; and it is even alleged, that 14 men and women of
ic Juno, having suffered shipwreck on the coast of Arra-
an, lived 23 days without any food. Two people first
ied of want on the fifth day. In the opinion of Rhedi,
nimals support want much longer than is generally be-
eved. A civet cat lived 10 days without food, an ante-
>pe 20, and a very large wild cat also 20; an eagle sur-
ived 28 days, a badger one month, and several dogs 36
ays. In the memoirs of the Academy of Sciences there
an account of a bitch, which having been accidentally
nit up alone in a country-house, existed for 40 days
ithout any other nourishment than the stuff on the wool
:'a mattress which she had torn to pieces. A crocodile
ill live two months without food, a scorpion three, a bear
x, a chameleon eight, and aviper ten. Vaillant had aspider
lat lived nearly a year without food, and was so far from
eing weakened by abstinence, that it immediately killed
lother large spider, equally vigorous but not so hungry,
Inch was put in along with it. John Hunter inclosed a
>ad between two stone flower-pots, and found it as lively
> ever after 14 months. Land-tortoises have lived with-
it food for 18 months; and Baker is known to have kept a
aetle in a state of total abstinence for three years. It af-
i’wards made its escape.1 Dr Shaw gives an account of
vo serpents which lived in a bottle without any food for
ve years.
The necessity of aliment becomes less vividly felt du¬
ng sleep, and certain other periods of prolonged repose,
here are several animals which hybernate, or go into win-
r quarters for six months in the year, during which period
any of them require no food, but are maintained solely
/ that excellence of bodily condition which they had ac-
tired during a prior period of activity and good cheer,
his leads us naturally to consider what is called the hy-
rnation of animals.
Many creatures are so constituted that the activity of
eir functions is greatly impaired by a comparatively
ight reduction of temperature. Naturalists and anato-
ists have alike sought in vain for either external or in-
nial characters of general application, by which they
ight distinguish, a priori, the species subjected to this
range though well-ordered lethargy. They belong to
rious genera and tribes, many of which have few cha-
cters in common, as will be perceived when we name
well-known instances the dormouse, the hedgehog,
'd the bat. It influences both warm and cold-blooded
mnals. I he former of these, at certain advanced periods
the autumn, according to the species, seek out places
repose, either in the earth, among old walls, in caverns,
unks of trees, or bushes; which retreats they usually
ie with dried herbs, grasses, leaves, or moss. The bat
tno»es caverns, churches, barns, and other situations
where the temperature is milder than that of the open Animal
air; and, contrary to the usual practice, it suspends it- Kingdom,
self by the hooked claws of its binder extremities. It'^^v^s^
is the practice of other hybernating animals to contract
themselves into a ball, in such a manner as to expose the
smallest possible surface to the action of the air. When
discovered in their retreats they are generally thus rolled
up, cold to the touch, their limbs stiffened, their eyes
closed, their respiration slow, interrupted, sometimes even
imperceptible, and their insensibility so great that they
may be removed, rolled about, and otherwise maltreated,
without showing any further signs of life.
It has been observed that the temperature of these ani¬
mals gradually lowers itself as the season declines. Their
respiration also becomes slower, their motions less lively,
and their appetite diminishes; but sensation and the
power of locomotion still continue. This intermediate
state between the perfect performance of the vital func¬
tions and confirmed torpidity endures for several weeks;
the degree of temperature at which different animals be¬
come entirely overpowered varying, of course, according
to the species. The propensity has been observed, in the
following well-known animals, to correspond to a scale of
descending temperature, according to the following or¬
der:—Is#, The bat; 2dly, the hedgehog; Mly, the dor¬
mouse ; ^thly, the marmot; othly, the hamster. Although
many other animals are subject to the same law, it is only
among those just enumerated that an exact comparison
has been instituted.
A complete state of hybernation consists in the sus¬
pension of sensation and voluntary motion, in addition to
a great decrease in the temperature of the body, and in
the frequency of respiration. Its different degrees of in¬
tensity are well ascertained by the number of respirations
in a given time, or, in its most perfect state, by the total
suspension of all respiratory movements. The different
species of the bat tribe are those of which the torpidity is
the least profound; and the marmot probably experiences
the greatest degree of vital suspension. The temperature
of these animals during their lethargy depends in a great
measure upon that of the external air, and is consequent¬
ly variable. It is in general, however, superior to it by
several degrees. It may descend to within a few degrees
of the freezing point, but is not susceptible of reduction
to that point, without producing either re-action of the
vital functions or death. There is, therefore, contrary to the
opinion of some of the older naturalists, a degree of external
cold incompatible with the torpidity or existence of these
animals. The species most easily rendered torpid, such
as the bat, the hedgehog, the dormouse, the lerot, and the
muscardine, cannot support a cold of 14° of Fahrenheit.
A warmth of from 50° to 53° brings them again to life.
Sundry mechanical means, such as different degrees of
motion, serve to restore several of the last-named species
without any increase of temperature; but to preserve
them in a state of prolonged activity, a gentle warmth
must be applied and continued.
It is evident, from these and other obseiwations, that
the sleep of mammiferous animals is not characterized by
a uniform and constant duration. As it is dependent on
the variations of the atmosphere, it will commence at an
earlier, continue a longer, or be interrupted after a shorter
period, according to the difference in the seasons of par¬
ticular years, the skill which the animals may have exhibit¬
ed in the choice of a protecting habitation, or the pecu¬
liar constitution of the species, or even of the individuals.
The habit of storing up a supply of winter provisions also
depends upon their greater or less degree of exposure to
1 See the observations prefixed to the translation of Spallanzani's Tracts, before referred to.
168
ANIMAL KINGDOM.
Animal the power of awakening influences. The hedgehog, for
Kingdom, example, has been observed to form several separate ma-
gazines, to which it has recourse during the winter season ;
and the marks of its little feet have sometimes been
traced on the surface of the surrounding snow
the cares of the family. This is usually the case among i
the various tribes of birds, and also among carnivorous Kj
quadrupeds; whilst the males of such as feed on vege.'-
tables, and which consequently find almost everywhere
an abundant and easy nourishment, abandon to the mo.
The 'hybernatlon"'of the” swallow is a point on which then the rearing and education of their young. I,
i • • *1  *i   V*/-»/-»tv nlrrn 1"Pfl. T1 HOW
very dissimilar opinions have been promulgated. It now ap
pears to be the prevailing belief that these birds migrate
on the approach of winter to other and more genial climes,
but that cases do occur in which such individuals as are
prevented by circumstances from joining the “ marshalled
array,” are enabled to survive the rigours of our northern
winters by the power which their constitution possesses
of assuming the torpid state; at least the occunence of
torpid swallows, however rare, is too well authenticated to
be a matter of doubt.
It is said that the tanrec, a species of hedgehog found
in Madagascar, becomes torpid for some months in the
year. If this assertion is well founded, it affords the only
know n instance of torpidity in a mammiferous quadruped
of a warm climate.
Many cold-blooded animals may be regarded as of the
hybernating kind. Indeed the greater proportion of rep-
insects, molluscous animals, &c. inhabiting cold
tilt
es,
countries, are very lethargic during the winter season,
which they usually pass without food. They appear sub¬
ject to the influence of this feeling even in warm cli¬
mates; at least Humboldt describes certain reptiles in
South America which pass a portion of the year buried
in the earth, and which are only aroused by the occur¬
rence of rainy weather or the excitement of violent means.
“ The manners of animals,” says this enlightened ob¬
server, “ vary in the same species, according to local cir¬
cumstances difficult to investigate. We were shown a
hut, or rather a kind of shed, in which our host ol Cala-
bozo, Don Miguel Cousin, had witnessed a very extraor¬
dinary scene. Sleeping with one of his friends on a bench
covered with leather, Don Miguel was awakened early in
the morning by violent shakes and a horrible noise.
Clods of earth were thrown into the middle of the hut.
Presently a young crocodile, two or three feet long, issued
from under the bed, darted at a dog that lay on the thresh¬
old of the door, and, missing him in the impetuosity of
his spring, ran toward the beach to attain the river. On
examining the spot where the barbacon or bedstead was
placed, the cause of this strange adventure’was easily dis¬
covered. The ground wras disturbed to a considerable
depth. It wyas dried mud, that had covered the crocodile
in that state of lethargy, or summer sleep, in which many
of the species lie, during the absence of the rains, amid
the llanos. The noise of men and horses, perhaps the
smell of the dog, had awakened the crocodile. The hut
being placed at the edge of the pool, and inundated during
part of the year, the crocodile had no doubt entered, at
the time of the inundation of the savannahs, by the same
opening by which Mr Pozo saw it go out. The Indians
also been observed, that among such birds as feed on liv.
ing prey, the male is very assiduous in assisting hig mate
to procure a sufficient supply. But naturalists have erred
in assigning the polygamous habit as a general charac-
teristic of the gallinaceous kinds. The instinct to pair, or
the habit of monogamy, is no doubt only bestowed on
those species to which it is necessary for the rearing of
their offspring, and differs considerably in the nature and
permanence of the attachment, according to the position
of the nest, i. e. whether it is built upon or above the sur-
face of the ground. All birds which build on trees, as
was long ago remarked by Lord Kames, are hatched blind,
and almost without feathers, and consequently require the
sedulous care of both parents. But the generality even
of gallinaceous birds, which breed upon the ground, do
likewise pair, though the hatching of the eggs is entirely
confined to the female, who completes her task by leading
the young to their proper food, which they are able im¬
mediately to pick up for themselves, being active and well
feathered from their birth. The male, at the same time,
continues to manifest a certain degree of paternal solicitude,
by uttering the alarm-note on the approach of birds of
prey, or other dangerous foes. Black game and wood¬
grouse, however, do not appear to pair at all; but in the
spring a male bird assembles a certain number of females
about him, which afterwards deposit their eggs, and rear
their young altogether independent of the male parent
They are therefore polygamous in the proper acceptatiqn
of tire term. Even among herbivorous quadrupeds pair¬
ing is rare, because the female can suckle her young while
she herself is feeding ; but the monogamous habit proba¬
bly obtains among most carnivorous quadrupeds, and cer¬
tainly among all carnivorous birds, because incubation
1 -* y-v -f 1 y. yi y, i ■» v-» 4“ 4" 1 vv% 4" /"\ V ITA 4” 1 /A A* 1 /A /A rl ^
often find enormous boas, which they call ttji, or water-
serpents, in the same lethargic state. To re-animate them,
they must be irritated, or wetted with water.”1
Upon the whole, naturalists seem to be of opinion that
no species of animal is condemned to torpidity by any in¬
herent property of its nature. It is a provisional faculty,
dependent on external circumstances, and may be inter-
rupted, postponed, or altogether prevented, by regulating
the conditions under which the animal is placed.
The disposition of animals in relation to other indivi¬
duals of the same species differs considerably. There
are some which unite in couples and divide between them
leaves the female no sufficient time to hunt for food,5
because young birds cannot bear a long fast, and therefore
require the assistance of both parents, while unable to pro¬
vide for themselves. The association or fellowship of
birds is either annual or for life; the former bond is the
more usual, though eagles, crows, and several other species
afford examples of a long-continued attachment.
Many birds assemble in autumn, winter, and early
spring, into flocks, but as soon as the pairing season has
commenced they again separate into pairs. Others again
appear to be more gregarious during the breeding season
than at any other period of the year, for example the gan-
net or soland-goose (P. bassanus) ; but this arises not so
much from a love of fellowship with their kind, as from
the accident of there being few places fitted for the pur¬
poses of nidification and the rearing of the young.
We have said that pairing is rare among such quad¬
rupeds as feed on grass, because the female can feed her¬
self at the same time that she is suckling her young.
The roe-deer, however, among herbivorous quadrupeds.
forms an exception to the general rule. On the other
hand, there are several carnivorous quadrupeds which do
not pair, but the young of which are left entirely depen¬
dent on the mother; that is to say, the latter is obliged
both to capture her own food and to suckle her offspring-
Among gregarious quadrupeds which usually store up
food for winter, pairing is probably necessary to prevent
discord, and in this respect beavers are said to resemble
those birds which place their nests upon the ground
As
I
1 Personal Narrative, vol. iv. p. 300.
3 See Karnes’s Sketches.
ANIMAL KINGDOM.
169
I ,oon as the young are produced, the males abandon their
Honjstock of food to their mates, and live at large, but return
^-frequently to visit them while they are suckling their
young. Hedgehogs and most of the monkey kind pair.
Seals are polygamous, and turtles leave their young to be
hatched by the heated sand. Earwigs, spiders, bees, and
ivoodlice (onisci), are amongst the few of the insect tribes
which pay any attention either to their eggs or offspring.
The young of the greater proportion of animals is produced
in spring, when the supply of food is the most abundant,
and when the long period which intervenes before the ap¬
proach of winter enables them to acquire strength to sup¬
port the rigours of that inclement season.
Though the period of gestation varies considerably in the
Efferent quadrupeds which feed on grass, yet the females
ire regularly delivered in spring, or early in summer, when
the herbage is nutritive and abundant. The mare com
:eives in summer, carries 11 months, and brings forth in
May. The same is nearly the case with the cow. The
dieep and the goat are usually in season in November;
they carry five months, and produce when grass has begun
to spring. They love short, close herbage, upon which a
horse or cow would barely thrive. The ass is in season
iboutthebeginningof summer, but she bears twelvemonths,
md consequently brings forth likewise early in summer.
Wolves and foxes copulate in December, but as they only
bear five months, they bring forth in April, when the sea-
ion has assumed a genial aspect, and animal food is as
abundant as at any other season. If we were to guess
what would probably be the rutting season of animals, we
would say summer, especially in a northern country; and
yet, to quadrupeds which carry their young only for four
or five months, such economy would be injurious and im¬
provident, as it would bring the time of delivery at an un¬
due season, both for warmth and food.1 There are a few
exceptions to the above rule, which, however, in them¬
selves, belong to an equally beautiful system of providen¬
tial ordinances. Some gregarious and stoi'e-collecting
animals, for example, bring forth in January, when their
granary of provisions is still abundantly filled.
The season of pairing, or of production, among wild ani¬
mals, usually takes place only once a year, and at a fixed
period; but those which man has rendered domestic are
observed to couple at all seasons. The species of warmer
climates, when transported into colder regions, usually
cease to pair, or at least their union is unproductive; and
the same consequence generally follows a state of capti¬
vity. Among such species, however, as man has fairly
reduced to a state of satisfied domestication, the indivi¬
duals become much more prolific than in the wild state.
fhe season of love varies greatly among mammiferous
animals. The greater proportion pair in spring and sum¬
mer ; but the wolf pairs in winter, the stag in autumn,
and many domesticated animals at diversified periods
throughout the year. Prolific union takes place among
varieties of the same species; and it is by paying attention
to these that the finer races of our domestic animals are
maintained and continued. As the climate of northern
countries causes several of our most valuable animals to
degenerate (as it is called), it has been customary to ob¬
tain from time to time a male animal of a pure and noble
lace, which, when paired with an ordinary female, produces
a breed scarcely inferior to the male parent; for it has
been observed that, with few exceptions, the new produce
assumes the characteristics of the father. Thus, in uniting
a. £CP °* an ordinary kind with a ram of the Merino race,
t e first generation almost equals the father in beauty,
hat is frequently called deterioration in animals is,
more properly speaking, their natural assumption of those Animal
peculiar attributes which fit them for the inclemencies of Kingdom,
climates uncongenial to their original nature. A Lap-'
lander is no more a deteriorated Asiatic of the Mongolian
or Caucasian line, than a Georgian or Circassian is a
highly refined Laplander; neither is the Shetland pony a
deteriorated Arabian courser, any more than the steed of
Araby is a thorough-bred shelty. Each has been enabled
by a wise provision of nature to assimilate its character
and constitution to the qualities of the climate in which it
was destined to exist; and had it been incompetent to
effect or undergo such assimilation, it would then indeed
have deteriorated—that is to say, it would have died. If
we admire the slim smooth elegance of the Italian grey¬
hound, and regard the rough shaggy coat of the dog of
Nova-Zembla as a deterioration, let us remember that
that which is the beauty of the one would be the bane of
the other; and what would then become of that forlorn
agriculturist, whose business it is to drill the ice and to
furrow the snow ? The small stature and peculiar habits
of the northern pony would have been as little fitted to
sustain the fiery breath or the shifting sands of an eastern
desert, as the graceful Arabian to withstand the cold and
cloudy clime, and the rugged and precipitous mountains,
of Lapland or Thule. Therefore, instead of being dete¬
riorated, each ought rather to be said to exist in the best
and most improved condition, according to the nature of
its particular calling. Using the word, however, in its
more usual acceptation, it may be stated that an animal
seldom degenerates in its native country, but more fre¬
quently in those for the climate of which its constitution
is not adapted. Each species appears to have a certain
extent or circle of natural distribution, in the centre of
which it not only most abounds, but also there shows it¬
self in its finest and most characteristic proportions. As
the places of its occurrence diverge from this centre of
dominion, it becomes rarer, and exhibits a variation or
considerable departure, at least in its external characters,
from the primitive model. Thus the horses of Arabia
and Barbary degenerate in Britain; and, to preserve the
breed in purity, they must be frequently crossed by the
original; but the Arabs themselves are very careful to pre¬
vent any mixture in the blood of their native and noble
kinds, and would deem them deteriorated by such alliance.
In the tabular or abridged views of classification which
we here present, it is our intention merely to exhibit the
great primary divisions of the animal kingdom called
classes. The secondary divisions into orders, and the fur¬
ther dismemberment of these into minor groups called fa¬
milies, genera, &c., will be illustrated when we come to
treat of each class in particular under its proper head.
Neither do we intend to trace the progress of classifica¬
tion from the earliest ages of sciehtific record; because,
as the object of the naturalist is rather to ascertain the
nature and relationship of things as they are, than as they
were supposed to be, there is the less necessity for leaving
our direct x’oute, to trace either the origin or the progress
of error. We shall proceed, after a few observations, at
once to the system of Linnaeus, which is in fact the basis
of all that have succeeded, and without a knowledge of
which it is impossible to understand either the merits or
defects of more recent systems. Indeed, with the excep¬
tion of the purely artificial classification of Klein, and the
multiplied orders of Brisson and Vicq-d’Azir, all the sys¬
tems which have appeared since the middle of last cen¬
tury are indebted more or less to the labours of the im¬
mortal Swede, and may be valued almost exactly in pro-
vol. in.
Karnes’s Sketches.
170 ANIMAL
Animal portion to their share in the lucidus ordo of the Linnaean
Kingdom. SyStem. For example, the Systerna Regni Animalis of
Erxleben (1777) is nothing more than a revised edition
of the Systema Naturae, in which are engrafted, with no
lack of skill, many additions both of species and genera;
the whole being presented in a consecutive series, without
the accustomed subdivision into the primary groups called
orders. The Prodromus Methodi Animalium of Storr
(1780) does not differ radically from the Linnaean system.
The Elenchus Animalium of Bodaert (1787) is allied to it
still more closely in every thing except its accuracy. Of
Gmelin’s work (1789) we need not speak, as it is a pro¬
fessed revisal (being the 13th) of the Systema Naturae.
And although no one will deny the merit of profound and
original inquiry to the investigations of Blumenbach, most
readily will those who are best acquainted with his la¬
bours admit, that in zoology he has wisely followed the
footsteps of Linnaeus. The six classes into which the
German naturalist divides the animated creation, viz.
Mammalia, Aves, Amphibia, Pisces, Insecta, and Vermes,
correspond with those of the Linnaean arrangement, al¬
though their orders and genera are in some respects dif¬
ferently combined. His motto appears to have been
Malta jiunt eadem, sed aliter. (Quintilian.)
The signal benefits conferred on natural history, in all
its branches, by the learning and genius of Baron Cuvier,
are known wherever the science has obtained a zealous
and successful cultivator; and it cannot have escaped
the notice of the critical observer, that after 30 years of
profound and philosophical research into the mysteries of
the animal kingdom, the most enlightened zoologist of the
age should have finally reverted to a closer approximation
to the Linnaean system, than had characterized his views
at any former period of his brilliant career. When he
first made known (in 1797), conjointly with M. Geoffrey,
his new classification of mammiferous animals, his nume¬
rous genera were contained under no less than 14 differ¬
ent orders. Thirty years afterwards (in 1817) he pub¬
lished his Regne Animal, with many improvements in the
composition and arrangement of the minor divisions, and
with the addition of the order of which he is himself so
bright an ornament, but otherwise composed (we speak at
present of the mammalia alone) of primary divisions ex¬
actly the same in number, and nearly the same in nature,
as those finally divulged and established by Linnaeus him¬
self just 60 years before.
Latreille, Dumeril, Desmarest, and Frederick Cuvier, are
followers or coadjutors of the Baron, and with him are
partakers in the modification and amendment of the Lin¬
naean system. I he venerable Lamarck has greatly signa¬
lized himself in a field which, it must be confessed, was
obscure to the eye of Linnaeus—that of the molluscous
animals—which, under the name of Vermes Testacea,
were but indifferently treated in the Systema Naturae.
The error appears to have lain in the greater attention
which was bestowed on the shells themselves, or testace¬
ous coverings, than on the animal inhabitants ; and the con¬
sequence has been, that the conchologist of the old school
ranks with the collector of china, whether old or new.
The names above enumerated are certainly among the
foremost in the annals of modern science; and although, in
addition to these, many more might be mentioned with
honour as having contributed, by monographs or other par¬
tial though highly prized contributions, to the increase of
knowledge, yet we are not aware that more than three
systematists of acknowledged and wide-spread influence,
or of what may be termed universal celebrity, remain
unnoticed, of those who have essentially influenced the
present condition of zoological science ; we mean Fa-
biicius, Illiger, and iVl. de Blainville. We have no hesita-
KINGDOM.
tion in asserting, that as the writers first mentioned owe
much of the success which has attended their labours to Kit
their having judiciously engrafted their own improvements^
on the original stock of the Linnaean system, so the au¬
thors last named, though not less highly gifted, have in a
great measure sacrificed the utility of many original and
enlightened views to the fond conceit of a new, and in
some instances an incomprehensible, nomenclature.
The skill of Fabricius as an entomologist has never been
surpassed, and it is therefore the more to be regretted
that he should have been influenced in the formation of
his system by other motives than a desire to perceive and
point out the truth. But it is known that he was swayed
as much by the ambitious hope of founding a new doc¬
trine, of which he destined himself to be the oracle, as by
the desire of proceeding directly in the path of nature.
Hence his avowed enmity to the eclectic system of La¬
treille, which, during the opening career of that celebrated
entomologist, he declared it to be his intention utterly to
destroy. Yet the system of Latreille not only stands, but,
when viewed in relation to the application of its general
principles, has in a great measure superseded that of Fa¬
bricius. At the same time, the accurate discrimination
and extensive knowledge of the latter, and the wide circle
which his system embraces in detail, render it still indis¬
pensable for a knowledge of the species.
Illiger died young. Flis talents were such as to raise
among his compatriots the highest hopes of his future
eminence, and his death was a subject of just regret to all
who knew what he had achieved so well at an early age,
and who the more gladly lent themselves to the anticipa¬
tion of what he would afterwards have accomplished had
his life been prolonged. Of his classification it has been
written by a competent judge : “ Neque apud veterem,
neque apud recentiorem quendam auctorem ullum systema
inyenerim, quod, tam sua perspicuitate, quam accuratione,
Illigeriano magis commendari mihi videatur.” Many of
his genera are indeed remarkable for their felicitous con¬
struction and consonance with the natural arrangement.
They have in consequence been readily adopted by his
more fortunate fellow-labourers in the same field, in whose
works they will remain, and be handed down in ample at¬
testation of the author’s genius; but the system itself will
suffer a partition, and ere long cease to be practically
known under the form in which it was originally promul¬
gated, and this mainly in consequence of his having adopt¬
ed so many new names.
M. de Blainville is still alive, and the longer he lives
the better for the sciences ef anatomy and physiology,
neither of which contains in its modern annals the name
of a more accomplished or enlightened expounder of its
mysteries than his own ; but in the character of a natural¬
ist, and in connection with the subject of nomenclature,
he unfortunately sins more than all his predecessors. He
really miscalls the objects of zoology most sadly, yet his
knowledge of the essential bases of the science is no
doubt too profound to admit of his applying it without new
and important results. Hence the pity that these should
not at all times be stated in such terms as not only to
amalgamate more closely with the kindred labours of his
contemporaries, but to fall rather more clearly within the
comprehension of ordinary minds.
As it is not our intention in the present rapid sketch to
enter into the distribution of the animal kingdom beyond
the greater divisions called classes, we shall not exhibit
the systems of the two first-named authors further than
to say, that the former attended almost exclusively to
entomology, the latter chiefly to the mammalia and birds.
W hen we come to the divisions of our subject under
their separate heads, tabular views or more detailed ana-
ANIMAL KINGDOM.
171
ai lyses will be presented of the labours of these and other
>m ingenious inquirers of the past and present times. _
We have said that we regarded the system of Linnmus
is the basis of all those by which it has been succeeded,
ind that without a knowledge of his classification it
•vould be impossible to understand either the merits or
lefects of more recent systems. We shall therefore here
iresent the classes into which the great Swedish natural-
st divides the animal kingdom.
Division I.
4 heart with two auricles and two ventricles ; blood warm
and red.
^lass I.—Viviparous animals, or such as
suckle their young; commonly
called quadrupeds, but includ¬
ing also the cetacea or whales, Mammalia.
3lass II.—Oviparous animals, or birds  Ayes.
Division II.
4 heart with one auricle and one ventricle ; blood cold and
red.
’^lass III.—Animals breathing arbitrarily
through lungs  Amphibia.
Hlass IV.—Fishes, or animals with gills... Pisces.
Division III.
4 heart with one ventricle, no auricle; blood cold and white.
Aass V.—With antennae ; undergoing
transformations. Insects  Insecta.
Hlass VI.—With tentacula, and undergo-
ingno transformations. Worms, Vermes.
It may be observed, that the deservedly popular system
>f Linnaeus, though it does not profess to be a natural
nethod of classification, actually is so in many of its parts;
lor can it be denied that, on the whole, it usually brings
together as many groups of natural genera as occur in Animal
most systems that have been promulgated, especially if Kingdom,
we take into consideration the period at which it was'^^v->^'
composed, and the comparatively scanty materials within
his reach. Linnaeus was probably aware of the extreme
difficulty, we might say at once of the utter impossibility,
of a perfectly natural arrangement; for he confesses, in
his Philosophia Botanica, his inability to define the great
divisions called orders, on account of their being so con¬
nected with each other by various points of affinity, as to
form a map rather than a linear series; and the observa¬
tion may be applied with equal truth to the subjects of
the animal kingdom. In regard to the excellence of his
genera themselves, their consonance with nature is ren¬
dered still more evident, by the great proportion of those
which Cuvier and Latreille have retained as leading ge¬
neric divisions in their recent works,—certainly the most
skilful approaches which have yet been made in the es¬
tablishment of a natural system. It has been asserted,
and we believe with truth, that such naturalists as are
perpetually intent on the abstract theory of classification,
rarely attain the highest excellence in the discrimination
or definition of the species,—the only distinctions possibly
which have a real foundation in nature, and upon an ac¬
curate and extensive knowledge of which alone their
theoretical systems can be substantially and permanently
built. At all events, it is admitted that Linnaeus is a
guide almost infallible, in as far as concerns his wonderful
facility in discovering the minor natural groups. If he
could have combined these as well as he has defined
them, his possession of the sceptre would have been still
undoubted.1
M. Virey, in the first edition (1803) of the Nouveau
Dictionnaire d’Histoire Naturelle, divides the animal king¬
dom into three great tribes, in accordance with the nature
and distribution of the nervous system. As he appears to
have been among the first to attribute a due degree of
importance to that system in the classification of animals,
we shall here exhibit a view of his general arrangement.
Wimals possessed of two nervous
systems, the cerebro-spinal and
the ganglionic 
Tribe Vertebrata.
Heart with two ventricles and two auricles;
blood warm, lungs cellular 
Heart with one ventricle and one auricle ;
blood cold 
JMan and Mammalia.
| Birds.
\ Reptiles and Fishes.
Tribe Invertebrata.
\nimals possessed of a single nerv¬
ous system surrounding the (Eso¬
phagus, with ganglia and branch¬
es ; the sympathetic 
A heart; branchiae for respiration, mostly
aquatic 
No heart; some vessels; tracheae for air or
water 
f Mollusca.
J Cirrhipedes.
f Crustacea.
f Arachnides and Aptera.
) Insects, winged, hexapod,
y Annelides and Helminthides.
C Intestinal worms.
Tribe Zoophyta.
Nervous system composed of mo¬
lecules more or less perceptible ;
no distinction of sexes 
Ascidia, inclosed in a tunic 
Radiated animals ; composed of rays parting
from a centre 
United in Polypiers, or stony masses ; coral-
ligenous 
Microscopical 
Botrylli, &c.
Echinodermata.
Hydra and Polypus.
Corals and Ceratophytes.
Madrepores and Sponges.
Infusory Animals.
... ^16 following summary will serve to illustrate M.
neys views of the nature and characteristics of these
.ree groat divisions. We commence with the zoophy-
ical tribe. 1 J
1st, Zoophytes are distinguished by an organic tissue of
| ' cry soft and pulpy nature, more or less diaphanous,
n very contractile, though we cannot readily perceive
its muscular fibres. Its fundamental character consists in
the extreme division of its nervous molecules throughout
the flesh of these animals. Except in the Echinodermata
and some other radiated classes, we can scarcely assert
the existence of a nervous system amongst them (on which
account they are named apathiques by Lamarck). Each
portion of the body having its nervous molecule and its par-
1 Horce Entumologicw, part ii. p. 428.
172
Animal
Kingdom.
ANIMAL KINGDOM.
ticular source of vitality, there is no common centre of
■ sensation ; thus division and generation are almost syno-
^ nymous, and when individual parts are mutilated they ai e
speedily reproduced. With these tribes the production
of the species is in fact nothing more than a simple
sprouting of a bud or offset, which separates itself from
the maternal stalk. Zoophytical animals are of no sex,
and thus resemble the agamous vegetables. Ihe mouth
is usually placed in the centre of the body, and is fre¬
quently surrounded by a species of unarticulated arms,
x'adiating from a centre like the petals of many flowers.
Several genera have only a single opening for the recep¬
tion and rejection of the aliment, f hey have no visceia
(excepting ccBca in certain species) ; no heart, not aiterial
nor venous vessels; no true circulation; no apparent
organs of respiration. They are all aquatic, and water
seems indeed the only fluid which pervades their economy.
They may be called the cryptogamia of the animal king¬
dom. The sense of touch, and perhaps that of taste,
seem the only ones enjoyed by these animals.
2<%, The Invertebrata present a greater complication of
organs. Their principal character consists in a nervous
system, extending itself, especially in the intestinal cavity,
by numerous ramifications. In all the families of this
great tribe, the nervous trunks surround the oesophagus,
pass beneath the belly, and are furnished with many
ganglions which supply branches to the different organs.
That which is regarded as the brain in this tribe (named
sensible by Lamarck) is nothing more than one or two
ganglia situated above the oesophagus ; but the particular
distribution of the two nervous branches which spring
from the collar of the gullet, and extend themselves over
the body, gives rise to the divisions of molluscous and ar¬
ticulated animals established by Cuvier.
The last-named naturalist has observed, that in the mol-
lusca the nervous system is composed of many ganglionic
masses, dispersed throughout the organization, but con¬
nected by means of nervous filaments ; and that the chief
of these masses constitutes a kind of brain above the
oesophagus. The mollusca have no skeleton ; their muscles
are attached to the skin, a soft contractile envelope, in
which in many species are produced shells, or stony
bodies of calcareous carbonate, formed by exudation or
superimposed concretion. Besides the sense of touch,
common to all animals, the mollusca are gifted with that
of taste, and sometimes of sight; but the sense of hearing
has not been remarked, except among the Cephalopoda
or cuttle-fish. Their systems of digestion and secretion
are rather complex; they are provided with a liver, and
possess a circulating or vascular system, through which
flows a humour or whitish sanies in place of blood. Their
respiration is effected by aquatic or aerial branchiae.
The' sexual organs are frequently united in the same in¬
dividual.
Among the articulated classes (such as the Crustacea,
the arachnides, and insects) the nervous system consists
of a double chord, extending from the head to the posterior
extremity, and bearing knots or ganglia which correspond
to the segments of the animal’s body. The first ganglion
above the oesophagus takes the place of what we call the
brain in the higher animals, but it is not voluminous in
proportion. All these animals are composed of segments
or annular divisions, and their forms are elongated, and
more or less cylindrical. Their skin or outer covering,
always of a somewhat solid texture, becomes in many fa¬
milies hard, corneous, or even stony; and the muscles are
attached to its interior. The greater number have arti¬
culated members, feet, wings, pincers, palpi, &c. Many j
of these animals have closed vessels; and the Crustacea Kij
have a heart and branchiae. Others, according to Cuvier,^
are nourished by simple imbibition. Those insects which
undergo metamorphoses are furnished with tracheae or
air-vessels for respiration, dispersed over their bodies.
The organs of the sense of hearing are not discernible
except among the Crustacea; taste is universal, and also
sight, except among the worms. Their jaws always ply
laterally. The sexual organs are usually separate.
3£%, The Vertebrata comprehend all those animals which
have a nervous system composed of ganglia, called syra-
pathetic, for the functions of the internal life ; and another
symmetrical nervous system, of which the principal por-
tions are inclosed in the cranium and spinal column, and
which sends off chords for the functions of the external
life. These are the most perfect and most highly en¬
dowed of all animals ; they are named intelligens by La¬
marck, and they are always endowed with five senses, of
which never fewer than four are situated in the head.
They possess a heart, red blood, a liver, lungs in the spe¬
cies which live in air, and branchiae in those which live
in water. An articulated, bony, symmetrical skeleton,
placed in the interior of the body, gives support and so¬
lidity to the different parts. Such are man, mammiferous
animals, and birds, which have warm blood, and respire
by cellular lungs; such also are reptiles and fishes, of
which the blood is cold. In all, the mouth has two hori-
zontal jaws, and the members are never more than four
in number.
The preceding are M. Virey’s view's of the distribution
and general characteristics of the different classes of the
animal kingdom.1 They contain a sound exposition of
several of the substantial relations which exist between
the different systems of the animal economy, and we pre¬
sent them to the reader even at the risk of afterwards
repeating in part several essentialities of his doctrine,
when we come to promulgate the views of his celebrated
countryman and contemporary Baron Cuvier.
We shall next present a tabular view of the general dis¬
tribution and primary divisions of animals according to
the system of Lamarck. It wdll be observed that this
author commences with the lowest tribes.
Animals without Vertcbrce.
* Apathetic Animals. (Apathiques.)
| Characters. No brain nor elongated
medullary mass; no special senses;
rarely articulated.
1. Infusoria.
2. Polypi.
3. Radiata.
4. Vermes.
(Epizoaria^)
* * Sensitive Animals.
forms various
( Sensibles.)
5. Insecta. r Characters. No vertebral column; a
6. Arachnides. brain, and generally an elongated
7. Crustacea. medullary mass; some distinct or
8. Annelides. j special senses; organs of movement
9. Cirrhipedes. attached beneath the skin ; formed
10. Mollusca. [_ symmetrically of equal parts.
Animals loith Vertcbrce.
* * * Intelligent Animals. (Intelligens?)
Characters. A vertebral column, a
brain and spinal marrow; distinct
senses ; organs of movement attach¬
ed to parts of an interior skeleton;
formed symmetrically of equal parts.
11. Pisces.
12. Reptilia.
13. Aves.
14. Mammalia.
Mceurs et Instinct dcs Animaux, tome i. p. 130.
ANIMAL KINGDOM.
The author of the preceding arrangement has entered
Hit- pon the discussion of certain preliminary points connect¬
ed with the subject of classification, which maybe regard-
1 as composing the art rather than the science of Zoology,
le inquires (in his introduction to the Hist. Nat. des
'nim. sans Vert.) what are the operations to be perform-
1 for the execution of a good distribution of animals, and
tr the establishment of the necessary divisions of that
istribution? These operations he states to be as fol-
■ws: 1st, To assemble animals together according to a
dnciple which is not arbitrary, and so as to form a gene-
il series, whether simple or ramified: 2dli/, To divide
fis general series into different kinds of lesser divisions,
' which the one shall be subordinate to the other; and
ith that view to make choice of and submit to certain
utable and convenient principles (principes de conce¬
rned) : 3«7y, To fix the rank of each sort of division after
le general principle, previously established; as, for ex-
nple,
The rank of each primary group in the total series;
That of the classical divisions of each primary group ;
That of the orders or families in each class ;
That of the genera in each family ; and
That of the species in each genus.
The execution of these three sorts of operations is re-
iirded by Lamarck as indispensable ; and that it is so has
:en long felt by naturalists, almost all of whom have more
less occupied themselves in the attempt, but always in
i arbitrary manner—that is to say, without the previous
tablishment of principles deserving of general consent,
he first of the operations alluded to—that which con-
rns the bringing together of species in such a manner as
form a general series—is an essential preparation, which
ight to precede the other operations, and without which
deed the latter could not be executed. It tends, more-
er, to enable us to discover the order of nature, with
hich it is so highly important that we should become
quainted. Although nature has necessarily followed a
rtain order in the formation of organized beings, and
pecially of animals, yet as she has now dispersed these
dmals, and commingled all the different races over the
I rface of the solid globe, or through the wide depth
liquid waters, the original order of formation is to a cer-
in extent disfigured, and so far imperceptible. We are
erefore obliged, with a view to its ascertainment, to
arch after some means by which we may attain to that
scovery, and to work out some solid principles to lessen
e chance of error. In regard to this, the most impor-
nt step has been already attained, when we acknowledge
e interest inspired by affinities or relations, and the ne-
ssity of understanding these, with a view to submit to
em, as to a test, the various parts of our general distri-
ition. It may thus be perceived, that in order to esta-
ish a good distribution of animals, in such a manner that
> solidity shall run no risk of being enfeebled by the ar-
trary nature of opinion, it is necessary first of all to as-
1 mble our species according to well-determined affinities ;
toi which we may, without inconvenience, trace out the
ics of demarcation which separate the groups called
isses, and those other subordinate groups of which the
tablishment is so advantageous, provided the natural
unions are in nowise compromised by their formation,
may perhaps be proper shortly to inquire into the na-
re ^lese relations, their different degrees, and the
act uses which it becomes us to make of such as we
certain and acknowledge. We shall then be enabled
' greater facility to determine the principles which it
ht to establish.
delations, according to Lamarck, are those traits of
tm dnce or analogy which nature has bestowed, as
173
well on her different productions when compared among Animal
themselves, as on the different parts of those same pro- Kingdom,
ductions when compared with each other. These traitsv ’
of resemblance and affinity are so necessary to be known
and understood, that no methodical distribution can be
established on a sure foundation, if the objects which it
embraces are not arranged according to the law which
they prescribe. Relations are of different orders, some
being very general, others less so, and many altogether
special or particular. Moreover, although, in general,
relations belong to nature, all are not the direct result of
her operations in regard to her productions ; for among the
relations which we perceive between the compared parts
of different beings, there are many which result merely
from a modifying cause. Thus the relations of exterior
form, which are so apparent between the cetacea and
fishes, can only be attributed to a property resulting from
the dense medium which each inhabits, and not to any
direct plan in the operations of nature in regard to both.
It is necessary then carefully to distinguish those obvious
and acknowledged relations which pertain to the direct
operations of nature in the progressive organization of
animal life, from certain others, equally obvious and ac¬
knowledged, which result from the influence of local cir¬
cumstances, or from the peculiar habits which different
races have in some instances been forced to acquire.
Relations of the last-named nature, though certainly of
greatly inferior value to the former, are by no means
limited in their influence and exhibition to external cha¬
racters alone ; for it may be demonstrated that the exter¬
nal cause which possesses the power to modify the direct
operations of nature frequently exercises an obvious in¬
fluence on several internal organs. It becomes the more
necessary then to establish certain rules, devoid of arbi¬
trary qualities, to enable us justly to appreciate the nature
and value of these relations; and it may be established
as a principle in zoology, that it is from the interior or¬
ganization that the most essential are to be obtained.
This principle is well founded if it expresses the pre-emi¬
nence which ought to be accorded to general considera¬
tions, gathered from the interior organization, over those
derived from external parts. But if, instead of using it
in this manner, we apply it to particular cases of our own
choosing, and without pre-established rule, it is capable of
great abuse; and we shall arbitrarily assign to relations
presented by such or such system of internal organs, a
preference over certain others, although the relations of
the latter may in reality be of greater importance. By
this means, sufficiently convenient for the changeable
views of individual authors, we admit into various parts of
our distribution inversions in every way contrary to the
order of nature.
It is true, as has been already observed, that a cause
which modifies organization not only acts on the exterior
parts of animals, but also produces various modifications
in their internal structure. It follows, that it is incorrect
to suppose that the relations which exist between the
races, and especially between the genera, the families, the
orders, or even in certain cases the classes of animals,
can always be decided merely from the isolated conside¬
ration of any internal organ, arbitrarily selected. On
the contrary, Lamarck is of opinion that the relations of
which we speak cannot be suitably determined except by
a consideration and comparison of the whole of the inte¬
rior organization, and, auxiliarly, by that of certain special
internal organs which assured principles have demon¬
strated to be the most preferable and important.
The second question proposed by M. Lamarck is the
following: What are the principles by which we ought to
be guided in our operations, so as to exclude from these
174
ANIMAL KING I) o M.
Animal whatever is arbitrary ? Our author is of opinion that it is
Kingdom, by the precise discrimination of each sort ot relations up,
'^^’^and by aid of a determination, substantial and explained,
of the preference which ought to be accorded to one kind
over another, that we shall discover principles proper to
regulate all the parts of our general distribution of ani¬
mals. It is necessary then to determine the principal
kinds of relations which ought to be employed to attain
this end, and then to fix the superiority in value which
one kind possesses over another. The following is the
classification of Lamarck in further illustration of this sub¬
ject.
* Relations between Comparative Organizations, deduced
from the whole of their parts.
These relations, though general, manifest themselves
in different degrees, according as we seek for them among
races compared in themselves, or among groups of ani¬
mals of different races compared with each other. It is
necessary then to distinguish several kinds.
First kind of general relations.—These seem immedi¬
ately to connect races or species with each other. I hey
are of necessity the first, because it is they which furnish
the greatest of the relations between animals which differ
from each other. The zoologist who determines it, taking
into consideration all the parts of organization, as well in¬
terior as exterior, admits not of this sort of relation, un¬
less when it presents the smallest and least important
difference. We know that animals which resemble each
other perfectly, both in their internal and external organi¬
zation, can be nothing more than individuals of the same
species. In this case the relation is not considered, as
such animals offer no distinction. But those which present
among themselves a difference, tangible, constant, and at
the same time the smallest possible, are connected by
the greatest and most immediate of relations, if they pre¬
sent elsewhere a great resemblance in all the parts of
their interior organization, as well as in the greater pro¬
portion of their external features. And this sort of rela¬
tion does not demand a consideration of the degree of
composition or relative perfection of the animal organiza¬
tion, for it determines itself in all the ranks of the scale.
It is so easy to seize, that every one acknowledges it at
first sight; and it is by employing it that naturalists have
formed those smaller portions of the general series called
genera, notwithstanding the arbitrary nature of their li¬
mits. Thus, in this first kind of relation, which may be
called the relation of species, the difference between the
objects compared is the smallest possible, and need only
be sought for in the particularities of form or of the ex¬
ternal parts of individuals.
Second hind of general relations.—This embraces the
agreements which exist between groups of different ani¬
mals when compared together. It may be named the re¬
lation of groups; and, to acquire a knowledge of its nature,
we must no longer occupy ourselves essentially with the
particulars of the general form, nor with those of the ex¬
ternal parts, but almost solely with the interior organiza¬
tion, considered in all its parts. It is this kind chiefly
which ought to furnish the differences by which we dis¬
tinguish the groups from each other; and it is inferior in
one or more degrees to the first kind in the quantity of
resemblances which exist between the compared objects.
It serves to form the families, by connecting the genera
with each other; to institute the orders, or the sections of
the orders, by uniting several families ; and, lastly, it deter¬
mines the classical groups into which we ought to parti¬
tion the general series. The relations of which we now
speak cannot, however, be employed to determine the
rank of the great masses of that series, but only to form
&
diverse combinations for establishing and distinguishing
these masses. #
From the consideration of these relations, the two folA|A
lowing principles may be deduced.
First principle.—The general relations of the second
kind do not require a perfect resemblance in the interior
organization of the compared animals. “ Ils exigent seule-
ment que les masses rapprochees se ressemblent plug
entr’elles, sous ce point de vue, qu’elles ne le pourraient
avec aucune autre.” (Anim. sans Vert, tome i. p. 355.)
Second principle.—The greater and more general the
compared masses, the more will such masses differ in
their internal structure. Thus the families present a less
difference in the interior organization of the animals by
which they are constituted, than the orders or classes.
Third hind of general relations.—We may denominate
relations of rank those which serve to determine the posi¬
tion in the great series, and which, proceeding from a
fixed point of comparison, effectively show among the
compared objects a relation, whether great or small, in
the composition or perfection of the organization. This
kind is obtained by comparing any organization whatever,
taken in the totality of its parts, with any other given or¬
ganization which may be presented as a point of depar¬
ture or of comparison. It is then determined, by the re¬
semblance, greater or less, which is found between the two
compared structures, to what extent that which we com¬
pare departs from or approaches to that which is given as a
point of comparison. \V e shall see that this sort of rela¬
tion is the only one which ought to serve for regulating
the rank of all those important primary masses into which
we divide the animal kingdom.
If we consider the question concerning the choice of
a particular organization, from or towards which to remove
or approximate other organizations successively, accord¬
ing to their greater or less resemblance, it becomes evi¬
dent that the selection ought to fall on one or other ex¬
tremity of the animal kingdom (as in that case there
would be no uncertain balancing), and the best known
extremity should have the preference. Thus, in setting
out from the most perfect and highly finished structure,
we should, in the determination of all the ranks, proceed
from the most composite to the most simple, and should
close the series by the most imperfect and least organized
of the whole.
Of all forms of structure, that of man, considered in
its totality, is at once the most composite and complete.
From this M. Lamarck concludes that the more any ani¬
mal organization approaches that of the human race, the
more it advances towards comparative perfection and
its own completion. This being the case, the organiza¬
tion of man is with that author the point of comparison
and departure from which to judge of the relation, whe¬
ther near or distant, of every form of animal structure,
and by which we are to determine the rank which those
forms, or the groups which they constitute, ought to oc¬
cupy in the general series. The organization alluded to,
considered in the totality of its parts, furnishes the means
by which to judge of the degree of composition and per¬
fection of other animal structures also regarded in their
totality. And in doubtful cases it is not difficult to rid
ourselves of uncertainty and embarrassment, by having re¬
course to the fourth kind of relations, or to those princi¬
ples which concern the comparison of the different organs
separately considered, and establish a predominating value
and influence among certain of those organs when com¬
pared with others. Thus, our point of departure or com¬
parison being found, the rank of all the divisions may be
assigned with facility by the aid of the principles which
follow.
£
ANIMAL KINGDOM.
175
Fint principle.—For the determination of the rank of
, ach mass in the series,—the most complicated and com-
■lete of animal organizations being selected as the point
f comparison,—the more another form of animal struc-
jre considered in the whole of its parts, resembles that
f the fore-chosen, the more it will approximate towards
by its relations; and reciprocally in the converse cases.
Second principle.—Among the organizations of which
ie plans are different from that which comprehends the
articular structure selected as the point of comparison,
lose which offer one or more systems of organs similar
r analogous to such as form a portion of that with which
ley are compared, shall rank superior to those possessed
fa smaller number of these organs, and, a fortiori, to those
i which they are wanting.
With the assistance of the three kinds of relations above
idicated, and the principles deducible from them, M. La-
larck regards it as easy to determine the distinctions
f species, and those of the various larger groups which
iccies form ; and to decide, in a manner by no means ar-
itrary, the rank and station of each group in the great
iries. If this be true, the science will cease to be as va-
jillating in its onward march as it has hitherto proved.
But our efforts would be incomplete, and would still
■ave too large a field for the exercise of arbitrary opi-
ions, if no attempt were made to establish and define the
due of particular relations,—that is to say, of those which
;-e obtained by the comparison of particular internal Gr¬
ins, considered in an isolated manner in different animals.
* Relations between similar or analogous parts talien se¬
parately in the organization of dijf h'ent animals, and
compared ivith each other.
The fourth hind of general relations merely embraces
irticular relations between unmodified parts. It is drawn
om the comparison of parts separately considered, and
liich, in the system of organization to which they belong,
fer no real anomaly. The consideration of this kind is
imetimes of great consequence in assisting to decide in
Dubtful cases, when we are anxious to determine, among
Ttain compared groups, to which the superiority' of rank
ight to be assigned. Such cases sometimesi occur where
ic whole of the parts of the interior organization present
) means of deciding, in an unarbitrary manner, to which
' two organizations the superiority belongs. It is espe-
ally in the formation and position of the orders, sections,
milies, and even genera, of each class, and consequently
the assignment of the rank of all these inferior groups,
lat the employment of this fourth kind of relations is of
Ivantage; because, in regard to such groups, the prin-
ple of the third sort of relations is frequently very diffi-
ilt of application ; and thus arbitrary modes of arrange-
ent are introduced, most baneful to the science, by ex-
ising the works of naturalists to a continual variation in
ie determination of the relations which ought to fix the
imposition of the groups, and their order of position,
i fact, as many animals, really connected by the general
I unacters of their class, present remarkable differences in
Ttain of their interior organs, and yet at the same time
dlibit equally striking resemblances in others, we feel
lat, in order to appreciate the degree of importance pos-
issed by the relations which exist between particular or-
ms, we must have recourse to certain regulating prin-
ples in our determinations, to avoid arbitrary conclusions,
be two following principles are proposed by Lamarck, to
nible us to appreciate the relations observable between
irticular internal organs in different animals compared
ith each other.
First principle.—Between two internal organs, or syrs-
ms of internal organs, separately considered and com¬
pared, that of which nature has made the most general Animal
employment ought to have the pre-eminence assigned it Kingdom,
in the value of the relations which it presents. Accord-v-^v^^1
ing to this principle, the following is the order of import¬
ance which we ought to attribute to the particular organs
which nature has employed in the interior organization of
animals
The organs of digestion ;
The organs of respiration ;
The organs of movement;
The organs of production;
The organs of sensation ;
The organs of circulation.
Thiis, when we take into view the greatest generality
of employment of the particular organs of which nature
makes use in the interior organization of animals, we per¬
ceive that the organs of digestion occupy the foremost
rank,—those of circulation the last. We have thus an or¬
der of value or precedence, in regard to these important
organs, capable of regulating, in doubtful cases, the pre¬
ference which one relation merits over another.
Second principle.—Between two different modes of the
same organ, or system of organs, that which is most ana¬
logous to the mode employed in a superior or more com¬
posite and complete organization, merits the preference in
the relations which it exhibits. If, for example, we desire
to employ a relation afforded by the organs of respiration,—
to judge of the preference which it deserves over that of¬
fered by other organs,—we are obliged, according to the
principle above established, to keep in view the following
consideration:—Although the system of organs provided
for respiration is very widely employed in the organization
of animals, since, with the exception of the polyped and
infusorial classes, all the rest possess a respiratory sys¬
tem, yet the mode of that system not being the same in
all the classes by which it is exercised, we assign a higher
value to the true lung than to the branchia, to the latter
than to the aeriferous tracheae, and to these than to the
aquiferous tracheae. According to this view, we may judge
whether the mode of respiratory organs of which we wish
to employ the relation, is sufficiently high in value to per
mit our yielding to it a preference over a relation deduced
from some other kind of organs.
The fifth hind of relations embraces the particidar rela¬
tions observable between the modified parts. It requires
that, among the parts compared, we should discriminate
between that which is due to the real plan of nature, and
that which pertains to the modifications which that plan
has experienced from accidental causes. Thus this class
of relations is derived from parts which, considered sepa¬
rately in different animals, are not in the state in which
they ought to be, according to the plan of organization to
which they belong. To judge of the degree of import¬
ance which ought to be accorded to a relation, and the
preference which it deserves over another, it is a matter
of no slight consequence to distinguish if the form, the in¬
creased or diminished development, or even the entire
disappearance of the particular organs under consideration,
belongs to the plan of organization of the animals subject¬
ed to such modifications; or whether the state of these
organs is not rather produced by a modifying and deter¬
minable cause, which has altered or annihilated that which
nature had executed, and would have maintained, but for
the influence of that later cause. “ For example,” says'
Lamarck, “ it would have been impossible for nature to
furnish a head to the infusoria, the polypi, or the radiata,
&c.; for the condition of these bodies, and the degree of
their organization, did not permit it; and it was only on
arriving at the class of insects that a genuine head could
be supplied.” Now, as nature never retrogrades in her
operations, we naturally expect, that when once arrived
at the formation of insects, and consequently of heads, the
recipients of the special senses, all animal organizations
176
ANIMAL KINGDOM.
Animal superior in composition to that of insects will also exhibit
Kingdom, these organs. This, however, is not universally the case;
because no distinct head is observable among the annehdes,
the cirrhipedes, and many mollusca, all of which are gene¬
rally regarded as superior to the class of insects. Une
cause etrangere a la nature, en un mot, une cause modih-
ante et determinable, s’est done opposee a ce que les am-
maux cites soient pourvus d une veritable tetc. ( nun.
sans Vert, tome i. p. 363.) And that cause appears to have
operated sometimes by hindering to a greater or less ex¬
tent the development of that part of the body, and at
other times by effecting its complete destiuction. e
find the same thing in regard to eyes and teeth, and to
various other parts both of the internal and external struc¬
ture; because a modifying cause has had the power to alter,
enlarge, diminish, or even to effect the total disappeai-
ance of these organs. We may perceive, then, that the
relations obtained from the consideration of changed or
modified parts must be of very inferior value to those
furnished by the same parts existing in a state conform¬
able to the plan of nature. Hence results the following
Principle.—Whatever nature has directly formed de¬
serves a pre-eminence in value over that produced by a
fortuitous cause, which has modified the work of nature;
and in the choice of a relation to be employed, we should
assign the preference to every organ, or system of organs,
which we find existing as it ought to do according to the
plan of organization of which it forms a part, over that or¬
gan, or that system of organs, of which either the condi¬
tion or existence has resulted from a modifying cause, ex¬
traneous to original nature.
When two different organs, between which a choice is
to be made, are both found to be changed or altered by a
modifying cause, the preference should be given to that
which is least removed by such a modification from the
condition in which it would have existed according to the
plan of organization of which it formed a part.
The third question proposed by M. Lamarck is as fol¬
lows :—What disposition or mode of arrangement should
be given to the general distribution of animals, so as to
render it conformable to the order followed by nature in
the production of these beings ? To resolve this question,
we must also endeavour to deduce some principle from
nature herself, with a view to such conformity; for if we
were to determine the general distribution of animals ac¬
cording to the progression which exists in the animal or¬
ganization, it appears that we might, in that progression,
proceed with as much reason from the most composite to
the most simple, as from the most simple to the most com¬
posite. Such a proceeding, however, could not rest on a
proper basis; for we shall find that nature, consulted in
the order of her operations in regard to animals, indicates
the following principle, which excludes all arbitrary se¬
lection :—Nature always operating in a gradual manner, and
consequently never producing animals otherwise than suc¬
cessively, has obviously proceeded in such a production from
the most simple towards the most complex. We ought,
therefore, in our general distribution, to imitate the order
which nature herself has followed. “ J’ai, en effet,
montre,” says Lamarck, “ dans ma Philosophic Zoology j
(tome i. p. 269), que, pour rendre la distribution generaje K
des animaux conforme a fordre qua suivi la mature en^
produisant toutes les races qui existent, d fallait proceder
du plus simple vers le plus compose,—e’est-a-dire, qu’il
etait necessaire de commencer cette distribution par les
plus imparfaits des animaux, et les plus simples en orga-
nisation, afin de la terminer par les plus parfaits, par ceux
qui ont 1’organisation la plus composee.” He further ob¬
serves, in his Anim. sans Vert. “ Get ordre est le seul qui
soit naturel, instructif pour nous, favorable a nos etudes
de la nature; et qui puisse, en outre, nous faire connoitre
la marche de cette derniere, ses moyens, et les lois qui
regissent ses operations a leur egard.” Although we
may find it less pleasant or conformable to our habitual
taste to present at the head of the animal kingdom crea¬
tures of the most limited perceptions, excessively minute
in size, and of scarcely any consistence in their parts,-
yet as in all things it is necessary to consider the end in
view, and the means which conduct towards it, Lamarck
is of opinion that the arrangement established by usage
in the distribution of animals is precisely that which
leads us away from the point in view, as well as the least
favourable for our instruction, and that it opposes the
greatest number of obstacles in the way of our perceiving
the plan, the order, and the means employed by nature in
her operations concerning the animal world.
If in the study and examination of living bodies we had
no other object in view than to distinguish the one from
the other by characters deduced from their external
forms—and if we were not desirous to regard their various
and wonderful faculties otherwise than as simple matters
of amusement, not altogether unfitted to excite the cu¬
riosity of a leisure hour—then the most ordinary and arti¬
ficial system would suffice ; for in that case it would be
useless to occupy ourselves with researches concerning the
affinities of animals, or to study their internal structure.
But all naturalists are now agreed regarding the high im¬
portance of these affinities, and the necessity of holding
them ever in view in our general arrangement of the ani¬
mal kingdom. The bat is no longer classed with birds
merely because, like them, it wings its way -through the
air; nor are seals or whales regarded as fishes because
the dense nature of the medium which they inhabit re¬
quires a somewhat analogous form; neither are cuttle¬
fish and polypi confounded together, though the mouth of
each is surrounded by numerous arms.
We have dwelt at greater length than we intended on
the system of Lamarck, or rather on the views by which
he seeks to illustrate the principles on which his system
professes to be built. Though occasionally prolix, and
sometimes rather obscure, his observations, on the whole,
are well deserving of an attentive consideration. Like
most of his countrymen, he is unfortunately more re¬
gardful of secondary causes, and more anxious to illus¬
trate their fitness and sufficiency, than he is ready to ac¬
knowledge the source from which they spring, or to ad¬
mire the wisdom and beneficence of their providential in¬
stitution.1
1 ,U The doctrine of Epicurus, that the Deity concerns not himself with the affairs of the world or its inhabitants, which, as Cicero
has judiciously observed (De Nat. Dear. lib. i. ad calcem), while it acknowledges a God in words, denies him in reality, has furnished
the original stock upon which most of these bitter fruits of modern infidelity are grafted. Nature, in the eyes of a large proportion
of the enemies of revelation, occupies the place, and does the work, of its great Author. Thus Hume, when he writes against mi¬
racles, appears to think that the Deity has delegated some or all of his powers to nature, and will not interfere with that trust
(Essays, xi. 75); and, to name^ no more, Lamarck, treading in some measure in the steps of Robinet (who supposes that all theh ^
of the animal kingdom, in which nature gradually ascends from low to high, were experiments in her progress towards her great am
ultimate aim, the foimation of man—Darclay cm Organization, &c» 263), thus states his opinion:—u La nature, dans toutes ses opeft*
tions, ne pouvant proceder que graduellement, n’a pu produire tous les animaux a la fois ; elle d’abord n’a forme que les plus simple*'
et passant de ceux-ci jusques aux plus composes, elle a etabli successivement en eux differens systemes d’organes particuliers, k5,i
al We shall now proceed to the system of another natu™ collection of the oral demonstrations of his great master Animal
jom. alist, also highly accomplished in the science, M. Du- we were originally indebted for the publication of the Kingdom.
* .Ticri]} the friend and pupil of Baron Cuvier, and to whose Lemons d’Anatomic Comparee.
ANIMAL KINGDOM.
177
Table of the Classification of Animals, according to the System of Dumeril.
nternally articulated;
vertebrated;
•Ixternally articulated;
invertebrated;
\Tot articulated;
oviparous;
articulated members
'with mammae ; viviparous 1. Mammifeile.
1 without mammae ; filings; /feathers, wings   2. Birds.
’ & ^neither leathers nor wings 3. Reptiles
no lungs; branchiae 4. Fishes.
/tracheae 5. Insects.
/branchiae 6. Crustacea.
^no articulated members 7. Worms.
distinct respiratory organs ; vessels 8. Mollusc a.
no respiratory organs; no vessels 9. Zoophytes.
The ensuing tabular view exhibits the classification His nomenclature is no doubt intimately connected with
imposed by M. de Blainville. We shall leave the reader his views of the structure and physiology of animals, and
o judge for himself of the propriety of introducing so is highly approved of and adopted by many competent
uany new appellations for groups constructed long ago. judges of the science.
Synoptical Table of the Primary, Secondary, Tertiary, and Quaternary Divisions of the Animal
Kingdom, denominated Sub-Kingdoms, Types, Sub-Types, and Classes, by M. de Blainville. From the Principes
dAnatomic Comparee of that author.
ANIMAL KINGDOM.
/. Sub-Kingdom.
tegular or Autio-
morfhous Ani¬
mals.
Art i ozo aires.
articulated.
Type /.
interiorly.
OSTEOZO AIRES.
Type II.
exteriorly.
Entomozoaires,
or articulated ani¬
mals.
With appendages,
I. Sub- Type.
’ Provided with
mammae and ...hairs..
Viviparous.
- II. Sub-Type.
Without
mammae.
Oviparous, ffeathers 
Provided with j naked skin..!'
ffins 
f 3 pair 
4 pair..... 
f articulated to
1 the number of
I not articulated
[none  
5 pair.
variable 
7 pair 
= the segments
Classes.
I. Piliferes or Mammalia.
2. Penxiferes or Birds.
3. Squammiferes or Reptiles.
4. Nudipelliferes—Amphibia.
5. PlNNIFERES or FlSHES.
6. Hexapodes.
7. OcTOPODES.
8. Decapodes.
9. Heteropodes.
10. Tetradecapodes.
11. Myriapodes.
12. Chitopodes.
13. Apodes.
sub-articulated..
Type III.
Malentozoaires or Molluscarticules.
Type IV.
not articulated  Malacozoaires  The head -f f‘*s/1li1.ch"
Molluscous animals.
II Sub-Kingdom.
Radiated or Actinomorphous Animals. Actinozoaires. -
( not distinct...
j 14. Nematopodes.
(15. Polyplaxiphores.
IfJ. Cephalopiiores.
17- Acephalophores.
sub-radiated  18. Annelidaires.
'19. Ceratodermaires
normal or true..
20. Arachnodermaires.
- 21. XoANTHAIRES.
22. Poi.YPIAIRES.
^23. ZoOPlIYTAIRES.
| II/. Sub-Kingdom. • , „, _
« 24. Sfongiaires.
Irregular or Heteromorpiious Animals. Heterozoaires. 25. Monadaires or Moleculaires.
I 26. Dendrolitiiaxres.
multiplies, en a augmente de plus en plus I’energie, et les cumulant dans les plus parfaits, elle a fait exister tous les animaux connus
ivec 1 organisation et les facultes que nous leur observons.” (Anim. sans Vertebr. i. 123.) Thus denying to the Creator the glory of
omung those works of creation, the animal and vegetable kingdom (for he assigns to both the same origin, ibid. 83), in which his glo-
nous attributes are most conspicuously manifested; and ascribing them to nature, or a certain order of things, as he defines it (214)—■
s urnd power, that operates necessarily (311), which he admits, however, to be the product of the will of the Supreme Being (216).
^remarkable, that in his earlier works, in which he broaches a similar opinion, we find no mention of a Supreme Being. (See his
. ys unc des Animaux sans Vertebra^ Discours d'Ouvcrturc.) Thus we may say, that, like his forerunner Epicurus, Re tollit, dum oralkme
rttnquit Dcum. But though he ascribes all to nature, yet, as the immediate cause of all the animal forms, he refers to the local circum-
s .Hues, wants, and habits of individual animals themselves : these he regards as the modifiers of their organization and structure (162).
VOL. HI. 2
kingdoms, viz.
1. Acrita, composed of the infusoria, the “polypi, the
corallines, the tcenice, and the least organized of the intes¬
tinal worms.
2. Radiata, containing medusa:, star-fish, sea-urchins
or echini, and others.
3. Annulosa, consisting of insecta, arachnida, and
Crustacea.
scripture. Metaphysicians enumerate seven principal ope¬
rations of the mind, musicians seven principal tones, and
opticians seven primary colours. In scripture, the abstract
idea of this number is, completion, fullness, perfection. Mr
Kirby seems to think that Mr Macleay’s quinaries maybe
found resolvable into septenaries, in consequence of future
investigations.2
We shall enter at greater length into a detailed expo-
Fo show the absurd nonplus to which this his favourite theory has reduced him, it will onlv he necessary to mention the individual
instances which, in different works, he adduces to exemplify it. In his Systeme he supposes that the webfooted birds (Anseres) acquir¬
ed their natatory feet by frequently separating their toes as far as possible from each other in their efforts to swim. Thus the skin
that unites these toes at their base contracted a habit of stretching itself; and thus in time the web-foot of the duck and the goose
was produced. I he waders (Grallce), which, in order to procure their food, must stand in the water, but do not love to swim, from
their constant efforts to keep their bodies from submersion, were in the habit of always stretching their legs with this view, till they
giew Ion" enough to spare them the trouble! ! ! (13). How the poor birds escaped drowning before they had got their web-feet
a*)( long legs the author does not inform us. In another work, which I have not now by me, I recollect he attributes the long neck
of the camelopard to its efforts to reach the boughs of the mimosa, which, after the lapse of a few thousand years, it at length ac¬
complished ... In Ins last work he selects as an example one of the Moluscac, which, as it moved along, felt an inclination to ex¬
plore by means of touch the bodies in its path : for this purpose it caused the nervous and other fluids to move in masses successive¬
ly to certain points of its head, and thus in process of time it acquired its horns or tentacula ! ! (A nim. sans Verte.br. i. 188.) Hb
grievous that this eminent zoologist, who in other respects stands at the head of his science, should patronize notions so confessedly
absurd and childish. (Introduction to Entomology, by Kirby and Spence, vol. iii. p. 349 )
1 See Horae Entomologies, and Kirby & Spence’s Introduction to Entomology vol iii p 12
- Introduction to Entomology, vol. iii. p. 15. The quinary system, in its application 'to insects and other annulose animals, is
pretty fully developed by its ingenious author in his Horae Entomologicas, already more than once referred to. An excellent paper by
Mr Vigors, on the classification of birds, m accordance with the same system, will be found in the 14th volume of tlie Transactions of
the Juiiuicbcm society.
ANIMAL KINGDOM.
i jaal jition of the quinary system, of arrangement under the
f:»irarticles Entomology and Ornithology.
Cuvier divides the animal kingdom into four principal
tranches. Setting aside all accessory and artificial cha-
•acters, he proceeds upon the consideration of the essen-
ial structure of animals, and thus deduces four great
groups or separate types of form, to one or other of which
ill the minor divisions may be ultimately referred.
In the first of these forms the brain, and the great cen-
ral trunk of the nervous system called the spinal marrow,
ire protected by strong bony coverings—the cranium and
/ertebral column. To the sides of that column are at-
ached the ribs and the bones of the anterior and poste-
•ior members. All the classes of this primary division are
irovided with red blood, a muscular heart, a mouth with
wo horizontal jaws, and special organs of vision, hearing,
aste, and smell, placed in the head or upper and anterior
portion. They have never more than four members ; their
sexes are always separate; and they nearly resemble each
>ther in the distribution of their medullary masses, and
he principal branches of their nervous system. On ex-
tmining more narrowly the constituent parts of the classes
vhich compose this great assemblage, it is easy to disco-
/er many striking analogies both of form and structure,
;ven in those groups which are most distantly related to
;ach other; and from the human species to the last of
;he fishes there exists an obvious conformity to the same
general plan. The name of Vertebrated Animals is
lestowed on this division, on account of their being pos¬
sessed of a vertebral column or back-bone. The following
ire the principal groups or classes into which it is further
livisible.
FIRST PRIMARY DIVISION: ANIMALIA VERTEBRATA.
Class ls£. Man, mammiferous land-animals, and ce-
'tacea.
Class 2d. Birds.
Class 3r?. Reptiles.
Class kth. Fishes.
The second great division possesses no skeleton. The
nuscles are attached to the skin, which forms a soft con-
ractile envelope; and many of the species are protected
iy hard coverings, commonly called shells, which are sup¬
posed to occupy in the cutaneous system of this form of
animal life the same station as the mucous membrane of
the preceding division. The nervous system is contained
along with the viscera within this general envelope, and
is composed of many dispersed portions, of which the
principal, placed above the oesophagus, may be regarded
as representing the brain. Of the four special senses it is
impossible to discover the organs of more than two, taste
and sight; and even of these the last is frequently want¬
ing. The organs of hearing are visible only in one family.
The system of circulation is however complete; there are
particular organs for the performance of respiration ; and
the functions of digestion and secretion are almost as
complicated as in the vertebrated classes. The subdivi¬
sions of this second form are called Molluscous Ani¬
mals ; and although the external configuration of their
parts does not exhibit the same agreement as that of the
vertebrated classes, there is always a corresponding re¬
semblance in their essential structure and functions. The
following are the classes of this branch of the animal
kingdom.
SECOND PRIMARY DIVISION: ANIMALIA MOLLUSCA.
Class Itf. Cephalopoda, e. g. cuttle-fish, nautili, belem-
nites, argonauts, &c.
179
Class 2d. Pteropoda. Genus Clio, &c. Animal
Class 3d. Gasteropoda. Slugs, snails, and numerous Kingdom,
groups of turbinated shells.
Class kth. Acephala. Oysters, mussels, and other bi¬
valve shells, &c.
Class 5th. Brachiopoda. Terebratulae, &c.
Class &th. Cirrhopodes. Barnacle shells, &c. Lepas
and Triton. (Linnaeus.)
The third great preponderating form is represented by
insects and other analogous classes. Their nervous sys¬
tem consists of two long ventral or sublateral chords, which
swell out at intervals into knots or ganglia. The first of
these ganglia, placed above the oesophagus, is analogous
to the brain, although it does not exceed in size and
scarcely in importance the ganglia of the lengthened cords,
with which it communicates by means of a ring which
embraces the oesophagus like a collar. The general
covering of the body in this division is sometimes hard,
sometimes soft, and is divided into segments by a certain
number of transverse incisions. The muscles are always
attached to the interior, and the body is usually, though
not universally, provided with articulated members. It is
among the classes of this form that we begin to perceive
the passage from a system of circulation in closed vessels
called arteries and veins, to nutrition derived from imbibi¬
tion ; and a corresponding passage from respiration in cir¬
cumscribed organs to that performed by tracheae or air-
vessels, distributed over the whole body, is likewise ob¬
servable. The organs of taste and sight are the most
distinct in this branch ; the organ of hearing is apparent
only in a single family, although we can scarcely doubt
that the sense exists in others in which the organ has not
been ascertained. The following classes are ranked under
this great form.
THIRD PRIMARY DIVISION: ANIMALIA ARTICULATA.
Class 1st. Annelides. Serpulse, nereids, leeches, earth¬
worms, the hair-eel, &c.
Class 2d. Crustacea. Crabs, lobsters, shrimps, &c.
Class 3d. Arachnides. Spiders, scorpions, mites, &c.
Class Uh. Insecta. Beetles, flies, butterflies, &c.
In the three preceding divisions, the organs of move¬
ment and of sensation are disposed symmetrically on both
sides of an axis, with an anterior and posterior portion dif¬
fering from each other. Among the zoophytes, which form
the last great division, the organs are usually disposed in
a radiated form. They approach the nature of plants in
the extreme simplicity of their structure. They have no
distinct nervous system, nor organs of the special senses;
and it is barely possible to detect in a few of the species
some slight vestige of the circulating system. Their res¬
piratory organs are almost always on the surface of their
bodies. The greater proportion of the classes exhibit no
other intestine than a sack or caecum, and the composition
of the last groups of all presents only a homogeneous
pulpy mass, sensible, and endowed with motion. From a
consideration of their most usual forms, the classes of this
order are named Radiated Animals. They are as
follows:—
FOURTH PRIMARY DIVISION: ANIMALIA RADI AT A.
Class ls£. Echinodermata. Star-fish, sea-urchins, &c.
Class 2d. Entozoa. Intestinal worms.
Class 3d. Acalephae. Sea-nettles, actiniae, medusae,
&c.
Class \th. Polypi. Corals, madrepores, sponges, &c.
Class 5th. Infusoria. Infusory and other microscopi¬
cal animals.
180
ANIMAL KINGDOM.
Animal Such are the great outlines of a system which, consi-
Kingdom dered in its generality, is certainly the most satisfactory
II which has vet appeared. Particular departments may
Animal- - - . 1 - - • ’ 1
cule.
have been filled up, modified, and perhaps improved by
, ingenious observers, sedulous within a limited sphere (and
of these ameliorations we shall be careful to avail our¬
selves when we come to enter upon a detailed view o
each of the classes of the animal kingdom) ; but the con¬
struction and position of the principal groups, their leal as
well as relative characters, are developed in the system of
the great French anatomist, in a manner more clear and
accordant with nature than in any other yet promulgated.
We shall therefore in the course of this work adhere,
with some slight transpositions, the reasons for which will
be stated in their proper place, to the classes of Baron
Cuvier. The greater extent and importance of some of
these, in comparison with others, will induce us to bestow
more attention and a larger space to their illustration;
and as certain of the primary divisions, such as the Mol-
lusca and Radiata, contain a greater number of classes, if
not of less importance, at least by no means so strongly
characterized or contradistinguished from each other as
are those of the vertebrated tribes, we shall, in presenting
the history and nomenclature of such classes, group them
together in such a manner as to exhibit them to the
reader either under one of the great primary divisions, or
as an intermediate subdivision, containing one or more
classes. For example, the article Mollusca of this work
will present consecutively under a single head the history
and classification of the six classes contained in the se¬
cond primary division so named;—but the four classes of
vertebrated animals will be each discussed in a separate
treatise. Thus mammiferous animals, birds, reptiles, and
fishes, will form the articles Mammalia, Ornithology,
Reptilia, and Ichthyology. The Classes of the third
primary division, viz. Annelides, Crustacea, Arachnides,
and Insecta, will (with the exception of the first, referred
to Helminthology) likewise be treated of under distinct
heads, in the alphabetical order, of the following terms
Crustacea, Arachnides, and Entomology. In regard
to the fourth primary division, that of the radiated ani-
mals, commonly called Zoophytes, the first class, named
Echinodermata, will be treated of separately under its
own title; the second class, Entozoa, which contains the
intestinal worms, will be grouped with the Annelides or
red-blooded worms (as above excepted from the third
primary division) ; and these two classes will be treated of
together under the article Helminthology. The re¬
maining classes of the Animalia Radiata, that is to say, the
Acalephae, the Polypi, and part of the Infusoria, as they
form the last links of the animal kingdom, will come to be
discussed with greater propriety at the concluding stage
of this work, under the head of Zoophytes. Finally, that
portion of the infusorial class which we have excepted in
the above distribution will be found described in the pre¬
sent volume under the word Animalcule. This com¬
pletes the exposition of our zoological system.
The following enumeration exhibits a view of the terms
under which the principal subjects of zoology will be ex¬
plained and illustrated in the course of this work.
Systematic Arrangement.
Mammalia.
Ornithology.
Reptilia.
Ichthyology.
Mollusca.
Crustacea.
Arachnides.
Entomology.
Echinodermata.
Helminthology.
Zoophytes.
Animalcules.
Alphabetical Arrangement
Animalcules.
Arachnides.
Crustacea.
Echinodermata.
Entomology.
Helminthology.
Ichthyology.
Mammalia.
Mollusca.
Ornithology.
Reptilia.
Zoophytes.
(t.)
Animal Magnetism. See Magnetism, Animal.
ANIMALCULE.
Animalcule, a diminutive term (from the word ani¬
mal), applied by naturalists to those minute beings which
become apparent in various fluids when subjected to the
microscope. They were named infusory animals {Infuso¬
ria) by Muller, one of the most celebrated observers in
this department of zoology; and the appellation, however
inapplicable, now occurs in the majority of scientific pub¬
lications. Of course it applies with propriety only to such
species as are developed through the medium of infused
substances. Now we know, that of 400 species of Infuso¬
ria (commonly so called) described by Muller himself, not
a sixth part were observed in any kind of infusions ; whilst
the remainder inhabited the most translucent waters, and
speedily died when placed in impure or corrupted liquids.
Even the word animalcule (or little animal) does not con¬
vey a positive or sufficiently restricted idea in relation to
this particular class; because mites and certain polypi
are extremely minute in their dimensions, and equally re¬
quire the aid of microscopical investigation; and thus the
term microscopies {microscopiques), recently proposed by
M. Bory de St Vincent, is not less faulty than its prede¬
cessors. The size of an animal, in fact, bears no essential
relation to the other conditions of its organization; and
therefore we cannot infer its nature with any certainty
from a knowledge of its dimensions. At the same time it
must be admitted, that the most simply organized, both of
plants and animals, are also the most minute; and thus
the Infusoria may be regarded as possessed of certain cha¬
racters in common. We here adopt the word Animalcule,
chiefly because it is the most familiar to the English
reader.
The subjects of our present observations may be thus
defined :—Animals invisible to the naked eye ;1 more or less
translucent; unprovided with members (the caudal, and
other appendices, with which certain species are furnished,
being scarcely regardable as such); no perceptible eyes;
contractile in whole or in part; endowed with the sense
of touch ; deriving nourishment by absorption; generation
(when not apparently spontaneous, and consequently in¬
comprehensible) effected by division, or by the emissim oj
gemmules or oviform bodies ; inhabitants of liquids. They
are the smallest and most simple of living creatures, but
not less perfect than the other tribes; for though they
possess the fewest faculties, their means are in every way
adequate to their wants, and their vital energies propor¬
tioned to their sphere of enjoyment.
Among microscopical animals we find many species
which, in their aspect and structure, present no analogy
1 Hie Volvox gldbator, and a few others, which are just discernible without the aid of a microscope, form exceptions to the above
character. ' ’
ANIMALCULE.
181
0 other forms of animal life: they are merely moving
mlecules of the simplest organization, the exact nature of
vhich it is sometimes difficult to determine, and which
ivolve in deeper obscurity the mysterious line of demar-
ation by which we so often seek in vain to separate the
nimal from the vegetable kingdom. If, however^ the
•ue distinction between plants and animals consists chiefly
i the irritability and power of contraction possessed by
he latter, then the Infusoria, which are strongly endowed
-ith these attributes, are indeed so far removed from the
e^etable kingdom, that the name of Zoophytes, or animal
lants, is inapplicable to the class to which they belong,
a the extreme simplicity of their structure, they no doubt
resent some analogy to the least complicated tribes of
lants, such as the algae and others; but it is a mere ana-
)<ry, and not a connection of affinity,—for no alliance be-
veen these kingdoms has ever been demonstrated, al--
lough certain obscure phenomena may have presented
ifficulties in the way of our investigations. “ We need
ot be surprised,” Mr Macleay observes in his Horce En-
mologicce, “ that several of the Linnaean algae should be
till hovering in a state of uncertainty between the two
lingdoms ; but, on the contrary, be prepared to expect ad-
!itional proofs of the analogy which the two great divisions
f organized matter bear to each other. The Agastria, or
igastraires of De Blainville, are indeed animals, though
icy have neither distinct organs of sense, alimentary ca-
al, nor even mouth,—though they have, in short, so far
s our present knowledge of them would lead us to be-
eve, no internal digestion whatever to execute, but trust
)r nourishment, like plants, to the absorption of their ex-
arnal pores. They must be esteemed animals on account
f their peculiar irritability; but are vegetables in almost
very other respect.”
Our knowledge of the history of animalcules resulted
•om the improvement of the microscope by Hartzoeker
nd Leeuwenhoeck. The ancients were consequently un-
cquainted with the mysteries of this “ invisible world
nd we are thus saved the tedium of a lengthened biblio-
raphical investigation. Notwithstanding the observations
f Hill, Baker, Ledermuller, Goeze, Gleicken, Roesel,
’alias, Needham, Spallanzani, and several other minute
nd laborious inquirers, it may be said that this branch of
oology only assumed a truly scientific form in conse-
uence of the labours of a distinguished Danish naturalist,
)tho Frederic Muller. His earlier works, such as the Ver-
uum Terrestrium et Fluviatilium Historia, and the Zoolo-
ice Daniccc Prodromus, presented very decided improve-
lents in the knowledge and classification of animalcules,
'hese emendations were transferred by Gmelin to the
3th edition of the Systema Natures of Linnaeus, in which
nimalcules form the fifth order of the class of Vermes,
hit the work which, had the rest been wanting, would
lone have immortalized the name of Muller, appeared
posthumously) in 1786, under the title of Animalcula In-
usoria, Fluviatilia et Marina. It is illustrated by 50 plates,
ontaining figures of 360 species variously represented.
V later and very useful compendium of knowledge regard-
ng microscopical animals forms a portion of the Encyclo-
itidie Methodique (46th livraison), in which Bruguiere has
eproduced the plates of Muller, with the addition of seve-
aV°^1,ers e(lual accuracy from the third volume of
loesel s Insecten-belustigungen. The reader will there find
lescriptions of 28 plates, containing nearly 1100 figures
epresenting 385 animalcular species.
Before proceeding further, we shall present a brief view
1 ^'e system of Muller, as of high importance in itself,
UK t le fundamental basis of the more recent and improved
urangements. It includes, however, several genera which
i>e not now classed among the animalcular tribes. He
divides the Class of Animalcula Infusoria as fol- Animal-
lows : cule.
Order I.—No External Organs.
* Thickened.
Genus 1. Monas; body punctiform. 10 species.
2. Proteus; body variable. 2 species.
3. Volvox; body spherical. 12 species.
4. Enchelis; body cylindrical. 27 species.
5. Vibrio; body elongated. 31 species.
* * Membranous.
6. Cyclidium; body oval. 10 species.
7. Paramccdum; body oblong. 5 species.
8. Kolpoda; body sinuous. 16 species.
9. Gonium; body angular. 5 species.
10. Eursaria; body excavated. 5 species.
Order II.—External Organs.
* Naked.
11. Cercaria; smooth, tailed. 22 species.
12. Trichoda; haired or ciliated. 89 species.
13. Kerona; with horny appendices. 14 species.
14. Himantopus; with cirrated appendices. 7 spe¬
cies.
15. Leucophra; the entire surface ciliated. 26
species.
16. Vorticella; orifice ciliated. 75 species.
* * Furnished with a Shell.
17. Brachionus; orifice ciliated. 22 species.
In the year 1815 Lamarck published the first part of
his Animaux sans Vertebres, a work which forms an
epoch in the history of the inferior tribes. In this signal
publication the author adopts a different course from that
usually followed by systematic writers; and pursuing an
ascending rather than a descending scale, he commences
with the lowest and least complex species, viz. the Infu¬
soria. From this class, however, he rejects all those spe¬
cies in which any kind of complication of organs is appa¬
rent. All the genera so distinguished are referred by him
to the first order of the second class of the animal king¬
dom, called Polypi, under the title of Polypi ciliati; and
the true and restricted Infusoria are thus defined : Micro¬
scopical animals, gelatinous, transparent, polymorphous, con¬
tractile ; having no distinct mouth, nor constant, determin¬
able, internal organs ; generation jissiparous or sub-gemmi-
parous. The genus Kerona, it may be further remarked,
is in this system united to the Himantopus of Muller, while
the genus Cercaria of that author is divided into two.
Thus the class Infusoria of Lamarck, composed of two
great sections, the naked and the appendiculated, may be
said to correspond to the first 14 genera of the Danish
naturalists.
Cuvier, in the Eegne Animal (1817), places the Infuso¬
ria as a part of his fourth great division, the zoophytical
or radiated animals. The term radiated was originally
bestowed on a numerous tribe of animals, such as the
Asterias and others, on account of their arms or tentacula
being extended in a radiated or star-like form; but it
certainly applies unfitly to the true Infusoria of Lamarck,
which possess nothing resembling a radiated structure. It
cannot, however, be always expected that a general term
of wide import should apply with etymological accuracy
to every part of the extensive series which it is intended
to embrace. Cuvier then divides his Infusoria into two
orders, Les Rotiferes, and Les Infusoires homogenes, the
former of which correspond to the ciliated polypi of La-
[g2 A N I M A
Animal- marck, the latter to the Infusoria properly so called of
cule. that author. , T „
According to M. de Blainville, the class Infusoria can
scarcely be regarded as established upon a natural foun¬
dation. The organization of its component tribes is
so various as to lead to the belief that a more precise
knowledge would show that several of those tribes belong
to different types of the animal kingdom. Some, as the
genus Brachionus, are symmetrically formed both as re¬
gards their bodies and appendages, and are protected by
a horny or crustaceous covering. Others, as Vibno, 1 a-
rammeium, &c. have the body elongated,^ depressed, vei -
miform, and without appendages. A third division ex¬
hibit a radiated structure, as for example the Vorticellae,
which, however, we have already stated, are now seldom
classed among the Infusoria. Many genera, such as Pio-
teus, Volvox, Monas, are amorphous, or without deter¬
minate form, and cannot be referred to any other known
type of the animal kingdom. They are regarded by many
as the elementary molecules of all animal life, and in their
structure no other than the cellular tissue is observable.
They may be said to be dependent on external circum¬
stances, instead of being able, like, other animals, to mo¬
dify or control them ; and their usually spherical form
is the necessary result of an equal pressure of w'ater on
all sides of a frail and yielding texture. M. de Blainville
considers the genera Brachionus, Urcelaria, Cercaria, Fur-
cularia, Kerona, Trichocerca, and Himantopus, as belong¬
ing to the type of Enlomozoaires or articulated animals,
and especially to the class Heteropoda, order Entomos-
traca. Many species of Vibrio he regards as Apodes, as
well as ParamcEcium and Kolpoda. Other species of the
genera Vibrio and Cyclidium ought rather to be ranged
with the Blanaria; and in the genus Leucophra there is
even a species which M. de Blainville is inclined to look
upon as an Ascidia ! Finally, the genera Gonium, Proteus,
Volvox, and Monas, if they are really animals, appear to
form a distinct type, which may be called Amorphes or
Agastraires; so named from the circumstance of their hav¬
ing neither determinate form nor reduplication of the ex¬
ternal envelope for the formation of a stomach, as in all
other true animals.
Such is a brief exposition of the views of one of the
most distinguished physiological inquirers of the present
day. It may serve, if for nothing more, at least to show
the unsettled state of opinion concerning these extraor¬
dinary creatures. In regard to this, however, we may
rest assured that, in the future progress of science, the
class Infusoria, as at present constituted, will suffer an
entire dismemberment, and its component parts will be
referred to various groups of the animal kingdom, some of
them widely distant from each other.
In the year 1826 a full and most elaborate classification
of microscopical animals was given to the world by M.
Bory de St Vincent. As it is the singular mode of ex¬
istence of animalcular beings, their general economy in
the field of nature, the actual conditions of their organi¬
zation, and the state of their limited faculties so far as
these can be ascertained, with which we are chiefly in¬
terested—so, in our systematic view of this extraordinary
class, we shall merely present to our readers the characters
of the principal genera, and of a few of the most remark¬
able species which they contain. But, as some may be
desirous to possess at least a sketch of the full extent and
condition of this intricate subject, we have constructed
the accompanying tabular scheme of the orders, families,
and genera of microscopical animals, according to the views
of M. Bory de St Vincent, the latest and most assiduous
writer on this department wuth whose labours we are ac¬
quainted. We have thought it advisable to retain the
L c u L E.
terms of the original language, lest, by inadvertence or -
misconception on the part of the translator, any additional
obscurity should rise around a subject already sufficiently^-
encumbered. {See Tabular View on the opposite page.)
The order Gymnodes of Bory de St Vincent nearly con
responds to the entire class Infusoria of Lamarck; and
although the observations by which he illustrates his ar¬
rangement partake of the accustomed defects of the French
philosophy, the facts which he details, if not the theore-
tical views which he inculcates, are worthy of an atten-
tive consideration. These mysterious creatures are ob¬
served to swim with astonishing rapidity; and although
their bodies are usually diaphanous, it has hitherto proved
impossible, even by the aid of the most powerful glasses,
to ascertain by what natural mechanism these movements
are effected. They direct their courses by a discretion¬
ary power, in one direction rather than another, avoiding
and turning round opposing obstacles, according to the
necessities of the case—discerning, as the process of eva-
poration proceeds, the points in which they may prolong
their existence, and flocking in crowds to those places
where they are best screened from the overpowering bril-
liancy of the reflecting mirror. They thus appear to pos¬
sess volition, which we are accustomed to regard as a
result dependent on the faculties of perception and com¬
parison.
The principal obstacle to our understanding the essen¬
tial nature of animalcules results from their want of a
nervous system, which, in ourselves, and in all the inter¬
mediate classes of the nature of whose' consciousness we
have even a vague idea, we regard as the sine qua non of
sensation and intelligence. Voluntary motion without
muscular action is also a circumstance which we cannot
very clearly comprehend. But as there may be “ more
things in heaven and earth than are dream’t of in our
philosophy,” we must not reject facts, that is to say ap¬
pearances which present themselves under the same de¬
terminate and uniform aspect to various unprejudiced ob¬
servers, merely because they do not coincide, or may pos¬
sibly controvert or interfere, with a previous hypothesis.
On the other hand, the extreme softness of texture, and
excessive minuteness, of most of the animalcular species,
render anatomical investigation almost impossible; and
naturalists may have erred in supposing the absence of
what they are merely unable to perceive and demon¬
strate.
It is in truth impossible to discover any traces of the
nervous system, even among several tribes of animals in
other respects much more highly organized than the sub¬
jects of our present inquiry. Trembley’s examination of
the Polypus threw no positive light upon the matter;nor
did Gade’s dissections of the larger Medusae enable him
to discover either muscular or nervous fibres. According
to M. Bory de St Vincent, the nervous system is one of
the last to be developed. To the perfect simplicity of the
Monads, the first perceptible addition is that of a central
cavity, or rudimentary intestinal sac, which we find to occur
even before the existence of a mouth. Next appears an
opening to this canal, which serves both for the reception
of nourishment, and the rejection of excrementitious parts
where such exist. The hairs andcirrated appendages which
ensue in still more complicated species have been regard¬
ed as the early rudiments of the respiratory system; and
even a heart, or central organ of a circulating fluid, is
partly developed before the appearance of any nervous
chords. The earliest, most general, and perhaps the only
indispensable function of animal life, is that of nutrition.
But the materials of nutrition are so different, and thejf
modes of reception so various, that the exercise of this
184
animalcule.
Animal¬
cule.
function by no means necessitates the existence of a
mouth, a stomach, or an alimentary canal; for an increase
’ of parts may be effected even through the medium ot
imponderable or elastic fluids, and by imperceptible and
superficial pores. .
The exterior of an infusory animal may be compared to
the interior of one of the higher classes, in which nutri¬
tion is carried on by the reception of the chyle by the
absorbent pores. These pores are external among t le
Infusoria, and the process of absorption is with them ana¬
logous to that of plants, in which there is a direct reception
and appropriation of fluids from the earth and air, wit i-
out any previous preparation in a central cavity or sto¬
mach. Zoophytes in general have indeed been called the
cryptogamia of the animal kingdom. According to Cams,
the Infusoria ought to be regarded merely as little cells,
partially filled with lymph, and possessed of the powers
of nutrition and locomotion; and thus the infinite changes
and variations perceptible in their forms may be supposed
to be produced by the various degrees in which this fluid
is collected at one or other of the points of theii bodies.
In the opinion of that anatomist, a more complete deve¬
lopment of the organs of motion, and indeed of the whole
organization, is inseparably united with the appearance of
a distinct nervous system. This may be true as a gene¬
ral rule, but not as a universal principle ; for the Medusa
has more apparent voluntary motion than the Asterias,
though the former is destitute of those nerves which in
the latter make their first appearance in the shape of a
pale thread-like ring surrounding the oesophagus. It is
this ring around the upper extremity of the alimentary
canal which, in the molluscous and articulated classes, we
shall afterwards find to constitute the most uniform and
most essential portion of the nervous system. The Me¬
dusae, just referred to, being almost of the same specific
gravity with water, are easily carried by currents, and
moved about from place to place by the action of the
waves, or even (as in the case of Holothuria physalis) by
the winds; but Carus and other writers have assuredly
erred in doubting that they execute a voluntary locomo¬
tion ; for that they do so in a very decided and graceful
manner must be obvious to all who have attended to these
animals in their native haunts along the shores, or among
the land-locked waters of the beautiful firths of Scotland.
The mysteries revealed by the glasses of Leeuwenhoeck
were at first regarded as beyond belief. The uncertainty
of microscopical investigations, in consequence of which
so much was supposed to depend on the imagination of
the beholder, was alleged against them; and even at an
after-period, when men of sober judgment and the most
industrious application had confirmed the experience of
the indefatigable Dutchman, the wit of Voltaire did not
disdain to throw its cutting sarcasm over the disciples of
the “ anguilles de la pate et du vinaigre.” We hope it
is now admitted, that however frequently those who en¬
deavour to expound the mysteries of nature may fail in
their attempts at elucidation, yet that there is nothing in
the manifold works of Omnipotent Wisdom which, if duly
studied and rightly understood, would not conduce to our
wellbeing and happiness; and that a single square inch
of water, with its many millions of animalcular atoms, is
in truth as wonderful a work of divine intelligence, and as
interesting a field for human investigation, as the starry
galaxy of heaven.
In his tam parvis, atque tam nullis, qua> ratio !
Quanta vis ! quam inextricabilis perfectio !
And if a heathen philosopher (Pliny) has so expressed his
almost reverential admiration, is it not to be deplored that A
those whose labours might be carried on under the influ. I
ence of a purer light, seem as often degraded as exalted^'
by the contemplation of their Creator’s works; and, re-
ferring all to the powers of nature, or some other inde¬
finite abstraction, refuse to recognise, amid so many won¬
ders, the “ Good Supreme” from whorn these and other
mightier wonders have proceeded? It is in the study of
the subject with which we are now engaged, and the ana¬
logous pursuits of physiology, where the completion of
the most perfect design and the happiest results of super-
human forethought are so constantly manifested, that we
frequently meet, where we should least expect it, with the
sneer of the sceptic, or the impious ridicule of the unbe¬
liever. ‘ How different are the sentiments -of one who
combines the piety of the Christian with the genius of
the poet and philosopher. “ But about the time of its
invention (the invention of the telescope), another instru¬
ment was formed, which laid open a scene no less wonder¬
ful, and rewarded the inquisitive spirit of man with a dis¬
covery which serves to neutralize the whole of this argu¬
ment. This was the microscope. The one led me to see
a system in every star ; the other leads me to see a world
in every atom. The one taught me that this mighty
globe, with the whole burden of its people and of its coun¬
tries, is but a grain of sand on the high field of immensity;
the other teaches me that every grain of sand may har¬
bour within it the tribes and the families of a busy popu¬
lation. The one told me of the insignificance of the
world I tread upon; the other redeems it from all its in¬
significance ; for it tells me, that in the leaves of every
forest, and in the flowers of every garden, and in the wa¬
ters of every rivulet, there are worlds teeming with life,
and numberless as are the glories of the firmament. The
one has suggested to me, that beyond and above all that
is visible to man, there may lie fields of creation which
sweep immeasurably along, and carry the impress of the
Almighty’s hand to the remotest scenes of the universe;
the other suggests to me, that within and beneath all that
minuteness which the aided eye of man has been able to
explore, there may be a region of invisibles; and that,
could we draw aside the mysterious curtain which shrouds
it from our senses, we might then see a theatre of as
many wonders as astronomy has unfolded, a universe
within the compass of a point so small as to elude all the
powers of the microscope, but where the wonder-working
God finds room for the exercise of all his attributes,
where he can raise another mechanism of worlds, and
fill and animate them all wdth the evidence of his glory.1
Although we cannot hope to derive the same amuse¬
ment or advantage from the study of each of the animal¬
cular species considered separately, as we do from the
consideration of the history of many of the higher animals,
yet, in a philosophical point of view, a knowledge of the
general attributes of the class presents several highly iro-
portant objects; and their obscure origin, their singular
organization, and more singular mode of existence, cannot
fail to excite our unfeigned wonder and admiration. They
can scarcely be described otherwise than by a negation of
all those characters which constitute the life, power, and
activity of other beings ; they have no head, no eyes, no
muscles, no blood-vessels, no nerves, no determinate or¬
gans for respiration, generation, or digestion—and yd
they are endowed with life.
The animal nature of the Infusoria has indeed been de¬
nied by many; but such is the regular gradation from the
most simply organized of the monadal forms to the muc
1 Washnexs's Astronomical Discourses, V). 112.
ANIMALCULE.
185
Hi. .more complicated structure of the Polypi, which present,
^ under a remarkable aspect, such unequivocal characters
■of animality, that it is impossible to draw the line of de¬
marcation ; and if we admit the life of the one we can
scarcely doubt that of the other. Yet many of the Infu¬
soria appear to present the very lowest conceivable point
to which animal life can be reduced.
The structure of an animal, the individual existence of
vhich is preserved by the absorption of a circumambient
luid, and the continuance of whose species is effected by
he division or separation of a part of its own body, might,
i priori, be supposed to be of the most simple kind. “ We
nay rest assured,” observes Lamarck, “ that whenever
m organic function is itself unnecessary, the special or-
ran by which it is usually performed will not be found to
:xist.” It is indeed by considering the nature of the Infu¬
soria that we are enabled to form a proper idea of the
amplest condition of animal life; and the invention of
he telescope was not of higher importance to the astro-
lomer, than that of the microscope to the physiological
laturalist. There are few subjects of reflection more in-
eresting than the uses which philosophers of an enlight-
-ned age have deduced and matured from the scanty
snowledge of a barbarous people. Glass, a material known
it an early period to the Asiatic nations, and once esti-
nated at its weight in gold, has become in the hands of
Europeans of more value than the finest gold. Whoever
jolished the first lens may be said to have laid the foun-
lation of an instrument destined to discover thousands of
:elestial worlds above and around us, and an unseen world
>f wonders beneath our feet. “ Indeed,” says Cuvier,
! it could not be expected that those Phoenician sailors
vho saw the sand of the shores of Boetica transformed by
ire into a transparent glass, should have at once foreseen
hat this new substance would prolong the pleasures of
ight to the old; that it would one day assist the astro-
lomer in penetrating the depths of the heavens, and in
lumbering the stars of the milky way; that it would lay
•pen to the naturalist a miniature world as populous, as
ich in wonders, as that which alone seemed to have been
ganted to his senses and his contemplation; in fine, that
he most simple and direct use of it would enable the in-
labitants of the coast of the Baltic Sea to build palaces
nore magnificent than those of Tyre and Memphis, and
o cultivate, almost under the frost of the polar circle, the
nost delicious fruits of the torrid zone.”1
The faculties of the most simple infusory animals, it
las been observed, are reduced to such as are common to
ill living beings, and to that irritability which results
i'om their animal nature; and their bodies are destitute
•1 special organs, precisely because their extremely limit¬
'd faculties neither require nor admit of such organs
•eing exercised. The chief interest to be derived from
he study ot this class of beings results, according to La-
narck, from the view with which such study presents us
•1 the ultimate point to which the organization of an ani-
nal is capable of being reduced; and, among all the
renders of the creation, he regards as the most surpris-
ng the existence of animal life in such inconceivably
fail and simple bodies as the least complicated of the
inimalcular species. It is not, however, to be said that
nature was incapable of forming special organs from the
materials of these frail gelatinous bodies,” but rather that
ie all-wise Author and Ruler of Nature has seen fit to
orm them in what to us may appear a destitute and in-
-omplete condition, merely because their structure does
>ot fulfil those other conditions which, erroneously, we
have sought to establish as the indispensable bases of Animal-
animal life. They truly show how confined a knowledge cule.
our limited faculties enable us to gain of His unlimited
powder ; for they not only present no analogy to other more
accustomed forms of life, but almost seem to exist in di¬
rect opposition to those laws in accordance with which
we “ live, move, and have our being.”
Infusory animals, commonly so called, are found in the
fresh and saline waters of all countries. They occur both
naturally, if we may use the term in a contradistinctive
sense, and as the apparent result of infused animal and
vegetable substances. According to Leeuwenhoeck, the
milt of a cod-fish contains more animalcules than there
are individuals of the human race existing on the face of
the earth ; and he calculated that 10,000 might be held
within the bulk of a grain of sand. The size of many
bears the same relation to that of a mite as the dimen¬
sions of a bee do to those of an elephant; and the most
powerful microscopes frequently discover nothing more
than merely perceptible points in motion. Flour and
water made to the consistence of book-binders’ paste, ex¬
posed in an open vessel, and frequently stirred to prevent
the surface from growing hard, will in a few days be
found to contain millions of animalcules. The thin pel¬
licle which grows on the surface of an infusion of com¬
mon black pepper also produces an innumerable congre¬
gation of minute beings. Of these and others the real
origin is still exceedingly obscure; and both Muller and
Spallanzani maintained the improbable opinion that they
fell from the air. Their subsequent increase or multi¬
plication is obviously effected in different and very sin¬
gular ways. Such as are spherical are usually propa¬
gated by minute portions, which, though they burst
from the anterior of the animalcule itself, cannot be
called eggs; and such as are of a depressed or flatten¬
ed form continue their race by cuttings or divisions of
their own bodies. We first observe a line or groove,
longitudinal or transverse, according to the species; and
ere long a notch or incision is perceptible at one or other
or both of the ends of that apparent line. This notch
increases across or longitudinally, till at last a portion is
separated or cut off, or the original animal is divided into
two, and each assumes the form and nature of their mu¬
tual predecessor. These new objects retain for some
time their natural shape, and then in their turn give rise
to one or more individuals by a similar separation of
parts. Lamarck seems to be of opinion (Philosophic
Zoologique, tome ii. p. 120 and 150) that this multiplica¬
tion by division, and that by the emission of gemmules or
oviform portions, are modifications of one and the same
natural process ;—that substantially each is the result of
an extension and separation of parts, which take place
when the parent individual has reached the final term of
its increase. It is in fact the same excess of nourishment
and growth of particular parts that, even in the higher
classes, give rise to the germ of separate life, physically
considered, although in regard to these the additional
process of fecundation is required. It is the new light
which may be gathered from the observation of the mi¬
nutest of the animalcular tribes that renders their study
both interesting and important to the physiologist; and
it is the belief of some, that a persevering study of the
history of microscopical animals will one day enable us to
withdraw the mysterious veil which still conceals from
our view the most important secrets of nature.
The systematic arrangement of animalcules which we
propose to follow in this place is nearly that of Lamarck,
vox., in.
2 A
1 Reflexions sur la Marche actuclle des Sciences, &c. read to the Institute of France in April 181C.
186
Animal¬
cule.
A N I M A
which is itself founded on the systems of Muller and
Bruguiere. The French naturalist includes in his system
only such species of the same class described by Muller as
are destitute of a mouth.
Order I.—Naked Infusoria.
Body extremely simple, apparently homogeneous, unprovided
with organs or external appendages.
The naked Infusoria are the smallest and simplest of
those animals which are cognizable by the senses of uian.
When we expose w^ater to air and light, especially ir it
contains an infusion of animal or vegetable remains, we
speedily perceive, by the assistance of the microscope, a
variety of animalcules. These are divided into two sec¬
tions.
Section I.—Body Thick.
Of this section the bodies present such a perceptible degree of
thickness as removes them from the simply membranous
state.
Genus Monas.—Body extremely small, of the simplest
construction, transparent, punctiform.
The Monads are the smallest and least organized of liv¬
ing creatures. We have indeed scarcely any proof of
their animal life, except that they are moving corpuscles,
allied to the genus Volvox, the animality of which is un¬
doubted. They have neither mouth nor alimentary canal,
nor any apparent organs. They live by absorption, and
are found in tranquil, but rarely in limpid waters. They
are produced in infusions of animal and vegetable sub¬
stances.
Sp. 1. Monas termo.—An extremely minute gelatinous
point, scarcely perceptible even with the aid of a power¬
ful lens, and frequently disappearing under a strong light
in consequence of its perfect transparency. This species
is common in ditch-water, and in numerous infusions.
See Plate XLVI. fig. 1. These minute creatures being
the earliest discernible evidence of animal life, and the
last result to which the higher and more perfect forms
can be reduced by infusion, have been called the alpha
and omega of all organized existence. Their history has
given rise to many curious views, and more absurd spe¬
culations.
Sp. 2. Monas atomus.—White, with a variable dark-
coloured spot, which appears to change its position. This
species was found in sea-water wdiich had been kept an
entire winter, but was not very fetid. See Plate XLVI.
fig. 2 and 3.
Sp. 3. Monas punctum.—Nearly black, of a sub-cy¬
lindrical form. Found in the infusion of the pulp of a
pear.
Sp. 4. Monas lens.—Hyaline, of an ovoid form. Found
in all kinds of waters. Multiplies by spontaneous incision.
Sp. 5. Monas pulvisculus.—Hyaline, with a greenish
margin. Found in the waters of marshes. This species
has been lately regarded as an enchelis. Indeed, so great
is the difficulty of microscopical investigation, and such
indefatigable patience is required in order to see things as
they really are, that the species and genera of this class
of beings are frequently transposed and altered in their
relative position and arrangement, in consequence of the
very dissimilar views which different observers have taken
of the same object.
As it would be inconsistent with our present limits to
describe more than a few species of each genus, we shall
content ourselves with the preceding Monads. “ How
many kinds,” observes Mr Adams, “ there may be of these
invisibles, is yet unknown, as they are discerned of all
sizes, from those which are barely invisible to the naked
L C u L E.
eye, to such as resist the force of the microscope, as the k
fixed stars do that of the telescope, and, with the greatest t!
powers hitherto invented, appear only as so many movingG
points.”
Genus Volvox.—Body very, simple, transparent, sphe.
rfcal or ovoid, revolving on itself as on an axis.
With the exception of one species ( V. globator) the vol-
voces are invisible to the naked eye. Under the micro-
scope they assume the aspect of small gelatinous masses,
which sometimes present an oval form. In some the
body seems composed of numerous smaller globules united
in one common mass. I here is reason to suppose that
these interior bodies are afterwards propelled outwardly,
and become separate individuals. The species occur both
in fresh and salt waters, and in vegetable infusions. They
derive their generic name from the manner in which they
turn or revolve upon their axis. Leeuwenhoeck describes
an animalcule “ a thousand times smaller than a louse’s
eye, which exceeded all the rest in briskness,” and turned
itself round as it were upon a point, with the celerity of a
spinning-top. The genus is divisible into two sections.
* Interior of the body apparently simple and homogeneous.
Sp. 1. Volvox punctum.—Spherical, blackish, with a
central lucid point. Of this species many are sometimes
seen together in their passage through the water. They
occasionally move as if subjected to the influence of a
whirlpool, and then separate. Numerous in fetid sea¬
water.
Sp. 2. Volvox granulum.—Spherical, green, periphery
hyaline. Dwells in the water of marshes.
Sp. 3. Volvox globulus.—Globular, sub-obscure behind.
This species is ten times larger than the Monas lens.
It occurs in most vegetable infusions, and moves with a
slow fluttering motion. Plate XLVI. fig. 4.
* * Interior of the body exhibiting smaller corpuscles.
Sp. 4. Volvox pilula.—Spherical, with greenish inter¬
nal globules. In those pure waters which nourish the
Lenina minor. Plate XLVI. fig. 5.
Sp. 5. Volvox lunula.—Roundish and transparent, and
composed of an innumerable assemblage of homogeneous
crescent-shaped molecules, without any common margin.
Its movements are of two kinds, that of the molecules
among themselves, and that of the whole revolving mass.
It occurs in marshy places in the early spring. Plate
XLVI. fig. 6.
Sp. 6. Volvox globator.—Commonly called the globe-
animal. Spherical, membranous, the internal globules dis¬
tant or scattered. Abundant in the infusions of hemp and
tremella, and in stagnant pools during spring and summer.
The following is an account of it by Mr Baker. “ There
is no appearance of either head, tail, or fins, and yet it
moves in every direction, backwards, forwards, up or down,
rolling over and over like a bowl, spinning horizontally
like a top, or gliding along smoothly without turning itself
at all; sometimes its motions are very slow, sometimes
very swift; and, when it pleases, it can turn round as
upon an axis very nimbly, without moving out of its place-
The body is transparent, except ■where the circular spots
are placed, which are probably its young.” Another au¬
thority states that this species is at first very small, but
increases to such a size that it may be discerned by the
naked eye, and that its interior is filled with small glo¬
bules, which are smaller animalcules, each of which con¬
tains within itself a still smaller generation, all percep¬
tible by means of powerful glasses. The lesser globules
may be seen escaping from the parent, and increasing w
size.
A N I M A
i m\ Jen-us Proteus.—Body very small, simple, transparent,
| | of varying form, changing itself instantaneously into
f different lobated shapes.
This genus is more obviously contractile than the pre-
I e(]ing. bit is seldom seen above a minute under the same
* mn, but is continually passing from a simple oval or ob-
? m-r’to an irregular or sinuated shape, and vice versa.
L species described by Iloesel is so remarkable for this
iculty, that it has been compared to a drop of water
: iroWn upon oil. Hence also the generic name.
Sp. 1. Proteus diffluens.—Body diverging into branches.
W tccurs in the water of marshes. Plate XLVI. fig. 7, 8,
lind9. ,
Sp. 2. Proteus tenax.—Body prolonged to a fine point.
| iccurs in rivers and in sea-water. There are only two
hi lecies described as belonging to this genus.
hi Ienus Enchelis.—Body very small, simple, oblong,
cylindrical, slightly variable.
There is a marked analogy between this genus and the
| <1 illowing. The Enchelides are, however, short and thick
|<1 Compared with the Vibriones, which are slender and
lingthened. To the genus now under consideration be¬
ing those animals which, if the recorded observations on
ic subject have been accurately made and faithfully re-
orted, more than any other confound our preconceived
leas regarding the distinction between animal and vege-
ible life. The species alluded to are named Zoocarpes by
I. Boryde St Vincent, or animated seeds, which appear re-
iprocally to give rise to and proceed from certain aquatic
lants of the conferva1 kind. They are formed in a bulb-
iis-shaped part or swelling of the plant, are ejected when
pe, swim about for some time with a voluntary motion,
irow out a root and a branch, become genuine vegetables,
roduce living seeds, and give birth to animals which, af-
;r a similar change of form, speedily return again to the
Dgetable state. These facts are vouched for by M. Bory de
t Vincent, and are credited and confirmed by M.Dutrochet
nd several other continental inquirers, some of whom
eciare that they kept so watchful an eye upon the same
tdividual as never to lose sight of it for a moment till
* ley had witnessed the singular transformation above
f lent ioned. We recommend it to our readers’ consideration.
Sp. 1. Enchelis viridis.—Subcylindrical, obliquely trun-
iated anteriorly. This species has an obtuse tail or ter-
linal part. It continually varies its motion, turning from
ght to left. Occurs in long-kept water.
Sp. 2. Enchelis punctifera.—Subcylindrical, green, ob-
ise anteriorly, pointed posteriorly. This species is opaque,
ith a small pellucid spot in the fore part, in which two
lack points are seen, and a kind of double band crosses
ie middle of the body. It occurs in marshes. Plate
XVI. fig. 10, 11.
Sp. 3. Enchelis pulvisculus.—This species bears a great
^semblance to the Monas pulviscidus of Muller, which
i the E. monadina of Bory de St Vincent. It is, how-
I iver, double the size, deeper tinted, and more ovoid,
t is found in the waters of marshes, and accumulates
round the sides of jars or vases in which confervae have
een kept. It forms on the surface of water a slight
, chicle ot a delicate green colour, which is supposed to
ave been erroneously regarded by many botanists as a
ogetable production, and described under the name of
p/ssusflos aqua;. On dying it becomes more lengthened
nd pellucid, or at least retains only a slight central spot
1 green. Plate XLVI. fig. 12.
Sp. 4. Enchelis amcena.—This is a new species, of a
vely green colour, discovered by Bory de St Vincent. In
" mmi‘ng it appears to elongate itself, and advances with
L C U L E. 187
the more slender end foremost. Two individuals are Animai-
sometimes observed to unite and form one animal, of a cule-
perfectly spherical form, and similar in aspect to a Volvox.
Sp. 5. Enchelis tiresias.—This species was also disco¬
vered by the above-named writer, and led to his peculiar
views regarding those apparently animated seeds which
he has named Zoocarpes. He asserts that he has seen
this animalcule formed in the articulations of a true con¬
ferva ; that it burst from its vegetable envelope with a gy¬
ration or circular movement; that it soon produced a
translucent prolongation of its body, which may be called
anterior, as it then swam in the direction of that new
organ, which, with the body itself, became visibly longer,
till the creature finally acquired the exact form of the
Enchelis deses of Muller. The chief difference seemed
to be that it always moved with the slender end foremost,
whereas the species just mentioned swims with its blunt
end in advance. It is described by recent French writers
as an “ animal extraordinaire qui n’est certainement que
la grain vivante d’un vegetal.” (See Diet. Class, d'Hist.
Nat. tome vi. p. 156.)
Sp. 6. Enchelis deses.—This species is of an obscure
green, much elongated, and moves with the thick end
anteriorly. “ Celui-ci (the obtuse portion) parait comme
tronque dans certains aspects ; et en examinant attentive-
ment cette sorte de troncature, on la reconnait formee par
un cercle en forme de disque moins fonce que le reste de
I’animal. La pointe posterieure est parfaitement hyaline.
Dans la pensee ou nous sommes que les Enchelides vertes
ne sont que des Zoocarpes, ou propagules animes de
quelques genres d’Arthrodiees, nous croyons que le
disque obscurement transparent de la partie anterieure
n’est que la marque du point sur lequel doit se developper
1’article par lequel doit s’allonger en filament confervoide
le Zoocarpe, lorsque, arrive au terme de sa carriere ani-
male, il doit se fixer et prendre racine par le point hyalin
de la partie posterieure.” (Xoc. cit. p. 157.) We present
the above passage to our readers without note or com¬
ment, as we do not ourselves understand the zoocarpal
nature of an Enchelis.
Genus Vibrio.—Body very small, simple, cylindrical,
elongated.
Animalcules have been described as constituents of
this genus, which probably do not at all belong to it, being
too complicated in their structure. If the V. aceti, for
example, commonly called the vinegar eel, is furnished
with a mouth, lips, and alimentary canal, it does not even
pertain to the class Infusoria, however small its dimensions.
But many of the species are undoubtedly of the simplest
construction; and although they may present some ap¬
pearance of an internal cavity or sac, they yet exhibit
neither mouth nor other external orifice of any kind.
Sp. 1. Vibrio lineola.—Body linear, extremely minute.
Occurs in many vegetable infusions in such numbers as ap¬
parently to occupy their entire space. It is so small, that
with the best magnifiers little more can be discerned than
an obscure tremulous motion. It is supposed to exceed
even the Monas termo in tenuity. Plate XLVI. fig. 13.
Sp. 2. Vibrio spirillum.—Filiform, and twisted spirally,
which seems to be its natural shape, as it is never observed *
to unbend, but moves forwards with a vibratory motion
at both ends. Found in an infusion of Sonchus arvensis.
Plate XLVI. fig. 14.
Sp. 3. Vibrio vermiculus.—Presents a milky aspect,
with a blunt apex, and moves with a languid vermicular
motion. It has been found in marshy water in November,
but is seldom seen. It agrees with the animal mentioned
by Leeuwenhoeck as occurring in the dung of frogs.
Sp. 4. Vibrio paxillifer.—“ Animalculum, ’ says Miil-
Igg A N I M A
Animal- ler, “ vel congeries animalculorum mirabilis. Pluries m
cule. guttulis aquae marinae vidi corpuscula linearia flavescentia
(solitaria paleas, in quadrangula disposita scobes refere-
bant), granulaque seminalia qualiscunque vegetabdis diu
credidi; demum nocte inter 6 et 7 Octobrem 1/81 as-
spectu fili flavescentis, sese in longum producentis et in
breve contrahentis, ac ex bis paxillis compositi, obstupe-
factus, novoque phaenomeno gavisus, ejusdem variis evo-
lutionibus incubui.” A salt-water species, abundant in
ulva latissima. Observed during the months of September
and October. Plate XLYI. fig. 15, 16, 17, 18, 19.
Sp. 5. Vibrio serpens.—Slender and gelatinous, with
obtuse windings or flexures, resembling a serpentine line.
It is rare, and occurs in river-water.
Section II.—Body Membranaceous.
Of scarcehj perceptible thickness, whether fiat or concave.
The organization of the animalcules of this section is
scarcely less simple than that of the preceding; but their
form, being in a small degree resistant, is less subject to
variation from the pressure or other action of the sur¬
rounding fluids, which has been regarded as the proof of
a certain progress or advance in the scale of structure.
Genus Gonium.—Body very small and simple, flattened,
short, angular. Some species of this genus appear to
be composed of several corpuscles united together un¬
der a common membrane. This appearance probably
results from their cellular tissue, or from certain lines
which are the rudiments of those spontaneous divisions
formerly mentioned, by which their propagation is af¬
fected. Their movements are oscillatory.
Sp. 1. Gonium pectorale.—Quadrangular and pellucid,
with sixteen globules of a greenish colour set in a quadran¬
gular membrane, “ like jewels in the breast-plate of the
high-priest, reflecting light on both sides.” Occurs in pure
waters. Plate XLVI. fig. 20.
Sp. 2. Gonium pulvinatum.—Quadrangular and opaque.
Found in dunghills.
Sp. 3. Gonium corrugatum.—Sub-quadrangular, whitish,
marked by a longitudinal line. This species is found in
various infusions, particularly that of the pear.
Sp. 4'. Gonium truncatum.—Internal molecules dark
green. Anterior extremity forming a straight line, with
which the sides produce an obtuse angle, terminated poste¬
riorly by a curved line. This species exhibits a languid
motion. It is much larger than the preceding, and oc¬
curs, though rarely, in pure water.
Genus Cyclidium.—Body very small and simple, trans-
parent, flattened, orbicular or oval.
The motions of this genus are oscillatory, circulatory,
or demi-circulatory, more or less interrupted, and languid
or lively, according to the species.
Sp. 1. Cyclidium bulla.—Orbicular and hyaline. General
appearance pale and pellucid, with the edges somewhat
daikei than the rest. It moves slowly in a semicircular
direction, and occurs in the infusion of hay.
Sp. 2. Cyclidium hyalinum.—Oval, depressed, perfectly
ti ansparent, terminated by a tail-like elongation. This
species is very common, and is produced in many infu¬
sions, particularly in those of the cerealia. It swims
in a vacillating manner, and as if continually trembling.
Plate XLVI. fig. 21. b
Sp- o. Cyclidium Nucleus.—Of a brownish tinge, deeper
behind, and shaped exactly like an apple pippin.
Genus Paramecium.—Body very small, simple, transpa¬
rent, membranous, oblong.
. ^he species of this genus, according to Lamarck, scarce¬
ly differ from those of the preceding, except in their more
L C U L E.
lengthened forms and a slight increase of animal deve- j
lopment. They appear to vary instantaneously accord- !
ing to their position in relation to the eye of the observer X'
but their real form is tolerably determinate. The mode
of increasing the species by transverse and longitudinal
divisions, or natural cuttings, is very obvious in this genus.
They are nearly related to the following, but are less sinii-
ous and irregular. Their movements are for the most part
slow and indefinite. They swim horizontally on one of
their flattened surfaces, after the manner of flounders.
Sp. 1. Paramcecium aurelia.—Body compressed, with a
kind of plait or fold towards the apex, acute behind. Very
common in water where confervae grow. Plate XLVl.
fig. 22, 23, 24.
Sp. 2. Paramcecium chrysalis.—Plicated anteriorly, ob¬
tuse behind. Occurs during the autumn in sea-water.
Sp. 3. Paramcecium versutum.—Cylindrical, thickened
posteriorly, obtuse at both ends. Found in ditches.
Genus Kolpoda.—Body very small, simple, flattened,
oblong, sinuous, irregular, transparent.
This genus is nearly allied to the preceding, and differs
from it chiefly in its more varied forms. It is also less
subject to the influence of pressure by the medium in which
it lives. An Italian naturalist of the name of Losana has
lately published a monograph on Kolpoda ; but his figures
are somewhat exaggerated, and not very naturally ex¬
pressed.
Sp. 1. Kolpoda lamella.—Elongated, membranaceous,
curved anteriorly. This species is seldom met with. It
has a singular vacillatory mode of movement, and advances
on its sharp edge, instead of its flattened side, the more
usual position.
Sp. 2. Kolpoda gallinula.—Oblong, the anterior por.
tion of the back membranaceous and hyaline. In cor-
rupted sea-water.
Sp. 3. Kolpoda crassa.—Yellow, thickish, somewhat
opaque, curved a little in the centre, kidney-shaped. This
species has a quick vacillatory motion, and becomes appa¬
rent in the infusion of hay generally in about 13 hours.
When the water is nearly evaporated it assumes an oval
form, becomes compressed, and bursts.
Sp. 4. Kolpoda rostrum.—Oblong, hooked anteriorly.
The movements of this species are slow and horizontal. It
is found, but not frequently, in water where the lemna
grows.
Sp. 5. Kolpoda cucullus.—Ovate, ventricose, the top
bent into a kind of beak, and an oblique incision beneath
the apex. This species is found in vegetable infusions,
and in fetid hay, and usually moves with great velocity.
It is pellucid, and appears as if filled with little bright
vesicles, which differ in size. Some have supposed them
to be lesser animalcules which the Kolpoda has swallowed;
but as it has no mouth wherewith to swallow, Miiller is
more probably right in regarding them in the light of
germs. When about to die in consequence of evaporation,
it protrudes its contents, whether food or offspring, with
great violence. Plate XLVII. fig. 25, 26, 27, 28.
Genus Bursaria.—Body simple, membranaceous, con¬
cave.
This genus occurs in fresh, saline, and stagnant waters.
It appears to vary its form beneath the eye of the obser¬
ver, and, from a rounded flattened shape, assumes a con¬
cave or somewhat purse-shaped aspect.
Sp. 1. Bursaria truncatella.—Follicular, with a trun¬
cated apex. This species is visible to the naked eye.
It moves from left to right, and from right to left; ascends
to the surface in a straight line, and sometimes rolls about
as it descends.
ANIMALCULE.
189
tSp. 2. Bursaria bulina.—Boat-shaped, labiated ante-
iorly. This species is pellucid and crystalline, with
■rilliant globules within it. It is concave on the upper
de, and convex below.
Sp. 3. Bursaria hirundella.—With two small wing-like
rejections, which give it somewhat of the appearance of
bird. It is invisible to the naked eye, but appears under
ie microscope like a pellucid hollow membrane. Recent
licrographical observers doubt if this species really per-
lins to the present genus. Plate XLVII. fig. 29.
Order II.—Appendiculated Infusoria.
Furnished exteriorly with projecting parts.
The animalcules of this second principal order or divi-
on, though still infinitely small, gelatinous, and trans-
arent, are so far less simply organized than their pre-
ecessors, inasmuch as they are furnished with salient
arts, such as hairs, horns, or tail-like appendages, or at
;ast with such projecting organs as, for want of more ap-
ropriate terms, we are obliged to designate by those
ames. They multiply both by division and by the burst-
ig forth of internal germs. Though their essential fluids,
nd the living tissue which contains them, are probably of
more compound nature than those of the naked Infusoria,
icy have not yet reached that point of organization in
hich special organs are developed for the performance
f particular functions; and it is not till we reach the
igher class of Polypi that these are distinctly percepti-
le.
“ II parait,” observes Lamarck, “ par les nombreuses
speces deja connues et publiees, que les Infusoires de cet
rdre sont bien plus nombreux dans la nature que les In-
' isoires nus. Cela doit etre ainsi d’apres les principes
ue je me suis cru fonde a etablir.
“ En effet, dans les Infusoires nus, forigine encore trop
3cente des races qui proviennent de celles, en petit nom-
re, qui furent generees spontanement, n’a permis a la
uree de la vie et aux circonstances qui ont influe sur ces
ices, qu’une diversite peu considerable. Mais a mesure
ue la duree de la vie, que sa transmission dans les indi-
idus qui se sont succedes en se multipliant, et que les
irconstances ont eu plus de temps pour exercer leurs in-
uences, les races se sont diversifiees de plus en plus, et
)nt devenues plus nombreuses.
“ Cet ordre des choses, qu’il est facile de reconnoitre
our celui meme de la nature, nous fait sentir pourquoi
is Infusoires sont bien moins diversifies et moins nom-
reux que les Polypes. Effectivement, quoique nous ne
onnaissions pas probablement tous les Infusoires, et que
ous connaissions bien moins encore tous les Polypes, ce
ui est deja connu de part et d’autre indique que la diver-
te des Polypes est considerablement plus grande que
es Infusoires. Aussi les Polypes sont plus eloignes de
■ur origine que les Infusoires.” (Animaux sans Vertebres,
>me i. p. 433.)
I he first genus of this order (Trichoda), as constituted
) y Muller, contains several species which manifest the
-Kliments of a mouth and the commencement of an ali-
lentary canal: these, according to the negative charac-
;rs of the class, do not belong to the Infusoria.
rENUs Trichoda.—Body very small, transparent, di¬
versiform, without caudal appendage, but garnished
with soft hairs either on the whole or on part of its sur¬
face.
According to the views of Lamarck, this genus contains
ot only a great proportion of the genus Trichoda of
u ler, but also the whole of the genus Leucophra of the
amsh author. It is distinguished from Kerona by the
want of the long, stiff, distant, corniform hairs which cha- Animal-
racterize the latter. cirle.
A. Body ciliated over its entire surface.
(Leucophra of Muller.)
Sp. 1. Trichoda viridiscens.—Greenish, cylindrical,
opaque, thicker posteriorly. Found in sea-water.
Sp. 2. Trichoda dilata.—Body flattened, variable, with
sinuated margins. Inhabits sea-water, and swims like a
Planaria. It scarcely differs from the genus Kolpoda, ex¬
cept in being ciliated.
Sp. 3. Trichoda scintillans.—Of a green colour, oval,
slender, and opaque. Occurs in stagnant water. A doubt¬
ful species, closely allied to Volvox.
Sp. 4. Trichoda acuta.—Ovate, with a sharpened point.
Colour yellowish. Of this species the form is very vari¬
able. It occurs in sea-water among ulvse. Plate XLVII.
fig. 30, 31, 32.
Sp. 5. Trichoda signata.—Oblong, sub-depressed, with
a blackish margin. Common in sea-water. This species
is distinguished by a curved line in its centre, shaped like
the letter S, one end of which sometimes assumes a spiral
form.
Sp. 6. Trichoda mammilla.—Spherical, opaque, with
an exsertile papilla. Occurs in the waters of marshes. It
is of a dark colour, its short hairs are curved inwards, and
it occasionally appears to project and draw in a little white
protuberance.
B. Body ciliated.) or covered with short hair only over a
part of its surface.
(The greater proportion of the genus Trichoda of Muller.)
Sp. 7. Trichoda grandinella.—Spherical, pellucid, haired
above. The minute ciliary appendages of this species are
not easily discovered, as it seems to possess the power of
withdrawing them at pleasure and instantaneously. It oc¬
curs both in pure water and that of infusions.
Sp. 8. Trichoda cometa.—Spherical, ciliated anteriorly,
with one or more globular appendages behind. Found in
pure water in the autumnal season. Plate XLVII. fig. 33,
34.
Sp. 9. Trichoda Solaris.—Spherical and crystalline, its
edges beset with diverging rays, which exceed in length
the diameter of the body. This animalcule contracts and
dilates, but is stationary in the same spot. In marine in¬
fusions. Plate XLVII. fig. 35.
Sp. 10. Trichoda pubes.—Oval oblong, gibbous, de¬
pressed anteriorly. The apex of this species is furnished
with hairs, which are seldom visible till it is about to ex¬
pire, when it protrudes and extends them vehemently, as
if in a vain attempt to secure and detain a remaining par¬
ticle of water.
Sp. 11. Trichodaproteus.—Oval, obtuse behind, with an
elongated retractile neck. Apex haired. This species, ac¬
cording to Muller and Lamarck, is found in river water.
It appears, however, to agree in general character and
appearance with the Pi-oteus described by Mr Baker, which
usually occurs in the slimy matter adhering to the sides
of vessels in which either animal or vegetable substances
have been some time kept. That of which an account is
given by Mr Adams was found in the slime produced by
water containing small fishes, snails, &c. The body was
something similar to that of a snail, but pointed at one end,
while from the other proceeded a long, slender, “ and
finely proportioned neck, of a size suitable to the rest of
the animal.” If we credit Mr Baker, this animalcule,
though its eyes are not discernible, plainly demonstrates
by its actions that it can see; for though multitudes swim
about in the same water, and its own progressive motion is
190
ANIMALCULE.
Animal- very swift, it never strikes against its neighbours, but cb-
cule.    :«■" utLL q rlovi-pvitv “ wbollv unaccountable
reels its course with a dexterity “ wholly unaccountable
should we suppose it destitute of sight. ^ Its entire shape
bears a resemblance to that of a swan. See Plate XL v 11.
fig. 86 and 37. When alarmed, it draws in its supposed
neck, becomes more opaque, and moves about slow ly with
the large end foremost. See fig. 38. After continuing
for some time under this form, it will put forth a kind of
wheel machinery, the motions of which are alleged to
draw a current of water towards it from a considerable
distance. After frequently pushing out and pulling in this
shorter head, sometimes with and sometimes without the
wheel-work, it will remain motionless, as if wearied or worn
out; and then its long head and neck or apex will be_ again
slowly protruded, after which it generally resumes its ac¬
customed agility.
Genus Kerona.—Body very small, diversiform, without
tail-like prolongation, and furnished with scattered, stiff,
corniform hairs on some parts of its body.
Sp. 1. Kerona rostdlum.—Orbicular and membrana¬
ceous ; one side angulated, the other furnished with a se¬
ries of triple horns. Inhabits sea and river water. This
species is alleged by Bory de St Vincent to be entirely
destitute of hairs and cirri, and he therefore proposes to
remove it to the order Gymnodes, which corresponds with
our first order, the naked Infusoria. It is sometimes diffi¬
cult to identify species in this department, or to ascertain,
in a doubtful or contested case, that the same animalcule
has been the subject of observation by two or more dis¬
putants. Plate XLVII. fig. 39.
Sp. 2. Kerona cypris.—Somewhat pear-shaped, com¬
pressed, the front furnished with hairs or vibrating points,
inserted beneath the edge, shorter behind, and partly ex¬
tended straight forward, partly bent downwards. Motion
retrograde. Inhabits fresh water.
Sp. 3. Kerona India.—Smooth, pellucid, full of small
points, the fore part clubbed and a little bent, the hinder
part narrow ; the base obliquely truncated, and terminating
in a tail stretched out transversely. The top of that part
which maybe called the head, and the centre of the back,
are furnished with long hairs. When this animalcule is
at rest, its tail is curled; when in motion it is drawn tight
and extended upwards. The movements of this species
are lively and diverting.
Genus Cercaria.—Body very small, transparent, di¬
versiform, furnished with a distinct but very simple
tail.
This genus, as constituted by Muller, contains many
species which bear no natural relation to each other; but
his characters are precise and definite, and strictly appli¬
cable to those species which now form the genus as limit¬
ed by modern observers. They occur more rarely among
animal and vegetable infusions than in running streams
and the waters of marshes. Their movements are for the
most part circular and very rapid. With the exception
of a well-marked tail, their organization is in every other
respect extremely simple. If a mouth and the rudiment
To this genus Lamarck has united the Himantopus of
Muller. The species are rare. They seldom occur in
infusions, and are most frequent in the purer kinds of
fresh and salt waters.
T1rL?1LlC!!1nnpnm,t!,eotiff-charaCterS ^ the ffenus ^osperma, as recently established: “ Corps non contractile, oybide, tres-com-
cie Ce "enre dnnt nmfc 011 J)eaucouP plus longue, implantee a la partie posterieure, qui est peu ou point annn-
L™ ;;; ^ P ^ °ns u" trfs-Srand "ombre d’especes, se compose d’animaux spermatiques.” (Dkt Clans. d'Hist-^
tnirm in tv 3o6.) I he production and existence of these animals, their nature and
tome in. p
teries of nature.
 spermatiques.” {Diet. _
uses, are still among the many inscrutable mis'
of a stomach or alimentary canal exist in any of these a
animals, such characters would remove them not only 1 iiif 1
from the genus Cercaria, but from the class Infusoria, as'"'
defined at the commencement of this treatise. Aforti^ 1
the existence of eyes (a fact assumed by some inaccurate
observers) in any of the animalcular species, would en-
tirely alter their position and arrangement in the animal
kingdom. We cannot do better than report the observa.
tions of the venerable Lamarck (himself unfortunately
now deprived of sight) on this obscure subjectIci,
comme dans le genre suivant, Ton est expose, d’apres la
petitesse extreme des individus, a rapporter a la classe des
Infusoires des animaux qui, par leur organisation, appar.
tiennent a d’autres points de 1 echelle animale.”
“Une bouche, quoique d’abord inaper^ue, et consequem-
ment febauche d'un sac alimentaire, peuvent exister dans
certains de ces animaux, et des-lors ils appartiennent au
premier ordre des Polypes; mais des yeux, comme on en
a suppose dans certains Cercaires, cela est impossible.
“ Avant de dire que le fait lui-meme vaut mieuxquela
raisonnement, il faut, \mo, constater que les points que Ton
a pris pour des yeux, en sent reellement, et qu’ils ont
chacun un nerf optique qui se rend a une masse medul-
laire, centre de rapports pour des sensations; 2do, il faut
ensuite etablir positivement que des animalcules reelle¬
ment pourvus cl’yeux, sont neanmoins, par leur organisa¬
tion, de la meme classe que les Infusoires.” (Animam
sans Vertebres, tome i. p. 444.)
This genus forms the nucleus of the new family of In¬
fusoria proposed by M. Bory de St Vincent under the name
of Cercariees, and which contains in all seven genera, the
names and nature of which will be seen by referring to
the tabular view. Muller, who was not practically ac¬
quainted with the spermatic animalcules, wras attracted by
the resemblance which some of the Cercariae bore to the
figures of those organic molecules in the works of his pre¬
decessors. He did not, however, assert their identity;
and probably perceived that, although in their general as¬
pect and mode of movement they resembled each other,
their peculiar and very different localities, and even the
details of their structure, rendered it advisable that they
should be assigned to separate genera.1
Sp. 1. Cercaria inquieta.—Changeable, convex, with a
slender tail. This species occurs in salt water, and is re¬
markable for assuming a variety of different forms. It is
sometimes oval, sometimes cylindrical, sometimes shaped
like a sphere. Plate XLVII. fig. 40.
Sp. 2. Cercaria gyrinus.-—Body of a rounded form,
with an acuminated tail. In swimming, this animalcule
moves its tail like a tadpole.
Sp. 3. Cercaria lemna.—Changeable, sub-depressed,
with an annulated tail. Tire C. lemna varies the form ot its
body in a manner almost as singular as that exhibited by
the Proteus, already described. The body is triangular,or
oblong, or kidney-shaped. Its tail is at times thick, short,
annulated; at others it is long, cylindrical, and without
rings; and when stretched out it sometimes vibrates with
such velocity as to appear double. A small pellucid gb*
bule, which Muller regarded as the mouth, is perceptible
near the apex ; and there are also two excessively minute
black points, which, whatever they may really be, are by
some called eyes. It advances slowly by a few steps or
movements at a time, and frequently shakes and bends its
tail, in which position it bears a great resemblance to a
ANIMALCULE.
191
U ; Tina leaf in. miniature. This animalcule exhibits an ad-
" | need organization. Plate XLVII. fig. 41, 42, 43.
(snus Furcocerca.—Body very small, transparent,
rarely ciliated, furnished with a bipartite tail.
This terminal genus, according to the views of Lamarck,
(nducts us to the limits of the infusorial class, and we
Icome thus more liable to deception in regard to the
r n-existence of a mouth than in the preceding genera.
1 is a dismemberment of the Cercaria of Muller, and pro-
t bly contains many species which will be placed else-
iere when future and more continuous observation
s ill have thrown additional light upon their nature and
tributes.
Sp. 1. Furcocerca podura.—Cylindrical, acuminated
pteriorly. This species is pellucid, and seems to con¬
st of a head, trunk, and tail, the first of which, in the
\ ;w of some observers, “ resembles that of a herring.” It
rns round as if upon an axis when it moves, and is
i jally found in the months of November and December,
i places where the lenma abounds. The tail frequently,
t not always, appears to be divided into two. One of
iller’s figures of this species is probably erroneous. He
rSresents it as covered with short hairs; whereas, to
nre recent observers, it appears perfectly smooth. Plate
ivil. fig.‘44, 45.
Sp. 2. Furcocerca viridis.—Cylindrical, variable, divided
a, 1 acuminated behind. Occurs in spring in ditches and
s liding pools. It frequently contracts its anterior and
psterior portions, so as to assume a spherical form. It is
cricult to determine the genus to which this species be-
l gs. Lamarck is supposed to have erred in placing it
, vi ere it now stands. In truth, the genus appears to have
I'm rather established provisionally, than upon an assured
a 1 natural foundation. The varying forms of the species
u V ich it contains render it extremely difficult either to
I d cern or describe them with precision. Plate XLVII.
t 46, 47, 48.
We have now endeavoured to present a general view,
pi I al a systematic exposition, of the principal features of
“ 11[: animalcular world; and if our statements have been
1 s explicit, and our arrangement less complete and me-
i-Btndical, than accords with the reader’s expectation, these
yBqjects must in part be attributed to the uncertainty
h lwich still prevails regarding a subject of which many of
iV t; essential characters scarcely lie within the limits of
1 man intelligence. The observations and experiments
I'lothe English microscopical observers of last century,
■ tough they might amuse the general student, are too
ni Vjpie and fanciful to be now regarded as parts of the as-
Pis’ed history of animalcules. The ultra-analogical rea-
s ling on subjects of natural science with which we have
1 m lately favoured by such men as Oken and Geoffroy
' ' Hilaire, are tame in comparison with the inferences
> i luced by some of our older observers, who describe
v :h minuteness the head, eyes, mouth, jaws, throat, sto-
! Lch, intestines, and other parts of animalcules, which
t; improved glasses of modern times do not reveal to the
v 1011 °f not less patient inquirers. The recent observa-
t ns on the motions of the pollen of plants, which have
I zzled the modern philosophers, would have opposed but
f ble barriers in the way of our predecessors. “ To dis-
1 >'er, says Buffon, “ whether all the parts of animals,
* I all the seeds of plants, contained moving organic par-
1 ks, I made infusions of the flesh of different animals,
^ I of the seeds of more than twenty different species of
' potables; and after remaining some days in close glasses,
mu the pleasure of seeing organic moving particles in
of them. In some they appeared sooner, in others
later; some preserved their motions for months, and Animal-
others soon lost it. Some at first produced large moving cule.
globules resembling animals, which changed their figure,
split, and became gradually smaller; others produced
only small globules, whose motions were extremely rapid ;
and others produced filaments, which grew longer, seemed
to vegetate, and then swelled and poured forth torrents of
moving globules.” It was from these and similar obser¬
vations that the theory arose proposed by Baron Mun¬
chausen (an ominous name !). The Baron perceiving that
these moving globules, after taking a little exercise, began
again to vegetate, drew the conclusion that they were
first animals and then plants ; thus anticipating by more
than half a century the supposed discoveries of some mo¬
dern physiologists. Which of them was first in error it is
perhaps of little consequence to inquire; and we allude
to the subject here rather in connection with some singu¬
lar observations by Mr Ellis, recorded in the 59th volume
of the Philosophical Transactions, than from its own in¬
trinsic importance. His object was to overturn Mun¬
chausen’s hypothesis, by showing that the supposed Zoo-
carpes were nothing more than “ the seeds of that genus
of fungi called mucor or mouldiness” and that their mo¬
tions were caused by the attacks of myriads of animal¬
cules ! “ Having at the request of Dr Linnaeus made se¬
veral experiments on the infusion of mushrooms in water,
in order to prove the theory of Baron Munchausen, that
these seeds are first animals and then plants, it appeared
evidently that the seeds were put in motion by very mi¬
nute animalcules, which proceeded from the putrefaction
of the mushroom: for by pecking at these seeds, which
are reddish, light, round bodies, they moved them about
with great agility in a variety of directions; while the
little .animals themselves were scarcely visible till the
food they had eaten had discovered them. The satisfac¬
tion I received from clearing up this point led me into
many other curious and interesting experiments. The in¬
genious Mr Needham supposes these little transparent ra¬
mified filaments, and jointed or coralloid bodies, which the
microscope discovers to us on the surface of most animal
and vegetable infusions when they become putrid, to be
zoophytes, or branched animals; but to me they appear,
after a careful scrutiny with the best glasses, to be of that
genus of fungi called mucor or mouldiness, many of which
Michellius has figured, and Linnaeus has accurately de¬
scribed. Their vegetation is so amazingly quick, that they
may be perceived in the microscope even to grow and
feed under the eye of the observer. Mr Needham has
pointed out to us a species that is very remarkable for its
parts of fructification (See Phil. Trans, vol. xlv. tab. 5,
fig. 3, a, A). This, he says, proceeds from an infusion of
bruised wheat. I have seen the same species proceed
from the body of a dead fly, which was become putrid by
lying floating for some time in a glass of water where
some flowers had been, in the month of August 1768.
This species of mucor sends forth a mass of transparent
filamentous roots; from whence arise hollow stems, that
support little oblong oval seed-vessels, with a hole on the
top of each. From these I could plainly see minute globu¬
lar seeds issue forth in great abundance, with an elastic
force, and turn about in the water as if they were ani¬
mated. Continuing to view them with some attention, I
could just discover that the putrid water which surround¬
ed them was full of the minutest animaleula; and that
these little creatures began to attack the seeds of the mu¬
cor for food, as I have observed before in the experiment
on the seeds of the larger kind of fungi or mushrooms.
This new motion continued the appearance of their being
alive for some time longer; but soon after many of them
arose to the surface of the water, remaining there without
animalcule.
192
Animal, motion; and a succession of them afterwards coming up,
cule. they united together in little thin masses, and floated to
the edge of the water, remaining there quite inactive du¬
ring the time of observation.” In like manner, the move¬
ments of the jointed coralloid bodies which Mr Needham
has named chaplets and pearl necklaces are attributed to
the attacks of their animalcular enemies. “ M hen a small
portion of these branches and seeds are put into a drop ot
the same putrid water upon which the scum floats, many
of these millions of little animalcula with which it abounds
immediately seize them as food, and turn them abou
with a variety of motions, as in the experiments on the
seeds of the common mushrooms, either singly, or two or
three seeds connected together ; answering exactly to Mr
Needham’s description, but evidently without^any motion
of their own, and consequently not animated !”
We shall conclude this subject with a short notice of
another view of the matter, which has resulted fiom some
recent experiments and observations by our celebrated
botanist Robert Brown. While engaged in some inqui¬
ries regarding the structure of the pollen of plants, and
its mode of action on the pistillum of phsenogamous
tribes, that accurate observer had occasion to immerse in
water some particles taken from the full-grown anthers
(previous to bursting) of Clarkia pulchella. Of these, he
perceived by the microscope that many were evidently
in motion, and that their motion consisted not only of a
change of place in the fluid, but of a change of form in
themselves; that is to say, a contraction or curvature
about the middle of one side, accompanied by a corre¬
sponding enlargement or convexity on the other, frequent¬
ly occurred. The particles were seen, in a few instances,
to turn on their longer axis ; and their general motions
were of such a nature as to produce the conviction in
Mr Brown’s mind that they did not arise either from
currents or evaporation of the fluid, but were proper to
the particles themselves. Having ascertained that mo¬
tion existed in the pollen of all the living plants which
he examined, he next inquired whether, and for what
length of time, this singular property was retained after
the death of the plant. Specimens were experimented
on, which had been dried and preserved in an herbarium
for 100 years, and the moving molecules or small spheri¬
cal bodies were still perceived in considerable numbers.
“ The very unexpected fact,” says Mr Brown, “ of seem¬
ing vitality retained by those minute particles so long
after the death of the plant, would not perhaps have ma¬
terially lessened my confidence in the supposed peculia¬
rity ; but I at the same time observed, that on bruising
the ovula or seeds of Equisetum, which at first happened
accidentally, I so greatly increased the number of moving
particles, that the source of the added quantity could not
be doubted. I found also, on bruising first the floral
•leaves of mosses, and then all other parts of those plants,
that I readily obtained similar particles, not in equal
quantity indeed, but equally in motion. My supposed
test of the male organ was therefore necessarily abandon¬
ed. Reflecting on all the facts with which I had now be¬
come acquainted, I was disposed to believe that the mi¬
nute spherical particles or molecules of apparently uni¬
form size, first seen in the advanced state of the pollen of
Onagrariae, and most other phaenogamous plants,—then
in the antherae of mosses, and on the surfaces of the bo¬
dies regarded as the stamina of Equisetum,—and, lastly,
in bruised portions of other parts of the same plants,—were
in reality the supposed constituent or elementary mole¬
cules of organic bodies, first so considered by Button and
Needham, then by Wrisberg with greater precision, soon
after and still more particularly by Muller, and very re¬
cently by Dr Milne Edwards, who has revived the doc¬
trine, and supported it with much interesting detail. I A!
now, therefore, expected to find these molecules in all
organic bodies ; and accordingly, on examining the variM
ous animal and vegetable tissues, whether living or dead,
they were always found to exist; and merely by bruis¬
ing these substances in water, I never failed to disen¬
gage the molecules in sufficient numbers to ascertain
their apparent identity in size, form, and motion, with
the smaller particles of the grains of the pollen. I ex¬
amined also various products of organic bodies, parti-
cularly the gum raisins, and substances of vegetable ori¬
gin, extending my inquiry even to pit-coal; and in all
these bodies molecules were found in abundance. I re¬
mark here also, partly as a caution to those who may
hereafter engage in the same inquiry, that the duct or
soot deposited on all bodies in such quantity, especially in
London, is entirely composed of these molecules. One of
the substances examined was a specimen of fossil wood,
found in Wiltshire oolite, in a state to burn with flame;
and as I found these molecules abundantly and in motion
in this specimen, I supposed that their existence, though
in smaller quantity, might be ascertained in mineralized
vegetable remains. With this view, a minute portion of sili-
cified wood, which exhibited the structure of conifers, was
bruised, and spherical particles, or molecules in all respects
like those so frequently mentioned, were readily obtained
from it; in such quantity, however, that the whole sub¬
stance of the petrifaction seemed to be formed of them.
But hence I inferred that these molecules were not li¬
mited to organic bodies, nor even to their products. To
establish the correctness of the inference, and to ascertain
to what extent the molecules existed in mineral bodies,
became the next object of inquiry. The first substance
examined was a minute fragment of window-glass, from
which, when merely bruised on the stage of the micro¬
scope, I readily and copiously obtained molecules, agree¬
ing in size, form, and motion, with those which I had
already seen. I then proceeded to examine, and with
similar results, such minerals as I either had at hand or
could readily obtain, including several of the simple earths
and metals, with many of their combinations. Rocks of
all ages, including those in which organic remains have
never been found, yielded the molecules in abundance.
Their existence was ascertained in each of the constituent
minerals of granite, a fragment of the sphinx being one of
the specimens examined. To mention all the mineral sub¬
stances in which I have found these molecules would be
tedious; and I shall confine myself, in this summary, to
an enumeration of a few of the most remarkable. These
were both of aqueous and igneous origin, as travertine,
stalactites, lava, obsidian, pumice, volcanic ashes, and me¬
teorites from various localities. Of metals I may mention
manganese, nickel, plumbago, bismuth, antimony, and
arsenic. In a word, in every mineral which I could re¬
duce to powder sufficiently fine to be temporarily sus¬
pended in water, I found these molecules more or less co¬
piously ; and in some cases, more particularly in siliceous
crystals, the whole bodyr submitted to examination ap¬
peared to be composed of them.”
There were three points of importance which Mr Brown
was anxious to ascertain regarding these molecules, viz-
their form, whether they were of uniform size, and their
absolute magnitude. He seems, however, not to have
been entirely satisfied with his determination on any of
these points. As to form, he states the molecules to be
spherical. • His manner of estimating the absolute nragn1'
tude and uniformity of size of the molecules found in the
various bodies submitted to examination, ^yas by plac>nb’
them on a micrometer divided to five thousandths of an
inch, the lines of which were very distinct; or, more rare-
A N J
A N K
193
■ on one divided to ten thousandths, with fainter lines,not ctile is of uniform size, though, as existing in various sub- Anker
■adily visible without the application of plumbago, as em- stances, and examined in circumstances more or less
oyed by Dr Wollaston, but which in this case was inad- favourable, he regards it necessary to state that its dia-(
issible. The results can only be regarded as approxi- meter appeared to vary from -jy^oth to 20000th of an'
Anklam.
ate, but Mr Brown is disposed to believe that the mole- inch.1
(t.)
ANIMATED, or Animate, in a general sense, denotes
tmething endowed with animal life.
ANIMATION signifies the communication of life to an
limal body. The different hypotheses of physicians and
lilosophers concerning die time of animation have had
ieir influence on the penal laws made against artificial
>ortions; it having been made capital to procure mi scar-
age in the one state, while in the other it was only deem-
1 a venial crime. The emperor Charles V., by a consti-
ition published in 1532, put the matter on another foot-
g : instead of the distinction of an animated and unani-
ated foetus, he introduced that of a vital and non-vital
;tus, as a thing of more obvious and easy decision, and
it depending on any system either of creation, traduc-
pn, or infusion. Accordingly a foetus was formerly said,
a legal sense, to be animated when it was perceived to
ir in the womb ; but this doctrine is exploded, animation
}ing now dated from the moment of conception.
ANIME, in Heraldry, a term used when the eyes of a
pacious creature are borne of a different tincture from
ie creature itself.
Anime, a resin exuding from the trunk of a large Ame-
can tree, called by the Indians courbaril (a species of
ymen;ea). This resin is of a transparent amber colour,
light agreeable smell, and little or no taste. It dis-
ilves entirely, but not very readily, in rectified spirit
' wine; the impurities, which are very often in large
lantity, remaining behind. The Brazilians are said to
nploy anime in fumigations for pains and aches proceed-
ig from cold: with us, it is rarely, if ever, made use of
r any medicinal purpose.
ANIMETTA, among ecclesiastical writers, denotes the
oth wherewith the cup of the eucharist is covered.
ANINGA, in Commerce, a root which grows in the
ntilles Islands, and is pretty much like the China plant.
. is used by sugar-bakers for refining the sugar.
ANJOU, a province and duchy of France before the
evolution, bounded on the east by Touraine, on the south
y Poitou, on the west by Bretagne, and on the north by
Maine. It is now included under the Maine and Loire
and the Sarthe and Mayenne. It is 70 miles in length,
and in breadth 60. Through this province run five navi¬
gable rivers; the Loire, which divides it into two parts;
the Vienne, the Toue, the Mayenne, and the Sarthe.
The air is temperate, and the country agreeably diver¬
sified with hills and meadows. There are 33 forests of
oak-trees mixed with beech. The country produces white
wine, wheat, barley, rye, oats, peas, beans, flax, hemp,
walnuts, and some chesnuts. In Lower Anjou they make
cider. There are fruit-trees of all kinds, and pasture
proper for horses. The greatest riches of the province
consist in cows, oxen, and sheep. There are several coal
and iron mines, and yet there are but two forges in the
whole province. There are quarries of marble and of slate,
as well as quarries of white stone, proper for building, on
the side of the river Loire. Here are also several salt¬
petre works, and some glass-houses. The principal towns,
besides Angers the capital, are, Saumur, Brisac, Pont de Ce,
La Fleche, and Beaufort.
ANKER, a liquid measure at Amsterdam. It contains
about 32 gallons English measure.
ANKLAM, a circle in the government of Stettin and
the Prussian province of Pomerania. It extends over 566
square miles, or 363,240 English acres. There are within
it 4 cities, 6 towns, and 20l villages. The inhabitants are
30,856. The land is a plain, with extensive woods, and
about twenty fresh-water lakes, the largest of which is
the Ahlbeckr. The feeding of cattle and growing of corn
are the chief objects of agriculture ; besides which, some
hops and tobacco, and much flax, are grown. The woods
afford much profitable employment, and furnish charcoal
to the iron-works in Pomerania. The capital of the circle
is of the same name. It is situated on the river Peene,
and is now without fortifications. It contains 3 churches,
3 hospitals, 599 houses, and 5833 inhabitants. By means
of the river, which is navigable, it carries on some trade;
and it has manufactures of cloth, hosiery, tobacco, snuff,
and leather. It is in long. 24. 1. 59. E. lat. 53. 49. 15. N.
1 The following summary from the pen of Mr Brown contains the renewed expression of that gentleman’s opinion, matured by
>me recent experiments on the subject of active molecules. “ That extremely minute particles of solid matter, whether obtained
om organic or inorganic substances, when suspended in pure water or in some other aqueous fluids, exhibit motions for which I am
nable to account, and which, from their irregularity and seeming independence, resemble in a remarkable degree the less rapid mo¬
ons of some of the simplest animalcules of infusions. That the smallest moving particles observed, and which I have termed Ac-
ve Molecules, appear to be spherical, or nearly so, and to be between EC5S5th and 3550 oth of an inch in diameter; and that other
irticles of considerably greater and various size, and either of similar or of very different figure, also present analogous mo-
i ons in like circumstances. I have formerly stated my belief that these motions of the particles neither arose from currents in the
uid containing them, nor depended on that intestine motion which may be supposed to accompany its evaporation. These causes
j motion, however, either singly or combined with others,—as the attractions and repulsions among the particles themselves, their
nstable equilibrium in the fluid in which they are suspended, their hygrometrical or capillary action, and in some cases the disengage-
icnt of volatile matter, or of minute air-bubbles,—have been considered by several writers as sufficiently accounting for the appear-
ices. Some of the alleged causes here stated, with others which I have considered it unnecessary to mention, are not likely to be
cerlooked, or to deceive observers of any experience in microscopical researches ; and the insufficiency of those enumerated may, I
nnk, be satisfactorily shown by means of a very simple experiment. This experiment consists in reducing the drop of water con-
umng the particles to microscopic minuteness, and prolonging its existence by immersing it in a transparent fluid of inferior specific
ravity, with which it is not miscible, and in which evaporation is extremely slow. If to almond oil, which is a fluid having these
roperties, a considerably smaller proportion of water, duly impregnated with particles, be added, and the two fluids shaken or tritu-
ited together, drops of water of various sizes, from j’^th to S!jl55th of an inch in diameter, will be immediately produced. Of these,
ie most minute necessarily contain but few particles, and some may be occasionally observed with one particle only. In this man-
er minute drops, which, if exposed to the air, would be dissipated in less than a minute, may be retained for more than an hour.
’Ut in all the drops thus formed and protected, the motion of the particles takes place with undiminished activity, while the
nncipal causes assigned for that motion, namely, evaporation and their mutual attraction and repulsion, are either materially re-
■iced or absolutely null.”
VOL. in. 2 B
194
ANN
ANN
Ann
Anna.
ANN, or Annat, in Scotish Law, is half a year’s stipend,
which the act 1672, c. 13, gives to the executors of mi¬
nisters of the church of Scotland, oyer and above what
;was due to the minister himself for his incumbency. s
it is a mere gratuity given by the law to those whom, it is
presumed, the deceased could not sufficiently provide for,
so it is neither assignable by him during his life, nor a -
tachable by his creditors after his death.
ANNA, Ana, or Anah, a town of Arabian Iiac,
pachalic of Bagdad, which extends five or six miles along
the western bank of the Euphrates. It consists of a single
street built on both sides. The houses are of stone, two
stories high, and separated from each other, as m other
eastern towns, by beautiful gardens, filled with fruit-trees,
bearing lemons, oranges, citrons, quinces, figs, dates, pome¬
granates, and olives. It is an open and defenceless place;
and in 1807 it was attacked by the Wahabees, who gave
it up to plunder, and perpetrated the most horrible cruel¬
ties, massacring the greater part of the inhabitants, and
setting the town on fire; after which they retreated with
their plunder, carrying into captivity many women and
children. The inhabitants are said, previous to this ca¬
lamity, to have been more polished than those in the
neighbourhood, and to have consisted chiefly of Arabians,
who were, however, addicted to their usual^ vocation ot
robbery when any opportunity offered. Population about
3000. 260 miles east of Damascus; 220 south-east ot
Aleppo. Long. 41. 15. E. Eat. 34. N. .
Anna Comnena, daughter of the emperor Alexius Lom-
nenus I., was not less distinguished by her elevated rank
than by her mental qualifications. Her superiority of
mind began early to display itself. Despising the effemi¬
nacy and voluptuousness of the court in which she was
educated, she directed her attention to literary pursuits.
Indulging her favourite studies, she solicited the acquaint¬
ance of the more eminent philosophers of that period.
But the pursuits of literature did not induce her en¬
tirely to abandon society; she gave her hand to Nicepho-
rus Briennius, a young nobleman of a respectable family.
This accomplished woman was, however, actuated with
unjustifiable ambition; and, during the last illness of her
father, she united with the empress Irene in attempting
to prevail upon that monarch to disinherit his own son, and
give the crown to her husband. The affection and virtue
of the father prevailed over female address and intrigue.
But the ambition of Comnena was not diminished ; for
she entered into a conspiracy to depose her brother ; and
w*hen her husband displayed a timidity and hesitation in
this unjust enterprise, she exclaimed that “ nature had
mistaken their sexes, for he ought to have been the
woman.”
Either through the vigilance of her brother, or the ti¬
midity of her husband, the treasonable plot was discover¬
ed, and Anna punished with the confiscation of all her
property. But generosity has an opportunity of display¬
ing its real nature when an enemy is vanquished; thus
was the -generosity of her brother displayed on the pre¬
sent occasion, by returning all her property. Ashamed,
however, of her base conduct, she retired from court, and
never more possessed any influence there. Disappointed
ambition took shelter among the walks of literature, and
she employed herself in her solitude in writing the his¬
tory of her father’s reign. This production of her pen is
still extant, and composes a part of the celebrated collec¬
tion of the Byzantine Historians. The stores of rhetoric
are ransacked to embellish this work, and every effort
made to enrich it with science; but the general com¬
plexion of it is rather like an apology than an impartial
narrative. It must, however, be acknowledged that she
is not more partial than many other Latin historians, and
that her history contains many valuable facts and obser-,
vations. ,
ANNABERG, a city on the mountains m the bailiwick Am ^
of Wolkenstein, in the circle of Erzgebirg, in the kingdom^' i/'J
of Saxony. It is 2820 feet above the level of the sea, in
the midst of a mining district, which yields silver, tin, and
cobalt. It contains 592 houses, and 4500 inhabitants, who
are employed in manufacturing tapes, lace, sewing-silk,
and many other articles. It is in latitude 50. 35.8. N. The
longitude is not exactly ascertained.
ANNACHNAN, a small island of Ireland, on the south-
west coast of the county of Galway, 22 miles from Galway,
ANNAGH, an island about 5 miles in circumference,
on the west coast of Ireland, between the isle of Achil
and the mainland of the county of Mayo. Long. 9.39.
W. Lat. 53. 58. N. There is a small village of the same
name in the county of Cork, 5 miles from Charleville.
ANNALS, in matters of literature, a species of history
which relates events in the chronological order wherein
they happened. They differ from perfect history in this,
that annals are but a bare relation of what passes every
year, as a journal is of what passes every day: whereas
history relates not only the transactions themselves, but
also the causes, motives, and springs of actions. Annals
require nothing but brevity; history demands ornament.
Cicero gives the following account of the origin of annals,
To preserve the memory of events, the Pontifex Maximus,
says he, wrote what passed each year, and exposed it on
tables in his own house, where every one was at liberty
to read: this they called annales maximi ; and hence the
writers who imitated this simple method of narrating facts
were called annalists.
ANNAN, a royal borough and parish of Scotland, in
the county of Dumfries, situated on the river of the same
name, about two miles above its junction with the Solway
Frith. An elegant new bridge of three arches has been
built within these three years. It has a good harbour;
the highest tides rise 21 feet; 23 vessels belonged to the
port in 1818, registering 1025 tons; at present (1830)
there are 39 vessels, registering 3054 tons. These vessels
are chiefly employed in the coasting trade. A cotton spin¬
ning manufactory has been long established in the town,
giving employment to between 80 and 100 persons of
different ages. The salmon fishery, which in former years
was so very productive, has fallen off very considerably.
The town has recently been much improved by the addition
of several new streets and public buildings: among the
latter is a handsome new academy, built and endowed by
the heritors and borough-council; it is conducted by a rec¬
tor and two masters, and is in a very flourishing state. The
town unites with Dumfries, Kirkcudbright, Sanquhar, and
Lochmaben, in sending a representative to parliament.
The environs are very inviting; and few places are more
beautiful than the river and its finely wooded banks, for
eight or ten miles above the town. There was formerly
a castle, built by the Bruces after they became lords ot
Annandale. The population of the parish is 4500, of the
town 3000. The latter is 16 miles from Dumfries, and
78 from Edinburgh. . .
The river Annan, on which the town stands, rises in
the county of Peebles, and flowing through Dumfriesshire,
falls into the Solway Frith after a course of 30 miles,
abounds with trout and salmon. The stewartry or dis¬
trict of Annandale, of which Lochmaben castle was t e
chief fortalice, is a fertile vale, 24 miles long and abou
14 miles broad. From its vicinity to England, and t e
continual incursions and predatory wars of the borderers,
the greater part of it was uncultivated and common; u
since the beginning of the last century all these was
and commons have been subdivided and brought in
ANN
ANN
195
nd
' oils
jlture, and the country has assumed a new appearance,
hich may be ascribed not only to the division of the com-
• ions, but likewise to the improvement made on the roads.
' Annandale formed a part of the Roman province of Va-
mtia; and Severus’s wall ending at Bowness on the op-
osite coast of the Solway, it abounds with Roman sta-
ons and antiquities.
The RdVnan camps at Birrens in Middlebie, on the hill of
irrenswark, and at Torwood Muir in Dryfesdale, are still
early entire, and their form is preserved; and the traces
id remains of a military road are yet visible in different
irts of the country. The ruins of the house or castle of
uchincass, in the neighbourhood of Moffat, once the
:at of that potent baron Thomas Randolph, earl of
lurray, lord of Annandale, and regent of Scotland dur-
g the minority of David II., covers above an acre of
•ound, and even now conveys an idea of the plan and
rength of the building. The ancient castle of Com-
ngan, formerly belonging to the Murrays, earls of An-
indale, and now to the earl of Mansfield, is still in a tole-
ible state of preservation ; but except this castle, and that
■ Hoddam, most of the other old fortalices and towers are
dw taken down or in ruins.
ANNAND, William, dean of Edinburgh, the son of
Villiam Annand, minister of Ayr, was born at Ayr in
333. Five years after, his father was obliged to quit
cotland with his family, on account of their loyalty to
ic king, and adherence to the episcopal government
itablished by law in that country. In 1651 young An-
ind was admitted a scholar in University College, Ox-
rd; and though he was put under the care of a pres-
jterian tutor, yet he took all occasions to be present
I; the sermons preached by the loyal divines in and
jar Oxford. In 1656, being then bachelor of arts,
j received holy orders from the hands of Dr Thomas
ulwar, bishop of Ardfert or Kerry in Ireland, and was
ipointed preacher at Weston on the Green, near Bices-
r in Oxfordshire. After he had taken the degree of
aster of arts, he was presented to the vicarage of
eighton-Buzzard in Bedfordshire, where he distinguished
imself by his edifying manner of preaching till 1662,
hen he went into Scotland in quality of chaplain to
)hn earl of Middleton, the king’s high commissioner to
le church of that kingdom. In the latter end of the
sar 1663 he was instituted to the Tolbooth Church at
dinburgh, and from thence was removed, some years
ifter, to the Tron Church of that city. In April 1676
e was nominated by the king to the deanery of Edin-
urgh; and in 1685 he commenced doctor of divinity in
le university of St Andrews. He wrote, 1. Fides Ca-
dica, or the Doctrine of the Catholic Church. Lond.
561-2, 4to. 2. Solutions of many proper and profitable
uestions; printed with the Fides Catholica. 3. Panem
}mtidianum, or a short Discourse tending to prove
ie legality, decency, and expediency of set forms of
rayers in the churches of Christ; with a particular De-
nce of the Book of Common Prayer of the Church of
ngland. Lond. 1661, 4to. 4. Pater Noster, or the
ord’s Prayer explained. Lond. 1670, 8vo. 5. Myste-
um Pietatis, or the Mystery of Godliness. Lond. 1672,
\ro. 6. Doxologia, or Glory to the Father, the Church’s
lymn, reduced to glorifying the Trinity. Lond. 1672,
vo. 7. Dualitas, or a twofold subject displayed and
pened, conducible to godliness and peace in order:
irst, Lex Loquens, the honour and dignity of magistracy;
econdly, Duorum Unitas, or the agreement of magis-
acy and ministry. Edinb. 1674, 4to. Dr Annand died
n the 13th of June 1689, and was interred in the Grey-
"lars Church, Edinburgh.
ANNAPOLIS, the chief town in Maryland, in North
America. It stands upon a sort of peninsula on the west
side of the Chesapeak, and is a small town, but well built.
It contained 2260 inhabitants in 1820.
ANNE, queen of Great Britain, second daughter of
King James II. by his first wife, Anne Hyde, was born
in 1664. In 1683 she married George prince of Den¬
mark, by whom she had several children, but none of
them arrived at the age of maturity. On the death of
King William she ascended the throne, a. d. 1702, and
her reign comprehends one of the most illustrious periods
of English history. Possessed, however, of a very feeble
character, which did not permit her to act for herself,
this period is the reign of her counsellors and favourites;
and she exhibited no decided inclination which could in¬
fluence state affairs, except a strong passion for tory
principles, both in church and state. She died in Au¬
gust 1714, of a dropsy, in the 50th year of her age and
13th of her reign.
ANNE Boleyn, queen of Henry VIII. king of Eng¬
land, daughter of Sir Thomas Boleyn, a nobleman of a
powerful family and numerous alliances. The daughter
of the duke of Norfolk was her mother, and during the
reign of the former king her father had been honoured
with several embassies. Mary, the king’s sister, who mar¬
ried Louis XII. king of France, carried over this lady with
her at an early age, where she imbibed the freedom, the
vivacity, and the openness of manners of that nation.
After the death of Louis, that queen returned to Eng¬
land, and Anne continued to attend her royal mistress.
Having some time after left her service, she was intro¬
duced into the family of the duchess of Alen^on. In
addition to all her acquired accomplishments, she pos¬
sessed the greatest personal elegance, and was highly
famed in that age.
History does not explicitly mention whether or not it
was on her account, but upon her return to England the
king expressed his scruples concerning his union with
Catharine of Arragon. Enamoured, however, of Anne, he
expressed his attachment to her ; but she was possessed
of too much virtue and policy to confer any improper fa¬
vours. This prudent and virtuous restraint only increased
the passion of Henry; and placing her at court, he dis¬
tinguished her by many marks of royal favour. The im¬
petuous king at length came to the resolution to divorce
his queen, to make way for his favourite Anne. In this
instance the injury done to that queen proved the cause
of the final separation of England from the dominion of
the pope. Various delays and difficulties occurring to the
divorce, Henry privately married Anne during the month
of November 1532; and in April following he publicly de¬
clared her queen of England. The famous Queen Eliza¬
beth was the first-fruits of this marriage, who was born
in September following. For some time Anne enjoyed
a considerable share of the royal favour, and she made
use of that influence in subduing the haughty prelate
Wolsey, and widening the breach between the king and
the pope. But this favour was not of long continuance;
for the king, ever varying in his temper, allowed jealousy
to enter his bosom, which her thoughtless demeanour
tended in some measure to excuse. She was accused of
adultery with several of the household officers, and even
with her own brother Lord Rochford; and having been
tried on a charge of high treason, was condemned on very
scanty proof to be beheaded ; which sentence was execut¬
ed in May 1536. She to the last resolutely denied any
serious guilt.
St Anne’s Day, a festival of the Christian church, ce¬
lebrated by the Latins on the 26th of July, but by the
Greeks on the 9th of December. It is kept in honour of
Anne or Anna, mother of the Virgin Mary.
Anne
St Anne’s
Day.
196
Annealing.
Glass.
ANN
ANNEALING, by the workmen called nealing, is a
process used in glass-making, and in the manufactui e of
certain metals. In glass-making it consists in placing the
bottles, &c. whilst hot, in a kind of oven or furnace, where
they are suffered to cool gradually. They would other¬
wise be too brittle for use. dhe difference between un¬
annealed and annealed glass, with respect to brittleness,
is very remarkable. When an unannealed glass vessel is
broken, it often flies into a small powder, with a violence
seemingly very unproportioned to the stroke it has re¬
ceived. In general it is in greater danger of breaking
from a very slight stroke than from one of some consider¬
able force. One of these vessels will often resist the ef¬
fects of a pistol bullet dropt into it from the height of two
or three feet; yet a grain of sand falling into it will make
it burst into small fragments. This takes place sometimes
immediately on dropping the sand into it; but often the
vessel will stand for several minutes after, seemingly se¬
cure ; and then, without any new injury, it will fly to pieces.
If the vessel be very thin, it does not break in this manner,
but seems to possess all the properties of annealed glass.
The same phenomena are still more strikingly seen in
glass drops or tears. They are globular at one end, and
taper to a small tail at the other. They are the drops
which fall from the melted mass of glass on the rods on
which the bottles are made. They drop into the tubs of
water which are used in the work; the greater part of
them burst immediately in the water. When those that
remain entire are examined, they discover all the proper¬
ties of unannealed glass in the highest degree. They will
bear a smart stroke on the thick end without breaking;
but if the small tail be broken, they burst into small
powder with a loud explosion. They appear to burst with
more violence, and the powder is smaller, in an exhausted
receiver, than in the open air. When they are annealed
they lose these properties.
Glass is one of those bodies which increase in bulk
when passing from a fluid to a solid state. W hen it is al¬
lowed to crystallize regularly, the particles are so arranged
that it has a fibrous texture. It is elastic, and suscep¬
tible of long-continued vibrations; but when a mass of
melted glass is suddenly exposed to the cold, the surface
crystallizes, and forms a solid shell round the interior fluid
parts. This prevents them from expanding when they
become solid. They therefore have not the opportunity
of a regular crystallization, but are compressed together
with little mutual cohesion. On the contrary, they press
outward to occupy more space, but are prevented by the
external crust. In consequence of the effort of expansion
in the internal parts, the greater number of glass drops
burst in cooling; and those which remain entire are not
regularly crystallized. A smart stroke upon them com¬
municates a vibration to the whole mass, which is nearly
synchronous in every part; and therefore the effort of ex¬
pansion has little more effect than if the body were at
rest; but the small tail and the surface only are regularly
crystallized. If the tail be broken, this communicates a
vibration along the crystallized surface, without reaching
the internal parts. By this they are allowed some ex¬
pansion ; and overcoming the cohesion of the thin outer
shell, they burst it, and are dispersed in powder.
In an unannealed glass vessel the same thing takes
place. Sometimes the vibration may continue for a con¬
siderable time before the internal parts overcome the re¬
sistance. If the vessel be very thin, the regular crystal¬
lization extends through the whole thickness; or at least the
quantity of compressed matter in the middle is so incon¬
siderable as to be incapable of bursting the external plate.
By the process of annealing the glass is kept for some
time in a state approaching to fluidity; the heat increases
ANN
the bulk of the crystallized part, and renders it so soften,
that the internal parts have the opportunity of expanding J
and forming a regular crystallization.
In the manufactures in which the malleable metals are j,
employed, annealing is used to soften a metal after it has
been rendered hard by the hammer; and also to soften
cast-iron, which is rendered very hard and brittle by ra¬
pid cooling.
In the manufacture of steel goods, which are first form¬
ed by the hammer, and require to be filed or otherwise
treated, and in which softness and flexibility are essential
to the change, annealing is absolutely necessary. This is
particularly the case in making files and scissors, that the
metal may be left sufficiently soft for cutting the teeth,
and for filing off those parts which cannot be ground. An¬
nealing is not less necessary in the drawing of wire, whe¬
ther iron, copper, brass, silver, or gold. The operation
of drawing soon gives the wire a degree of hardness and
elasticity which, if not removed from time to time by an¬
nealing, would prevent the extension of the wire, and ren-
der it extremely brittle. The same operation is also ne¬
cessary in rolling or flatting those metals which are in a
cold state, such as brass, silver, gold, &c. The brazier
who forms vessels of copper and brass by the hammer, can
work upon it only for a little time before he is obliged
to anneal it.
The common methods employed for annealing iron and
steel are very injudicious, and materially injure the latter
when it is used for making cutting instruments. After
they have been formed by the hammer, they are generally
piled up in an open fire, slowly raised to red heat, and then
allowed as gradually to cool. By this method the surface
of the steel will be found considerably scaled, from the
action of the oxygen of the atmosphere. When it is re¬
membered that steel consists of iron joined to carbon, it
will be evident that the steel immediately under the scaly
oxide will be deprived of its carbon, which has been car¬
ried off by the attraction of the oxygen; and, in conse¬
quence, will lose the property of acquiring that degree of
hardness necessary to a cutting instrument.
Nothing, therefore, can be more obvious, than that steel
particularly should be annealed in close vessels, to prevent
that effect. For this purpose the goods should be placed
in a trough or recess made of fire-stone or fire-brick, and
stratified with ashes or clean sand, and finally covered
with a thick stratum of the same; but if the size of the
vessel be small, it may have a cover of its own materials.
This oven or trough must now be heated by the flame of
a furnace passing under and round it, till the whole is of
a red heat. It must then be suffered to cool, without let¬
ting in the air. The goods so treated will be much softer
than by the common method. The surface, instead of
becoming scaled, will have acquired a metallic whiteness,
from the presence of a small quantity of carbonaceous
matter contained in the ashes in which they were imbed¬
ded. They will become so flexible also, as to allow them
to bend considerably without breaking, which is very far
from being the case before the operation. The fracture,
before annealing, will be smooth and short; but afterwards
it will be rough, exhibiting bright parts, of a crystalline ap¬
pearance. Wire, especially that of iron and steel, should
be treated in a similar way when it is annealed, h’6
wire used for some purposes requires to be soft, and is
sold in that state. If the wire, after finishing, when it i>
bright and clean, were to be annealed in contact with oxy¬
gen, it would not only lose all its lustre and smoothness,
but much of its tenacity. The process above mentione
will therefore be particularly necessary in annealing nms *
ed wire, as well as in softening it from time to time during
the drawing.
ANN
ANN 197
ey.
Conner and brass suffer much less than iron and steel
' om annealing in the open air and do not require to be
noted above a low red heat. If, however, the lustre is to
„ preserved, a close vessel would be desirable. The lat-
>r metals, after annealing, although much discoloured
v the oxygen of the atmosphere, may be cleansed by
nmersion in a hot liquor composed of water and a small
uantity of sulphuric or nitric acid. Very small brass or
inper wire is frequently annealed by exposing it to the
ame of hay or straw. In casting minute pieces of pig-
on, which is generally done in wet sand, the metal pos-
>sses the property of steel to such a degree as to assume,
y the rapid cooling, a degree of hardness equal to hard-
led steel; at the same time that the articles are so brittle
; to break by falling on the ground. When, however,
icse goods are treated in the way above directed, they
-.quire a degree of softness which renders them pene-
able by the file, and at the same time capable of bend-
ig. In this state they are much less tenacious than steel,
ut still so much so as to have been sold in the form of
jtlery for steel.
The change which metals undergo by annealing is not
ct thoroughly understood. Most of the malleable metals
»re susceptible of two distinct forms, one called the crys-
illine form, which they assume by slow cooling; and the
ther the fibrous, which is acquired by hammering or roll-
ig. When this, however, is carried beyond a certain
oint, the metal becomes so hard that it is not capable of
eing bent far without breaking. All the malleable me¬
tis in the ingot or in their cast state are brittle, and ex-
ibit a crystalline fracture. By hammering or rolling
icy become more tenacious, and break with difficulty,
xhibiting what is called a fibrous fracture. At the same
me they become stiffer and more elastic. They lose the
itter properties by annealing, but become more malleable.
. f the annealing, however, be long continued, the mal-
;ability diminishes, and they again have a crystalline
•acture. Zinc by wire-drawing becomes very flexible,
nd possesses a degree of tenacity not inferior to that of
opper; but, if it be kept in boiling water for a length of
me, it will resume its original brittleness, and show a
rystalline appearance when broken. This proves that
ie particles of metals can change their arrangement
'ithout losing their solid form ; which is still more strong-
f confirmed by the fact, that brass wire loses its tenacity
y exposure to the fumes of acids, and even by the pre-
ence of a damp atmosphere. This is not caused by the
noisture, but by the action of air upon the moistened sur-
ace. The manufacturers of common pins are obliged to
eep their wire in a dry atmosphere, or immersed in
/ater. If the wire be first moistened, and then exposed
o the air, it will assume the brittle state much sooner,
n this condition it breaks with a crystalline fracture, si-
ailar to that exhibited by an ingot. When a steel plate,
uch as a watch-spring, has been once tempered, the ope-
ation of simply rubbing it bright will render it soft and
lastic. The same change is brought about by slightly
lamrnering it. It, however, resumes its elastic state by
icing carefully heated till it becomes of a blue colour,
f the heat be continued to redness, particularly in a close
'essel, it becomes perfectly annealed.
ANNECY, a city in the kingdom of Sardinia, the capi-
al of the province of Genevois, in the duchy of Savoy. It is
•t the foot of the mountain Semina, on the banks of the
ake of that name. It is the most industrious place in
iavoy, having manufactures of cotton goods, of hats, glass,
aid earthenware, and several distilleries and tanneries,
aid near it some iron-works. It contains a cathedral, a
diurch, five monasteries, and the same number of nun-
icries. The relics of St Francis de Sales, preserved in
St Mary’s Church, draw a vast number of pilgrims annu- Annesley
ally to the city. The population in 1816 amounted to II
5467 persons. It is in long. 5. 9. E. and lat. 45. 53. N. Annobon.
ANNESLEY, Arthur, earl of Anglesea, and lord
privy seal in the reign of King Charles II., was the son of
Sir Francis Annesley, baronet, Lord Mount-Norris, and
Viscount Valentia, in Ireland, and was born at Dublin on
the 10th of July 1614. He was for some time at the uni¬
versity of Oxford, and afterwards studied the law at Lin¬
coln’s Inn. He had a considerable share in public trans¬
actions, for in the beginning of the civil war he sat in the
parliament held at Oxford; but afterwards became recon¬
ciled to the opposite party, and was sent commissioner to
Ulster, to oppose the designs of the rebel Owen Roe
O’Neal. He engaged in several other affairs with great
success. He was president of the council of state after
the death of Oliver, and was principally concerned in
bringing about the Restoration, soon after which King
Charles II. raised him to the dignity of a baron, by the
title of Lord Annesley of Newport-Pagnel, Bucks; and
a short time after he was made earl of Anglesea. Du¬
ring that reign he was employed in some very important
affairs, was made treasurer of the navy, and for some time
held the office of lord privy seal. He was a person of
great abilities, of very extensive learning, and was well ac¬
quainted with the constitution and laws of England. He
died in April 1686, in the 73d year of his age. In his
lifetime he published the following pieces:—1. Truth un¬
veiled, in behalf of the Church of England; being a Vin¬
dication of Mr John Standish’s Sermon, preached be¬
fore the king, and published by his Majesty’s command.
1676, 4to. To which is added, A short Treatise on the
subject of Transubstantiation. 2. A Letter from a Person
of Honour in the Country, written to the Earl of Castle-
haven ; being observations and reflections on his Lord¬
ship’s Memoirs concerning the Wars of Ireland. 1681, 8vo.
3. A true Account of the whole Proceedings between James
Duke of Ormond and Arthur Earl of Anglesea, before the
king and his council, &c. 1682, folio. 4. A Letter of Re¬
marks upon Jovian. 1683, 4to. Besides these, he wrote
several other works, some of which were published after
his decease ; as, 5. The Privileges of the House of Lords
and Commons, argued and stated in two conferences be-r
tween both Houses, April 19 and 22, 1671: To which is
added, A Discourse, wherein the Rights of the House of
Lords are truly asserted; with remarks on the seeming
arguments and pretended precedents offered at that time
against their lordships. 6. The King’s Right of Indulgence
in Spiritual Matters, with the Equity thereof, asserted.
1688, 4to. 7. Memoirs, intermixt with moral, political,
and historical observations, by way of discourse, in a let¬
ter to Sir Peter Pett. 1693, 8vo.
ANNIVERSARY, the annual return of any remarkable
day. Anniversary days, in old times, more particularly
denoted those days in which an office was yearly perform¬
ed for the souls of the deceased, or the martyrdom of the
saints was yearly celebrated in the church.
ANNOBON, a small island in Africa, on the east coast
of Loango, belonging to the Portuguese. It lies in long.
5. 30. E. lat. 1. 32. S., and receives its name from being
discovered on the new year’s day. According to Pyrard,
it is about five or six French leagues in circuit; Braud-
raud makes it ten leagues. It contains two high moun¬
tains, having their tops continually enveloped in clouds, and
thus occasioning frequent rains. Off the south-east of the
island are two rocks, one of which is low, and upon a level
with the surface of the sea; the other higher and larger,
but both dangerous to shipping in the night: between
them the channel is deep and clear. On the same side
of the island is a convenient watering place; but the road
198 ANN
Annobon to the north-west side is difficult and dangerous, though
II the one most frequented by ships that have no intention
Annuities. touching upon the continent. In either place it is dif-
ficult to take in a sufficient quantity of water, on account
of the violent surf. The best road for ships lies on the
north-east side, where they may anchor in 7, 10, 13, or
16 fathoms, on a fine sand, opposite to the Negro village.
The climate is wholesome, and the air clear and serene
for the greater part of the year. The island contains a
number of fertile valleys, which produce Turkey corn, rice,
millets, yams, potatoes, and afford pasture for abundance
of cattle and sheep. Poultry and fish also abound; but
the only mercantile production is cotton, in small quantity,
but esteemed equal in quality to any produced in India.
In the year 1605 the Dutch admiral Matelief found
200 negroes and two Portuguese on Annobon, most of
them able to bear arms. The inhabitants are subject to
the Portuguese governor, who is the chief person in the
island; at the same time the negroes have their own chief,
subordinate to him. They are all rigid catholics, having
been either compelled or persuaded by the Portuguese to
embrace that religion; and, like all other converts, they
are bigoted in proportion to their ignorance.
ANN
ANNONA, in Roman Antiquity, denotes provision for
a year of all sorts, as of flesh, wine, &c. but especially 0f \
corn. Annona is likewise the allowance of oil, salt, bread M
flesh, corn, wine, hay, and straw, which was annually pr0\
vided by the contractors for the maintenance of an army,
ANNONiE Pr^fectus, in Antiquity, an extraordinary
magistrate, whose business it was to prevent a scarcity of
provisions, and to regulate the weight and fineness of
bread.
ANNONAY, a small town of France, in the depart-
ment of Ardeche, formerly Upper Vivarais, seated on the
river Deume. Long. 4. 52. E. Lat. 45. 15. N.
ANNOT, a small city on the mountains of Provence in
France. Long. 7. 0. E. Lat. 44. 4. N.
ANNOVER, a Spanish town not far from the Tagus,
in the province of Toledo, containing 400 houses, 2000
inhabitants, and a saltpetre manufactory.
ANNUALRENT, in Scotish Law, denotes the yearly
interest or profit due by a debtor in a sum of money to a
creditor for the use of it.—A Right of Annualrent was
the original method in Scotland of burdening lands with
a yearly payment for the loan of money, before the tahimr
of interest was allowed.
ANNUITIES.1
The doctrine of Compound Interest and Annuities-cer-
tain is too simple ever to have occupied much of the at¬
tention of mathematicians : inquiries into the values of in¬
terests dependent upon the continuance or the failure of
human life, being more interesting and difficult, have oc¬
cupied them more, but yet not so much as their import¬
ance would seem to demand ; the discoveries both in Pure
Mathematics and Physics, especially those of Newton,
which distinguished the close of the seventeenth century,
having provided them with ample employment of a more
interesting kind, ever since the subjects of this article
were submitted to calculation.
Fermat, Pascal, and Huygens, by laying the foundation
of the doctrine of probabilities, about the middle of that
century, first opened the way to the solution of problems
of this kind. The earliest mathematical publication on
probabilities, the little tract of Huygens, De Ratiociniis in
Ludo Alecs, appeared in 1658; and in 1671 his celebrated
countryman John de Witt published a treatise on Life-
Annuities in Dutch. (Montucla, Hist, des Math, tome iii.
p. 407.) This, however, appears to have been very little
known or read, and to have had no sensible influence on
the subsequent progress of the science, the origin of which
may be properly dated from the publication of Dr Halley’s
paper on the subject, in the Philosophical Transactions for
the year 1693 (No. 196). That celebrated mathemati¬
cian there first gave a table of mortality, which he had
constructed from observations made at Breslaw, and
showed how the probabilities of life and death, and the
values of annuities and assurances on lives, might be de¬
termined by such tables; which, he informs us, had till
then been only done by an imaginary valuation. Besides
his algebraical reasonings, he illustrated the subject by
the properties of parallelograms and parallelopipedons:
there are, perhaps, no other mathematical inquiries, in
the prosecution of which algebra is entitled to so decided
a preference to the elementary geometry as in these, and
this example of the application of geometry has not been
followed by any of the succeeding writers.
In the year 1724 M. de Moivre published the first edi¬
tion of his tract entitled Annuities on Lives. In order to
shorten the calculation of the values of such annuities, he
assumed the annual decrements of life to be equal; that
is, that out of a given number of persons living at any age,
an equal number die every year until they are all extinct;
and upon that hypothesis he gave a general theorem, by
which the values of annuities on single lives might be
easily determined. This approximation, when the utmost
limit of life was supposed to be 86 years, agreed very well
with the true values between 30 and 70 years of age, as
deduced from Dr Halley’s table; and the method was of
great use at the time, as no tables of the true values of
i-PirW 'lionirfV ernis ^re .ma^e use °fIn article which may properly be considered technical. But since it is desirable that the
the hi«tnnVnl etu ‘ C an^.wefl*defined ideas of the terms that are employed, in the demonstrative part, which follow
cal order with thp nn^;6 th m thi? ParaffraPbs where they are first introduced; and we here give those terms in al"^4!.
cal order, with the numbers of the paragraphs in which their definitions are given
Term.
Annuity 
Annuity, Certain **. 
Annuity, Deferred 
Annuity, Life 
Annuity, Temporary Life  
Annuity on any Life or Lives.
Assurance on any Life or Lives 
Mortality, Table of. 
Years Purchase, N o. of, that an Annuity is worth.
Paragraph.
  3
  4
 20
 31
 58
 62
 77
 32
  6
ANNUITIES.
199
a nuities had then been calculated, except a very con-
Ot cted one inserted by Dr Halley in the paper mentioned
a ive. But, upon the whole, this hypothesis of De Moivre
fejhs probably contributed to retard the progress of the
sc. sence, by turning the attention of mathematicians from
f t ■ investigation of the true law of mortality, and the best
jif mthods of constructing tables of the real values of an-
ca
fl
i
■.
Pi
llfl
n
tki
tici
a:
t;:
O'!
tjl
' •
til
O'!
r
till
h
le
tie
i:
|!;r
lil,
tk
p
k
:
1R
rtities.
The same distinguished analyst also endeavoured to ap-
piximate the values of joint lives; but it has since been
f end that the formulae he gave for that purpose are too
iuorrect for use. Mr Thomas Simpson published his
l.idrine of Annuities and Reversions in the year 1742, in
wich the subject is treated in a manner much more ge¬
nial and perspicuous than it had been previously. His
fctnulae are adapted to any table of mortality; and, in the
scenth corollary to his first problem, he gave the theorem
d nonstrated in the 149th number of this article, to which
w owe all the best tables of the values of life-annuities
tli t have since been published.
n the same work he also gave a table of mortality de-
deed from the London observations, and four others cal-
cjited from it, of the values of annuities on lives, each at
tliee rates of interest; the first for single lives, the three
o ers for two and three equal joint lives, and for the
kgest of two or of three lives.
These were the first tables of the values of joint lives
tit had been calculated; for although Dr Halley had
sl wn, half a century before, how such tables might be
onputed, and had taken considerable pains to facili¬
ty! the work, the necessary calculations by the methods
k wn previous to the publication of Mr Simpson’s treatise
we so very laborious that no one had had the courage
^undertake them. And unfortunately the mortality ac-
c ding to the London table was so much above the com-
n:i average, that the values of annuities in Mr Simpson’s
f iles were much too small for general use.
n the year 1746 M. Deparcieux published his Essai sur
letProbabilites de la Duree de la Vie Humaine, in which
h igave several valuable tables of mortality deduced from
tl mortuary registers of different religious houses, and
fin the lists of the nominees in the French tontines;
a t a table of the values of annuities on single lives, at
the rates of interest, calculated from his table of morta-
li for the tontine annuitants. These tables were a great
ai uisition to the science, as, before their publication,
tl re were only two extant that gave tolerably exact re-
)) mentations of the true law of mortality—Dr Halley’s
fuBreslaw, and one constructed but a short time before
h iM. Kersseboom, principally from registers of Dutch
anuitants. Those of M. Deparcieux for the monks and
n s were the first ever constructed for the two sexes
se irately; and by them the greater longevity of females
w made evident.
he work commences with an algebraical theory of an-
l!‘ 11 -ies-certain; but the principal essay, On the Probabili-
( tb of the Duration of Human Life, is perfectly intelligible
1 tf hose who have not studied mathematics. It is written
*' i great judgment and perspicuity, but contains very
1 i e more than the explanation of the construction of his
1 rfff’. s°me °f which relate to tontines; and he did not
in il himself to the extent he might have done, of the ex-
rl c< tract of Thomas Simpson.
his work, however, appears to have been more read
J| ^t11. e Continent, and to have contributed more to the
i ision of this kind of information there, than all the other
F P ^le su^jecj* The article Viagercs in the
ne i Encyclopedic is acknowledged to have been taken
m rely from it, as was also the article Vie, duree de la ;
‘ ai* t icse are proofs, among many others that might be
produced, how little M. d’Alembert and the principal ma- History,
thematicians his contemporaries attended to the subject,
In the year 1752 Mr Simpson published, in his Select
Exercises, a supplement to his doctrine of Annuities;
wherein he gave new tables of the values of annuities on
two joint lives, and on the survivor of two lives, much
more copious than those he had inserted in the principal
work; but these also were calculated from his London
table of mortality.
The celebrated Euler, in a paper inserted in the Me¬
moirs of the Royal Academy of Sciences at Berlin for
the year 1760, gave a formula by which the value of an
annuity on a single life of any age may be derived from
that of an annuity on a life one year older; which formula
was included in that given by Mr Simpson 18 years be¬
fore for effecting the same purpose in the case of any
number of joint lives; and by this compendious method
M. Euler calculated a table of the values of single lives
from M. Kersseboom’s table of mortality.
The first edition of Dr Price’s Observations on Rever¬
sionary Payments was published in 1770, and its chief
object was, to give information to persons desirous of form¬
ing themselves into societies for the purpose of making
provision for themselves in old age, or for their widows.
When tables of the values of single lives, and of two joint
lives, are given, the methods of determining the terms on
which such provisions can be made with safety to all the
parties concerned are very simple, and were at that time
well understood in theory by the mathematicians who had
studied the subject; but, for want of the requisite tables,
the algebraical formulae had till then been of little prac¬
tical utility.
In the prosecution of this laudable design, Dr Price
was obliged to have recourse to approximations. He in¬
forms us, that by following M. de Moivre too implicitly in
his rules for determining the value of two joint lives, he
was led into difficulties which convinced him that they
were not only useless but dangerous: he therefore calcu¬
lated a table of these values upon M. de Moivre’s hypo¬
thesis of the decrements of life being equal, and its utmost
limit 86 years, from a correct formula given by Mr Simp¬
son in his doctrine of Annuities (Cor. 5, Prob. 1). By this,
and a table of the values of single lives, calculated by Mr
Dodson on M. de Moivre’s hypothesis, he was enabled to
give answers tolerably near the truth, to some of the most
interesting questions of this kind, and to show that the
plans of several of the societies then recently established,
were quite inadequate; and instead of the benefits they
promised, could only, in the end, produce disappointment
and distress, unless they either dissolved or reformed
themselves.
The work also contained instructive dissertations on the
probabilities and expectations of life, and on the mean
duration of marriage and of widowhood; besides accounts
of some of the principal societies which had then been
formed for the benefit of old age and of widows, with ob¬
servations on the method of forming tables of mortality
for towns, and two new tables of that kind constructed from
registers kept at Norwich and Northampton. Mr Morgan’s
Doctrine of Annuities and Assurances was published in
1779, containing tables of the values of single lives, of
two equal joint lives, and of two lives differing in age by
60 years, calculated from the Northampton table of mor¬
tality. And in the same year M. de Saint-Cyran pub¬
lished his Calcul des Rentes Viageres sur Une et sur Plu-
sieurs Tetes, wherein the valuation of annuities on lives is
treated algebraically, but in a manner much inferior in all
respects to that of Mr Simpson; and six tables are given
of the values of annuities—on single lives, on the survivor
of two lives, and on the last survivor of three, calculated
200
History.
annuities.
from M. Kersseboom’s table of mortality. Although the
values in the cases of two and of three lives were only de¬
termined by approximation, these tables were, just then,
a valuable acquisition to the science; but their use was
entirely superseded only four years after, y p
tion of others much more valuable.
The fourth edition of Dr Price’s Observations on Rever-
sionary Payments appeared m 1783. One of the best
effects of the preceding editions on the progress of the
science had been, to direct the public atten.tlonh‘° ^
innuiries bv showing their important uses in the attairs
oflife; amHo procure the requisite for forming tables
of mortality, that should illustrate the laws according to
which human life wastes under different circumstances, by
exciting the curiosity of intelligent men who had the ne¬
cessary leisure and means of information. The ingenious
author had accordingly been furnished with the neces¬
sary abstracts of mortuary registers which had been kept
with these views, by Dr Haygarth at Chester, Dr Aikin
at Warrington, and the Rev. Mr Gorsuch at Holy-Cross,
near Shrewsbury, since the publication of the first edition;
also by Mr Wargentin, with the mean numbers both ot
the living and the annual deaths in all Sweden and 1 in-
land for 21 successive years; in all of which the sexes
were distinguished; and from these data he constructe
tables of mortality that threw great light on the subject.
He also inserted in this edition an improved table of mor¬
tality for Northampton; and, what had been so long want¬
ed, a complete set of tables of the values of annuities on
single lives at six rates of interest, and on two joint lives
at four, all calculated from the new Northampton table.
The combinations of joint lives were sufficiently numerous
to admit of all the values not included being easily inter¬
polated. Besides these, he also gave tables of the values
of annuities on single lives from the Swedish observations,
both with and without distinction of the sexes, and on two
joint lives without that distinction.
The values given in these tables are too low for the
general average of lives at all ages under 60; but in the
treatise of Mr Baron Maseres on the Principles of the Doc¬
trine of Life Annuities, which was published in the same
year (1783), others were given, calculated from the table
of mortality which M. Deparcieux constructed from the
lists of the nominees in the French tontines. The tables
for single lives are calculated at twelve different rates of
interest from 2 to 10 per cent, but those for joint lives
only at 31 and 41 per cent.; and the combinations they
include are only those of ages that are equal, or that differ
by 5 or 10 years, and the multiples of 10.
There is reason to believe that the values in these
tables, at all ages under 75 or 80 years, are nearer the
truth, for the average of this country, than any others then
extant; but certainly for the average of lives on which
annuities and reversions depend. After that period of
life, however, they are too small; and, in most cases, it is
difficult to derive the values of joint lives from them with
sufficient accuracy, on account of the contracted scale they
have been calculated upon.
It was not Dr Price’s object to deliver the elements of
the science systematically ; but he treated most parts of
it with great judgment, enriched it with a vast collection
of valuable facts and observations, and corrected several
errors into which some of the most eminent writers upon
it had fallen. The mathematical demonstrations (which
are given in the notes) are much inferior to the rest of
the work.
The values of reversionary sums and annuities, which
depend upon some of the lives involved failing according
to assigned orders of precedency, had been approximated
by Mr Simpson in his Select Exercises, and by Mr Morgan
in his Doctrine of Annuities; but the latter gentleman first
gave accurate solutions of problems of this kind, in theGi
Philosophical Transactions for the years 1788,1789,1791
1794, and 1799.
Mr Baily’s Doctrine of Life Annuities and Assurances
was published in 1810. In it the whole subject is treated,
except the construction of tables of mortality, on which
the practical application of all the rest depends. In con-
sequence of the author having adopted Mr Simpson’s no-
tation, this work presented a more perspicuous exposition
of the whole theory, especially of the improvements made
in it between the time when Mr Simpson wrote and the
date of its publication, than had previously appeared.
And in an appendix to it, published in 1813, principally
for the purpose of explaining the construction and uses of
tables for determining the values of life-annuities, cal¬
culated at a vast ‘sacrifice of time and labour by Mr
George Barrett, since deceased, formulae were given for
calculating from tables of that kind the values of tempo¬
rary and deferred life-annuities and assurances, and also
for determining the values of annuities and assurances
when the annuity or the sum assured, instead of remain¬
ing always the same, increases or decreases from year to
year by equal differences, with considerably greater fa¬
cility and expedition than the same things could have been
effected with by the tables and methods of calculation in
previous use.
Except by these improvements, and the solution of the
problems above stated to have been first given by Mr
Morgan, which were severely criticised and given anew,
with some amendments besides the important one of the
notation in Mr Baily’s work, the science had not been
materially advanced, during a period of more than 30
years, which had elapsed since the appearance of the
fourth edition of Dr Price’s observations, when Mr Milne
published his Treatise on the Valuation of Annuities ad
Assurances on Lives and Survivorships, in the year 1815,
The work consists of two volumes ; the first is mathe¬
matical, the second entirely popular, except the notes
and a few of the tables. Ihe algebraical part of this
article is merely a short abstract ot the first volume, and
may serve as a specimen of the manner in which the sub¬
ject has been treated there ; but the construction of tables
of mortality, which forms the subject ot the third chap¬
ter, has not been noticed here; neither is the valuation
of reversionary sums or annuities depending upon assigned
orders of survivorship treated in the present article; and
these are parts of the work which will not be found the
least interesting to mathematicians.
The second volume contains upwards of 50 new tables,
with a few others that had been published before, hut
have been reprinted either on account of their value or
scarcity, or both. Four of the new ones are tables oi
mortality constructed by the author, from registers ep
at Carlisle and Montpellier, and in all Sweden and tin-
land, since the period of the observations Dr Price ma e
use of: the sexes are distinguished in the tables foi
den and Montpellier, but not in that for Carlisle. 115
last is the only table, besides those for Sweden and tin-
land, applicable to the mass of the people, that ^as
formed from the necessary data,—enumerations o
living, as well as registers of the deaths, in every in e
val of age. , t
Twenty-one of these tables, being the seventeen ^
the thirty-seventh inclusive, in the collection at
of the work, render it easy to apply the algebraical or
lae to practical purposes, and numerous examples o s
applications are given. They have all been ca‘cUlj ;
from the Carlisle table of mortality; those of .^VU
of life-annuities on the same extensive scale with
& jit’l'
ANNU
L , jici! Dr Price derived from the Northampton table. It
Hw i the author’s opinion that the values of interests de-
|'W indent upon the continuance or the failure of life may
;1> I 1 derived from them more correctly than from any others
tl| ten extant, and he has taken considerable pains to assist
l» h readers in judging of this for themselves.
Besides the tables, the principal contents of the second
',(1 \ lume are explanations of their construction and uses.
Ill jany of them relate to the progress of population,—the
pi <mparative mortality of different diseases, of different
sej,. s isons,—and of the two sexes at every age, the proper-
till t n of the sexes at birth, and that of the born alive to
jtlj 13 still-born of each sex.
It will be found that the author has collected records
|of ( facts and observations of great value, and that he has
c11!; edeavoured to present the information they afford in
thK 13 forms best calculated for the further prosecution of
Itl' lf tese inquiries.
Mr Gompertz’s Sketch of an Analysis and Notation ap-
fi I j cable to the estimation of the value of Life Contingencies
m • \.s read at a meeting of the Royal Society on the 29th
irfi (June 1820, and printed in the Society’s Transactions for
t; it year.
The second edition of Mr Morgan’s Principles and Doc-
friji tne of Assurances and Annuities on Lives was published
“ftii 1821. The formulae for determining the values of
p I (sintingent reversions, first given by the author in the
i- j lilosophical Transactions, as above stated, were in this
s ;ond edition substituted for the approximations given in
plj tfe first; and it contains tables of the values of annuities
«lc single and joint lives, calculated from the Northamp-
l i and Sweden tables of mortality, and taken from Dr
ri 1 ice’s Observations on Reversionary Payments.
This edition contains nothing new, except a table on
13 two last pages, showing the number of persons whose
iif 1 es were insured in the Equitable Society, who died of
ta.ii (ch disease in each decade of age from 10 years to 80,
S1§i< d above 80 years of age, during a term of 20 years
t»B<mmencing with 1801. Also (in the last line of the
si t ile) “ the number assured during the same term” in
< ffi of these intervals of age. The obvious meaning of
ill.* t s expression would seem to be, the number of persons
“pc whose lives assurances were effected by the Society during
l!» I se 20 years, in each interval of age. This is the sense
Mil which Mr Babbage understood it, and therefore drew
’ ong inferences from it (in his Comparative View of LAfe
i;l - surance Institutions, p. 63 and table 13). The late Dr
1 mng was also misled by it, and appears to have taken
I ise for the mean numbers of the lives on which the so-
‘ ity had policies in force in the several intervals of age
' ‘ r’ng these 20 years; and thence concluded that during
7 12S.e 20 years, according to that table, the mean number
«| < lives of all ages on which the society had policies in
* P f ce was more than 150,000, and that only one out of
00 of them died annually. (Philosophical Transactions,
■ -26, p.287.) i \ i
Indeed Mr Morgan himself, on the page preceding his
$• state(^ t^lat ^ contained an account of all the deaths
« | uch had happened in the society during 20 years,
imong a population exceeding 150,000 persons.”
‘ It the numbers only in that last line of the table had
, | en lpven5 without any explanation of them, it would,
' on due consideration, have been conjectured that they
i ‘ aid be no others than the sums of the numbers of lives
■ !’ured by the society which w'ere found to be in those
' ervals of age at one and the same period in each of
| >se ^ years; that is, 20 times the mean numbers of
—   
I T I E S. 201
them in the several intervals during the same term. But History,
neither of Mr Morgan’s explanations of them would ad-
mit of that construction.1
The present article was first published in the Supple¬
ment to this Encyclopaedia in 1816.
In the article on the Law of Mortality in that Supple¬
ment, which appeared in 1822, it was shown that, accord¬
ing to Mr Morgan’s statement, made at a general court of
the Equitable Society in the year 1800, of the mortality
which had taken place among the lives insured by that
society as compared with the Northampton table, the
mortality among those lives in each decade of age from
10 years to 50 was very nearly the same as in the Car¬
lisle table of mortality; also that, above 50 years of age,
the difference, upon the average, was not great. And
early in 1826 were published Tables of Life Contingencies,
by Mr Davies, and A Comparative View of the various In¬
stitutions for the Assurance of Lives, by Mr Babbage ; in
each of which works was given a table of the mortality
which had prevailed among the lives insured in the Equit¬
able Society at all ages above 10 years, constructed from
that statement of Mr Morgan.
Mr Babbage gave also a table of the values of annuities
on single lives of all ages above ten years, derived from
his table of mortality above mentioned; and the inde¬
fatigable Mr Davies gave tables of the values of an¬
nuities on single and joint lives, calculated both from
his table of mortality above mentioned and from the
Northampton table, rather fuller and more complete than
any that had previously been published, except that those
derived from the law of mortality in the Equitable So¬
ciety necessarily included no ages under 10 years. The
values according to the Northampton table were given
only at the rates of 3 and 4 per cent, interest; but Mr
Davies, not content to take them on Dr Price’s authority,
has, like Mr Barrett, calculated them anew, and, as well
as the other values of annuities, has carried them to four
places of decimals. This author’s comprehensive little
book also contains many other tables of the values of an¬
nuities and assurances on lives and survivorships, with
one of the values of policies of assurance, calculated from
the Northampton table of mortality at 3 per cent, inte¬
rest, which, as well as many another single table contained
in it, must have cost him much time and labour; and those
derived from the Northampton table of mortality must be
very valuable to such of the assurance companies as take
that table for their guide in transacting business.
Mr Babbage and Mr Davies also gave formula; and
tables similar to, or not materially different from, those
of Mr Barrett above mentioned, for determining the va¬
lues of temporary and deferred, as well as increasing or
decreasing annuities and assurances on single lives; the
tables of Mr Babbage being derived from his table of
mortality in the Equitable Society, and from the Carlisle
table; that of Mr Davies from the Northampton table of
mortality alone.
Mr Morgan, in the statement on which those tables of
Mr Babbage and Mr Davies were founded, contented him¬
self with the use of two simple digits only, to express the
proportion of the mortality in the Equitable Society to
that in the Northampton table in each decade of age;
and although that gentleman for twenty-five years after
1800, when that statement of the thirty years’ previous
observations was made, continued, in Notes on Dr Price’s
Observations on Reversionary Payments, and in his ad¬
dresses to the general courts of the Equitable Society,
to state that the proportions still remained the same, the
vol. in.
1 See the note at the end of this Historical Introduction.
2 c
annuities.
observations extending over a period of fifty-five years, he
never gave any statement more full or distinct.
These were but scanty materials certainly to construct
table of mortality from; and yet the agreement between
the tables formed from them, and the best of other ex
ing tables of mortality, is very remarkable. _
A committee of the House of Commons on friend y socie¬
ties having been appointed in 1827, chiefly for the pur¬
pose of inquiring into the law of mortality, and the values
of life-annuities and assurances in this country, the re¬
port of that committee, by bringing the subject prominent¬
ly before the public, and exciting attention to well-esta¬
blished but much neglected results of inquiries into it,
had the effect of correcting to a considerable extent opi¬
nions upon it, taken upon trust without due examination,
and generally diffused. The establishment of many new
assurance companies, and the increasing prevalence of
life-assurance for 15 or 20 years before, by exciting c is-
cussion and examination of their rates, had also contribut¬
ed to produce that effect. At length the members of the
Equitable Assurance Society, as the period of the decennial
investigation of their affairs in 1829 approached, express¬
ed a desire to avail themselves of the information respect-
ing the law of mortality in the society which the office
books might afford, for estimating and dividing their pro¬
fits ; and in 1828 Mr Morgan published a pamphlet en¬
titled A View of the Rise and Progress of the Equitable
Society, in which (p. 42) he gave the following “ table of
the decrements of life in the society during the preced¬
ing 12 years.”
given at the end of Mr Morgan’s work on annuities (2d:
edit. 1821)—having also some doubts about the statement
made in 1800—wrote to Mr Morgan, and requested the
desired information respecting them, when that gentleman
forwarded him the following:
1. That the second column should have, been headed,
“ Number of persons living at the beginning of each year
during the last 12 years and the fourth, “ the num¬
ber which should have died, according to the North¬
ampton table.”
2. That as to the table at the end of his treatise on an-
nuities, he knew the numbers of deaths by the different
diseases to be correct; but “ the numbers in the last
line of that table were those of the policies, which he
had since found greatly to exceed the numbers of the
members.”
3. Upon his statement of 1800 Mr Morgan made no ob¬
servation.
From the first part of the information thus obtained, it
appears that the number in the second column on any
line in table (a), is twelve times the mean number of
lives in the interval of age set against it, on which the
Equitable Society had policies in force during these 12
years; so that, in a society similar in all other respects,
in which the law of mortality w'as constantly the same,
and the number of lives in each interval of age was al¬
ways just 12 times as great as in the Equitable during
these 12 years, the population and mortality would be as
in columns 2 and 3 of the following table (b).
V' --
TABLE (1)).
TABLE (a).
Age.
20 to 30
30 to 40
40 to 50
50 to 60
60 to 70
70 to 80
80 to 95
Number.
4,720
15,951
27,072
23,307
14,705
5,056
701
Died.
29
106
201
339
426
289
99
Should
have died.
68
243
506
545
502
290
94
In the same place, the author informs his readers that “ in
his former statement (without mentioning which of them)
he was not aware of the great number of instances in
which there were several policies on one and the same
life.” Also that “ the present is, in fact, the only correct
table of the decrements of life in the society.”
In the same pamphlet the author has given a table to
show the law of mortality among the lives insured in the
Equitable Society, founded upon his last statement; also a
table of the expectations of life, and one of the values of
annuities on single lives at three per cent, per annum
interest, both derived from that table of mortality, none
of them including any age under 20 years.
The author of the present article, when preparing this
historical sketch, not clearly understanding the import of
the numbers in the second column of this table (a), nor
the last line in the table of deaths by the different diseases,
Between
the
Ages of
20& 30
30 & 40
40 & 50
50 & 60
60 & 70
70 & 80
80& 95
Number
constantly
living.
Totals
4,720
15,951
27,072
23,307
14,705
5,056
701
Of whom
die
annually.
29
106
201
339
426
289
99
91,512 1489
6
Of whom would die annually accord¬
ing to
Our calculations from
Mr Morgan's
calculations
from
Mr Morgan’s
Table of
M ortality in
Equitable
Society.
37
150
337
536
664
460
146
2330
The Northampton Table
of Mortality.
74
299
648
780
726
461
147
3135
243
506
545
502
290
94
2248
If our inferences in the 4th and 5th columns of this
table from Mr Morgan’s data in the 2d and 3d be correct,
neither Mr Morgan’s in the 6th column, nor his table o
mortality, nor consequently those of the expectations an
values of lives above mentioned, can have been accurate)
derived from the same data.
But even with these data we have reason to believe
that Mr Morgan is not well satisfied, and that that gent e-
man has since been able to form a table from much oof®
unexceptionable documents, which shows the probabilities
1 It may be proper to show here, how our numbers in columns 4 and 5 have been determined. For this purpose we give asane*
ample the manner in which the 2d in col. 5 has been calculated.
= { ^o’oQfil number living above
Expectation of life at | ^ ^ j number annually attaining that age
\ 83,896 J
The differences are the numbers between 30 and 40 ; 750 dying annually, and 40,068 constantly living.
And 40,068 : 750 :: 15,951 : 299. See article on Law of Moiitality.
r
*pa t
ei I
)
ANNUITIES.
\ oltife, especially in the latter periods, to be much nearer
ijti probabilities of life among mankind in general than he
h; previously imagined.
t is satisfactory to find Mr Morgan at last coming into
j nippinion, of the truth of which, evidence had previously
ee b( n adduced sufficient to convince almost all who at-
111 teded to it; and, trusting that he will publish the results
obis latest inquiries on the subject, we shall take no fur-
tlr notice here of the table of the values of annuities
intiis pamphlet above mentioned, which, otherwise, we
cdd not with propriety have avoided.
^ Ir Morgan (Pamph. p. 42 and 43) asserts that a com-
piiison of columns 3 and 6 of this table (b) affords a
st King proof of the accuracy of the Northampton table ;
bu to judge of that, we consider it is not column 6, but
5, /hich should be compared with column 3.
I i the Transactions of the Cambridge Philosophical So-
ci<y, vol. iii. part 1, are two papers by Mr Lubbock; the
fir On the Calculation of Annuities, and on some Ques-
tvs in the Theory of Chances (read May 26, 1828); the
ot : r On the Comparison of various Tables of Annuities
fid March 30, 1829).
^ i the year 1808 government commenced granting life-
anuities at prices calculated from the Northampton ta-
blmf mortality, and continued so to grant them for 20
yets, at a great loss to the nation, especially when the
livii were young, as was well known at the time to those
wit understood the subject; and was mentioned more
th;l once by the author of the present article, to a very
ab and well-informed member of the government, not
Ion after they commenced granting them. But none
wo; then granted on lives under 35 years of age; and
tin gentleman alluded to only observed, that the appli¬
es js for annuities were principally aged persons, and it
wa'desirable that a safe and advantageous mode of em-
pl< ling their savings should be afforded them. After the
ye I 1816 those annuities were granted to pereons of all
ag;i above 21 years.
[though the data necessary for determining the law of
nirtality among the people, and the values of pecuniary
intfests dependent upon the continuance or the failure of
hu to life, cannot be obtained without the active concur-
rei ? of many persons of influence and authority; yet,
,s f°r the tables containing information of that kind re-
late to this country, and published before the year 1829,
1 i th(!)ublic were indebted to the zeal and industry, and the
sej rate efforts, of a few individuals.
it in March 1819 Mr Finlaison was appointed by go-
veitnent, with all the aids they could afford him, includ-
lupinroper assistants, and access to the registers of the
notinees in tontines, and others on whose lives annuities
haiibeen granted by government for more than a hundred
ye<i> before; in which registers the exact ages at which
annuitants were nominated, and those at which they
l were stated.
203
• ms the data not otherwise accessible being provided,
,1 !e jOur lessened by the number of calculators em-
p o '(1 the expense also being defrayed by the public—
P e end of ten years, viz. in March 1829, Mr Finlaison
a . a icport to the Lords of the Treasury, which was
all1; e^oc ?.r(^er t^le House of Commons, and, in tables
v I ’ „ 0 10 P?8es> shows the rates of mortality, and the
din S ^nnultles 011 s*ngle lives at all ages, among many
the ^niclas?es °f annuitants, both separate and combined;
. . cllIA1UiLclul'®5 Dorn separate and cornbinecl 5
t exes being generally distinguished both in exhibiting
me uv of mortaliMr  r- °
pi ' c <=> O UUtil 111 e
r v 0 mortality and the values of annuities,
mo va’ Vi'11 tJle number and accuracy of the data, are
pro mi uV 6 1 lan, ,an^ th*nS of the same kind that had
ties mb-' i)-C)n Pu.)Isled; but it is the values of annui-
«es toy which we have to notice here.
The lives on which annuities depend will generally be History,
somewhat better (by which we here mean, will attain to' ^ —
greater longevity) than the general average of the popu¬
lation, though probably not nearly so much better as many
believe them to be. The prevailing error in the popular
estimate on this subject appears to have arisen in great
measure from comparing the mortality among annuitants
and assured lives, with that represented to take place by
tables of mortality erroneously considered to correspond
with the general average of the people; while, from be¬
ing constructed on erroneous principles, and from insuffi¬
cient data, or else being derived from observations made
where the mortality was and is much greater than in Bri¬
tain, the mortality according to these tables was consider-
ably greater than that which actually prevails among the
bulk of the people here. Proofs of this will be found un¬
der the article Law of Mortality.
That the lives on which annuities and assurances de¬
pend cannot be so very select or so much better than the
common average as has generally been supposed, might
reasonably be expected on these grounds :—
1. As to annuitants.
The lives are not all chosen on account of their pre¬
sumed goodness ; for many persons who have no occasion
to provide for others who may survive them, purchase an¬
nuities on their own lives, only that they may themselves
enjoy the whole benefit of the purchase-money, both
principal and interest, during their lives.
And the greatest recommendation of these lives seems
to be, that they are generally prudent persons, of tempe¬
rate and regular habits.
Many other persons, especially females, spendthrifts,
and faithful servants, enjoy annuities bequeathed to them
by their deceased relatives, masters, or mistresses, as the
most eligible provision for their future comfort and secu¬
rity from want; and there seems little ground to sup¬
pose them to be better lives than the common average of
the same age and sex.
2. In such cases as tontines, where most of the lives
are selected for their presumed goodness, the best crite¬
rion probably is, hereditary longevity in the family of the
nominee ; but partiality for their own friends or kindred
often has considerable influence in biassing the judgment
of those who select them.
That they will generally be persons of good constitu¬
tions and regular habits when selected, is all that is like¬
ly to be obtained under these circumstances; and that is
also the case with the average of the population in com¬
fortable circumstances.
Whatever the constitutions and habits of annuitants may
be, the annuities held by them during their own lives, by
protecting them from many of the wants, cares, and anxie¬
ties which the bulk of the people are exposed to, no
doubt contribute to their longevity. But where powerful
motives to raise money by the sale of an annuity on a per¬
son’s own life exist, it is extremely difficult to prevent him
from parting with it, whatever precautions may have been
taken with that view; and with it, he also loses that help
to longevity.
3. Insured lives are also generally supposed to be much
better than the average of the population, as it is incum¬
bent upon the insurance offices to be cautious in select¬
ing them.
But bad lives, by the failure of which persons interested
in them would sustain loss, are most likely to be offered,
and are continually offered, for insurance; and there is
reason to believe that all the caution in selection which
the offices in general can exercise, is necessary to keep
the lives insured up to the average goodness of the bulk
of the population;—supposing always that people in gene-
204
ANNUITIES.
History, ral of the industrious classes are in prosperous, or at least
in comfortable circumstances. When that is not the case,
as for some years previous to 1830 there is reason to ap¬
prehend it was not in this country, there will be a corre¬
sponding increase in the general mortality, which will not
sensibly affect the general mass of persons on whose lives
annuities and reversions or assurances depend.
In many cases of insurance, the managers who choose
the lives know very little more about them than is stated
by themselves or the medical attendants they refer to,
and frequently they depend much on the reports of their
agents in the country; but where they are in daily ha¬
bits of intercourse with most of the persons whose lives
they insure, or else in habits of intimacy with some who His
are so, they have the means of making a much better se-^i
lection. That is stated to be the case with one of the
London offices, and in which, accordingly, there is said to
have been observed a remarkably small mortality.
For tbe reasons assigned above, it appears, that al¬
though lives carefully selected, with the advantage of the
necessary facilities, and unmixed with others, may be con-
siderably better than the general average, those on which
annuities and assurances are granted are not, on the ave¬
rage, likely to be much better.
This part of the subject is also adverted to at the end
of the article on the Law of Mortality.
The two following Tables, A and B, show the number of Years’ Purchase Annuities on Lives of different ages are
worth in present money, according to More Correct Tables of Mortality.
TABLE A.
Without distinction of Sex.
Observations began..
Ended 
Years’ duration 
RATE OF INTEREST FOUR PER CENT. PER ANNUM.
Column
Description
of
Lives.
Greatest number of j
lives J
Mean number 
Number of deaths...
Table of Mortality!
published in J
Constructed by 
a
Nominees in
the French
Tontines.
Population of
Carlisle and
1690
1742
50
9260 +
5293=1=:
7933 +
1746.
Deparcieux
Age.
10
15
20
25
30
35
40
45
50
55
60
65
70
75
19-008
18-502
17-938
17-420
16-810
16-084
15-133
13-904
12-526
11-173
9-713
8-039
6-394
4-945
1779
1787
9
Equitable
Assurance
Society.
/
Nominees in English Tontines.
Selected by
Contributors.
10,517 +
8177
1840
1815.
Milne.
19-585
18-956
18-363
17-645
16-852
16-041
15-074
14-104
12-869
11-300
9-663
8-307
6-709
5-239
1770
1800
30
6344 +
2522 =fc
1220=+=
1827.
Davies.
19-647
18-944
18-242
17-494
16-701
15-867
14-939
13-845
12-599
11-349
10-052
8-635
7-167
5-670
1789
1826
37
3518
2860=+=
1315
Chosen
by Lot.
1789
1826
37
4831
3920:
1823
The two last
together.
1789
1826
37
8349
6780:
3138
Various
combined.
1773
1826
53
18,798
15,459=+=
6,679
1829.
Finlaison.
19-167
18-475
18-011
17-526
16-889
16-098
15-195
14-061
12-671
19-068
18-422
17-946
17-530
16-925
16-099
15-124
13-985
12-528
The numbers for
the two classes sepa¬
rately were deemed
insufficient at these
ages.
19-118
18-448
17-979
17-528
16-907
16-099
15-160
14-023
12-599
11-163
9-772
8-308
6-729
5-122
19-242
18-532
17-954
17-534
16-995
16-314
15-516
14-533
13-295
11-915
10-491
8-896
7-316
5-837
h
Population of
Sweden and
Finland.
1755
1776
21
4,051,116
2,310,160
1,401,989
1783.
Price.
18-891
18-336
17-603
16-839
16-006
15-138
14-034
12-959
11-658
10-320
8-789
7-328
5-783
4-534
First
English
Tontine.
1693
1783
90
1002
601:
1002
1829.
Finlaison,
17-128
16-207
15-349
14-976
14-624
14-023
13-193
12-199
11-183
10-141
8-836
7-342
5-823
4-456
Histy.
■
"
ANNUITIES.
TABLE B.
The Sexes distinguished.
RATE OF INTEREST FOUR PER CENT.
Age.
10
15
20
25
30
35
40
45
50
55
60
65
70
75
Sweden and Finland,
1755-1766.
Dr Price.
d
f
British Tontines and Annuities,
1773-1826.
Mr Finlaison.
Male.
18-674
18-105
17-335
16-592
15-751
14-812
13-668
12-535
11-267
9-998
8-540
7-090
5-670
4-487
Female.
19-109
18-568
17-872
17-087
16-261
15-465
14-401
13-383
12-049
10-642
9-039
7-566
5-897
4-582
Excess in Value
of a Female
above a Male Life.
0-435
0-463
0-537
0-495
0-510
0-653
0-733
0-848
0-782
0-644
0-499
0-476
0-227
0-095
0-919
1-055
1-318
1-187
1-102
1-131
1-281
1-471
1-731
1-751
1-540
1-361
1-083
0-854
Male.
18-782
18-004
17-295
16-940
16-444
15-749
14-875
13-798
12-430
11-039
9-721
8-216
6-775
5-410
Female.
19-701
19-059
18-613
18-127
17-546
16-880
16-156
15-269
14-161
12-790
11-261
9-577
7-858
6-264
Age.
10
15
20
25
30
35
40
45
50
55
60
65
70
75
The three following Tables, M, N, and O, show the Values of Annuities on Lives, according to Less Correct Tables of
Mortality.—All without Distinction of Sex.
M.
N.
O.
RATE OF INTEREST FOUR PER CENT.
ge.
a
London
Bills,
1742.
Simpson.
16-4
15-8
14-8
14-0
13-1
12-3
11-5
10-8
10-1
9-3
8-4
7-5
6-5
5-4
Demoivre’s
Hypothesis,
1753.
Dodson.
16-882
16-410
15-891
15-318
14-684
13-979
13-196
12-322
11-344
10-248
9-017
7-631
6-065
4-293
Northampton
Table,
1783.
Price.
17-523
16-791
16-033
15-438
14-781
14-039
13-197
12-283
11-264
10-201
9-039
7-761
6-361
4-962
d
Mort. Itegrs.
in France,
1806.
Duvillard.
17-882
17-154
16-442
15-747
15-021
14-214
13-286
J2-218
11-026
9-709
8-342
6-965
5-635
4-420
Age.
10
15
20
25
30
35
40
45
50
55
60
65
70
75
FIVE PER CENT.
12 country and 3
Parisian Parishes,
1779- Duprd and
Age. St Cyran.
10
15
20
25
30
35
40
45
50
55
60
65
70
75
15-40
14-82
14-15
13-59
12-96
12-32
11-72
11-05
10-15
8-93
7-73
6-73
5-74
4-59
Northampton
Table,
1783.
Dr Price.
15.139
14-588
14-007
13-567
13-072
12-502
11-837
11-105
10-269
9-382
8-392
7-276
6-023
4-744
SIX PER CENT.
a
Breslaw
Bills,
1693.
Halley.
13-44
13-33
12-78
12-27
11-72
11-12
10-57
9-91
9-21
8-51
7-60
6-54
5-32
Demoivre’s
Hypothesis,
1753.
Dodson.
12-839
12-586
12-301
11-978
11-610
11-189
10-704
10-144
9-492
8-729
7-831
6-770
5-508
4-000
Northampton
Table,
1783.
Price.
13-285
12-857
12-398
12-063
11-682
11-236
10-705
10-110
9-417
8-670
7-820
6-841
5-716
4-542
Age.
10
15
20
25
30
35
40
45
50
55
60
65
70
75
ANNUITIES.
206
History. Explanation of Table A.
The sign (+) after the number of lives and of deaths
in column a signifies that the real number was greater
than is there stated. Those stated were the numbers of
the nominees in the two tontines which commenced in
1689 and 1696, the particulars of which have been given
by M. Deparcieux; but he also made all the use he could
of the tontine which commenced in 1734 (less than eight
years before his observations terminated), without stating
any of the numbers in his essay. And whatever may
have been the whole number of nominees, or of their
deaths, which he availed himself of in this tontine, M.
Deparcieux’s observations were actually made on so many
more than 9260 nominees, and 7933 deaths, among them.
The number of persons living in the two Carlisle pa¬
rishes at the end of the observations was 8677; but be¬
sides them, the observations were made upon the 1840
persons who died in the place in the term of nine years
during which they were continued; and these numbers
together amount to 10,517, the greatest number stated in
column b. But the real number the observations were
made upon was greater still, by the number who left the
place and did not return during the observations, which
is the reason of the mark ( + ) being put after 10,517 in
column b.
For information respecting the number of lives insured,
and of deaths, in the Equitable Assurance Society, given
at the head of column c, the reader is referred to the note
at the end of this historical introduction.
The better to enable the reader to judge of the compa¬
rative extent of the observations made upon the nominees
in tontines, and other annuitants, by M. Deparcieux and
Mr hinlaison, and of those made upon the population of
the two Carlisle parishes, the lives insured in the Equi¬
table Society, and the population of Sweden and Finland,
the mean number of living annuitants has been assumed
to have been an arithmetical mean proportional between
the numbers of them at the commencement and at the end
of the term, which can only be precisely true if they died
olf by equal numbers in equal times; and that is the
reason why the double sign (=ir) has been placed after
the mean number of the nominees or other annuitants in
each column. Thus 2860:±= in column d shows that the
mean number of living nominees of that description was
2860 more or less. The deviation from precision in this
case is of no importance.
The values in column a have been taken from the work
on Annuities of Mr Baron Maseres; those in columns d
and e from Mr Finlaison’s report (obs. 4 and 5); that in
column f at each age to 50 inclusive is a mean between
those in columns d and e /—after 50 they are taken from
Mi Finlaison s 5th observation. The value in column g
at each age is a mean between the two against the same
age in columns e andy*of table B; the values in column i
are from Mr Finlaison’s first observation.
Of Table B.
The values in columns e and f have been taken from
the 20th and 13th observations respectively in Mr Fin-
laison s report, and were calculated from the rates of
moi tality for the two sexes, which have been adopted for
use by government.
1 hey were deduced from observations on the mortality
among the nominees in the three Irish tontines v/hich
commenced in 1773, 1775, and 1778 respectively, on the
tontine of 1789, and those of the sinking fund from 1808
to 1822.
It will be observed that the excess of the value of an
annuity on a female life above that of a male is, according
to the table for Sweden, in many cases not half, and in H
some less than one third as much as according to MrkJ
Finlaison’s, derived from the government annuitants. The 1
cause of this cannot but be an object of interest, and de¬
serves further investigation. It may arise in great mea¬
sure from the ages of many females being stated below
the truth in the Swedish returns, while they were accu¬
rately ascertained among the government annuitants.
Of Tables M, N, and O.
The values according to Demoivre’s hypothesis were
taken from Dodson’s Mathematical Repository (vol. ii. p.
169) ; those in column d of table M, founded upon Duvil-
lard’s table of mortality for France before the Revolution,
published in his work on the Mortality from Small-Pox
(4to, Paris, 1806), were taken from The Doctrine of Com¬
pound Interest by M. Corbaux (8vo, London, 1825); the
values according to Dupre and St Cyran from the Cal-
culs des Rentes Viageres of the latter.
The authorities for the rest appear sufficiently from the
preceding historical sketch.
The values of annuities according to M. Kersseboom’s
table of mortality are not given here, that table being of
doubtful character, as he neither published the whole of
the data from which he formed it, nor explained the man¬
ner of its construction.
It would have been desirable to include the values ac¬
cording to the tables of Dr Halley for Breslaw, and Dupre
de St Maur for the Parisian and French country parishes
in table M; but as the values of annuities have not been
calculated from these tables at four per cent, we have
added tables N and O, and have given in each of them the
values from the Northampton table, with the view of fa¬
cilitating the comparison of the values in N and O with
those in M and A.
Observations on the above Tables.
All the tables of mortality from which the values of an¬
nuities in tables M, N, and O, have been deduced, were
calculated from bills of mortality alone of places where the
population was variable, and the numbers of the people at
the different ages were not ascertained. And therefore,
notwithstanding the attempts to supply their defects,
which were made by the eminent mathematicians who
constructed them, none of them represented truly the laws
of mortality in the places where the respective obser¬
vations were made ; as will be evident to those who un¬
derstand the article on the Law of Mortality in this work,
and pay the necessary attention to the materials and man¬
ner of construction of those tables. Consequently the va¬
lues of annuities derived from them cannot be correct,
but will in general be considerably less than the truth,
even for the general average of the whole population of
the places in which the observations were made.
But those values of annuities are also objectionable on
this ground—that the places they were intended for, and
understood to be adapted to, were generally populous
towns, containing a large proportion of poor persons de¬
pendent upon their daily labour for their supply of food
from day to day, often with little forethought, and many
of them engaged in unwholesome employments, amongst
whom great distress is often endured by the comparatively
high prices of bread and potatoes, or the low' rate of wages,
when the unwholesome and scanty food they are reduced
to produces typhus fever, and sometimes the dysentery
among them, which carry them off in great numbers.
And these visitations were much more common at the
times when the observations were made from which most
of those tables were constructed, than they have been of
late years.
ANNUITIES.
^tiy None of those causes of mortality operate sensibly upon
>v-^the general average of those persons upon whose lives
leases or annuities, and reversions or assurances, depend,
they being generally in the higher and middle classes.
Neither do they produce much effect among the more de¬
serving persons in the lower class, such as the members
of friendly societies, and others who are both industrious
and frugal enough to live within their incomes; nor in¬
deed upon any who are in comfortable circumstances.
Hence it follows that the values of life-annuities, and,
consequently, those of any pecuniary interests dependent
upon the continuance or the failure of human life, cannot
be correctly determined from observations made on a
whole population similar to those of the places these
tables were constructed from.
But this was not distinctly seen till of late years, and
appears to be very imperfectly understood at present (in
the year 1830), even by some who might be expected to
possess correct information on the subject.
The tables constructed by Dr Price, both from the
Swedish observations, and those made by Dr Haygorth at
Chester, threw valuable light on this subject. But defi¬
cient crops in Sweden operate powerfully in raising the
mortality there, in comparison with the more fruitful parts
of Europe; therefore, the values of annuities copied into
table B, and col. h of table A, from Dr Price’s work, must
only be understood as sufficiently correct for the period
and place in which the observations were made. And the
Chester table is in some degree liable to the same objec¬
tions as the others above mentioned.
On Table A.
For nearly 70 years after its publication, M. Depar-
cieux’s table, from which the values given in col. a of
table A were derived, was the only one from fthich the
values of life-interests and of reversions depending upon
lives could be determined with considerable accuracy.
But the comparatively high values of annuities according
to that table were always supposed to arise from the care¬
ful selection of the lives ; notwithstanding that they were
almost all inhabitants of Paris and its environs.1 At that
time (1689-1696) the Parisians were much worse lives
than during the last 50 years, and a judicious selection
was much less likely to be made then than now.
It is to be regretted that the Carlisle observations were
only continued nine years, commencing with 1779; but
the less so since Mr Milne has shown in his work on an¬
nuities (p. 429), that during the term of 22 years com¬
mencing with 1779, the proportion of the annual average
number of deaths to the mean number of the people was
the same as in these first nine years, viz. that of 1 to 40.
In comparing the values in column c of table A with the
rest, it should be borne in mind that a great majority of
insured lives are males, on which account the values are
somewhat lower, especially from 15 to 55 years of age,
than they would have been had there been nearly equal
• numbers of both sexes.
Columns d and e are very instructive. In the session
of 1789, an act (29 Geo. III. cap. 41) was passed for raising
the sum of L.1,002,500 by the sale of shares in a tontine;
but the scheme did not succeed, the persons who in the
first instance had taken the whole of the shares with the
expectation of selling them at a profit not having been able
to dispose of half of them ; and to afford those persons re¬
lief, an act (30 Geo. III. cap. 45) was passed in the next
session, allowing them, before the 20th September of that
year (1790), to exchange each of the tontine shares they
207
had not been able to dispose of, for an annuity-certain History,
payable during 69^ years. And in order that those whov—
had taken shares, and fixed upon their nominees in the
tontine, might be placed in the same situation with regard
to the benefit of survivorship as if the scheme had com¬
pletely succeeded, this act empowered the commissioners
of the treasury to select tontine nominees for the ex¬
changed shares, from the Peers of Great Britain and Ireland,
their children or grandchildren ; baronets, lords of manors,
justices of the peace in England and Wales, or their chil¬
dren ; the dignitaries of the church or beneficed clergy, fel-
loios of colleges, the governors of the Charter House, the
Foundling Hospital, or Christ's Hospital, and those who
were registered in the books of the Amicable Life Assurance
Society.
The commissioners of the treasury were to distribute
their nominees into six classes according to their ages, in
proportion to the nominees of the contributors in the same
classes. Tickets with the names of the nominees were
then to be put into six boxes, set apart for the respective
classes, and drawn out till a sufficient number to complete
the tontine was obtained for each class. All of which was
performed accordingly.
The values of annuities on the lives chosen by the con¬
tributors are given in col. d, on those thus drawn by lot
in col. e, and the two combined in col.^i
Thus it appears that, of the lives in col. e, there was no
selection except their being taken from the descriptions
of persons above mentioned, who were all in the upper or
middle classes of society. But, as might have been anti¬
cipated, a considerable majority of female lives were chosen
by the contributors, and a considerable majority of males
were drawn by the commissioners of the treasury, the
descriptions of persons they were restricted to, consisting
principally of males.
It will be observed that the values in columns d and e
agree very nearly:—they would probably have agreed
better still had the proportion of the two sexes been the
same in both.
And this shows how little advantage the contributors
derived from choosing their nominees, beyond what was
secured to them by the classes of society they were se¬
lected from.
The values of annuities in column i are much less than
in any other of table A; they are even less than those de¬
rived from the Northampton table of mortality.
But it would be equally precipitate and unphilosophical
to conclude from thence, without further investigation,
that the bulk of the people of England 100 years ago
were so much shorter lived than they are now.
That the prolongation of life among the bulk of the
population, from and after every age, has been very con¬
siderable during the last century, no unprejudiced person
who has paid sufficient attention to the subject to qualify
himself for judging of it can entertain a doubt; or that
it has also been somewhat lengthened among the upper
and middle classes of society; but not nearly to the extent
which a comparison of columns g and i of table A would
seem to imply.
There is certainly no rational ground for supposing that
the physical constitution of man has altered: any change
that has taken place can only have been produced by
changes in the habits of the people, and the circumstances
in which they have been placed.
All this might have been reasonably concluded in the
absence of further information; but an examination of
the circumstances under which the tontine of 1693 was
1 As M. Deparcieux states in his Essai, p. 62.
208
ANNUITIES.
History- formed, and of the first observation in Mr Finlaison’s re-
port, from which the values in col. i have been deduced,
will confirm it.
In that year, the same in which Dr Halley’s paper on
the Breslaw Bills was published in the Philosophical
Transactions, this branch of knowledge was in its infancy.
By the 22d section of the act (4 William and Mary, cap.
3) for raising a million of money by the sale of shares in
this tontine, it was enacted that, if the sale of the tontine
shares did not produce the whole sum wanted by the first
of May 1693, then between that day and the 29th Sep¬
tember following, for any sum contributed towards the
completion of the million, the contributor should receive
14 per cent, per annum on such sum during the life of
any person he might choose to nominate; the common
interest of money at that time being § per cent.per annum.
And by an act passed in the next session (5 William and
Mary, cap. 5), the term for granting annuities on these
terms, and for the same purpose, was extended to the 1st
of May 1694. This was selling annuities at half their true
value.
The age of a nominee is never mentioned in either of
these acts, and those in the tontine were not distinguish¬
ed into classes. These things were, at the same time,
managed better in France.
Even Dr Halley was not aware of the greater mortality
of males, and the consequent greater proportion of females
in the population, as appears by his paper above mention¬
ed ; for after calculating from his table of mortality the
number of inhabitants in Breslaw between 18 and 56
years of age to be 18,053, he says, “ at least one half of
these are males.”
The contributors to the tontine could not be expected
to be better informed on these subjects than the parlia¬
ment and Dr Halley; and, with respect to ages and sexes,
the following appears by Mr Finlaison’s statement to have
been their selection of nominees.
ations, and upon their moral conduct: all of which must His
be very uncertain, and difficult to judge of at such early^
ages.
It is not improbable, too, that, on account of their
beauty and healthy appearance, many children of scrofu-
lous constitutions were selected; and they, on an average,
would be short-lived.
It is probable that a great majority of the contributors
and therefore of their nominees, resided in London or
other large and crowded towns, which have always been
peculiarly unfavourable to the health of children, but
were much more so then than they are now.
All circumstances considered, there appears sufficient
evidence to show that the mortality among these nomi¬
nees must have been much greater than among the general
average of selected lives, or the general average of the
people in comfortable circumstances at that time ; and that,
if the nominees in the English tontine of 1693 had been
distributed into classes according to their ages, and a larger
annuity for the same purchase-money had been allowed
to the older classes, always with benefit of survivorship,
the lives would have been more judiciously chosen, and
would not probably have differed materially from the no¬
minees in the French tontines of 1689 and 1696, which
M. Deparcieux’s observations were made upon,—they, it
has been shown, were but little inferior In goodness to our
present annuitants and insured lives.
The values of annuities on single lives given in Mr Fin¬
laison’s report are only specimens at one rate of interest
of the results of calculations made at several rates. And
extensive calculations have also been made at the Go¬
vernment Life-Annuity Office, of the values of annuities
on tw'o and on three joint lives, with distinction of the
sexes. But none of these have been published, nor do
they now (in July 1830) at that office grant any annuity
depending upon more than one life, nor expect to do so
for two or three years to come.
Aged.
Under 6 
Between 6 and 11.
Under 11 
Between 11 and 16.
Under 16 
Between 16 and 21.
Number of
Males.
178
178
356
119
475
49
Females.
113
118
231
96
327
39
Both.
291
296
587
215
802
88
Under 21  
Above that age,
524
' 70
Total.
594
366
42
408
890
112
1002
In the absence of better information, it would seem
reasonable to conclude that the younger a life was, the
longer it would be likely to last; and accordingly we find
that more than half the lives were under 11 years of a^e
at the time of their nomination. And as males are more
robust than females, it was also natural to conclude that
a less rate of mortality would prevail among them; and
accordingly three fifths of the nominees were males.
. But subsequent observations have shown that, in both
instances, the contributors made a bad choice.
Besides, of all the nominees, only one ninth had com¬
pleted their 21st year at the time of their nomination.
Not only the constitutions of these young nominees were
not then fully formed or developed, but the mortality
among them would depend greatly upon their destiny in
after-life, or the circumstances of their respective situ-
In this country, cases are continually occurring, in
which an equitable adjustment of the rights and interests
of different parties in property depending upon the conti¬
nuance or the failure of human life, is of great impor¬
tance ; and in many cases it cannot be made with suffi¬
cient accuracy without tables of the values of all possible
combinations of two and even of three joint lives of differ¬
ent ages and of both sexes. But not unfrequently, espe¬
cially in cases of contingent reversions, we have been hi¬
therto, and are still, obliged to use approximations to the
values of all the possible combinations of the lives involved,
not only with each other, but also of them with others one
year younger than each of them respectively. In these
cases it sometimes happens that the whole value sought,
being but a small part of a year’s purchase, is less than
the probable error of several of these approximations
considered separately; and then it is very difficult to
give with confidence even a near approximation to the
value sought.
But in a great many other cases of frequent occurrence
and less difficulty, the want of a complete set of good
tables of this kind is much felt. It is therefore highly
desirable that, numerous calculations for them having
been made at the expense of the public, they should be
completed at the public expense, and rendered accessible
to persons having occasion to use them; by printing, if
the expense would not be too great; otherwise, by hav¬
ing several manuscript copies accurately made, and depo¬
sited in convenient places for inspection, upon payment
ofa small fee. ’ 1
A few writers on these subjects, of late years, have
employed the differential and integral calculus in their in-
ANN U
f. vestigations. We have not yet seen.any fruits of this
-^application of the calculus which appear to us of much va¬
lue, nor are we at all sanguine in expecting any.
Although Lambert and Duvillard had made some efforts
in this way before, Laplace (in his Theor. Anal, des
Probabilites, No. 40) was the principal writer who thus
treated the subject, and that very shortly, merely touch¬
ing upon the elements. He arrived in the usual manner
at the same formulae that are given in the elementary al¬
gebraic method, and are here demonstrated by common
arithmetic; only expressed in the manner of the higher
calculus, in terms of the absciss and ordinate of the curve
of mortality, both considered as variable quantities.
He judiciously observed that the integral might be
obtained in every case by calculating all its terms from a
table of mortality, and taking their sum; and that in this
manner tables of the values of annuities on single and
joint lives might be calculated; which is only reverting
to the usual method.
But he also observed that the same thing might be
effected by describing a parabolic curve through the ver¬
tices of the two extreme and several intermediate ordi¬
nates of the curve of mortality, and even that a few of
these would be sufficient, since the differences between
the different tables of mortality would justify us in con¬
sidering that method to be equally exact with those tables
themselves. And in this we should entirely concur with
that profound mathematician, provided we could admit
that those tables, or most of them, had equal titles to
our confidence, which he appears tacitly to assume.
But here it is that M. Laplace appears to us to have
fallen into the same error as most others respecting those
tables of mortality, from not having paid sufficient atten¬
tion to the data they were constructed from, and the man¬
ner of their construction.
After what has been advanced in this article, and in that
on the Law of Mortality in this work, we think it quite
I T I E S. 209
unnecessary to say more here, than that we consider it an History,
established truth, that tables of mortality well construct-
ed from proper data,for determining the values of annuities
and reversions, do not differ materially from each other.
If imperfect data for constructing a table of mortality
be obtained, and any one already constructed, or the mean
of several of them, be taken as a pattern or standard, to
which it is desired that the new table should approach,
it will not be difficult, by the known methods of approxi¬
mation and interpolation, so to construct such new table
that it shall not differ much from the standard; but such
new table, being in a certain degree hypothetical, can be
of little or no value.
According to the usual methods of treating these sub¬
jects, and constructing accurate tables, we never depart
from the observations, but are supported by them at every
step: our clear and simple methods of reasoning and cal¬
culation are much superior to the data we can obtain:
proper data are alone wanting to further the science at
present; government only can effectually supply them,
and all who take any interest in these subjects must be
grieved to find that there is little or no hope of assistance
from that quarter. Even if a wiser course be adopted in
future, 20 years more must elapse before we can reap
the benefit of it.
This is not the proper place to enter further into that
part of the subject; but to those who take an interest in
it, we would recommend the perusal of the minutes of
evidence taken before the committee on the population
bill, ordered by the House of Commons to be printed 11th
May 1830 ; and the minutes of the committee on the re¬
committed bill, printed 26th May 1830; especially, in the
latter, Mr Milne’s letter to Mr Davies Gilbert, the chair¬
man, in answer to an application made to him for his opi¬
nion, with Mr Rickman’s marginal notes on that letter,
and his observations on it in his letter to the chairman,
which Mr Milne knew nothing of till the bill was passed.
NOTE REFERRED TO IN TWO PLACES ABOVE.
According to Mr Morgan’s statements in the places here referred to, the number of members, or of assurances,
or of policies, found to be in the Equitable Assurance Society, was—
At the end of the year
1768 564 Policies 
1770 490 Policies 
1772  500 + Members...
1773  734 Members....
1776 913 Policies 
1783 1608 Members...,
1786 2100 -J- Members...
1792 4640 Assurances.
1799 5124 Members...
From which we infer, that if, at the end of each year,
beginning with 1770, and ending with 1799, the number
had been taken, the sum of all the 30 would have been
75,664, and the mean number during these 30 years 2522.
In a note on p. 443, vol. ii. of Dr Price’s Obs. on Rev.
Paym. (7th edit.), Mr Morgan states, that during 33 years,
from January 1768 to January 1801, the number of as¬
surances on single lives had been 83,201; but this great
number can only be the sum of the 33 annual numbers as
above mentioned, and the mean of these will be 2521.
What we wish to know is, the mean number of lives
insured on which policies were in force during the obser¬
vations ; but that Mr Morgan never mentions. As more
policies than one are not unfrequently granted for so many
distinct assurances on the same life, neither the number of
policies nor of assurances will answer our purpose; neither
Reference to Mr Morgan’s Statement.
.View of Rise and Progress, &c. p. 10.
Ditto ditto.
Ditto p. 27.
Address of 7th March 1793 p. 118.1
Ditto of 24th April 1800 p. 140.
.Ditto of 7th March 1793 p. 118.
.Ditto of 24th April 1800 p. 140.
.View of Rise and Progress, &c. p. 24.
.Ditto p. 26.
will the number of members, for if a policy be granted to
A for insurance on the life of B, A is the member of the
society, and not B, who is only the life assured, and several
other members besides A may insure the life of B, while
A may also hold more policies than one insuring B’s life.
As has been already observed, Mr Morgan has repeated¬
ly stated that the rate of mortality in the Equitable Society
has always continued the same. And by tables a and b it
appears, that out of 91,512 living persons in a similar
society above 20 years of age, 1489 would die annually ;
also, in the table at the end of Mr Morgan’s annuities
(2d ed.), it is stated, that during the first 20 years of the
19th century, 1923 of the lives assured in the society died
above 20 years of age; but 1489 :1923 :: 91,512:118,185,
so that this last is the number of lives in a similar society,
out of which these 1923 deaths would happen in one year.
' 1 hese addresses are printed at the end of the deed of settlement of the society, for the use of the members: the copy quoted from
was printed in 1801. .n . rv i
VOL. Ill, g jj
210 A N N U
History. Then supposing, what is probably near the truth, that
under 10 years of age the number of policies was the same
as that of the lives insured, we shall have, by the state¬
ment last mentioned,
Number of
Annual
Deaths.
Between 10 and 20 years of age
Above 20
Above 10 years of age
, 119,679
And
Number of
Lives.
1,494
118,185
119,679
7
1923
1930
20
5984 is the mean number above 10.
That is, a population falling short of 6000, instead of ex¬
ceeding 150,000, as stated by Mr Morgan.
But by the table above mentioned in Mr Morgan’s work
on annuities, and the explanations of it given above, it ap¬
pears that by 151,754 policies in force in the society,
119,679 lives were insured ;
and 119,679:151,754 :: 7 : 9 nearly (more nearly:: 11:14).
So that the number of lives was to that of the policies
as 7 to 9 nearly, during the twenty years ending with
1820.
I T I E S.
On p. 61 of his pamphlet On the Rise and Progress of Hist
the Equitable Society, Mr Morgan states the proportion inW
1827 to have been that of 3 to 4 nearly; and from an¬
other statement of his in a note on p. 42 of the same
pamphlet, it would appear to have been that of 5 to 6
during the 12 years ending with 1827. The proportion
above stated is nearly a mean between these two.
Taking the mean number of lives on which assurances
were in force in the Equitable Society during the last 30
years of the eighteenth century to have been 2522, as de¬
termined above ; since 119,679 : 2522 : : 1930 : 40*671,
this last is the annual average number of deaths in the
society during these 30 years; therefore the whole num¬
ber of them must have been 1220, which being added to
5124, the greatest number living at any one time during
the term (that is, at the end of 1799, as stated above), the
sum is 6344. And the greatest number of lives on which
Mr Morgan’s observations were made during that term
must have exceeded this, by the number who went out of
the society by sale or forfeiture of the assurances, or by
the expiration of the limited terms some of them were
granted for, and did not enter it again; wherefore the
sign (+) is added as before in table A.
In treating of Annuities, we think that, it maybe useful in a work of this kind to address ourselves as well to those
readers who have not, as to those who have, an acquaintance with Algebra ; and we shall accordingly divide what
follows into two Parts, corresponding to these two views of the subject.
PART I.
We shall in this Part demonstrate all that is most use¬
ful and important in the doctrine of annuities and assur¬
ances on lives, without using algebra or introducing the
idea of probability ; but the reader is of course supposed
to understand common arithmetic. In the first 30 num¬
bers of this Part, compound interest and annuities-certain
are treated of; from the 31st to the 76th the doctrine of
annuities on lives is delivered ; and that of assurances on
lives from thence to the 108th, where the popular view
terminates.
What is demonstrated in this Part will be sufficient to
give the reader clear and scientific views of the subjects
treated, and, with the assistance of the necessary tables,
will enable him to solve the more common and simple pro¬
blems respecting the values of annuities and assurances.
He will also understand clearly the general principles on
which problems of greater difficulty are resolved; but
these he cannot undertake with propriety when the ob¬
ject is to make a fair valuation of any claims or interests,
with a view to an equitable distribution of property, un¬
less he has studied the subject carefully, wfith the assist¬
ance of algebra; for intricate problems of this kind can
hardly be solved without it; and those who are not much
exercised in such inquiries often think they have arrived
at a complete solution, while they have overlooked some
circumstance or event, or some possible combination of
events or circumstances, which materially affects the value
sought. Eminent mathematicians have in this way fallen
into considerable errors, and it can hardly be doubted
that those who are not mathematicians must (cceteris pa*
ribus) be more liable to them.
I.—On Annuities-Certain.
No. 1. When the rate is 5 per cent., L.l improved at
simple interest during one year will amount to L.H>5;
which, improved in the same manner during the second
year, will be augmented in the same ratio of 1 to 1*05:
the amount then will therefore be 1*05 X 1*05, or fPOhV2
- 1*1025. V 7
In the same manner it appears that this last amount,
improved at interest during the third year, vnll be increas¬
ed to (1*05)3 = 1*157625 ; at the end of the fourth year
it will be (1*05)4; at the end of the fifth (1*05)5, and so
on ; the amount at the end of any number of years being
always determined by raising the number which expresses
the amount at the end of the first year to the power of
which the exponent is the number of years. So that when
the rate of interest is 5 per cent., L.l improved at com¬
pound interest will in seven years amount to (1*05)7, and
in 21 years to (1*05)21.
But if the rate of interest were only 3 per cent., these
amounts would only be (1*03)7 and (1*03)21 respectively.
2. The present value of L.l to be received certainly at
the end of any assigned term, is such a less sum as, be¬
ing improved at compound interest during the term, will
just amount to one pound. It must therefore be less than
L.l, in the same ratio as L.l is less than its amount in
that time; but in three years at 5 per cent. L.l will
amount to L.(l*05)3 (1). And (1*05)3 : 1 :: 1 :
80 that (1-05)3 = L157625 = 0‘863838 is the Present
value of L.l to be received at the expiration of three
years.
In the same manner it appears that, at 4 per cent, inter¬
est, the present value of L.l to be received at the end of
a year is 0*961538; and if it were not to be re¬
ceived until the expiration of 21 years, its present value
WOUld be (I-04)2i ~ (°'961538)21 = 0*438834.
Hence it appears, that if unit be divided by the amount
of L.l improved at compound interest during any num¬
ber ol years, the quotient will be the present value of L.l
to be received at the expiration of the term; which may
also be obtained by raising the number which expresses
the present value of L.l receivable at the expiration of a
year, to the power of which the exponent is the number
of years in the term.
ANNUITIES.
211
Popta- 3. When a certain sum of money is receivable annual-
Vie ly, it is called an Annuity, and its quantum is expressed
■^/w/by saying it is an annuity of so much; thus, according as
the annual payment is L.l, L.10, or L.100, it is called an
annuity of L.l, of L.10, or of L.100.
4. When the annual payment does not depend upon
any contingent event, but is to be made certainly, either
in perpetuity or during an assigned term, it is called an
Annuity-certain.
5. In calculating the value of an annuity, the first pay¬
ment is always considered to be made at the end of the
first year from the time of the valuation, unless the con¬
trary be expressly stated.
6. Tlie whole number, and part or parts of one annual
payment of an annuity, which all the future payments are
worth in present money, is called the number of years
purchase the annuity is worth, and, being the sum of the
present values of all the future payments, is also the sum
which, being put out and improved at compound interest,
will just suffice for the payment of the annuity. (2.)
7. Hence it follows, that when the annuity is L.l, the
number of years’ purchase and parts of a year is the same
as the number of pounds and parts of a pound in its pre¬
sent value.
And throughout this article, whenever the quantum of
an annuity is not mentioned, it is to be understood to be
10. The calculation must begin with Table III., the
first number in which should evidently be 1*05, the
amount of L.l improved at interest during one year, which'
being multiplied by 1*05, the product is L025, the second
number. This second number being multiplied by 1-05,
the product is 1*157625, the amount at the end of three
years. And so the calculation proceeds throughout the
whole of the column; each number after the first being
the product of the multiplication of the preceding number,
by the amount of L.l in a year. (1.)
11. The number against any year in Table I. is found
by dividing unit by the number against the same year in
Table III. (2); thus, the number against the term of six
years in Table I. is = *746215. All the numbers
J 1*340096
in that table after the first may also be found by multi¬
plying that first number continually into itself. (2.)
12. The number against any year in Table II., being the
sum of the numbers against that and all the preceding
years in Table I., is found by adding the number against
that year in Table I. to the number against the preceding
year in Table II.; thus, the number against four years in
Table II. being
the sum of 0*822702
and 2*723248
Popular
View.
L.l.
8. The sum of which the simple interest for one year
is L.l, is evidently that which, being put out at interest,
will just suffice for the payment of L.l at the end of every
year, without any augmentation or diminution of the prin¬
cipal, and, being equivalent to the title to L.l per annum
for ever, is called the value of the perpetuity, or the num¬
ber of years’ purchase the perpetuity is worth.
But while the rate remains the same, the annual inte¬
rests produced by any two sums are to each other as
the principals which produce them; therefore, since
5 : 1 :: 100 :
100
“IT
20, when the rate of interest is b per
cent., the value of the perpetuity is 20 years’ purchase. In
the same manner it appears, that according as the rate
may be 3 or 6 per cent., the value of the perpetuity will be
-g- = 33^, or =r 16§ years’ purchase; and may be
found in every case, by dividing any sum by its interest for
a year.
9. All the most common and useful questions in the
doctrines of compound interest and annuities-certain may
be easily resolved by means of the first four tables at the
end of this article. Their construction may be explained
by the following specimen, rate of interest 5 per cent.
CONSTRUCTION OF
Term.
Table IV. Table III. Table I. Table II.
Amount of
L. 1 jtcr an¬
num
Amount of
L.l
improved at Interest
until
Present
value of
L.l to be
received at
Present va¬
lue of L.l
per annum,
to be receiv¬
ed until
Term.
the Expiration of the Term.
1 yr.
2 yrs,
3
4
5
6
7
1-000000
2*050000
3*152500
4*310125
5*525631
6*801913
8*142009
1*050000
1*102500
1*157625
1*215506
1*276282
1*340096
1*407100
•952381
•907029
•863838
•822702
•783526
•746215
•710681
0*952381
1*859410
2*723248
3*545950
4*329476
5*075691
5*786372
1 yr.
2 yrs.
3
4
5
6
7
is 3*545950.
13. If each payment of an annuity of L.l be put out as
it becomes due, and improved at compound interest du¬
ring the remainder of the term, it is evident that at the
expiration of the term the payment then due will be but
L.l, having received no improvement at interest. That
received one year before will be augmented to the amount
of L.l in a year; that received two years before will be
augmented to the amount of L.l in two years; that re¬
ceived three years before to the amount of L.l in three
years; and so on until the first payment, which will be
augmented to the amount of L.l in a term one year less
than that of the annuity.
Hence it is manifest that the number against any year
in Table IV. will be unit added to the sum of all those
against the preceding years in Table III.
And therefore that the number against any year in
Table IV. is the sum of those in Tables III. and IV.
against the next preceding year.
Thus, the number against seven years in Table IV. be¬
ing
the sum of 1*340096
and 6*801913
is 8*142009.
14. The method of construction is obviously the same
at any other rate of interest.
15. All the amounts and values which are the objects
of this inquiry evidently depend upon the improvement
of money at compound interest; it is therefore, that the
first, second, and fourth tables, all depend upon the third.
But every pound, and every part of a pound, when put
out at interest, is improved in the same manner as any
single pound considered separately. Whence it is ob¬
vious, that while the term and the rate of interest remain
the same, both the amount and the present value, either
of any sum or of any annuity, will be the same multiple,
and part or parts of the amount or the present value
found against the same term, and under the same rate of
interest in these tables, as the sum or the annuity pro¬
posed is of L.L
So that to find the amount or the present value of any
sum or annuity for a given term and rate of interest, we
have only to multiply the corresponding tabular value by
212
ANNUITIES.
Popular the sum or the annuity proposed; the product will be the
View, amount or the value sought, according as the case may be.
16. Example 1. To what sum will L.100 amount when
improved at compound interest during 20 years, the rate
of interest being 4 per cent, per annum ?
By Table III. it appears that L.l so improved would,
at the expiration of the term, amount to L.2'191123 ;
therefore L.100 would amount to 100 times as much, that
is, to L.219T123, or L.219. 2s. 3d.
17. Ex. 2. What is the present value of L.400, which
is not to be received until the expiration of 14 years,
when the rate of interest is 5 per cent. ?
The present value of L.l to be received then will be
found by Table I. to be L.0’505068 : L.400 to be received
at the same time will therefore be worth, in present
money, 400 times as much, or L.202‘0272, that is, L.202.
0s. 6|d.
18. Ex. 3. Required the present value of an annuity of
L.50 for 21 years, when the rate of interest is 5per cent.
Table II. shows the value of an annuity of L.l for the
same term to be L.12,8212; the required value must
therefore be 50 times as much, or L.64L06, that is L.641.
Is. 2Jd.
19. Ex. 4. What will an annuity of L.10. 10s. or L.10-5
for thirty years amount to, when each payment is put out
as it becomes due, and improved at compound interest
until the end of the term; the rate of interest being 4
per cent. ?
The amount of an annuity of L.l so improved would be
L.56-084938, as appears by Table IV.; the amount requir¬
ed will therefore be 10*5 times this, or L.588*89185, that
is L.588. 17s. lOd.
20. When the.interval between the time of the pur¬
chase of an annuity and the first payment thereof exceeds
that which is interposed between each two immediately
successive payments, such annuity is said to be deferred
for a time equal to that excess, and to be entered upon at
the expiration of that time.
21. If two persons, A and B, purchase an annuity be¬
tween them, which A is to enter upon immediately, and
to enjoy during a certain part of the term, and B or his
heirs or assigns for the remainder of it, the present value
of B's interest will evidently be the excess of the value
of the annuity for the whole of the term from this time,
above the value of the interest of A.
So that when the entrance on an annuity is deferred for
a certain term, its present value will be the excess of the
value of the annuity for the term of delay and continuance
together, above the value of an equal annuity for the term
of delay only.
22. Example 1. Required the value of a perpetual an¬
nuity of L.120, which is not to be entered upon until the
expiration of 14 years from this time, reckoning interest
at 3 per cent.
The perpetuity, with immediate possession, would be
worth 33t years’ purchase (8); and an annuity for the
term of delay is worth 11-2961 (Table II.)
From 33-3333
subtract 11-2961, and multiply
the remainder 22-0372
by 120
the product, 2644-464 = L.2644. 9s. 34d.,
is the required value.
2^. Ex. 2. Allowing interest at 5 per cent., what sum
should be paid down now, for the renewal of 14 years
lapsed in a lease for 21 years of an estate producing L.300
per annum, clear of all deductions ?
I his is the price of an annuity for 14 years, to be en¬
tered upon 7 years hence ; the term of delay, therefore, is
7 years, and that of the delay and continuance together
21 years.
By Table II. it appears, that the present value of an
annuity
for 21 years, is 12-8212^
for 7 J,ears’ 5,78(54 > years’ purchase.
Value of the deferred annuity, 7-0348 J
Multiply by 300
!
The product, L.2110-44, or L.2110. 8s. 9jd.,
is the price required.
24. Hitherto we have proceeded upon the supposition
of the annuity being payable, and the interest convertible
into principal, which shall reproduce interest, only once
a year.
But annuities are generally payable half yearly, and
sometimes quarterly; and the same circumstances that
render it desirable for an annuitant to receive his annual
sum in equal half-yearly or quarterly portions, also give
occasion to the interest of money being paid in the same
manner.
But whatever has been advanced above concerning the
present value or the amount of an annuity, when both
that and the interest of money were only payable once
a year, will evidently be true when applied to half the
annuity and half the interest paid twice as often, on the
supposition of half-yearly payments; or to a quarter of
the annuity and a quarter of the interest paid four times
as often, when the payments are made quarterly.
25. Half-yearly payments are, however, by far the most
common; and these four tables will also enable us to
answer the most useful questions concerning them.
For we have only to extract the present value, or the
amount, from the table, against twice the number of years
in the term, at half the annual rate of interest, and, in the
case of an annuity, to multiply the number so extracted
by half the annuity proposed.
26. Ex. 1. To what sum will L.100 amount in 20 years,
when the interest at the rate of 4 per cent, per annum is
convertible into principal half-yearly?
This being the amount in 40 half years at 2 per cent.
interest for every half year, will be the same as the
amount in 40 years at 2 per cent, per annum, which, by
Table III. will be found to be 220-804, or L.220. 16s. Id.;
and is only L.L 13s.TOd. more than it would amount to
if the interest were not convertible more than once a year.
(iO.)
27. Ex. 2. W hat is the present value of an annuity of
L.50 for 21 years, receivable in equal half-yearly pay¬
ments, when money yields an interest of 2\per cent, every
half year ?
By Table II. it appears, that an annuity of L.l for 42
years, when the interest of money is 21 per cent, per an-
num, will be worth L.25-8206 (25) ; 25 times this sum, or
L.645. 10s. 3id., is therefore the required value, and ex¬
ceeds the value when the interest and the annuity are
only payable once a year, by L.4. 9s. Id. (18.)
28. I he excess of an annuity-certain above the interest
of the purchase-money, is the sum which, being put out
at the time of each payment becoming due, and improved
at compound interest until the expiration of the term, will
just amount to the purchase-money ox-iginally paid.
But, while every thing else remains the same, the longer
the term of the annuity is, the less must its excess above
the interest of the purchase-money be, because a less an¬
nuity will suffice for raising the same sum within the term.
Therefore, the proportion of that excess to the annual in¬
terest of the purchase-money continually diminishes as
ANNUITIES.
213
the term is extended; and when the annuity is a perpe¬
tuity, there is no such excess. (8.)
29. The reason why the value of an annuity is increas¬
ed by that and the interest being both payable more than
once in the year, is, that the granter loses and the pur¬
chaser gains the interest produced by that part of each
payment which is in excess above the interest then due
upon the purchase-money, from the time of such payment
being made until the expiration of the year.
Hence it is obvious, that the less this excess is, that is,
the longer the term of the annuity is (28), the less must
the increase of value be.
And when the annuity is a perpetuity, its value will be
the same, whether it and the interest of money be both
payable several times in the year, or once only.
30. When the annuity is not payable at the same inter¬
vals at which the interest is convertible into principal, its
value will depend upon the frequencies both of payment
and conversion; but its investigation without algebra
would be too long, and of too little use, to be worth pro¬
secuting here.
II.—Of Annuities on Lives.
31. When the payment of an annuity depends upon the
existence of some life or lives, it is called a Life-Annuity.
32. The values of such annuities are calculated by
means of tables of mortality, which show, out of a consi¬
derable number of individuals born, how many upon an
average have lived to complete each year of their age,
and, consequently, what proportion of those who attained
to any one age have survived any greater age.
The fifth table at the end of this article is one of that
kind which has been taken from Mr Milne’s Treatise on
Annuities, and was constructed from accurate observations
made at Carlisle by Dr Heysham, during a period of nine
years, ending with 1787.
33. By this table it appears, that during the period in
which these observations were made, out of 10,000 chil¬
dren born, 3203 died under five years of age, and the re¬
maining 6797 completed their fifth year. Also, that out
of 6797 children who attained to five years of age, 6460
survived their tenth year.
But the mortality under ten years of age has been great¬
ly reduced since then by the practice of vaccination.
This table also shows, that of 6460 individuals who
attained to 10 years of age, 6047 survived 21; and that of
5075 who attained to 40, only 3643 survived their 60th year.
34. There is good reason to believe (as has been shown
in another place) that the general law of mortality, that
is, the average proportion of persons attaining to any one
age, who survive any greater age, remains much the same
now among the entire mass of the people throughout Eng¬
land, as it was found to be at Carlisle during the period of
these observations, except among children under ten years
of age, as was noticed above. (33.)
If this be so, it will follow, that of 6460 children now 10
years of age, just 6047 will attain to 21; or rather, that
if any great number be taken in several instances, this
will be the average proportion of them that will
survive the period.
And if 6460 children were to be taken indiscriminately
from the general mass of the population at 10 years of
age, and an office or company were to engage to pay L.l
eleven years hence for each of them that might then be
living, this engagement would be equivalent to that which
should bind them to pay L.6047 certainly at the expira¬
tion of the term. Therefore the office, in order that it
might neither gain nor lose by the engagement, should,
upon entering into it, be paid for the whole, the present
value of L.6047 to be received at the expiration of eleven
years ; and for each life the -g^goth part of it, that is, the
ffto^ Part t^ie Present value of L. 1, to be received then.
But when the rate of interest is 5 per cent., the present
value of L.l, to be received at the expiration of 11 years,
is L.0-584679; therefore, at that rate of interest, there
Popular
View,.
should be paid for each life
6047 X 0-584679
6460
L.0-5473.
And the present value of L.100, to be received upon a
life now 10 years of age attaining to 21, will be L.54'73,
or L.54. 14s. 7d.
In the same manner it will be found, that reckoning
interest at 4/>er cent, the value would be L.60. 16s. Id.
35. This is the method of calculating the present values
of endowments for children of given ages ; and the values
of annuities on lives may be computed in the same manner.
For, from the above reasoning it is manifest, that if the
present value of L.l, to be received certainly at the ex¬
piration of a given term, be multiplied by the number in
the table of mortality against the age, greater than that
of any proposed life by the number of years in the term,
and the product be divided by the number in the same
table, against the present age of that life; the quotient
will be the present value of L.l, to be received at the ex¬
piration of the term, provided that the life survive it.
And if, in this manner, the value be determined of L.l,
to be received upon any proposed life, surviving each of
the years in its greatest possible continuance, according
to the table of mortality adapted to it; that is, according
to the Carlisle table, upon its surviving every age greater
than its present, to that of 104 years inclusive; then, the
sum of all these values will evidently be the present value
of an annuity on the proposed life.
36. If 5642 lives at 30 years of age be proposed, and
5075 at the age of 40; since each of the 5642 younger
lives may be combined with every one of the 5075 that
are 10 years older, the number of different pairs, or dif¬
ferent combinations of two lives differing in age by 10
years, that may be formed out of the proposed lives, is
5642 times 5075.
But at the expiration of 15 years the survivors of the
lives now 30 and 40 years of age, being then of the re¬
spective ages of 45 and 55, will be reduced to the num¬
bers of 4727 and 4073 respectively; and the number of
pairs, or combinations of two, differing in age by 10 years,
that can be formed out of them, will be reduced from
5642 X 5075 to 4727 X 4073.
So that L.l to be paid at the expiration of 15 years for
each of these 5642 X 5075 pairs or combinations of two
now existing, which may survive the term, will be of the
same value in present money as 4727 times L.4073 to
be received certainly at the same time.
Now, let A be any one of these lives of 30 years of age,
and B any one of those aged 40; and, from what has been
advanced, it will be evident that the present value of L.l,
to be received upon the two lives in this particular com¬
bination jointly surviving the term, will be the same as that
of the sum
L.4727X 4073
5642 X 5075
to be then received certainly.
But, when the rate of interest is 5 per cent, L.l to be
received certainly at the expiration of 15 years, is equiva¬
lent to L.0-481017 in present money. (Table I.)
Therefore, at that rate of interest, and according to the
Carlisle table of mortality, the present value of L.l to be
received upon A and B, now aged 30 and 40 years re¬
spectively, jointly surviving the term of 15 years, will be
4727 X 4073 X L.0-481017
5642 X 5075
214
ANNUITIES.
Popular
View.
37. Hence It Is sufficiently evident how the present
value of L.l to be received upon the same two lives jointly
surviving any other year may be found. And if that value
for each year from this time until the eldest life attain to
the limit of the table of mortality be calculated, the sum
of all these will be the present value of an annuity of L.l
dependent upon their joint continuance.
In this manner, it is obvious that the value of an annuity
on the joint continuance of any other two lives might be
determined.
38. If, besides the 5642 lives at 30 years of age, and
the 5075 at 40 (mentioned in No. 36), there be also pro¬
posed 3643 at 60 years of age, each of these 3643 at 60
may be combined with every one of the 5642 X 5075 dif¬
ferent combinations of a life of 30, with one of 40 years of
age; and, therefore, out of these three classes of lives
5642 X 5075 X 3643 different combinations may be formed,
each containing a life of 30 years of age, another of 40,
and a third of 60.
But at the expiration of 15 years the numbers of lives
in these three classes will, according to the table of mor¬
tality, be reduced to 4727, 4073, and 1675 respectively;
the respective ages of the survivors in the several classes
being then 45, 55, and 75 years; and the number of dif¬
ferent combinations of three lives (each of a different class
from either of the other two) that can be formed out of
them, will be reduced to 4727 X 4073 X 1675.
Hence, by reasoning as in No. 36, it will be found, that
if A, B, and C be three such lives, now aged 30, 40, and
60 years, the present value of L.l to be received upon
these three jointly surviving the term of 15 years from
this time, will be
4727 X 4073 X1675
5642 X 5075 X 3643
XL.0'481017 : inte¬
rest being reckoned at 5 per cent.
Thus it is shown how the present value of an annuity
dependent upon the joint continuance of these three lives
might be calculated, that being the sum of the present
values thus determined, of the rents for all the years
which, according to the table of mortality, the eldest life
can survive.
39. But it is easy to see that the same method of rea¬
soning may be used in the case of four, five, or six lives,
and so on without limit. Whence this inference is obvious.
The present value of L.l to be received at the expira¬
tion of a given term, provided that any given number of
lives all survive it, may be found by multiplying the pre¬
sent value of L.l to be received certainly at the end of
the term, by the continual product of the numbers in the
table of mortality against the ages greater respectively by
the number of years in the term than the ages of the
lives proposed, and dividing the last result of these ope¬
rations by the continual product of the numbers in the
table of mortality against the present ages of the proposed
lives.
And by a series of similar operations, the present value
of an annuity on the joint continuance of all these lives
might be determined.
But it should be observed, that, in calculating the value
of a life-annuity in this way, the denominator of the frac¬
tions expressing the values of the several years’ rents, that
is, the divisor used in each of the operations, remains al¬
ways the same: the division should, therefore, be left till
the sum of the numerators is determined; and one opera¬
tion of that kind will suffice.
40. Enough has been said to show that these methods
of constructing tables of the values of annuities on lives
are practicable, though excessively laborious; and, in fact,
all the early tables of this kind were constructed in that
manner. We proceed now to show how such tables may
be calculated with much greater facility.
41. By the method of No. 34, it' will be found that,
reckoning interest at 5 per cent., the present value of V«l
L.l to be received at the expiration of a year, provided'-^
that a life, now 89 years of age, survived till then, is
142 X 0 95~38 ^ ^ ^ge 0f that jjf€ wjji tjlen ^
181
years, and the proprietor of an annuity of L.1 now depend¬
ing upon it will, in that event, receive his annual payment
of L.l then due; therefore, if the value then of all the
subsequent payments, that is, the value of an annuity on
a life of 90, be 2‘339 years’ purchase, the present value of
what the title to this annuity may produce to the proprie¬
tor at the end of the year will be the same as that of
L.3'339, to be received then, if the life be still subsisting,
or *•-—-■ X L.3 339 , wniclij tlicrc-
lol
fore, will be the present value of an annuity of L.l on a
life of 89 years of age. That is to say, an annuity on that
life will now be worth 2-495 years’ purchase. (7.)
42. In the same manner it appears generally, that if
unit be added to the number of years’ purchase that an
annuity on any life is worth, and the sum be multiplied by
the present value of L.l to be received at the end of a
year, provided that a life one year younger survive till
then, the product will be the number of years’ purchase
an annuity on that younger life is worth in present money.
43. But, according to the table of mortality, an annuity
on the eldest life in it is worth nothing; therefore, the
present value of L.l to be received at the end of a year
provided that the eldest life but one in the table survive
till then, is the total present value of an annuity of L.l on
that life; which being obtained, the value of an annuity
on a life one year younger than it may be found by the
preceding number; and so on for every younger life suc¬
cessively.
Exemplification.
Rate of Interest 5 per cent.
Age of
Life.
104
103
102
101
100
99
98
97
96
95
Value of an
Annuity on
that Life,
increased
by Unit,
1-000
1-317
1- 753
2- 192
2- 624
3- 045
3-278
3-428
3-555
3-596
Which be¬
ing multi¬
plied bv
0-952381,
and the
Product by
tV
•H
rt
If
Produces
the value of
an Annuity
on the next
younger
Life,
0-317
0-753
T192
1- 624
2- 045
2-278
2-428
2-555
2-596
2-569
Its Age
being
103
102
101
100
99
98
97
96
95
94
44. Proceeding as in No. 36, it will be found that, at
5 per cent, interest, and according to the Carlisle table
of mortality, the present value of L.l to be received
at the expiration of a year provided that a person now
89 years of age, and another now 99, be then living, is
142 X 9 X L.0-952381 ,
 rsTxTI ’ t*lere*ore> “ the present value ot
an annuity of L.l on the joint continuance of two lives,
now aged 90 and 100 years respectively, be L.0-950, by
reasoning as in No. 41, it will be found that the present
value of an annuity on the joint continuance of two lives,
ANNUITIES.
215
;j of the respective ages of 89 and 99 years, will be worth
^142Xj9X0;952381 x 1.930_1.192 years’ purchase.
45. In this manner, commencing with the two oldest
lives in the table that differ in age by ten years, and pro¬
ceeding according to No. 43, the values of annuities on all
the other combinations of two lives of the same difference
of age may be determined.
The method is exemplified in the following specimen.
Ages of two
Lives.
Value of an
Annuity on
their joint
continuance,
increased
by Unit,
Which be¬
ing multi¬
plied bv
0-952381,
and the Pro.
duct by
Produces
the value of
an Annuity
on the two
joint Lives
one year
younger re¬
spectively,
Their Ages
being
94 & 104
93 & 103
92 & 102
91 & 101
90 & 100
89 & 99
1-000
1-235
1-508
1-733
1- 950
2- 192
1X40
3X54
3X54
5X75
5X75
7X 105
7X105
9X 142
9X142
11X181
11X181
14X232
0-235
0-508
0-733
0-950
1-192
1-280
93 & 103
92 & 102
91 & 101
90 & 100
89 & 99
88 & 98
46. Hence, and by what has been advanced in the 39th
number of this article, it is sufficiently evident how a
table may be computed of the values of annuities on the
joint continuance of the lives in every combination of
three, or any greater number; the differences between
the ages of the lives in each combination remaining al¬
ways the same in the same series of operations, while the
calculation proceeds back from the combination in which
the oldest life is the oldest in the table, to that in which
the youngest is a child just born.
47. But when there are more than two lives in each
combination, the calculations are so very laborious, on ac¬
count principally of the great number of combinations,
that no tables of that kind have yet been published, ex¬
cept three or four for three lives.
And in the books that contain tables of the values of
two joint lives, methods are given of approximating to¬
wards the values of such combinations of two and of three
lives as have not yet been calculated.
Therefore, assuming the values of annuities on single
fives, and on the joint continuance of two or of three lives,
to be given, we have next to show how the most useful
problems respecting the values of any interests that de¬
pend upon the continuance or the failure of life may be
resolved by them.
48. Proposition 1. The value of an annuity on the
survivor of two lives, A and J3, is equal to the excess of
the sum of the values of annuities on the two single lives
above the value of an annuity on their joint continuance.
49. Demo?istration. If annuities on each of the two
lives were granted to P, during their joint continuance
he would have two annuities; but if jP were only to re¬
ceive these upon condition that, during the joint lives of
A and B, he should pay one annuity to Q, then there
would only remain one to be enjoyed by him or his heirs
or assigns, until the lives both of A and B were extinct;
whence the truth of the proposition is manifest.
50. Prop. 2. The value of an annuity on the joint con- Popular
tinuance of the two last survivors out of three lives, A, View.
B, and C, is equal to the excess of the sum of the values
of annuities on the three combinations of two lives {A
with B, A with C, and B with C) that can be formed
out of them, above twice the value of an annuity on the
joint continuance of all the three lives.
51. Bern. If one annuity were granted to P on the joint
continuance of the two lives A and B, another on the
joint continuance of A and £7, and a third on the joint
continuance of B and C} during the joint continuance
of all the lives he would have three annuities.
But if he were only to receive these upon condition
that he should pay two annuities to Q during the joint
continuance of all the three lives, then there would only
remain to himself one annuity during the joint existence
of the last two survivors out of the three lives. And the
truth of the proposition is manifest.
52. Prop. 3. The value of an annuity on the last sur¬
vivor of three lives, A, B, and C, is equal to the excess
of the sum of the values of annuities on each of the three,
single lives, together with the value of an annuity on the
joint continuance of all the three, above the sum of the
values of three other annuities; the first dependent upon
the joint continuance of A and B, the second on that of
A and C, and the third on B and C.
53. Bern. If annuities on each of the three single lives
were granted to R, during the joint continuance of all the
three he would have three annuities; and from the time
of the extinction of the first life that failed, till the ex¬
tinction of the second, he would have two.
So that he would have two annuities during the joint
existence of the two last survivors out of the three lives;
and besides these, a third annuity during the joint conti¬
nuance of all the three.
Therefore, if out of these R were to pay one annuity
to P during the joint continuance of the last two survir
vors out of the three lives, and another to Q during the
joint continuance of all the three, he would only have
left one annuity, which would be receivable during the
life of the last survivor of the thx-ee.
But in the demonstration of the last proposition (51) it
was shown, that the value of what he paid to .P would
fall short of the sum of the values of annuities dependent
respectively on the joint continuance of A and B, of A
and C, and of B and C, by two annuities on the joint
continuance of all the three lives. Whence it is evident
that the value of the annuities he paid both to P and Q
would fall short of the sum of these three values of joint
lives, only by the value of one annuity on the joint conti¬
nuance of all the three lives.
Wherefore, if from the sum of the values of all the
three single lives, the sum of the values of the three com¬
binations of two that can be formed out of them were ta¬
ken, there would remain less than the value of an annuity
on the last survivor, by that of an annuity on the joint
continuance of the three lives.
But if, to the sum of the values of the three single
lives A, B, and C, there be added that of an annuity on the
joint continuance of the three, and from the sum of these
four values the sum of the values of the three combina¬
tions A with B, A with C, and B with C be subtracted,
then the remainder will be the value of an annuity on the
last survivor of the three lives ^ which was to be demon¬
strated.
54. Prop. 4. Problem. The law of mortality and the
values of single lives at all ages being given, to determine
the present value of an annuity on any proposed life, de¬
ferred for any assigned term.
55. Solution. Find the present value of an annuity on
216
ANNU
Popular
View.
a life older than the proposed, by the number of years
during which the other annuity is deferred; multiply this
by the present value of L.l to be received upon the pro¬
posed life surviving the term, and the product will be the
value sought.
56. Dem. Upon the proposed life surviving the term,
the annuity dependent upon it will be worth the same
sum that an annuity on a life so much older is now worth ;
therefore it is evident that the deferred annuity is of the
same present value as that sum to be received at the ex¬
piration of the term, provided the life survive it.
57. Corollary. In the same manner it appears, that
the present value of an annuity on the joint continuance
of any number of lives, deferred for a given term, may be
found by multiplying the present value of an annuity on
the joint continuance of the same number of lives, older
respectively than the proposed by the number of years in
the term, by the present value of L.l to be received upon
the proposed lives all surviving it.
58. A temporary annuity on any single life, or on the
joint continuance of any number of lives, that is, an an¬
nuity which is to be paid during a certain term, provided
that the single life or the other lives jointly subsist so
long, together with an annuity on the same life or lives
deferred for the same term, is evidently equivalent to an
annuity on the whole duration of the same life or lives.
So that the value of an annuity on any life, or on the
joint continuance of any number of lives, for an assigned
term, is equal to the excess of the value of an annuity on
their whole duration, with immediate possession, above
the value of air annuity on them deferred for the term.
59. Whatever has been advanced from No. 48 to 53
inclusive, respecting the values of annuities for the whole
duration of the lives whereon they depend, will apply
equally to those which are either deferred or temporary;
and therefore, to determine the value of any deferred or
temporary annuity dependent upon the last survivor of two
or of three lives, or upon the joint continuance of the last
two survivors out of three lives, we have only to substi¬
tute temporary or deferred annuities, as the case may re¬
quire, for annuities on the whole duration of the lives;
and the result will accordingly be the value of a tempo-
rary or deferred annuity on the life of the last survivor,
or on the joint lives of the two last survivors.
60. Prop. 5. A and B being any two proposed lives
now in existence, the present value of an annuity to be
payable only while A survives L?, is equal to the excess
of the value of an annuity on the life of A above that of
an annuity on the joint existence of both the lives.
61. Dem. If an annuity on the life of ^4, and to be
entered upon immediately, were now granted to P upon
condition that he should pay it to B during the joint lives
of and _Z?, it is evident that there would only remain
to P an annuity on the life of A after the decease of B;
whence the truth of the proposition is manifest.
y When any thing is affirmed or demonstrated any
life or lives, it is to be understood as applying equally to
any proposed single life, or to the joint continuance of the
whole of any number of lives that may be proposed to¬
gether, or to that of any assigned number of the last sur¬
vivors of them, or to the last surviving life of the whole.
63. Prop. 6. The present value of the reversion of'a
perpetual annuity after the failure of any life or lives, is
equal.to the excess of the present value of the perpetuity,
with immediate possession, above the present value of an
annuity on the same life or lives.
64. Dem. If a perpetual annuity with immediate pos¬
session were granted to P, upon condition that he should
pay the annual produce to another individual during the
existence of the life or lives proposed, it is evident that
I T I E S.
there would only remain to P the reversion after the Po
failure of such life or lives; and the present value of that VI
reversion would manifestly be as stated above. ^ ,
65. The 6th, 7th, and 8th tables at the end of this
article, which have been extracted from the 19th, 21st,
and 22d respectively, in Mr Milne’s Treatise on Annuities,
will serve to illustrate the application of these propositions
to the solution of questions in numbers.
In all the following examples, we suppose the lives to
be such as the general average of those from which the
Carlisle table of mortality was constructed, and the rate
of interest to be hper cent.
66. Ex. 1. What is the present value of an annuity on the
joint lives, and the life of the survivor of two persons now
aged 40 and 50 years respectively ?
According to No. 48, the process is as follows:
Value of a single life of
40
50
sum
Subtract the value of their |
joint lives, J
13-390
11-660
| (by Table VI.)
25-050
9-984 (Table VIII.)
remains 15-066 years’purchase, the
required value.
And if the annuity be L.200, its present value will be
L.3013-2, or L.3013. 4s.
67. Ex. 2. The lives A, B, and C, being now aged 50,
55, and 60 years respectively, an annuity on the joint con¬
tinuance of all the three is worth 6-289 years’ purchase,
what is the value of an annuity on the joint existence of
the last two survivors of them ?
According to No. 50, the process is thus:
Ages. Values.
50 & 55
55 & 60
50 & 60
mog} (Table VIL>
7-601 (Table VIII.)
sum 23-235
Subtract 2 X 6-289 =12-578
remains 10-657 years’ purchase, the required
value.
Therefore, if the annuity were L.300, it would be worth
L.3197. 2s. in present money.
68. Ex. 3. Required the value of an annuity on the last
survivor of the three lives in the last example.
Proceeding according to No. 52, we have
Ages. Values.
50
55
60
50, 55, & 60
11-660 )
10-347 } (Table VI.)
8-940 )
6-289 (No. 67).
sum 37-236
Subtract the sum of the values!
of annuities on the three com- >- 23*235 (No. 67.)
binations of two lives, J
remains 14-001 years’ purchase,
the required value. And if the annuity were L.300, it
would now be worth L.4200. 6s.
69. Ex. 4. What is the present value of an annuity on
a life now 45 years of age, which is not to be entered upon
until the expiration of ten years ; the first payment there¬
of being to be made at the expiration of eleven years from
this time, if the life survive till then ?
ANNUITIES.
217
popu,1
Vie'*
Solution.
fK" . The present value of an annuity on a life of 55 is 10-347
(Table VI.), and the present value of L.l to be received
upon the proposed life attaining to the age of 55, is
X 0-613913 ; therefore, by No. 55, the required value is
4073 X 0-613913 X 10-347 -5.4,73 s> purciiase; so
4727 ^ 1
that if the annuity were L.200, its present value would be
L.1094. 12s.
70. Ex. 5. Required the present value of an annuity to
be received for the next ten years, provided that a person
now 45 years of age shall so long live.
Solution.
The present value of an annuity on a life of 45, to
be entered upon immediately, is 12-648 (Table VI.)
Subtract that of an annuity onl
the same life deferred 10 years, j 5-473 ^
the remainder 7-175
is the required number of years’ purchase. And if the
annuity were L.200, its present value would be L.1435.
71. Ex. 6. An annuity on a life of 45, deferred 10 years,
was shown in No. 69 to be worth 5-473 years’ purchase in
present money; let it be required to determine the equiva¬
lent annual payment for the same, to be made at the end
of each of the next 10 years, but subject to failure upon
the life failing in the term.
Solution.
The present value of L.l per annum on the proposed
life for the next 10 years has just been shown to be
L.7-175, and this, multiplied by the required annual pay¬
ment, must produce L.5-473; that payment must, there-
fore, be 77^ = 0-76279. And since the annual pay¬
ment for the deferred annuity of L.l per annum would be
L.0-76279, that for an annuity of L.200 must be L.152.
11s. 2d.
72. Ex. 7. Let the present value be required of an an¬
nuity on a life now 40 years of age, to be payable only
while that life survives another now of the age of 50 years.
Frnfo of40resent va'ue °f“113'390 (Table VL)
Subtract that of the two joint | g<984 (Table yjjj)
75. Ex. 8. Let it be required to determine the present Popular
value of the reversion of a perpetual annuity after the View,
failure of a life now 50 years of age.
Solution.
The value of the perpetuity is 20 years’ purchase. (8.)
Subtract that of an annuity onl
the life of 50, j
11-660 (Table VI.)
the remainder, 3-406
years’ purchase, is the required value. (60.)
Therefore, if the annuity were L.100, it would be worth
L.340. 12s. in present money.
73. If the annuity in the last example were to be paid
for by a constant annual premium at the end of each year
while both the lives survived; by reasoning as in No. 71,
it will be found, that such annual premium for an annuity
of L.l should be = L.0-341146 ; for an annuity of
L.100 it should therefore be L.34. 2s. 3^d.
74. Rut if one of the equal premiums for this annuity
is to be paid down now, and another at the end of each
year while both the lives survive, the number of years’
purchase the whole of these premiums are worth will
evidently be increased by unit; on account of the payment
made now, it will therefore be 10-984 ; and each premium
for an annuity of L.l must, in this case, be -f, =
lU-yo4i
L.0-310087; for an annuity of L.100 it should therefore
he L.31. 0s. 2d.
vol. in.
remains 8-34 years’ purchase,
the required value of the reversion. (63.)
So that if the annuity were L.300, its present value
would be L.2502.
76. In the same manner it will be found, by the 68th
number and those referred to in the last example, that
the reversion of a perpetuity, after the failure of the last
survivor of three lives, now aged 50, 55, and 60 years re¬
spectively, is worth 5-999 years’purchase in present money;
therefore, if it were L.100 per annum, its present value
would be L.599. 18s.
III.—Of Assurances on Lives.
77. An assurance upon a life or lives is a contract by
which the office or underwriter, in consideration of a
stipulated premium, engages to pay a certain sum upon
such life or lives failing within the term for which the as¬
surance is effected.
78. If the term of the assurance be the whole duration
of the life or lives assured, the sum must necessarily be
paid whenever the failure happens ; and, in what follows,
that payment is always supposed to be made at the end of
the year in which the event assured against takes place;
the anniversary of the assurance, or the day of the date
of the policy, being accounted the beginning of each year.
79. At the end of the year in which any proposed life
or lives may fail, the proprietor of the reversion of a per¬
petual annuity of L.l after their failure will receive the
pound then due, and will at the same time enter upon
the perpetuity ; therefore, the present value of the rever¬
sion is the same as that of L.l added to the money a per¬
petual annuity of L.l would cost, supposing this sum not
to be receivable until the expiration of the year in which
the failure of the life or lives might happen.
80. Hence we have this proportion. As the value of a
perpetuity increased by unit is to L.l, so is the present
value of the reversion of a perpetual annuity of L.l, after
the failure of any life or lives, to the present value of L.1,
receivable at the end of the year in which such failure
shall take place.
81. Therefore, if the value of an annuity of one pound on
any life or lives be subtracted from that of the perpetuity,
and the remainder be divided by the value of the perpetuity
increased by unit, the quotient will be the value, in present
money, of the assurance of one pound on the same life or
lives. (63.)
82. Ex. 1. What is the present value of L.l to be re¬
ceived at the end of the year in which a life now 50
years of age may fail ?
The rate of interest being 5 per cent., the value of the
perpetuity is 20 years’ purchase, and that of the life 11-66;
, , , . 20—11-66 8-34 T norvt^,0
the answer therefore is ■ 20 -f-1— =: ~2\ == L-.0-397143.
And if the sum assured were L.1000, the present value of
the assurance would be L.397. 2s. lOd.
83. When the term of a life-assurance exceeds one year,
its whole value is hardly ever paid down at the time that
the contract is entered into; but in the instrument (called
a policy) whereby the assurance is effected, an equivalent
annual premium is stipulated for, payable at the commence-
2 E
218
ANNUITIES.
Popular ment of each year during the term, but subject to failure
View. with the life or lives assured.
84. But by reasoning as in No. 74, it will be found that
an annual premium, payable at the commencement of each
year in the whole duration of the life or lives assured,
will be worth one year’s purchase more than an annuity
on them payable at the end of each year; and, conse¬
quently, that if the value in present money of an assur¬
ance on any life or lives be divided by the number of
years’ purchase an annuity on the same life or lives is
worth, increased by unit, the quotient will be the equiva¬
lent annual premium for the same assurance.
85. Ex. 2. Required the annual premium for the assur¬
ance of L.l on a life of 50 years of age.
In No. 82 the single premium for that assurance was
shown to be 0-397143, and the value of an annuity on the
life is 11-66; therefore, by the preceding number, the re¬
quired annual premium will be —- = -0313699 for
the assurance of L.l; and for the assurance of L.1000
it will be L.31. 7s. 5d.
86. Ex. 3. Let both the single payment in present
money, and the equivalent annual premium, be required
for the assurance of L.l, on the joint continuance of two
lives of the respective ages of 45 and 50 years.
The value of an annuity of L.l on the joint continu¬
ance of these two lives appears by Table VII. to be
t ^ 20—9-737 10-263 .
L.9-737, therefore ,■ ^— — L.0-488714 is
20+1
21
0-488714
the single premium, and — L.0-0455168 the
equivalent annual one, for the assurance of L.l to be paid
at the end of the year in which that life becomes extinct
which may happen to fail the first of the two.
Therefore, if the sum assured were L.500, the total
present value of the assurance would be L.244. 7s. 2d.,
and the equivalent annual premium L.22. 15s. 2d.
87. Ex. 4. Let both the single and the equivalent an¬
nual premium be required for the assurance of L.l on the
life of the survivor of two persons now aged 40 and 50
years respectively.
The value of an annuity on the survivor of these two
lives was shown in No. 66 to be 15-066, therefore, by
No. 81, the single premium will be —^—— —gj—
= L.0-234952; and, by No. 84. the annual one will be
L.0-234952
16-066 “ ’ ’ 46~4~
That is, for the assurance of L.l to be received at the
end of the year in which the last surviving life of the
two becomes extinct.
Therefore, for the assurance of L.5000, the single pre¬
mium will be L.l 174. 15s. 2d., the equivalent annual one
L.73. 2s. 5d.
88. Ex. b. What should the single and equivalent an¬
nual premiums be for an assurance on the last survivor
of three lives of the respective ages of 50, 55, and 60
years ?
The value of an annuity on the last survivor of them
was shown in No. 68 to be 14-001, the single premium
, ,, r- u 20—14-001 5-999
should therefore be - ,— = —— L.0-285666,
20+1
L.0-285666
21
and the annual —^ ^— = L.0-0190431, for the assur¬
ance of L.l to be received at the end of the year in
which the last surviving life of the three may fail.
For the assurance of L.2000, the single premium would
therefore be L.57L 6s. 8cL, the annual one L.38. Is. 9d.
89. Lemma. If an annuity be payable at the commence- Por,
ment of each year which some assigned life or lives may vi|
enter upon in a given term, the number of years’ purchased
in its present value will exceed by unit the number of
years’ purchase in the present value of an annuity on the
same life or lives for one year less than the given term,
but payable, as annuities generally are, at the end of each
year.
Demonstration. Since the proposed life or lives can
only enter upon any year after the first by surviving the
year that precedes it, the receipt of each of the pay¬
ments after the first, that are to be made at the com¬
mencement of the year, will take place at the same time
and upon the same conditions as that of the rent for the
year then expired of the life-annuity, for a term one year
less than the term proposed : this last-mentioned annuity
will therefore be worth, in present money, just the same
number of years’ purchase as all the payments subsequent
to the first which may be made at the commencements of
the several years.
And since the first of these is to be made immediate¬
ly, the present value of the whole of them will evidently
exceed tlje number of years’ purchase last mentioned by
unit; which was to be demonstrated.
90. If, while the rest remains the same, the payment of
the annuity which depends upon the assigned life or lives
entering upon any year is not to be made until the end of
that year ; as the condition upon which every payment is
to be made will remain the same, but each of them will
be one year later; the only alteration in the value of the
whole will arise from this increase in the remoteness of
payment, by which it will be reduced in the ratio of L.l
to the present value of L.l receivable at the end of a
year. (2.)
91. When the value of an annuity on any proposed life
or lives for an assigned term is given, it is evident that the
value of an annuity on the same life or lives for one year
less may be found, by subtracting from the given value
the present value of the rent to be received upon the
proposed life or lives surviving the term assigned.
92. Proposition. The present value of an assurance on
any proposed life or lives for a given term is equal to the
excess of the value of an annuity to be paid at the end
of each year which the life or lives proposed may enter
upon in the term, above the value of an annuity on them
for the same term, but dependent, as usual, upon their
surviving each year.
Demonstration. If an annuity, payable at the end of
each year which the proposed lifo or lives may enter up¬
on during the given term, be granted to P upon condition
that he shall pay over what he receives to Q at the end
of each year which the same life or lives may survive, it
is manifest that there will only remain to P the rent for
the year in which the proposed life or lives may fail; that
is, the assurance of that sum thereon for the given term
(77) ; which was to be demonstrated.
93. From the last four numbers (89-92) we derive the
following
Rule
for determining the present value of an assurance on any
life or lives for a given term.
Add unit to the value of an annuity on the proposed life
or lives for the given term, and from the sum subtract the
present value of one pound to be received upon the same
life or lives surviving the term ; multiply the remainder by
the present value of L.l to be received certainly at the end of
a year, and from the product subtract the present value of an
annuity on the proposed life or lives for the term.
This last remainder will be the value in. present money
ANNUITIES.
Bopwr of the assurance of L.l during the same term on the life
Vie or lives proposed.
sv-J 94 It has been shown above (34-39) how the pre¬
sent value of L.l receivable upon any single or joint lives
surviving an assigned term may be found. And all that
was demonstrated from No. 48 to 53 inclusive, respect¬
ing annuities on the last survivor of two or of three lives,
or on the joint continuance of the two last survivors out
of three lives, is equally true of any particular year’s rent
of those annuities. Hence it is evident how the present
value of L.l, to be received upon the last survivor of two
or of three lives, or upon the last two survivors out of
three lives, surviving any assigned term, may be found.
95. Example. Required the present value of L.l, to
be received at the end of the year in which a life now
forty-five years of age may fail, provided that such fail¬
ure happen before the expiration of ten years.
Here the present value of L.l, to be received on the
‘ life surviving the term, will be found to be L.0528976,
and the value of an annuity on the proposed life for the
I term is 7-175. (70.)
From 8-175
subtract 0-528976
the remainder 7-646024
being multiplied by 0-952381
produces 7-28193
from this subtract 7*17500
remains L.0-10693, the required va¬
lue of the assurance; and if the sum assured were L.3000,
the value of the assurance in present money would be
L.320. 15s. 7d.
96. By numbers 89, 91, and 95, it appears that an an¬
nuity, payable at the commencement of each of the next
ten years that a life of 45 enters upon, is worth 7*646
0-10693 Xrt„lono„
years purchase; therefore, — L.0-013985 will be
the annual premium for the assurance of L.l for ten years
on that life. For the assurance of L.3000, it will therefore
be L.41. 19s. Id.
97. When the term of the assurance is the whole duration
of the life or lives assured, L.l to be received upon their
surviving the term is worth nothing; and an annuity on
the lives for the term is also for their whole duration.
Therefore from No. 93 we derive the following
Rule
for determining the present value of an assurance on any
life or lives.
Add unit to the value of an annuity on the proposed life
or lives ; multiply the sum by the present value of L.l to be
received certainly at the end of a year, and from the product
subtract the value of an annuity on the same life or lives.
The remainder will be the value of the assurance in
present money.
98. Example. Required the present value of L.l to
be received at the end of the year in which the survivor
of two lives may fail, their ages now being 40 and 50 years
respectively.
The value of an annuity on these lives was shown in
No. 66 to be 15-066.
Multiply 16-066 by 0-952381, from the product 15-3009
subtract 15-066, the remainder L.0-2349 is the required
value, agreeably to No. 87.
And, in all other cases, the values determined by the
rule in the preceding number will be found to agree with
those obtained by the method of No. 81.
99. When an assurance On any life or lives has been
219
effected at a constant annual premium, and kept up for Popular
some time by the regular payment of that premium, the View,
annual premium required for a new assurance of the same
sum on the same life or lives will, on account of the in¬
crease of age, be greater than that at which the first as¬
surance was effected: Therefore the present value of all
these greater annual premiums, that is, the total present
value of the new assurance, will exceed the present value
of all the premiums that may hereafter be received under
the existing policy. And the excess will evidently be the
value of the policy, supposing the life or lives to be still
insurable ; that being the only advantage which can now be
derived from the premiums already paid.
So that if the present value of all the future annual
premiums to be paid under an existing policy, for the as¬
surance of a certain sum upon any life or lives, be subtract¬
ed from the present value of the assurance of the same
sum on the same life or lives, the remainder will be the
value of the policy.
100. Example. L.1000 has been assured some years
on a life now 50 years of age, for its whole duration, at
the annual premium of L.20, one of which has just now
been paid. What is the value of the policy ?
The present value of the assurance of L.1000 on that
life has been shown in No. 82 to be L.397. 2s. lOd.; and
an annuity on the life being worth 11-66 years’ purchase
(Table VI.), the present value of all the premiums to be
paid in future under the existing policy is 11-66 X L.20
i= L.233. 4s.; the value of the policy, therefore, is
L.163. 18s. lOd.
Immediately before the payment of the premium the
value of the policy would evidently have been less by the
premium then due.
101. In our investigations of the values of annuities on
lives, we have hitherto assumed that no part of the rent
is to be received for the year in which the life wherewith
the annuity may terminate fails.
But if a part of the annuity is to be received at the end
of that year, proportional to the part of the year which
may have elapsed at the time of such failure; as, in a
great number of such cases, some of the lives wherewith the
annuity terminates will fail in every part of the year, and
as many, or very nearly so, in any one part of it as in any
other: we may assume that, upon an average, half a year’s
rent will be received at the end of the year in which such
failure happens; and therefore, that by the title to what
may be received after the failure of the life or lives where¬
on the annuity depends, the present value of that annuity
will be increased by the present value of the assurance of
half a year’s rent on the same life or lives.
102. Thus, for example, the present value of the as¬
surance of L.l on a life of 50 years of age having in No.
82 been shown to be L.0-397143, the value of an annuity
of L.l on that life, when payable till the last moment
of its existence, will exceed L.l 1-66, its value if only pay¬
able until the expiration of the last year it survives, by
(L0'397143 \
^ L.0-199; it will therefore be L.ll-859.
103. If at the end of the year in which an assigned life
A may fail, Q or his heirs are to receive L.l, and are at
the same time to enter upon an annuity of L.l, to be en¬
joyed during another life P, to be then fixed upon; the
present value of (fs interest will evidently be the same
as that of the assurance on the life of A, of a number of
pounds, exceeding by unit the number of years’ purchase
in the value of an annuity on the life of P, at the time of
nomination.
104. What is the present value of the next presentation
to a living of the clear annual value of L.500, A, the pre¬
sent incumbent, being now 50 years of age; supposing
220
annuities:.
Popular the age of the clerk presented to be 25 at the end of the
View, year in which the present incumbent dies; also, that he
takes the whole produce of the living for that year ?
By Table VI. it will be found that the value of an an¬
nuity of L.l on a life of 25 is L.15'303; and in No. 82 it
has been shown, that the present value of the assurance
of L.l on a life of 50 is L.0‘397143. Hence, and by the
last number, it appears that if the annual produce of the
living were but L.l, the present value of the next presen¬
tation would be L.16'303 X 0-397143. L.6'47467. Ihe
required value, therefore, is L.3237. 6s. 9d.
105. If to the value of the succeeding life, determined
according to No. 103, the value of the present be added,
the sum of these will evidently be the present value of
both the lives in succession; and, in the case of the pre¬
ceding number, will be 6’475 -f- 11‘66 — 18,135 years’
purchase.
106. In No. 103 we proceeded upon the supposition
that the annuity on the present life is only payable up to
the expiration of the last year it survives, and, conse¬
quently, that the succeeding life takes the whole rent for
the year in which the present fails.
But if the succeeding life is only to take a part of that
rent, in the same proportion to the whole as the portion
of the year which intervenes between the failure of the
present life and the end of the year is to the whole year, p™
then, by reasoning as in No. 101, it will be found that the %
portion of that rent which the succeeding life will received
may be properly assumed to be one half. And, in*
stead of increasing the number of years’ purchase the an¬
nuity on the succeeding life will be worth at the end of
the year in which the other fails by unit, w'e must only
add one half to that number, in order that the present
value of the assurance of the sum on the existing life may
be the number of years’ purchase which all that may be
received during the succeeding life is now worth.
107. The value of the succeeding life, in the case of
No. 104, will, upon this hypothesis, be 15-803 X 0-397143
— 6-27605 years’ purchase.
And this appears to be the most correct way of calcu¬
lating the value of an annuity on a succeeding life, al¬
though that of No. 103 proceeds upon the principle on
which life-interests are generally valued.
108. But the value of two lives in succession will be the
same on both hypotheses ; the rent for the year in which
the.first may fail being, in the one case, given entirely to
the successor; and, in the other, divided equally between
the two.
This is also true of any greater number of successive
lives.
PART II.
109. We now proceed to treat the subject of annuities
Algebraically.
are to enjoy during the first n years, and B and his heirs
or assigns for ever after. Since the value of the perpe¬
tuity to be entered upon immediately has just been shown
I.—On Annuities-Certain.
to be -, the present value of B's share, that is, the present
Let r denote the simple interest of L.l for one year,
s, any sum put out at interest,
w, the number of years for which it is lent..
m, its amount in that time.
«, an annuity for the same time. (3 and 4.)
m, the amount to which that annuity will increase
when each payment is laid up as it becomes due,
and improved at compound interest until the end
of the term.
v, the present value of the same annuity. (6.)
110. Then, reasoning as in the first number of this ar¬
ticle, it will be found that w = s (1 + r)n. And by No.
2 it appears that the present value of s pounds to be re¬
ceived certainly at the expiration of n years, is s -y^ ^
or s(l + r)-n.
111. The amount of L.l in n years being (1 + r)n, its
increase in that time will be (1 + r)” — 1; and when it
value of the same perpetuity when the entrance thereon is
deferred until the expiration n years, will be - (/• +1)-”)
(110) ; and the value of the share of A will be thus much
less than that of the whole perpetuity (21), therefore
equal to^ |^1 —(1 + 7’)_,l^j = v, the present value of an
annuity of a pounds for the term of n years certain.
114. If the annuity is not to be entered upon until
the expiration of d years, but is then to continue n
years, its value at the time of entering upon it will be
^j^l —(1 + as has just been shown ; therefore
its present value will be
^[a+’-r
(!+'■)'
^rzV. (110.)
is considered that this increase arises entirely from the
simple interest (r) of L.l being laid up at the end of each
year, and improved at compound interest during the re¬
mainder of the term, it must be obvious that (1 + r)n — 1
is the amount of an annuity of r pounds in that time ;#but
115. In the same manner it appears that, when the
entrance on a perpetuity of a pounds is deferred d years,
its present value will be -(1 + rf^.
(110 and 112.)
:: (1 + r)n — 1 : -j^(l + r)n — l,~j which, there¬
fore, is equal to m, the amount of an annuity of a pounds
in n years.
112. Reasoning as in No. 8, it will be found, that since
r : \ a : the present value of a perpetual annuity of
116. q being any number whatever, whole, fractionator
mixed, let "Kq denote its logarithm, and xq the arithmeti¬
cal complement of that logarithm ; so that these equations
may obtain, ^ = xq. Then, for the resolution of
the principal questions of this kind by logarithms, we shall
have these formulae.
a pounds is -.
1. Amount of a stem improved at interest.
Xm = wX (1 + r) + Xs. (110.)
113. If two persons, A and B, purchase a perpetuity of
a pounds between them, which A and his heirs or assigns
2. Amount of an annuity when each payment is laid up us
it becomes due, and improved at interest until the expi¬
ration of the term.
rebraid
Views
'S/I'V''
3.
X^X[(1 + r)n — 1~J + +x;
Value of a lease or an annuity.
Xv=7.[l-(l + r)^+Xa +
ANN UI T IE S.
(in.)
(113.)
4 Value of a deferred annuity, or the renewal of any num¬
ber of years lapsed in the. term of a lease.
*v = x[(l + r)-d—(\ + r)-<<* + "f]+Xa+xr. (114.)
5. Value of a deferred perpetuity, or the reversion of an
estate in fee-simple, after an assigned term.
Xv z= ?.a + xr + cfo (1 + r). (115.)
By means of each of these equations, it is manifest that
any one of the quantities involved in it may be found
when the rest are given,
117. If the interest be convertible into principal v times
in the year, at v equal intervals; since the interest of L.l
for one of these intervals will be - (109), and the number
of conversions of interest into principal in n years m ;
to adapt the formula in No. 110 to this case, we have
only to substitute - for r, and m for n, in the equation
= s(l + r)n there given, whereby it will be transform-
/ tA m
ed to this, m = s (1 + -J .
118. According as v is equal to 1, 2, 4, or is infinite,
that is, according as the interest is convertible into prin¬
cipal yearly, half-yearly, quarterly, or continually, let rn
be equal to y, h, q, or c ; so shall
Y= s(l + r)n,
n=s(\ + rT,
«=»Kr.
and c ~ s. n ;
n being the number of which nr is the hyperbolic lo¬
garithm, and nr x 0*43429448 its logarithm in Briggs’
System, and the common tables.
119. From No. 117 and 110, it follows that the present
value of s pounds to be received at the end of n years,
when the interest is convertible into principal at v equal
# # # /  yri
intervals in each year, is s fl + - J
120. When the present values and the amounts of an¬
nuities are desired, let the interest be convertible into
principal at v equal intervals in the year, while the annuity
is payable at w intervals therein, the amount of each pay¬
ment being
ft
121. Case 1. y, being any whole number not greater
than v, let - ^ so that the interest may be convertible
into principal [i times in each of the intervals between the
payments of the annuity.
Then will the amount of L.l at the expiration of the
Peri°d -be ^1 (117), and the interest of L.l for the
same time will be 1J whence the present va-
1
- a
lue of the perpetuity will be   —- (8), and the va¬
lue of the same deferred n years, will be -
(119), therefore the present value of the annuity to be en¬
tered upon immediately, and to continue n years, will be
1
* K)'-'
122, Case 2. y, being any whole number greater than
t, let ~ so that the annuity may be payable y* times
in each of the intervals between the payments of interest,
or the conversion thereof into principal.
Then, at the expiration of the -th of a year, when the
interest on the purchase-money is first payable or contro¬
vertible, the interest on all the p—1 payments of the an¬
nuity previously made will be
+ 2) + 0a—3)+ + 3+ 2+l^j
; to which adding the /x payments of ^
each (including the one only then due), the sum
^ j^/M. 4~^n*:eres^
value of the perpetuity should yield at the expiration of
each vth part of a year, in order to supply the deficiency
(both of principal and interest) that would be occasioned
during each of those periods, in any fund out of which the
several payments of the annuity might be taken, as they re
• i , , , . r aY~ . ryj(y,—1)“
spectively became due; and since^•r  
]
:£iL+re(|=±n=<I(I+
rv L 2<ff \r
1
v.
2w
. ^ this last ex-
_ 27r _J V* 2w /
pression will be the value of such perpetuity with imme¬
diate possession (8); the value of the same deferred n
/I —1\ / 7*\—
years will therefore be a 1--J—fff) * \ 7/
Whence it appears that the present value of the annuity
to be entered upon immediately, and to continue n years,
wm be „ (4^). [i—o+;r”]=
123. Case 3. WThen, in consequence of the annuity
being always payable at the same time that the interest is
convertible, i/=7r.
Since the interest of L.l at the expiration of the
1 T
period - will be -, the value of the perpetuity will be
w w
1
-a
•j—=-(8), whence, proceeding as before, we obtain the
—r
<ir
present value of the annuity, ^ £
Whence v—v, and consequently y> = l, the values of v
given in the two preceding cases, will be found to coincide
with this.
124. According as v and tt are each equal to 1, 2, 4, or
are infinite; that is, according as the interest and the an¬
nuity are each payable yearly, half-yearly, quarterly, or
continually, let v be equal to y, h, g, or c, then will
]=
V.
(i+rrMJ>
222
ANNUITIES.
Algebraical
View.
h=a-
r
and c—~
r
■(1 + i)'
i-ci+zr4”
being as in No. 118.
nuity, we have
(>+;)'
• ('+;)
■=M. (117,
1
(> +;)’”V="Q+ - [(>+;)’”- ■]
—M. (117, 122, and 125.)
And, in the 3c? Case, when the annuity is always pay¬
able at the same time that the interest is convertible,
(r\v» nr r vn ~\
1 + H v — ^I (1 + -) —1 —m.(117, 123, and 125.)
127. According as v and or are each equal to 1, 2,4, or are
infinite ; that is, according as the interest and the annuity
are each payable yearly, half-yearly, quarterly, or conti¬
nually, let m be denoted by y', h', q', or c';
then will
y'=
h' — -
r
a
q=-
r
0 + r)”-l
_(1+; ’
V
and c = - (n —1 ); n being as in No. 118.
128. Example 1. What will L.320 amount to, when im¬
proved at compound interest during 40 years, the rate of
interest being 4 per cent, per annum ?
By the first formula in No. 116, the operation will be as
follows:
1 X r= 1-04X0-01703334
+ » = 40
(1 + r)" AO-6813336
s = 320 A 2-5051500
m = 1536-327 A 3.1864836
And the answer is L.1536. 6s. 6^d.
129. Ex. 2. If the interest were convertible into princi¬
pal every half-year, the operation, according to No. 117,
would be thus:
1 + J= 1-02 A 0-00860017
A
X m— 80
■ fi
O-y
0-6880136
5 = 320 A 2-5051500
125. The amount of an annuity is equal to the sum to
which the purchase-money would amount if it were put
out and improved at interest during the whole term.
For, from the time of the purchase of the annuity, what¬
ever part of the money that was paid for it may be in the
hands of the granter, he must improve thus to provide for
the payments thereof; and if the purchaser also improve
in the same manner all he receives, the original purchase-
money must evidently receive the same improvement du¬
ring the term, as if it had been laid up at interest at its
commencement.
126. The periods of conversion of interest into princi¬
pal, and of the payment of the annuity being still desig¬
nated as in No. 120; since in n years the number of periods
of conversion will be m, in the
Is* Case, where the interest is convertible y. times in
each of the intervals between the payments of the an-
(i+T—i
a \ v)
m = 1560-14 A 3-1931636
So that in this case the amount would be L.1560. 2s.91d.
130. Ex. 3. Required the present value of an annuity
of L.250 for 30 years, reckoning interest at 5 per cent.
By the third formula in No. 116, the operation will be
thus: _
A (1 -fr)-1 = x 1-05 = 1-9788107
Xra = 30
(1 + 7-)-”= -23137704 A 1-3643210
1_(1 _f_r)-» = -76862296 A 1-8857133
a = 250 A 2-3979400
r = -05 x 1-3010300
121, and 125.) In the 2rtf Case, when the annuity is pay¬
able y times, in each interval between the conversions of
interest,
[i—
v =3843-114X3-5846833
And the required value is L.3843. 2s. 3^d.
131. Ex. 4. The rest being still the same, if the annuity
in the last example be payable half-yearly, in the formula
of No. 122 v will be equal to 1, t — 2, and /*, = 2; that
formula will therefore become . |^1—(1+r)“"^J
= v; and the operation will be thus :
1 — (1+ 7-)“” aT-88571331 n 130
a = 250 A 2-3979400] 1 0‘
-+t = 20-25 A 1-3064250
v = 3891-15 A 3-5900783
The value of the annuity will therefore in this case be
L.3891. 3s. . *
132. Ex. 5. To what sum will an annuity of L.120 for
20 years amount, when each payment is improved at com¬
pound interest from the time of its becoming due until
the expiration of the term, the rate of interest being 6
per cent. ?
The operation by the second formula in No. 116 is thus:
l+r= 1-06 A 0-025305865
X 77 = 20
(1 + 7-)” = 3-207135 A 0-5061173
(1 + /•)” — 1 = 2-207135 A 0-3438289
a= 120X2-0791812
r= -06 x 1-2218487
M = 4414-27 A 3-6448588
And the amount required is L.4414. 5s. 5d.
133. Ex. 6. The rest being the same as in the last ex¬
ample ; if both the interest and the annuity be payable
half-yearly, the amount will be determined by the second
of the formulae given in No. 127, which in this case will
become-^|^(1-OS)40—l"l, and the operation will be as
follows:
1-03 AO-01283723
X 40
(1-03)40 = 3-26204 A 0-5134892
(1-03)40—1=2-26204 A0-3545003
A 2-0791812
•06x1-2218487
m = 4524-08 A 3-6555302
So that the amount in this case would be L.4524. Is.
7*d.
ebrai l
,'iew
ANNUITIES.
II.—On the Probabilities of Life.
134. Any persons, A, B, C, &c. being proposed, let the
numbers which tables of mortality (32) adapted to them
represent to attain to their respective ages be denoted by
the symbols a, b, c, &c.; while lives n years older than
those respectively are denoted thus, WA, nB, nC, &c. and
the numbers that attain to their ages, by the symbols na,
”b, nc, &c.; also let lives w years younger than B, C,
&c. be denoted thus, An, Bn, Cn, &c., while the numbers
which the tables show to attain to those younger ages are
designated by the symbols an, bn, cn, &c.
Then, if ^4 be 21 years of age, and we use the Carlisle
table, we shall have a — 6047, and 14a == 5362, the num¬
ber that attain to the age of 35, or that live to be 14 years
older than A.
Hence the number that are represented by the table to
die in n years from the age of A will be a — na, that is,
in 14 years, a — 14a ; and, by the Carlisle table, in 14 years
from the age of 21, that is, between 21 and 35, it will be
6047 — 5362 = 685.
135. Problem. To determine the probability that a pro¬
posed life A will survive n years.
Solution, a being the number of lives in the table of
mortality attaining the age of that which is proposed,
conceive that number of lives to be so selected (of which
A must be one), that they may each have the same pro¬
spect with regard to longevity as the proposed life and
those in the table, or the average of those from which it
was constructed; then will the number of them that sur¬
vive the term be na. (134.)
So that the number of ways all equally probable, or the
number of equal chances for the happening of the event
in question, is na ; and the whole number for its either
happening or failing is a ; therefore, according to the first
principles of the doctrine of probabilities, the probability
of the event happening, that is, of A surviving the term,
. na
is —.
a
If the age of A be 14, the probability of that life sur¬
viving 7 years, or the age of 21, will, according to the
„ , ,, , 70 6047
Carlisle table, be — = or 0’95454.
a 6335
136. Since the number that die in n years from the age
of J is a — na (134), it appears, in the same manner, that
d
the probability of that life failing in w years will be ——
na . : . \ '7
= 1 — ; which probability, when the life, term, and
table of mortality are the same as in the last No., will be
0-04546.
137. If two lives A and B be proposed, since the pro-
n(Z
bability of A surviving n years will be —, and that of B
nb
a nb n(ab) ..
 r- or ■ / will be the
a b ab
surviving the same term will be it appears from the
doctrine of probabilities that
measure of the probability that these lives will both sur¬
vive n years.
In the same manner it may be shown, that the proba¬
bility of the three lives A> B, and C all surviving n years,
... , rif. nU nr n1)r\
will be measured by — • —r • — or -—j-A. And, universal-
J a b c, abc
ly, that any number of lives A, B, C, &c. will jointly sur¬
vive n years, the probability is
^ abc, &c.
138. Let
  „ _ 7 ”c   „ c i i .Algebraical
— — nb, — — nc, &c.; also let vipw.
"a
a o " c
n(abc &c.)
abc Ac ~ ::::: &C’) ’ 80 t^iat ^le probabilities of A,
B, C, &c. surviving n years may be denoted by na, nb, nc,
&c. respectively; and that of all these lives jointly sur¬
viving that term by n(abc, &c.)
Then will the probability that none of these lives will
survive n years be (1 — na) . (1 — „&).(! — nc) . &c.
139. But the probability that some one or more of
these lives will survive n years will be just what the pro¬
bability last mentioned is deficient of certainty: its mea¬
sure, therefore, being just what the measure of that pro¬
bability is deficient of unit, will be
1 — (1 — ««) • (1 — J>): (1 — nc) • Ac.
140. Carol. 1. When there is only one life A, this
will be na.
141. Carol. 2. When there are two lives A and B, it
becomes na + — n(ab)-
142. Carol. 3. When there are three lives A, B, and
C, it becomes na + n5 + nc — n(«5) — n(ac) — »(^c) +
n(abc).
143. When three lives A, B, and C are proposed, that
at the expiration of n years there will be
living dead the probability is
ABC none
AB C
AC B
BC A
And the sum of these four n(«5) + n(ac) + n(^c)
2n(abc), is the measure of the probability that some two
at the least out of these three lives will survive the term.
  + n(abc)
.(ab) .(\ — nc)— n(ab) — n(abc)
i(ac) . (1 —nb) = n(ac) — n(abc)
.(be) .(I — na) = n(bc) — n(abc)
III.—Of Annuities on Lives.
144. Let the number of years’ purchase that an an¬
nuity on the life of A is worth, that is, the present value
of L.l to be received at the end of every year during the
continuance of that life, be denoted by a ; while the pre¬
sent value of an annuity on any number of joint lives A,
By C, &c. that is, of an annuity which is to continue du¬
ring the joint existence of all the lives, but to cease with
the first that fails, is denoted by abc, &c.
Then will the value of an annuity-on the joint conti¬
nuance of the three lives A, B, and C, be denoted by abc.
And on the joint continuance of the two A and B,
by ab.
145. Also let fA and Af denote the values of annuities
on lives respectively older and younger than A, by £
years; while ‘(abc, &c.) designates the value of an an¬
nuity on the joint continuance of lives t years older than
A, B, C, &c. respectively; and (abc, &c.)f that of an
annuity on the same number of joint lives, as many years
younger than these respectively.
146. Let r—r—> the present value of L.l to be received
1+7-
certainly at the expiration of a year, be denoted by «?.
Then will vn be the present value of that sum certain
to be received at the expiration of n years.
But if its receipt at the end of that time be dependent
upon an assigned life A surviving the term, its present
value will, by that condition, be reduced in the ratio of
certainty to the probability of A surviving the term, that
is, in the ratio of unit to na, and will therefore be navn.
In the same manner it appears, that if the receipt of
the money at the expiration of the term be dependent
upon any assigned lives, as A, B, C, &c. jointly surviving
that period, its present value will be n(abc, &c.)vn.
224
ANNUITIES.
Algebraical 147. Let us denote the sum of any series, as ^1^+
View. Q(abc)v'2 + 5(abc)v3 + &c. thus, Sn(abc)vn, by prefixing
the Italic capital S to the general term thereof. Then,
from what has just been advanced, it will be evident that
ABC, &c. = Sn(abc, &c.)vn. , „ , . ,
When there are but three lives, A, B, and C, this be¬
comes abc = Sn(abc)vn.
When there are but two, A and B, it becomes ab =
Sn(ab)vn. .
And in the same manner it appears, that tor a single
life A, a — jSnavn.
148. n(abc, &C')vn = (138)» where the de_
nominator (abc, &c.) is constant, while the numerator va¬
ries with the variable exponent n. And the most obvious
method of finding the value of an annuity on any assigned
single or joint lives, is to calculate the numerical value of
the term n(abc, &c.)vn for each value of n, and then to divide
Sn(abc9
the sum of all these values by abc, &c.; for — 
= Sn(abc, &c.)vn = abc, &c.
In calculating a table of the values of annuities on lives
in that manner, for every combination of joint lives it
would be necessary to calculate the term n(abc, &c.)vn for
as many years as there might be between the age of the
oldest life involved and the oldest in the table; and the
same number of the terms navn for any single life of the
same age.
But this labour may be greatly abridged as follows:
ning with the oldest in the table, and proceeding regular-Alg
ly age by age to the youngest.
Also a table of the values of any number of joint lives,
the lives in each succeeding combination, in any one se
ries of operations (according to the retrograde order of
the ages in which they are computed), being one year
younger respectively than those in the preceding combi¬
nation.
And, if a table of single lives be computed first, then
of two joint lives, next of three joint lives, and so on, the
calculations made for the preceding tables will be of
great use for the succeeding.
155. Having shown how to compute tables of the values
of annuities on single and joint lives, we shall, in what
follows, always suppose those values to be given.
156. Let the value of an annuity on the joint continu¬
ance of any number of lives, A, B, C, &c. that is not to
be entered upon until the expiration of t years, be denot¬
ed by —|t(ABC, &c.).
Then, if it were certain that all the lives would survive
the term, since the value of the annuity at the expiration
of the term would be ‘(abc, &c.) (145), its present value
would be . ‘(abc, &c.) (146).
But the measure of the probability that all the lives will
survive the term is t(abc, &c.), therefore —j*(abc, &c.) =;
t(abc, &c.) v*. ‘(abc, &c.).
In the same manner, it appears, that for a single life
^4, ■, a ,— ^av^n ‘a.
■Ale
A
Prob. I.
149. Given '(abc, &c.), the value of an annuity on any
number of joint lives, to determine abc, &c. that of an
annuity on the same number of joint lives respectively
one year younger than they.
Solution.
157. Let an annuity for the term of £ years only, depen¬
dent upon the joint continuance of any number of lives,
A, B, C, &c. be denoted by —(abc, &c.) ; and, since this
If it were certain that the lives abc, &c. would all sur¬
vive one year, the proprietor of an annuity of L.l depen¬
dent upon their joint continuance would, at the expira¬
tion of a year, be in possession of L.l (the first year’s
rent), and an annuity on the same number of lives one
year older respectively than abc, &c. ; therefore, in that
case, the required present value of the annuity would be
r?[l +'(abc, &c.)]. (146.)
But the probability of the lives A, B, C, &c. jointly
surviving one year is less than certainty in the ratio of
t(abc, &c.) to unit; therefore abc, &c. = ^abc, &c.)
v[l + '(abc, &c.)].
150. Corol. 1. When there are but three lives, A, B,
and C, this becomes abc — t(abc)v\\ + '(abc)].
151. Corol. 2. When there are only two, A and B,
ab == /(ai)tj[l + '(AB)]*
152. Corol. 3. And for a single life A, it appears, in
the same manner, that a =■ tav(\ + 'a).
153. Hence, in logarithms, we have these equations,
'Ka~'Kv Xta + X(1 + 'a),
X ab = Xr + X/z + X> + X [1 + '(ab)],
X abc = Xv + X/«-j-X/5 + X/c + X[l + '(abc)],
&c. &c. &c.
Upon which it may be observed, that X v + X/z, the
sum of the first two logarithms that are employed in de¬
termining a from 'a, also enters the operation whereby
ab is determined from '(ab). And that X v + X;a + XA
the sum of the first three logarithms that serve to deter¬
mine ab from '(ab), is also required to determine abc
from '(abc) ; which observation may be extended in a si¬
milar manner to any greater number of joint lives.
154. By these means it is easy to complete a table of
the values of annuities on single lives of all ages, begin-
temporary annuity, together with an annuity on the joint
continuance of the same lives deferred for the same
term, will evidently be of the same value as an annuity
to be entered upon immediately, and enjoyed during
their whole joint continuance, we have —;(abc, &c.) +
^ (abc, &c.) = abc, &c.; whence, — ,(abc, &c.) =
ABC, &C. 1 (ABC, &C.).
And for a single life A, —A = A
if A#
158.
Prob. II.
To determine the present value of an annuity on
the survivor of the two lives A and B (155) ; which we
designate thus, ab.
Solution.
The probability that the survivor of these two lives will
outlive the term of n years was shown in No. 141 to be
Ma + — „(«&); therefore, reasoning as in No. 146, it
will be found that the present value of the nth. year’s
rent of this annuity is [wa +5 — „(«&)]v", and the
value of all the rents thereof will be + —n(a
or Snavn -(- Snbvn — iSn(ab) vn; so that ab = A -{- b
— ab (147), agreeably to No. 48.
Prob. III.
159. To determine the present value of an annuity on
the last survivor of three lives, A,B, and C (155); which
we denote thus, abc.
Solution.
■' The present value of the nth year’s rent is
[n« + + „c — n(ab) —- n(ac) — n(bc) + n(afc)>B
(142. and 146); whence, it appears, as in the preceding
number, that abc = a+ b + c-t-ab-— ac — bc + abc,
agreeably to No, 52. - . .
ANNUITIES.
i»l
Prob. IV.
160. To determine the present value of an annuity on
ie joint existence of the last two survivors out of three
J t 2 
lives, A, B, C, (155); which we denote thus, abc.
Solution.
The present value of the nth year’s rent is
\_n(ab) + n(ac) + n(bc) — 2n{abc)~\vn (143 and 146);
whence, reasoning as in the two preceding numbers, we
2 
ml jnferj that = ab + ac + bc — 2 abc, as was de-
® monstrated otherwise in No. 51.
161. Since the solutions of the last three problems were
all obtained by showing each year’s rent (as for instance
the nth) of the annuity in question to be of the same value
with the aggregate of the rents for the same year of all
the annuities (taken with their proper signs) on the single
and joint lives exhibited in the resulting formula ; if any
term of years be assigned, it is manifest that the value of
such annuity for the term must be the same as that of the
aggregate of the annuities above mentioned, each for the
same term.
Prob. V.
162. A and B being any two proposed lives now both
existing, to determine the present value of an annuity re¬
ceivable only while A survives B.
Solution.
A rent of this annuity will only be payable at the end
of the nth year, provided that B be then dead and A
living; but the probability of B being then dead is 1 — nb,
and that of ^4 being then living na, and these two events
are independent; therefore, the probability of their both
happening, or that of the rent being received, is (1 — nb)
nat=.na — n(ab) ; the present value of that rent is, there¬
fore, [na — n(aby\vn; whence it follows, that the re¬
quired value of the annuity on the life of A after that of
B is a — ab, agreeably to No. 60.
163. If the payment for the annuity which was the sub¬
ject of the last problem is not to be made in present
money, but by a constant annual premium p at the end of
each year, while both the lives survive ; since ab is the
m I number of years’ purchase (6) that an annuity on the joint
continuance of those lives is worth, the value of p will be
determined by this equation, p . ab = A — ab, whence
we have p r= 1.
AB
164. But if one premium p is to be paid down now, and
an equal premium at the end of each year while both the
lives survive, we shall have jt?. (1 + ab) = a — ab, and
a — ab
P ~ ThFab*
165. For numerical examples illustrative of the formulae
given from No. 158 to the present, see Nos. 66-74.
Prob. VI.
166. A and B are in possession of an annuity on the
life of the survivor of them, which, if either of them die
before a third person C, is then to be divided equally be¬
tween C and the survivor during their joint lives ; to de¬
termine the value of (Js interest.
That at the end
of the «th year
there will be
dead
A
B
living
BC
AC
VOL. III.
na) . n(bc) = A ln(bc) —Jobe)]
) = | [»(«c) — n(abc)1;
H1
2 (1 —— nb) . n(pc
and the sum of these being n(ac) + 1 n(bc) -
the value of C’s interest is ac + ^ bc — abc.
Prob. VII.
167. An annuity, after the decease of A, is to be equal¬
ly divided between B and C during their joint lives, and
is then to go entirely to the last survivor for his life ; it is
proposed to find the value of B's interest therein.
Solution.
That at the end
of the nth year
there will be
225
n(abc), Algebraical
View.
dead
A
AC
living
BC
B
the probability, multiplied by li's proportion of
the annuity in that circumstance, is
of these being nb —
of B's interest is b
  A" 2m(^c) \n(abc)
- n(ab) — n{b() + n{ahc); and the sum
n(ab) — \n(bc) + \n(abc\ the value
— AB ^ BC +1 ABC.
Prob. VIII.
168. A, B, and C purchase an annuity on the life of
the last survivor of them, which is to be divided equally
at the end of every year among such of them as may then
be living; what should A contribute towards the purchase
of this annuity ?
Solution.
That at the end
of n years there
will be
dead
none
C
B
BC
livin;;
ABC
AB
AC
A
the probability, multiplied by A's proportion
of the annuity in that circumstance, is
-j- }^n(cibc)
...+ i„(«6) —%n(abc)
+ i«(«c) — \n(abc)
xa—n{ab)—n(ac) -f- Jahc) ; and the sum
of these being na — \n(ab) — l„(ac) + ^ra(aic), the requir¬
ed value of A’s interest is a—^ ab — ^ AC-f-^ abc.
Prob. IX.
169. As soon as any two of the three lives, A, B, and
C, are extinct, Z) or his heirs are to enter upon an annui¬
ty, which they are to enjoy during the remainder of the
survivor’s life; to determine the value of D’s interest
therein.
Solution.
That at the end
of n years there
will be
dead
living
The probability is
Solution.
the probability, multiplied by C's proportion of
the annuity in that circumstance, is
AB C nc—n(ac)—„(&c)+M(«&c)
AC B nb—n(ab)—n(bc) + n(abc)
BC A na—n(ab)-—n(«c) + ?1(«6c) ; and the sum
of all these being na-\-nb-\-nc—2n(ab)—2n(ac)—2n(bc)
~[-3n(abc), the value of B’s interest is
A + B -f- C. 2 AB 2 AC 2 BC-j-3 ABC.
170. The last four may be sufficient to show the me¬
thod of proceeding with any similar problems.
171. Let t(abc, &c.) denote the probability that the last
m survivors out of m + lives A, B, C, &c. will jointly
survive the term of t years. And when /i=0, the expres¬
sion will become t(abc, &c.), the probability that the lives
will all survive the term. (138.)
t(aic, &c.), the measure of
2 F
When vn zz\ it will become
226
ANNUITIES.
Algebraical the probability that the last survivor of them will outlive greatest joint continuance of any m of the proposed aw
the term, which it will be better to write thus, t(abc, &c.), hves, according to the tables of mortality adapted to them, H
retaining the vinculum, but omitting the unit over it, as (HI \ ™^
\abc. &c./— 0,
in the notation of powers.
-•abc, &c.
in that case,
Also let abc, &c. denote the value of an annuity on the
joint continuance of the same number of last survivors out
of the same lives. Then, if ^ be equal to 0, it will be
and *|abc, &c. = abc, &c.; therefore,
the general formula of No. 172 becomes
— abc, &c.; that is, the excess of the value of an
abc, &c. the value of an annuity on the joint continuance annuity certain for the whole term above that of an
of all the lives; when «.= 1, it will be abcT&c. the value of on .the w',oIe duratlon of-ioint contin,la”ce of the
an annuity on the last survivor of them. The values of an- as. I'l sl*rv'vl‘1S. l^s‘ » . ,
nuities on the last survivor of two and of three lives will ." nt ^ ’ y1 ie case P™P0Se. ^
be denoted as in Nos. 158 and 159 respectively; and that annuit^ certain a PerPetulty> as ln No. 173, the formula
of an annuity on the joint continuance of the last two sur- 1 ———p—
vivors out of three lives, as in No. 160. will become— abc, &c. the excess of the value of the
Ihe value of an annuity on the last m survivors out of perpetuity above the value of an annuity on the ioint lives
pco llTTPC. n rl 1 n rr oc if 1C limif/^rl fr\ f li 4-rwr-Y-% r-i-f r* i • i t    ^
these w + ^u. lives, according as it is limited to the term of
t years, or deferred during that term, will also be denoted
by—abc, &c. or —,fABC, &c. (156 and 157.)
Prob. X.
172. An annuity certain for the term of < + years is
to be enjoyed by P and his heirs during the joint exist¬
ence of the last m survivors out of ^ lives, A, B, C,
&c.; and if that joint existence fail before the expiration
of t years, the annuity is to go to Q and his heirs for the
remainder of the term ; to determine the value of Q’s in¬
terest in that annuity.
Solution.
of the last m survivors ; agreeably to No. 63.
176. Example 1. Required the present value of the ab¬
solute reversion of an estate in fee simple, after the ex¬
tinction of the last survivor of three lives, A, B, C, now
aged 50, 55, and 60 years respectively; reckoning inter¬
est at 5 per cent.
The general algebraical expression of this value has
1
just been shown to be - — abc.
But - —
0-5
= 20-000
And abc, = 14-001 (68.)
Qs expectation may be distinguished into two parts:
Therefore 5-999 years’ purchase is the
value required. And if the annual produce of the estate,
l^, ThaTof enjoying thelnnuTty dudn^the term of C.lear °f Reductions, were L.100, the title to the rever-
® sion would now be worth L.599. 18s. —, agreeably to
No. 76.
177. Ex. 2. An annuity for the term of 70 years cer¬
tain (from this time) is to revert to Q and his heirs at
the failure of a life A, now 45 years of age ; what is the
present value of Q’s interest therein, reckoning the inter¬
est of money at 5 per cent. ?
In No. 174 the algebraical expression of the required
value is shown to be   ^ A.
t years.
2d, That of enjoying it after the expiration of that
term.
The sum of the present values of the interests of P
and Q together in the annuity for the term of t years, is
manifestly equal to the whole present value of the annuity
certain for that term ; that is, equal to
1 —
(113 and
146); and the value of P’s interest for the term of t
years 1S __abc, &c. (171) ; therefore the value of Q's in-
But t.v
terest for the same term is
1 — v*
x 1-05 = 1-9788107
X 70
tABC, &C.
The present value of the annuity certain for v years af¬
ter t years is
v((l—vv)
(114 and 146); and Q and his
heirs will receive this annuity if the joint continuance of
the last m survivors above mentioned fail before the
piration of t years ; but the probability of their joint
is 1—X
«;70_
.^7° —
■ #70
032866X2-5167490
•967134  
967134
•05
= 19-34268
Subtract A = 12-64800 (Tab. VI.)
ex-
con-
tmuance failing in the term is 1—^abc, &c./; therefore
the value of Q s interest in the annuity to be received
after t years, is [‘ —j\abc, &c
whole value of Qs interest is
>]
?/(l—Vs)
and the
if, ,+t (m • ~ ™
- I v —- r'( 1 v”) • &e./| — —abc,
1/3. Carol. 1. When the whole annuity certain is a
perpetuity, and the value of Q's interest is
&c.
remains 6-69468 years’ purchase;
so that if the annuity were L.1000, the value of the rever¬
sion would be L.6694. 13s. 7d.
178. Ex. 3. An annuity for the term of 70 years cer¬
tain from this time is to revert to Q and his heirs at the
extinction of the survivor of two lives, A and B, now
aged 40 and 50 years respectively, the interest of money
being 6 per cent.; it is required to determine the value of
Q's interest in this annuity.
The algebraical expression of the value is,
1—^70 r
—  ab (174 and 171).
174. Coral. 2.
When the term
But by the last example
1 — 1-70
cc.
•s -f-
5 ,881
ami by No. 66, ab =
t is not less than the so that the required value is
= 19-34268
15-06600
4*27668 years'
nfcaourchase; and if the annuity be L.1000, the present value
^ >f the reversion will be L.4276. 13s. 7d.
IV.—Of Assurances on Lives.
179. Let the present value of the assurance (77 and
?8) of L.l on the life of A be denoted by the old English
capital and that of an assurance on the joint continu-
mce of any number of lives A, B, C, &c. by &3SC, &c.
\l.so, let the value of an assurance on the joint continu-
mce of any m of them out of the whole number m + /i
ANNUITIES. 227
™ I” ^ ™j Algebraical
© &c. |_1—t(abc, &c.) v* A" j ABC, View.
Cm ~| m m
1—((aic, &c.)v*_J—(1—v)—abc, &c.~ 1—t(abc, &c.)?/
• D
—(i—• L_1 — t(abc, &c.)«t + —jAbc
we have
, &c. ^|,
whence
>e denoted by &UC, &c.
180. And, in every case, let us designate the annual
premium (83) for an assurance, by prefixing the charac-
er O to the symbol for the single premium; so that O ^
nay denote the annual premium for an assurance on the
ife of A; ©^33C, &c. the same for an assurance on the
oint continuance of all the lives, A, B, C, &c.; and
0
JJC, &c.=
1 — f(a£c, &c.) v*
+
1—t(a6c, &c.)wf+—abc, &c.
v— 1.
184. Corol. 1. When (i), the term of the assurance, is
not less than the greatest possible joint duration of any m
3 &c. the annual premium for an assurance en the
oint continuance of the last m survivors out of the whole
tlumber »i + /4 of those lives.
181. Then will .—%. and O —— &33C, &c. and
t\ t\ t\
of the proposed lives, t(abc, &c.) = 0, —^abc, &c. =
abc, &c., and the general formulae of the two preceding
numbers become respectively
&c. and © __ & 23 C, &c.
3_t3S<r, &c., _
t\ <1 . .
lesignate the single and annual premiums for assurances
in the same life or lives for the term of t years only.
®33C, &c. = v — (1—il) ABC, &c.
m ]
 H v — 1.
and O &c.
182. To determine
Prob. XI.
(__t23C, &c.)
1 + ABC, &C.
185. Corol. 2. In the same manner it appears, that, for
the present value a singie life, <& = v—(\—v) a,
if an assurance on the last m survivors out of m-\- [i lives
d, B, C, &c. for the term of t years only; that is, the
iresent value of L.l to be received upon the joint conti¬
nuance of these last m survivors failing in the term.
Solution.
By reasoning as in No. 79, it will be found that a per-
netuity, the first payment of which is to be made at the
md of the year in which the last m survivors out of these
w+/C6 lives may fail in the term, will be of the same present
»alue as ^1 + - — j— pounds to be received in the
same event (112 and 146); but, in No. 173, the value of
the reversion of such a perpetuity in that event was
v r    ~i m '
shown to be ^ 1^1 —t (abc, &c.)r*j  
and © & zr
1 4" A
+ V 1.
186. Corol. 3. Also that = ^(1—^ v*)—(1—v)—A
 — ?j^l —(1—v) . ^A ~^vt ’tA^’
And © — -j r-p 
*| 1 — <a^f + _A
+ v —1;
that is, O —=
A" v— 1.
1 + A _ iV . (1 + (A)
jABC, &C.
whence it is manifest that &c.
f n:  "I
= —<(«ic, &c.) — I
187. Corol. 4. When the assurance is on the joint con¬
tinuance of all the lives, the formulae of No. 184 become
respectively
^23C, &c. = v — (1 —v) ABC, &c.
and © ^ 23 C, &c. = 7-, ■. _- ■; + ^ — L
(1
.^23C
1 + abc, &c.
And those of numbers 182 and 183,
t(abc, &c.)
V) —|ABC, &C.
183. Since the annual premium for this assurance must
3e paid at the commencement of every year in the term, r-‘ t(abc, &c.) "1
ivhile the last m surviving lives all subsist (83*); besides I abc, &c. abc ~&:c ^ ' ^ABC’ I
the premium paid down now, one must be paid at the ex-
3iration of every year in the term except the last, pro¬
dded that these last m survivors all outlive it; but the
iresent value of L.l to be received upon their surviving
■ TO 10 1 '' ' ''
bat last year is t(abc, &c.)^, therefore all the future pre-
and ©.
1
, &c. =
t(abc, &c.)
1 i v 10 01/lav ©.
abc, &c.
if
mums are now worth __ abc, &c. —t(abc, &c.) v* years’
purchase, and the present value of all the premiums, or
he total present value of the assurance, is
1 + ABC, &C.
V  1.
lo oulii'/ dih him ti:ioq'io
188. Corol. 5. According as the assurance is in the last
rvivor of two or of three lives, the formulae of No. 184
survivor
become respectively
rtcO .471
228
Algebraical
View.
iaii = V
and O =
(1
1
1 +
ANNU
  v) AB,
+ V— 1 ;
X T I E S.
192. By substituting—^ for v (146) in the last ex.A!f!
or SU3C = v — (1 — v) abc,
pression, it becomes
1 + ABC, &c.
1 + r
ABC, &C.
and O + v ■
1 ■+■ ABC
I.
1 r. ABC, &C. ABC, &C.
And those of numbers 182 and 183 become
= vj^l — — (1 — u)__ab,
1 — tjatyv*
1+r
or
1+-
r
And
andO—^zr- /TW , —
t\ 1—t^abjv* H—-jab
1;
 ABC, &C.
or
*1
= rj^l — — (1 — v)
1 — tiabc^v*
.ABC,
1 +-
r
-= &MGT, &c. is the proposition enunciated
and © —&23C = -j ,  =
<| 1 —t(o6c>t+ ABC
\-v — I respec¬
tively.
Where <(a6) z= f« + tb — t(ab) (141),
and t(abc) — ta + tb + tc — Q(«&) + t(ac) + t(bc)~\ +
t(abc). (142.)
For the values of ab, abc, ab> —jAbc, see num¬
bers 157-159, and 161.
189. Corol. 6. When the assurance is on the joint con¬
tinuance of the two last survivors out of the three lives
A, B, C, the formulae of No. 184 become respectively
g 2 
= v — (1 — v) abc’
2 1
and © &33C —
+ v— 1.
1 + ABC
Those of numbers 182 and 183,
=*[i -f*) J -a—) -^Tc,
_2 
1 — ((abc^v*
and O fBJC = 
*1 1 —
tiabc^v* —tAbc
— + V  1.
in No. 81; - being the value of the perpetuity. (112.)
193. Examples of the determination of the single pre¬
miums for assurances, and of the derivation of the annual
premiums from them, have been given in No. 82-88,
also in 95 and 96; but by the algebraical formulae given
here, the annual premiums may be determined directly,
without first finding the total present values of the assur¬
ances.
194. Example 1. Required the annual premium for an
assurance on the life +, now 50 years of age, interest 5
per cent.
According to No. 185, the operation is thus,
1 + A = 12-660 A 4 _
 [. 2-8975663
—= =-0789890 x )
1 + A J
adding v — -9523809, and subtracting unit,
we have © & -0313699, agreeably to No. 85.
195. Ex. 2. What should the annual premium be for
an assurance on the last survivor of three lives +, B, and
C, now aged 50, 55, and 60 years respectively, rate of in¬
terest 5 per cent. ?
Operation by No. 188.
1 + abc — 15-001 A
1 2-8238798
(68)
rmc" 'o666622
v — -9523809
rh
Where t(abc) = ^ab) + t(ac) + t(bc) — 2 t(abc\
(143.) V '
2  _2 
For the values of abc and abc
160, and 161.
Lm  ~j m
1— t{abc, &c.)^J —(1 —v) -tfAbc,
value of an assurance on any life or lives for the term of t
years, which was given in No. 182, may also be express¬
ed thus:
©S13SC = *0190431, agreeably to No. 88.
196. Ex. 3. Required the annual premium for an assur¬
ance for 10 years only, on a life now 45 years of age, in-
see numbers 157, terest 5 per cent.
Operation accordingjo No. 186.
v10 = -613913 A 1-7881068
l0a z=. 4073 A 3-6099144
a = 4727 x 4-3254144
&c. the
! 0av10 = -528976 A 1-7234356
1 + 10A = 11-347 A 1-0548811
D
+ —(abc, &c.) — t(abc, &c.)
v*~\v 
— ABC, &C.
^ I
And this, in words at length, is the rule given in No. 93.
191. When t is not less than the greatest possible joint
duration ot any m of the proposed lives, the last expres¬
sion becomes
/ \ m
\1 + ABC, &X.J ^ ABC, &C.
which is also equivalent to the first in No. 184; and, in
words at length, is the rule given in No. 97 for determin¬
ing the value of an assurance on any life or lives for their
whole duration.
Subtract 6-002 A 0-7783167
from 1 + A 13-648
remains 7-646 x 1-1165657
1 — io^io — -471024 A1-6730430
•061604 A 2 7896087
v — -952381
© —| ^ — -013985, agreeably to No. 96.
What has been advanced from number 99 to 109 needs
no algebraical illustration.
ANNUITIES,
TABLE I.
Showing the present Value of One Pound to be received at the End of any Number of Years not exceeding 50.
(See No. 9 12 of the preceding Article.)
Years.
2
per Cent.
per Cent.
3
per Cent.
4
per Cent.
5
per Cent.
6
per Cent.
7
per Cent.
8
per Cent.
9
per Cent.
Years.
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
■980392
■961169
■942322
■923845
■905731
■887971
■870560
•853490
■836755
•820348
■804263
•788493
•773033
■757875
•743015
•728446
•714163
•700159
•686431
•672971
•659776
•646839
•634156
•621721
•609531
•597579
*585862
•574375
•563112
•552071
•541246
•530633
•520229
•510028
•500028
•490223
•480611
•471187
•461948
•452890
•444010
•435304
•426769
•418401
•410197
•402154
•394268
•386538
•378958
•371528
975610
■951814
■928599
■905951
•883854
•862297
•841265
•820747
•800728
•781198
•762145
•743556
•725420
•707727
•690466
•673625
•657195
•641166
•625528
•610271
•595386
•580865
•566697
•552875
•539391
•526235
•513400
•500878
•488661
•476743
•465115
•453771
•442703
•431905
•421371
•411094
•401067
•391285
•381741
•372431
•363347
•354485
•345839
•337404
•329174
•321146
•313313
•305671
•298216
•290942
•970874
■942596
■915142
•888487
■862609
■837484
•813092
•789409
•766417
•744094
•722421
•701380
•680951
•661118
•641862
•623167
•605016
•587395
•570286
•553676
•537549
•521893
•506692
•491934
•477606
•463695
•450189
•437077
•424346
•411987
•399987
•388337
•377026
•366045
•355383
•345032
•334983
•325226
•315754
•306557
•297628
•288959
•280543
•272372
•264439
•256737
•249259
•241999
•234950
•228107
■961538
■924556
•888996
■854804
•821927
•790315
■759918
■730690
•702587
•675564
•649581
•624597
•600574
•577475
•555265
•533908
•513373
•493628
•474642
•456387
•438834
•421955
•405726
•390121
•375117
•360689
•346817
•333477
•320651
•308319
•296460
•285058
•274094
•263552
•253415
•243669
•234297
•225285
•216621
•208289
•200278
•192575
•185168
•178046
•171198
•164614
•158283
•152195
•146341
•140713
•952381
■907029
■863838
■822702
■783526
•746215
•710681
•676839
•644609
•613913
•584679
•556837
•530321
•505068
•481017
•458112
•436297
•415521
•395734
•376889
•358942
•341850
•325571
•310068
•295303
•281241
•267848
•255094
•242946
•231377
*220359
•209866
•199873
T90355
•181290
T72657
T64436
•156605
•149148
•142046
•135282
•128840
•122704
•116861
•111297
•105997
•100949
•096142
•091564
•087204
•943396
•889996
•839619
•792094
•747258
•704961
•665057
•627412
•591898
•558395
•526788
•496969
•468839
•442301
•417265
•393646
•371364
•350344
•330513
•311805
•294155
•277505
•261797
•246979
•232999
•219810
•207368
•195630
•184557
•174110
•164255
•154957
•146186
•137912
•130105
•122741
•115793
•109239
•103056
•097222
•091719
•086527
•081630
•077009
•072650
•068538
•064658
•060998
•057546
•054288
■934579
•873439
•816298
•762895
•712986
■666342
•622750
•582009
•543934
•508349
•475093
•444012
•414964
•387817
•362446
•338735
•316574
•295864
•276508
•258419
•241513
•225713
•210947
•197147
•184249
•172195
•160930
•150402
•140563
•131367
•122773
•114741
•107235
•100219
•093663
•087535
•081809
•076457
•071455
•066780
•062412
•058329
•054513
•050946
•047613
•044499
•041587
•038867
•036324
•033948
•925926
•857339
•793832
•735030
•680583
•630170
•583490
•540269
•500249
•463193
•428883
•397114
•367698
•340461
•315242
•291890
•270269
•250249
•231712
•214548
•198656
•183941
•170315
•157699
•146018
•135202
•125187
•115914
•107328
•099377
•092016
•085200
•078889
•073045
•067635
•062625
•057986
•053690
•049713
•046031
•042621
•039464
•036541
•033834
•031328
•029007
•026859
•024869
•023027
•021321
•917431
•841680
•772183
•708425
•649931
•596267
•547034
•501866
•460428
•422411
•387533
•355535
•326179
•299246
•274538
•251870
•231073
•211994
•194490
•178431
•163698
•150182
•137781
•126405
•115968
•106393
•097608
•089548
•082155
•075371
•069148
•063438
•058200
•053395
•048986
•044941
•041231
•037826
•034703
•031838
•029209
•026797
•024584
•022555
•020692
•018984
•017416
•015978
•014659
•013449
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
230
ANNUITIES,
TABLE II.
Showing the present Value of an Annuity of One Pound for any Number of Years not exceeding 50.
No. 9 12.
Years.
2
per Cent,
per Cent.
3
per Cent.
4
per Cent.
5
per Cent.
6
per Cent
7
per Cent.
8
per Cent.
9
per Cent.
Years
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
•9804
1- 9416
2- 8839
3- 8077
4- 7135
5- 6014
6- 4720
7- 3255
8- 1622
8- 9826
9- 7868
10- 5753
11- 3484
12- 1062
12- 8493
13- 5777
14- 2919
14- 9920
15- 6785
16- 3514
17- 0112
17- 6580
18- 2922
18- 9139
19- 5235
20- 1210
20- 7069
21- 2813
21- 8444
22- 3965
22- 9377
23- 4683
23- 9886
24- 4986
24- 9986
25- 4888
25- 9695
26- 4406
26- 9026
27- 3555
27- 7995
28- 2348
28-6616
29- 0800
29-4902
29- 8923
30- 2866
30- 6731
31- 0521
31-4236
•9756
1- 9274
2- 8560
3- 7620
4- 6458
5- 5081
6- 3494
7- 1701
7- 9709
8- 7521
9- 5142
10-2578
10- 9832
11- 6909
12- 3814
13- 0550
13- 7122
14- 3534
14- 9789
15- 5892
16- 1845
16- 7654
17- 3321
17- 8850
18- 4244
18- 9506
19- 4640
19- 9649
20- 4535
20- 9303
21- 3954
21- 8492
22- 2919
22- 7238
23- 1452
23-5563
23- 9573
24- 3486
24- 7303
25- 1028
25-4661
25- 8206
26- 1664
26-5038
26- 8330
27- 1542
27-4675
27- 7732
28- 0714
28-3623
Perp.
•9709
1- 9135
2- 8286
3- 7171
4- 5797
5- 4172
6- 2303
7- 0197
7- 7861
8- 5302
9- 2526
9-9540
10- 6350
11- 2961
11- 9379
12- 5611
13- 1661
13- 7535
14- 3238
14- 8775
15- 4150
15- 9369
16- 4436
16- 9355
17- 4131
17- 8768
18- 3270
18- 7641
19- 1885
19- 6004
20- 0004
20-3888
20- 7658
21- 1318
21-4872
21- 8323
22- 1672
22- 4925
22-8082
23- 1148
23-4124
23-7014
23- 9819
24- 2543
24-5187
24- 7754
25- 0247
25-2667
25-5017
25-7298
•9615
1-8861
2- 7751
3- 6299
4- 4518
5- 2421
6- 0021
6- 7327
7- 4353
8- 1109
8- 7605
9- 3851
9-9856
10- 5631
11- 1184
11- 6523
12- 1657
12- 6593
13- 1339
13- 5903
14- 0292
14-4511
14- 8568
15- 2470
15-6221
15- 9828
16- 3296
16-6631
16- 9837
17- 2920
17-5885
17- 8736
18- 1476
18-4112
18-6646
18- 9083
19- 1426
19-3679
19-5845
19-7928
19- 9931
20- 1856
20-3708
20-5488
20-7200
20- 8847
21- 0429
21-1951
21-3415
21-4822
50-0000
40-0000 33-3333
25-0000
•9524
1- 8594
2- 7232
3- 5460
4- 3295
5- 0757
5- 7864
6- 4632
7- 1078
7- 7217
8- 3064
8- 8633
9- 3936
9-8986
10-3797
10- 8378
11- 2741
11- 6896
12- 0853
12- 4622
12-8212
13- 1630
13-4886
13- 7986
14- 0939
14-3752
14-6430
14- 8981
15- 1411
15-3725
15-5928
15- 8027
16- 0025
16-1929
16-3742
16-5469
16-7113
16- 8679
17- 0170
17-1591
17-2944
17-4232
17-5459
17-6628
17-7741
17-8801
17- 9810
18- 0772
18-1687
18-2559
20-0000
•9434
1- 8334
2- 6730
3- 4651
4- 2124
4- 9173
5- 5824
6- 2098
6- 8017
7- 3601
7- 8869
8- 3838
8- 8527
9- 2950
9-7122
10-1059
10-4773
10- 8276
11- 1581
11-4699
11- 7641
12- 0416
12-3034
12-5504
12- 7834
13- 0032
13-2105
13-4062
13-5907
13-7648
13- 9291
14- 0840
14-2302
14-3681
14-4982
14-6210
14-7368
14-8460
14- 9491
15- 0463
15-1380
15-2245
15-3062
15-3832
15-4558
15*5244
15-5890
15-6500
15-7076
15-7619
•9346
1-8080
2- 6243
3- 3872
4- 1002
4- 7665
5- 3893
5- 9713
6- 5152
7- 0236
7-4987
7- 9427
8- 3577
8- 7455
9- 1079
9-4466
9-7632
10-0591
10-3356
10-5940
10- 8355
11- 0612
11-2722
11-4693
11-6536
11-8258
11- 9867
12- 1371
12-2777
12-4090
12-5318
12-6466
12-7538
12-8540
12- 9477
13- 0352
13-1170
13-1935
13-2649
13-3317
13-3941
13-4524
13-5070
13-5579
13-6055
13-6500
13*6916
13-7305
13-7668
13-8007
16-6667
14-2857
•9259
1- 7833
2- 5771
3- 3121
3- 9927
4- 6229
5- 2064
5- 7466
6- 2469
6- 7101
7- 1390
7-5361
7- 9038
8- 2442
8-5595
8- 8514
9- 1216
9-3719
9-6036
9-8181
10-0168
10-2007
10-3711
10-5288
10-6748
10-8100
10- 9352
11- 0511
11-1584
11-2578
11-3498
11-4350
11-5139
11-5869
11-6546
11-7172
11-7752
11-8289
11-8786
11-9246
11- 9672
12- 0067
12-0432
12-0771
12-1084
12-1374
12-1643
12-1891
12-2122
12-2335
12-5000
•9174
1- 7591
2- 5313
3- 2397
3- 8897
4- 4859
5- 0330
5-5348
5- 9952
6- 4177
6- 8052
7- 1607
7-4869
7- 7862
8- 0607
8-3126
8-5436
8-7556
8- 9501
9- 1285
9-2922
9-4424
9-5802
9-7066
9-8226
9-9290
10-0266
10-1161
10-1983
10-2737
10-3428
10-4062
10-4644
10-5178
10-5668
10-6118
10-6530
10-6908
10-7255
10-7574
10-7866
10-8134
10-8380
10-8605
10-8812
10-9002
10-9176
10-9336
10-9482
10-9617
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
11-1111 Perp.
ANNUITIES
231
TABLE III.
Showing the Sum to which One Pound will increase when improved at Compound Interest during any
. Number of Years not exceeding 50.
(No. 9 12.)
Years.
2
per Cent.
21-
per Cent.
3
per Cent.
4
per Cent.
5
per Cent.
6
per Cent.
7
per Cent.
8
per Cent.
Years.
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
1-02000
1-04040
1-06121
1-08243
1-10408
1-12616
1-14869
1-17166
1-19509
1-21899
1-24337
1-26824
1-29361
1-31948
1-34587
1-37279
1-40024
1-42825
1-45681
1-48595
1-51567
1-54598
1-57690
1-60844
1-64061
1-67342
1-70689
1-74102
1-77584
1-81136
1-84759
1-88454
1-92223
1-96068
1- 99989
2- 03989
2-08069
2-12230
2-16474
2-20804
2-25220
2-29724
2-34319
2-39005
2-43785
2-48661
2-53634
2-58707
2-63881
2-69159
1-02500
1-05063
1-07689
1-10381
1-13141
1-15969
1-18869
1-21840
1-24886
1-28008
1*31209
1-34489
1-37851
1-41297
1-44830
1-48451
1-52162
1-55966
1-59865
1-63862
1-67958
1-72157
1-76461
1-80873
1-85394
1-90029
1-94780
1- 99650
2- 04641
2-09757
2-15001
2*20376
2-25885
2-31532
2-37321
2-43254
2-49335
2-55568
2-61957
2-68506
2-75219
2-82100
2-89152
2- 96381
3- 03790
3-11385
3-19170
3-27149
3-35328
3-43711
1-030000
1-060900
1-092727
1-125509
1-159274
1-194052
1-229874
1-266770
1-304773
1-343916
1-384234
1-425761
1-468534
1-512590
1-557967
1-604706
1-652848
1-702433
1-753506
1-806111
1-860295
1-916103
1- 973587
2- 032794
2-093778
2-156591
2*221289
2-287928
2-356566
2-427262
2-500080
2-575083
2-652335
2-731905
2-813862
2-898278
2- 985227
3- 074783
3-167027
3-262038
3-359899
3-460696
3-564517
3-671452
3- 781596
3*895044
4- 011895
4-132252
4*256219
4-383906
1-040000
1-081600
1-124864
1-169859
1-216653
1-265319
1-315932
1-368569
1-423312
1-480244
1-539454
1-601032
1-665074
1-731676
1-800944
1-872981
1- 947901
2- 025817
2-106849
2-191123
2-278768
2-369919
2-464716
2-563304
2-665836
2-772470
2-883369
2- 998703
3- 118651
3-243398
3-373133
3*508059
3-648381
3-794316
3- 946089
4- 103933
4-268090
4-438813
4-616366
4-801021
4- 993061
5- 192784
5-4G0495
5-616515
5- 841176
6- 074823
6-317816
6-570528
6- 833349
7- 106683
1-050000
1-102500
1-157625
1-215506
1-276282
1-340096
1-407100-
1-477455
1-551328
1-628895
1-710339
1-795856
1-885649
1- 979932
2- 078928
2-182875
2-292018
2-406619
2-526950
2-653298
2-785963
2- 925261
3- 071524
3-225100
3-386355
3-555673
3-733456
3- 920129
4- 116136
4-321942
4-538039
4- 764941
5- 003189
5-253348
5-516015
5- 791816
6- 081407
6-385477
6- 704751
7- 039989
7-391988
7- 761588
8- 149667
8-557150
8- 985008
9- 434258
9-905971
10-401270
10- 921333
11- 467400
1-060000
1-123600
1-191016
1-262477
1-338226
1-418519
1-503630
1-593848
1-689479
1-790848
1- 898299
2- 012196
2-132928
2-260904
2-396558
2-540352
2-692773
2- 854339
3- 025600
3-207135
3-399564
3-603537
3- 819750
4- 048935
4-291871
4-549383
4- 822346
5- 111687
5-418388
5- 743491
6- 088101
6-453387
6- 840590
7- 251025
7- 686087
8- 147252
8- 636087
9- 154252
9-703507
10-285718
10- 902861
11- 557033
12- 250455
12- 985482
13- 764611
14- 590487
15- 465917
16- 393872
17- 377504
18- 420154
1-070000
1-144900
1-225043
1-310796
1-402552
1-500730
1-605781
1-718186
1-838459
1- 967151
2- 104852
2-252192
2-409845
2-578534
2-759032
2- 952164
3- 158815
3-379932
3-616528
3- 869684
4- 140562
4-430402
4- 740530
5- 072367
5-427433
5- 807353
6- 213868
6- 648838
7- 114257
7- 612255
8- 145113
8- 715271
9- 325340
9-978114
10- 676581
11- 423942
12- 223618
13- 079271
13- 994820
14- 974458
16- 022670
17- 144257
18- 344355
19- 628460
21- 002452
22- 472623
24- 045707
25- 728907
27-529930
29-457025
1-080000
1-166400
1-259712
1-360489
1-469328
1-586874
1-713824
1-850930
1- 999005
2- 158925
2-331639
2-518170
2-719624
2- 937194
3- 172169
3-425943
3-700018
3- 996020
4- 315701
4- 660957
5- 033834
5-436540
5- 871464
6- 341181
6- 848475
7- 396353
7- 988061
8- 627106
9- 317275
10-062657
10- 867669
11- 737083
12- 676050
13- 690134
14- 785344
15- 968172
17*245626
18-625276
20- 115298
21- 724522
23-462483
25-339482
27-366640
29-555972
31-920449
34-474085
37-232012
40-210573
43-427419
46-901613
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
SO
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46.
47
48
49
50
00
232
ANNUITIES,
TABLE IV.
Showing the Amount to which One Pound per Annum will increase at Compound Interest in any
Number of Years not exceeding 50.
(No. 9 12.)
Years.
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
2
per Cent.
1-0000
2-0200
3- 0604
4- 1216
5- 2040
6- 3081
7- 4343
8- 5830
9- 7546
10-9497
12- 1687
13- 4121
14- 6803
15- 9739
17- 2934
18- 6393
20-0121
21- 4123
22- 8406
24- 2974
25- 7833
27- 2990
28- 8450
30-4219
32- 0303
33- 6709
35-3443
37- 0512
38- 7922
40-5681
42-3794
44-2270
46-1116
48- 0338
49- 9946
51-9944
54-0343
56-1149
58-2372
60-4020
62-6100
64-8622
67-1595
69-5027
71-8927
74-3308
76-8172
79-3535
81-9406
84-5794
21
per Cent.
1-0000
2- 0250
3- 0756
4- 1525
5- 2563
6- 3877
7- 5474
8- 7361
9- 9545
11- 2034
12- 4835
13- 7956
15- 1404
16- 5190
17- 9319
19- 3802
20- 8647
22- 3863
23- 9460
25-5447
27- 1833
28- 8629
30-5844
32-3490
34-1578
36- 0117
37- 9120
39-8598
41-8563
43-9027
46-0003
48-1503
50-3540
52-6129
54-9282
57-3014
59-7339
62-2273
64-7830
67-4026
70-0876
72-8398
75-6608
78-5523
81-5161
84-5540
87-6679
90-8596
94-1311
97-4843
3
per Cent.
1-000000
2- 030000
3- 090900
4- 183627
5- 309136
6- 468410
7- 662462
8- 892336
10- 159106
11- 463879
12- 807796
14- 192030
15- 617790
17-086324
• 18-598914
20- 156881
21- 761588
23-414435
25- 116868
26- 870374
28-676486
30-536780
32-452884
34-426470
36-459264
38-553042
40-709634
42-930923
45-218850
47-575416
50-002678
52-502759
55-077841
57-730177
60-462082
63-275944
66-174223
69-159449
72-234233
75-401260
78-663298
82-023196
85-483892
89-048409
92-719861
96-501457
100-396501
104-408396
108-540648
112-796867
4
per Cent.
1-000000
2- 040000
3- 121600
4- 246464
5- 416323
6- 632975
7- 898294
9-214226
10-582795
12- 006107
13- 486351
15- 025805
16- 626838
18-291911
20- 023588
21- 824531
23-697512
25-645413
27-671229
29-778079
31-969202
34-247970
36-617889
39-082604
41-645908
44-311745
47-084214
49-967583
52-966286
56-084938
59-328335
62-701469
66-209527
69-857909
73-652225
77-598314
81-702246
85-970336
90-409150
95-025516
99-826536
104-819598
110-012382
115-412877
121-029392
126-870568
132-945390
139-263206
145-833734
152-667084
5
per Cent.
1-000000
2- 050000
3- 152500
4- 310125
5- 525631
6- 801913
8- 142008
9- 549109
11- 026564
12- 577893
14- 206787
15- 917127
17-712983
19-598632
21-578564
23-657492
25-840366
28-132385
30-539004
33-065954
35-719252
38-505214
41-430475
44-501999
47-727099
51-113454
54-669126
58-402583
62-322712
66-438848
70-760790
75-298829
80-063771
85-066959
90-320307
95-836323
101-628139
107-709546
114-095023
120-799774
127-839763
135-231751
142-993339
151-143006
159-700156
168-685164
178-119422
188-025393
198-426663
209-347996
6
per Cent.
1-000000
2-060000
3- 183600
4- 374616
5- 637093
6- 975319
8- 393838
9- 897468
11-491316
13- 180795
14- 971643
16-869941
18-882138
21-015066
23-275970
25-672528
28-212880
30-905653
33-759992
36-785591
39-992727
43-392290
46-995828
50-815577
54-864512
59-156383
63-705766
68-528112
73-639798
79-058186
84-801677
90-889778
97-343165
104-183755
111-434780
119-120867
127-268119
135-904206
145-058458
154-761966
165-047684
175-950545
187-507577
199-758032
212-743514
226-508125
241-098612
256-564529
272-958401
290-335905
7
per Cent.
1-000000
2- 070000
3- 214900
4- 439943
5- 750739
7- 153291
8- 654021
10- 259803
11- 977989
13-816448
15-783599
17-888451
20-140643
22-550488
25-129022
27-888054
30-840217
33-999033
37-378965
40-995492
44-865177
49-005739
53-436141
58-176671
63-249038
68-676470
74-483823
80-697691
87-346529
94-460786
102-073041
110-218154
118-933425
128-258765
138-236878
148-913460
160-337402
172-561020
185-640292
199-635112
214-609570
230-632240
247-776496
266-120851
285-749311
306-751763
329-224386
353-270093
378-999000
406-528929
Years.
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
0*£
tff!
■&8
ue-a
ANNUITIES.
TABLE V.
Exhibiting the Law of Mortality at Carlisle. (No. 32.)
Age.
Number who
complete
that
Age.
0
1 Month
2 Months
1 Year
2 Years
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
10000
9467
9313
9226
8970
8715
8461
7779
7274
6998
6797
6676
6594
6536
6493
6460
6431
6400
6368
6335
6300
6261
6219
6176
6133
6090
6047
6005
5963
5921
5879
5836
5793
5748
5698
5642
5585
die in
the next
interval.
533
154
87
256
255
254
682
505
276
201
121
82
58
43
33
29
31
32
33
35
39
42
43
43
43
43
42
42
42
42
43
43
45
50
56
57
57
Age.
completel die in
that their next
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
Number who
Year.
5528
5472
5417
5362
5307
5251
5194
5136
5075
5009
4940
4869
4798
4727
4657
4588
4521
4458
4397
4338
4276
4211
4143
4073
4000
3924
3842
3749
3643
3521
3395
3268
3143
3018
2894
2771
2648
56
55
55
55
56
57
58
61
66
69
71
71
71
70
69
67
63
61
59
62
65
68
70
73
76
82
93
106
122
126
127
125
125
124
123
123
123
Age.
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
Number who
complete
that
die in
their next
Year.
2525
2401
2277
2143
1997
1841
1675
1515
1359
1213
1081
953
837
725
623
529
445
367
296
232
181
142
105
75
54
40
30
23
18
14
11
9
7
5
3
1
124
124
134
146
156
166
160
156
146
132
128
116
112
102
94
84
78
71
64
51
39
37
30
21
14
10
7
5
4
3
2
2
2
2
2
1
TABLE VI.
Showing the Value of an Annuity on a Single Life at every Age, according to the
Carlisle Table of Mortality, when the Rate of Interest is Five per Cent. (No. 65.)
Age.
0
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
Value.
12- 083
13- 995
14- 983
15- 824
16- 271
16-590
16-735
16-790
16-786
16-742
16-669
16-581
16-494
16-406
16-316
16-227
16-144
16-066
Age.
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
Value.
15-987
15-904
15-817
15-726
15-628
15-525
15-417
15-303
15-187
15-065
14-942
14-827
14-723
14-617
14-506
14-387
14-260
Age.
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
Value.
14-127
13-987
13-843
13-695
13-542
13-390
13-245
13-101
12-957
12-806
12-648
12-480
12-301
12-107
11-892
11-660
11-410
Age.
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
Value.
154
892
624
347
063
771
478
199
940
712
487
258
016
765
503
■227
941
Age.
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
Value.
6-643
6-336
6-015
5-711
5-435
5-190
4-989
4-792
4-609
4-422
4-210
4-015
3-799
3-606
3-406
3-211
3-009
Age.
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
Value.
2-830
2-685
2-597
2-495
2-339
2-321
2:412
2-518
2-569
2-596
2-555
2-428
2-278
2-045
1-624
1-192
0-753
0-317
2 G
233
VOL. III.
234
ANNUITIES.
TABLE VII.
Ages.
0 &
1 &
2 &
3 &
4 &
5 & 10
6 & 11
7 & 12
8 & 13
9 & 14
10 & 15
11 & 16
12 & 17
13 & 18
14 & 19
15 & 20
16 & 21
17 & 22
18 & 23
19 & 24
Value.
10-551
12- 331
13- 258
14- 019
14-402
14-649
14-731
14-736
14-689
14-606
14-500
14-389
14-284
14-178
14-069
13-959
13-853
13-746
13-636
13-520
Ages.
20 & 25
21 & 26
22 & 27
23 & 28
24 & 29
25 & 30
26 & 31
27 & 32
28 & 33
29 & 34
30 & 35
31 & 36
32 & 37
33 & 38
34 & 39
35 & 40
36 & 41
37 & 42
38 & 43
39 & 44
Value.
13-398
13-272
13-137
13-000
12-867
12-742
12-615
12-482
12-344
12-208
12-078
11-944
11-806
11-661
11-508
11-354
11-204
11-056
10-907
10-753
Ages.
40 & 45
41 & 46
42 & 47
43 & 48
44 & 49
45 & 50
46 & 51
47 & 52
48 & 53
49 & 54
50 & 55
51 & 56
52 & 57
53 & 58
54 & 59
55 & 60
56 & 61
57 & 62
58 & 63
Value.
10-598
10-444
10-287
10-121
9-937
9-737
9-519
9-292
9-054
8-799
8-528
8-242
7-950
7-657
7-375
7-106
6-860
6-615
6-370
Ages.
59 & 64
60 & 65
61 & 66
62 & 67
63 & 68
64 & 69
65 & 70
66 & 71
67 & 72
68 & 73
69 & 74
70 & 75
71 & 76
72 & 77
73 & 78
74 & 79
75 & 80
76 & 81
77 & 82
78 & 83
Value.
6-127
5-895
5-678
5-458
5-230
4-988
4-737
4-469
4-207
3-961
3-731
3-528
3-319
3-127
2-948
2-767
2-623
2-467
2-333
2-194
Ages.
79 &
80 &
81 &
82 &
83 &
84 &
85 &
86 &
87 &
88 &
89 &
90 &
91 &
92 &
93 &
94 &
95 & 100
96 & 101
97 & 102
98 & 103
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
Value.
2-045
1-895
1-747
1-626
1-535
1-433
1-279
1-203
1-192
1-219
1-214
1-167
1-161
1-181
1-215
1-191
1-038
0-828
0-555
0-249
TABLE VIII.
Showing the Value of an Annuity on the Joint Continuance of Two Lives according to
the Carlisle Table of Mortality, when the difference of their Ages is ten years, and
the Rate of Interest Five per Cent. (No. 65.)
Ages.
0 & 10
1 & 11
2 & 12
3 & 13
4 & 14
5 & 15
6.& 16
7 & 17
8 & 18
9 & 19
10 & 20
11 & 21
12 & 22
13 & 23
14 & 24
15 & 25
16 & 26
17 & 27
18 & 28
Value.
10-649
12- 275
13- 087
13- 769
14- 106
14-334
14-419
14-432
14-395
14-321
14-221
14-106
13-987
13-864
13-737
13-608
13-483
13-359
13-235
Ages.
19 & 29
20 & 30
21 & 31
22 & 32
23 & 33
24 & 34
25 & 35
26 & 36
27 & 37
28 & 38
29 & 39
30 & 40
31 & 41
32 & 42
33 & 43
34 & 44
35 & 45
36 & 46
37 & 47
Value.
13-117
13-008
12-896
12-776
12-648
12-510
12-365
12-214
12-058
11-900
11-747
11-607
11-474
11-342
11-207
11-063
10-912
10-750
10-579
Ages.
38 & 48
39 & 49
40 & 50
41 & 51
42 & 52
43 & 53
44 & 54
45 & 55
46 & 56
47 & 57
48 & 58
49 & 59
50 & 60
51 & 61
52 & 62
53 & 63
54 & 64
55 & 65
Value.
10-396
10-195
9-984
9-766
9-548
9-329
9-104
8-870
8-626
8-372
8-111
7-851
7-601
7-370
7-142
6-911
6-669
6-418
Ages.
56 & 66
57 & 67
58 & 68
59 & 69
60 & 70
61 & 71
62 & 72
63 & 73
64 & 74
65 & 75
66 & 76
67 & 77
68 & 78
69 & 79
70 & 80
71 & 81
72 & 82
73 & 83
74 & 84
Value.
6-156
5-881
5-600
5-319
5-044
4-779
4-529
4-302
4-094
3-921
3-746
3-580
3-407
3-210
3-020
2-807
2-616
2-430
2-260
Ages.
75 &
76 &
77 &
78 &
79 &
80 &
81 &
82 &
83 &
84 &
85 &
86 &
87 &
88 &
89 &
90 & 100
91 & 101
92 & 102
93 & 103
Value.
2-100
1-956
1-838
1-759
1-657
1-515
1-450
1-460
1-479
1-468
1-443
1-397
1-324
1-280
1-192
0-950
0-733
0-508
0-235
Showing the Value of an Annuity on the Joint Continuance of Two Lives according to the
Carlisle Table of Mortality, when the difference of their ages is five years, and the Rate
of Interest Five per Cent. (No. 65.)
(A. A.)
j
AND
r Acuities, Borroimng upon. See Debt, National.
||U ANNULAR, in a general sense, something in the form
lyn)i-of or resembling a ring. It is also a peculiar denomina-
lesi tjon 0f the fourth finger, commonly called the ring finger.
ANNULET, a little circle, borne as a charge in coats
of arms, as also added to them as a difference. Among the
Romans it represented liberty and nobility. It also denotes
strength and eternity, by reason of its circular form.
ANNULOSA (from annulus, a ring or segment), a
term in zoology applied by naturalists to a great division
of the animal kingdom. It contains five classes, viz.
Crustacea, Myriopoda, Arachnides, Insecta, and
Vermes. These classes will be treated of separately in
this work, as explained under the words Animal King¬
dom. See the concluding part of that article.
ANNUNCIADA, Annuntiada, or Annunciata, an
order of knighthood in Savoy, first instituted by Ama¬
deus I. in the year 1409. Their collar was of 15 links, in¬
terwoven one with another, in form of a true lover’s knot;
and the motto F. E. R. T., signifying Fortitudo ejus Rho-
dum tenuit. Amadeus VIII. gave the name Annunciada
to this order, which was formerly known by that of the
knot of love; changing at the same time the image of St
Maurice, patron of Savoy, which hung at the collar, for
that of the Virgin Mary; and, instead of the motto above
mentioned, substituting the words of the angel’s salu¬
tation.
ANNUNCIATION, the tidings brought by the angel
Gabriel to the Virgin Mary, of the incarnation of Christ.
—Annunciation is also a festival kept by the church on
the 25th of March, in commemoration of these tidings.
This festival appears to be of very great antiquity. There
is mention made of it in a sermon which goes under the
name of Athanasius. Others carry it up to the time of
Gregory Thaumaturgus, because there is a sermon like¬
wise attributed to him upon the same subject. But the
best critics reject both these writings as spurious. How¬
ever, it is certain that this festival was observed before the
time of the council of Trullo, in which there is a canon
forbidding the celebration of all festivals in Lent, except¬
ing the Lord’s day and the feast of the annunciation;
so that we may date its original from the 7th century.
In the Romish church, on this feast, the pope performs
the ceremony of marrying or cloistering a certain number
of maidens, who are presented to him in the church,
clothed in white serge, and muffled up from head to foot:
an officer stands by, with purses containing notes of 50
crowns for those who make choice of marriage, and notes
of 100 for those who choose to veil.
Annunciation is likewise a title given by the Jews to
a part of the ceremony of the passover.
ANODYNE (from a privative, and ohvvaw, doleo; or a
negative, and odvi/Tj, pain), a term applied to medicines
which ease pain and procure sleep.
ANOINTERS, a religious sect in some parts of Eng¬
land, so called from the ceremony they used of anointing
all persons before they admitted them into their church.
This ceremony they founded upon James v. 14, 15.
ANOLYMPIADES, in Antiquity, a name given by the
Elians to those Olympic games which had been cele¬
brated under the direction of the Pisaeans and Arcadians.
The Elians claimed the sole right of managing the
Olympic games, in which they sometimes met with com¬
petitors. The hundred and fourth Olympiad was cele¬
brated by order of the Arcadians, by whom the Elians
were at that time reduced very low. This, as well as those
managed by the inhabitants of Pisa, they called avoXu/x-
muduf, that is, unlawful Olympiads; and left them out of
their annals, wherein the names of their victors and remark¬
able occurrences were registered.
A N 0 235
ANOMALISTICAL Year, in Astronomy, the time that Anomalis-
the earth takes to pass through her orbit: it is also called Leal
the Periodical Year. Theispace of time belonging to this N
year is greater than the tropical year, on account of the
precession of the equinoxes.
ANOMALOUS, a term applied to whatever is irregu¬
lar, or deviates from the rule observed by other things of
the like nature.
Anomalous Verbs, in Grammar, such as are not con¬
jugated conformably to the paradigm of their conjuga¬
tion. They are found in all languages. In Latin, the
verb lego is the paradigm of the third conjRation, and
runs thus, lego, legis, legit: by the same rule it should be
fero, feris, ferit; but we say, fero, firs, fert: fero, then, is
an anomalous verb. In English the irregularity relates
often to the preter tense and passive participle; for ex¬
ample, give, were it formed according to rule, would make
gived in the preter tense and passive participle ; whereas,
in the former, it makes gave, and in the latter given.
ANOMALY, in Astronomy, an irregularity in the mo¬
tions of the planets, whereby they deviate from the aphe¬
lion or apogee.
ANOMGEANS, in Ecclesiastical History, the name by
which the pure Arians were called in the 4th century, in
contradistinction to the Semi-Arians. The word is de¬
rived from the Greek avogoiog, different, dissimilar : for the
pure Arians asserted that the Son was of a nature dif¬
ferent from, and in nothing like, that of the Father;
whereas the Semi-Arians acknowledged a likeness of na¬
ture in the Son, at the same time that they denied, with
the pure Arians, the consubstantiality of the Word. The
Semi-Arians condemned the Anomceans in the council of
Seleucia; and the Anomteans in their turn condemned
the Semi-Arians in the councils of Constantinople and
Antioch, erasing the word ogoiog, like, out of the formula
of Rimini and that of Constantinople.
ANOMORHOMBOIDIA, in Natural History, the
name of a genus of spars. The word is derived from the
Greek amiLahrig, irregular, and %ofLZoubr\g, a rhomboidal
figure. The bodies of this genus are pellucid, crystalline
spars, of no determinate or regular external form, but al¬
ways breaking into regularly rhomboidal masses; easily
fissile, and composed of plates running both horizontally
and perpendicularly through the masses, but cleaving
more readily and evenly in a horizontal than in a perpen¬
dicular direction, the plates being ever composed of irre¬
gular arrangements of rhomboidal concretions.
ANONYMOUS, something that is nameless, or of
which the name is concealed. It is a term equally ap¬
plied to books which do not express the author’s name,
or to authors whose names are unknown. See Biblio¬
graphy.
ANOREXIA, Anorexy (from a negative, and ogsg/f,
appetite), a want of appetite, or a loathing of food.
ANOSSI, a province of the island of Madagascar, lying
between lat. 23. 18. and 26. 0. S. See Madagascar.
ANOTTA, or Arnotta, in dyeing, an elegant red
colour, formed from the pellicles or pulp of the seeds of
the bixa, a tree common in South America. It is also
called Terra Orleana, and Roucou.
The manner of making anotta is as follows: The red
seeds, cleared from the pods, are steeped in water for
seven or eight days, or longer, till the liquor begins to fer¬
ment; then strongly stirred, stamped with wooden paddles
and beaters, to promote the separation of the red skins:
this process is repeated several times, till the seeds are
left white. The liquor, passed through close cane sieves, is
pretty thick, of a deep red colour, and an offensive smell;
in boiling, it throws up its colouring matter to the surface
in form of scum, which is afterwards boiled down by itself
233
A N Q
Anout to a due consistence, and made up while soft into balls.
II The anotta commonly met with among us is moderately
hard and dry, of a brown colour on the outside, and a dull
red within. It is difficultly acted upon by water, and tinges
the liquor only of a pale brownish yellow colour. It veiy
readily dissolves in rectified spirit of wine, and commu¬
nicates a high orange or yellowish red. Hence it is used
as an ingredient in varnishes, for giving more or less of an
orange cast to the simple yellows. Alkaline salts render
it perfectly soluble in boiling water, without altering its
colour. Wool or silk boiled in the solution acquires a
deep, but not a very durable, orange dye. Its colour is
not changed by alum or by acids, any more than by alka¬
lies ; but when imbibed in cloth, it is discharged by soap,
and destroyed by exposure to the air. It is said to be an
antidote to the poisonous juice of manioc or cassava.
ANOUT, a small island in the Schagerrack, or that part
of the sea of Denmark which has Norway on the north,
Jutland on the west, and the isle of Zealand on the south.
It lies in long. 13. 0. E. and lat. 56. 36. N.
ANQUETIL, Lewis Peter, a French historian, was
born at Paris on the 21st of January 1723. At the age
of 17 he entered the congregation of St Genevieve, where
he taught theology and literature with ability and success.
He afterwards became director of the academy at Rheims ;
and, in 1759, he was appointed prior of the abbey de la
Roe, in Anjou. Soon after this he was sent, in the capacity
of director, to the college of Senlis. In 1766 he obtained
the curacy or priory of Chateau-Renard, near Montargis,
which he exchanged, at the commencement of the Revo¬
lution, for the curacy of La Villette, in the neighbourhood
of Paris. During the reign of terror he was imprisoned
at St Lazare. On the establishment of the National Insti¬
tute, he was elected a member of the second class, and
was soon afterwards employed in the office of the minister
for foreign affairs. Endowed with a robust constitution,
which was preserved by a natural equality of temper, and
general moderation in diet, Anquetil was capable of very
laborious exertions, and is said to have passed ten hours
every day regularly in study. When upwards of eighty
he still meditated extensive literary undertakings; but he
was carried off by death, in the midst of his projects and
researches, on the 6th of September 1808, in the 86th
year of his age. On the evening previous to this event,
he is reported to have said to one of his friends, “ Come
find see a man who is dying full of life.”
As an author, M. Anquetil does not stand very high in
the ranks of literature. He possessed more industry in
research than ability or judgment in execution. His style
is censurable in many respects, and he appears to have
been almost entirely destitute of the critical discernment
and philosophical sagacity which are requisite to form
the character of a good historian. The following is a list
of his principal works.
Histoire Civile et Politicpie de la Ville de Reims.
1756—57, 3 vols. 12mo. I he history is brought no farther
down than 1657: a fourth volume should have been added,
but it never appeared. Anquetil is said to have written
this work in concert with one Felix de la Salle, and it is,
perhaps, the best of all his productions. 2. Almanack de
Remis. 1754, 24to 3. LEsprit de la Ligue, ou His¬
tone Politique des Troubles de France pendant les 16 et 17
$iecks. 1767, 3 vols. 12mo. This work has been frequent¬
ly reprinted. 4. Intrigue du Cabinet sous Henri 1V. et
sous Louis XIII. terminee par la Fronde. 1780, 4 vols.
12mo. 5. Louis XIV. sa Coin et le Regent. 1789, 4 vols
IJmo preprinted in 1794, 5 vols. 12mo. 6. Vie du
Marechal de Iillars, ecnte par lui-mhne, suivie du Journal
dela Cour de 1724 a 1734. Paris, 1787, 4 vols, 12mo; re¬
printed in 1792. 7. Precis de l'Histoire Universelle. 1797,
A N Q
9 vbls. 12mo; reprinted in 1801 and 1807, in 12 vols.
12mo. This work has been translated into English, Spa¬
nish, and Italian. 8. Motifs des Guerres et des Traites de
Paix de la France pendant les regnes de Louis XIV., Louis ^li
XV., et Louis XVI. 1798, 8vo. 9. Histoire de France^
depuis les Gaules jusqu a la jin de la Monarchic. 1805 et
seqq. 14 vols. 12mo. This work was composed in haste
and is of no great value. 10. Notice sur la Vie deM. An-
quetil du Perron. M. Anquetil likewise wrote several
papers in the Memoirs of the Institute. See Biographk
Universelle.
ANQUETIL DU PERRON (Abraham Hyacinth),
brother of the subject of the preceding article, was born
at Paris on the 7th of December 1731. Having distin¬
guished himself as a student at the university of that city,
and acquired a considerable knowledge of the Hebrew
language, he was invited to Auxerre by M. de Caylus,
then the bishop of that diocese. This prelate made him
study theology, first at the academy of his diocese, and
afterwards at that of Amersfort, near Utrecht; but An¬
quetil had no desire to embrace the ecclesiastical voca¬
tion, and devoted himself with ardour to the study of the
different dialects of the Hebrew, and of the Arabic and
Persian. Neither the solicitations of M. de Caylus, nor
the hopes of rapid preferment, had the power to detain
him at Amersfort after he thought he had acquired every
thing that was to be learnt there. He returned to Paris,
where his diligent attendance at the Royal Library, and
his ardour in the prosecution of his favourite studies, at¬
tracted the attention of the Abbe Sallier, keeper of the
manuscripts, who introduced him to the acquaintance of
his associates and friends, whose united exertions pro¬
cured for him a small salary, as student of the oriental
languages. He had scarcely received this appointment,
when, having accidentally laid his hands on some manu¬
scripts in the Zend, he formed the project of a voyage to
India, with the view of discovering the works of Zoroaster.
At this period an expedition was preparing at the port of
L’Orient, which was destined for India. M. du Perron,
however, applied in vain, through his protectors, for a
passage ; and seeing no other means of accomplishing his
plan, he enlisted as a common soldier, and set out from
Paris,^with a knapsack on his back, on the 7th of Novem¬
ber 1/54. His friends procured his discharge; and the
minister, affected by this romantic zeal for science, grant¬
ed him a free passage, a seat at the captain’s table, and a
salary, the amount of which was to be fixed by the gover-
nor of the French settlements in India. After a passage
of nine months, Anquetil landed, on the 10th of August
1755, at Pondicherry. Here he remained no longer than
was necessary to make himself master of the modern Per¬
sian, and then hastened to Chandernagore, where he
thought to acquire the Sanscrit. But in this he was de¬
ceived ; and he was on the point of returning, when a
seiious complaint threatened his life. He had scarcely
escaped from this danger, when war was declared between
I ranee and England; Chandernagore was taken; and
Anquetil resolved to return to Pondicherry by land. After
a journey of one hundred days, in the course of which he
encountered many adventures, and suffered many hard¬
ships, he arrived at Pondicherry. Here he found one of
his brothers who had arrived from France, and embarked
with him for Surat; but, with the view of exploring the
country, he landed at Mahe, and proceeded on foot. It
was at Surat that he succeeded, by perseverance and ad-
dressm his intercoursewith the native priests, in acquiring
a sufficient know ledge of the languages to enable him to
translate the Dictionary called the Vedidad-Sade, and some
other works, hrom thence he proposed going to Benares,
to study the languages, antiquities, and sacred laws of
A N Q
the Hindoos; but the capture of Pondicherry obliged him
felon, to return to France. He accordingly embarked on board
Sv.'-'an English vessel, and landed at Portsmouth in the month
of November 1761. After spending some time in London,
and visiting Oxford, he set out for Paris, where he arrived
on the 4th of May 1762, without fortune or the desire of
acquiring any, but esteeming himself rich in the posses¬
sion of one hundred and eighty oriental manuscripts, be¬
sides other curiosities. The Abbe Barthelemy, and his
other friends, procured for him a pension, with the title
and appointments of Interpreter for the oriental languages
at the royal library. In 1763 the Academy of the Belles
Lettres received him among the number of its associates;
and from that period he devoted himself to the arrange¬
ment and publication of the materials he had collected
during his eastern travels. In 1771 he published a work in
three volumes 4to, under the title of Zend-Avesta, contain¬
ing collections from the sacred writings of the Persians,
among which are fragments of works ascribed to Zoro¬
aster ; and he accompanied this work with an account of
the life of that sage. This publication must be consider¬
ed as constituting a very important accession to our stores
of oriental literature. A recent historian, and very com¬
petent judge, refers to the Zend-Avesta, as certainly the
most authentic source from which we can derive informa¬
tion regarding the religion and institutions of the great
Persian legislator. (Sir John Malcolm’s Hist, of Persia,
vol. i. p. 193, note.) To the Zend-Avesta M. du Perron
prefixed a discourse, in which he treated the university
of Oxford, and some of its learned members, with ridicule
and disrespect. Mr (afterwards Sir William) Jones re¬
plied to these invectives in an anonymous letter, address¬
ed to the author, written in French, with uncommon force
and correctness of style, but at the same time with a de¬
gree of asperity which could only be justified by the pe¬
tulance of M. du Perron. In 1778 he published his Le¬
gislation Orientale, in 4to, a work in which he controverts
the system of Montesquieu, and endeavours to prove that
the nature of oriental despotism has been misrepresented
by most authors; that in the empires of Turkey, Persia,
and Hindostan, there are codes of written law which
equally bind the prince and subject; and that in these
three empires the inhabitants possess both movable and
immovable property, which they enjoy with perfect se¬
curity. His llecherches Historiques et Geographiques sur
Z’/wefe appeared in 1786, and formed part of Thieffenthaler’s
Geography of India. They were followed in 1789 by his
treatise De la Dignite du Commerce et de I'Etat du Com-
mer^ant. The Revolution seems to have greatly affected
him. During that period he abandoned society, shut
himself up in his study, and devoted himself entirely to
literary seclusion. In 1798 he published L'Inde en Rap¬
port avec lEurope, &c. in 2 vols. 8vo; a work which is
more remarkable for its virulent invectives against the
English, and for its numerous misrepresentations, than
for the information which it contains, or the soundness of
the reflections which it conveys. The spirit of the work,
indeed, may be ascertained from the summary of its con¬
tents stated in the title-page, in which the author pro¬
fesses to give a detailed, accurate, and terrific picture of
the English Machiavelism in India; and lie addresses his
work in a ranting bombastic dedication to the Manes of
Dupleix and Labourdonnais. In 1804 he published a La¬
tin translation from the Persian of the Oupneh'hat or Upa-
nischada, i. e. Secrets which must not be revealed, in
2 vols. 4to, On the re-organization of the Institute,
M. Anquetil was elected a member, but soon afterwards
gave in his resignation. He died at Paris on the 17th of
January 1805., , osf obno/R nrnn i .idhow isdio
Besides the works we have already enumerated, M,
A N /S 237
Anquetil read to the academy several memoirs on subjects Ansje
connected with the history and antiquities of the East. 11
At the time of his death he was engaged in revising a Anselm^
translation of the Travels of Father Paulin de St Barihe-
lemy in India, which work was continued by M. Silvestre
de Sacy, and published in 1808, in 3 vols. 8vo. He also
left behind him a great number of manuscripts, among
which his biographers particularly notice the translation
of a Latin treatise on the Church, by Doctor Legros, in
4 vols. 4to.
From the preceding narrative our readers will be ena¬
bled to form some notion of the character of Anquetil du
Perron. Among his countrymen he is regarded as one of
the most learned men of the 18th century. He certainly
distinguished himself by a very ardent and disinterested
zeal in the prosecution of those studies to which he dedi¬
cated the labours of a long life; but the lustre of his lite¬
rary character was obscured by a very absurd vanity, and
the most inveterate prejudices. In a Discourse addressed
to the Asiatic Society at Calcutta, in 1789, Sir William
Jones speaks of him as “ having had the merit of under¬
taking a voyage to India, in his earliest youth, with no
other view than to recover the writings of Zeratust (Zo¬
roaster), and who would have acquired a brilliant reputa¬
tion in France, if he had not sullied it by his immoderate
vanity and virulence of temper, which alienated the good¬
will even of his own countrymen.” In the same Discourse
he affirms that M. Anquetil most certainly had no know¬
ledge of the Sanscrit.—See Biographic Universelle; Month¬
ly Revieiv, vol. Ixi.; Lord Teignmouth’s Life of Sir Wil¬
liam Jones. (k.)
ANSfE, in Astronomy, implies the parts of Saturn’s
ring projecting beyond the disk of the planet. The word
is Latin, and properly signifies handles; these parts of the
ring appearing like handles to the body of the planet.
ANSARIANS, a people of Syria, so called in the
country, but styled in Delisle’s maps Ensarians, and in
those of D’Anville Nassaris. The territory occupied by
the Ansarians is that chain of mountains which extends
from Antakia to the rivulet called Nahr-el-Kahir, or the
Great River. They are divided into several tribes or
sects, among which are distinguished the Shamsia, or
adorers of the sun; the Kelbia, or worshippers of the
dog ; and the Kadmousia, who are said to pay a particu¬
lar homage to that part in women which corresponds to
the priapus.
ANSBACH, a bailiwick in the circle of Rezat, in the
kingdom of Bavaria, extending over 124 square miles, or
79,360 acres, with 2 market-towns and 79 villages. It is
an undulating plain, watered by the rivers Rezat, Zenn,
and Bidert. It contains 11,800 inhabitants, who draw
from its fruitful soil excellent corn and tobacco, and keep
many horses and cattle. There is an alabaster and a gyp¬
sum quarry worked in the bailiwick. The capital, of the
same name, is about 30 miles south-west of Nuremberg,
and contains 950 inhabitants.
ANSE, an ancient town of France, in the Lyonnois, on
the river Saone. It is the head of a canton in the depart¬
ment of the Rhone, and formerly bore the title of barony.
Population 1640. 131 miles north of Lyons. Long. 6.
55. W. Lat. 45.55. N.
ANSELM, archbishop of Canterbury, in the reigns of
William Rufus and Henry I. He was born in the year
1033, at Aost, a town in Savoy, at the foot of the Alps.
He became a monk in the abbey of Bee in Normandy, of
which he was afterwards chosen prior, and then abbot.
In the year 1092 he was invited over to England by Hugh
earl of Chester; and in the year following was prevailed
on, as we are told, with great difficulty, to accept the
archbishopric of Canterbury. He enjoined celibacy on the
238 A N 8
Ansiko clergy, for which he was banished by King Rufus; but he
II was recalled by Henry on his coming to the crown. In con-
Anslo. ^ formity to Pope Urban’s decree, he refused to consecrate
such bishops as were invested by the king, denying it to
be the royal prerogative: for this he was banished again,
till, the pope and king agreeing, he was recalled in 1107.
In short, from the day of his consecration to that of his
death, he was continually employed in defending the pre¬
rogative of the church against the encroachments of the
crown ; and for that purpose spent much of his time in tra-
vellingbackwardsandforwardsbetween England and Rome,
for the advice and direction of his holiness. At the coun¬
cil of Bari, in the kingdom of Naples, the pope being
puzzled by the arguments of the Greeks against the Holy
Ghost’s proceeding from the Father, called upon Anselm,
who was present, and discussed their objections with great
applause. Priests call him a resolute saint; to other peo¬
ple he appears to have been an obstinate and insolent priest.
He wrought many miracles, if we may believe the au¬
thor of his life, both before and after his death, which
happened at Canterbury in the 76th year of his age, anno
1109. He was canonized in the reign of Henry VII.
Anselm, though we may disregard him as a saint, deserves
to be remembered as one of the principal revivers of lite¬
rature, after three centuries of profound ignorance. His
works have been often reprinted. The best edition is
that of Father Gerberon, printed at Paris in 1675, in
2 vols. folio.
ANSIKO, a kingdom in the interior of western Africa,
bounded on the west by the river Umbre, which runs into
the Zaire, the kingdom of Wangua, and the Amboes, who
border on Loango; and on the south by Songo and Sunda,
provinces of Congo. It contains a great variety of wild
beasts, as lions, rhinoceroses, &c. and many copper-mines.
The king of Ansiko, or the great Micoco, is said to command
thirteen kingdoms, and is esteemed the most powerful mo¬
narch in this part of Africa. Our knowledge of the country,
however, is very imperfect, being derived solely from the
hearsay reports of Lopez and Merolla, who visited Congo
in the 16th century. According to them, the people are
brave, swift, active, but savage and cruel in the most
frightful degree, human flesh being not only eaten, but
openly sold in the markets, and the subjects offering them¬
selves to the sovereign for the gratification of his palate.
These reports, which are not very credible, are contrast¬
ed with others that represent them as an industrious peo¬
ple, manufacturing cloths from the fibres of the palm-tree,
and carrying on an extensive trade both with Congo and
interior Africa. Their language is barbarous, and difficult
to be learned, even by the inhabitants of Congo. The most
distinguished among them wear red and black caps of
Portuguese velvet; the lower ranks go naked from the
waist upwards; and, to preserve their health, anoint their
bodies with a composition of pounded sandal-wood and
palm-oil. Their arms are battle-axes, and small but
very strong bows, adorned with serpents’ skins. Their
strings are made of pliant and tender shoots of trees, that
will not break; and their arrows of hard and light wood.
They kill birds flying, and shoot with surprising swiftness.
With equal dexterity they manage their battle-axes, one
end of which is sharpened and cuts like a wedge, while
the other is flattened like a mallet, with a handle set be¬
tween, about half the length of the iron, rounded at the
end like an apple, and covered with the skin of a serpent.
The current money in this country is the zimbis or shell,
which passes among several African nations. They wor¬
ship the sun as their chief deity, representing him by a male
figure, and the moon by a female. They have also an in¬
finite number of inferior deities, each individual having a
particulai idol. They seem on the whole to be a people
A N S
respecting whom it might be desirable to obtain further Ansi j
and more recent information.
ANSLO, a seaport town of Norway, in the province of
Aggerhuus, with a bishop’s see. The supreme court of, tll£ u
justice is held here for Norway. It is seated on a bay ot^
the same name. Long. 10. 14. E. Eat. 50. 24. N.
ANSON, George, a gentleman whose merit and good
fortune as a naval commander exalted him to the rank
of nobility. He was the son of William Anson, Esq. of
Huckborough, in Staffordshire ; and, showing an early in,
clination for the sea, received a suitable education. The
first command he enjoyed was that of the Weasel sloop
in 1722; but the most memorable action of his life, and
the foundation of his future good fortune, took place on
his receiving the command of five ships, a sloop, and two
victuallers, equipped to annoy the Spaniards in the South
Seas, and to co-operate with Admiral Vernon across the
Isthmus of Darien ; an expedition the principal object of
which failed by the unaccountable delay in fitting him out.
He sailed, however, in September 1740; doubled Cape
Horn in a dangerous season ; lost most of his men by the
scurvy ; and with only one remaining ship, the Centurion,
crossed the great Pacific Ocean. If no considerable na¬
tional advantage resulted from this voyage, Commodore
Anson made his own fortune, and enriched his surviving
companions, by the capture of a rich galleon on her pas¬
sage from Acapulco to Manilla, with which he returned
home round the Cape of Good Hope. If he was lucky in
meeting this galleon, he was no less fortunate in escaping j
a French fleet then cruising in the Channel, by sailing
through it during a fog. He arrived at Spithead in June
1744. In a short time after his return he was appointed
rear-admiral of the blue, and one of the lords of the ad¬
miralty. In April 1745 he was made rear-admiral of the
white, and the following year vice-admiral of the blue,
at which time he was chosen to represent the borough
of Heydon in parliament. In 1747, being on board the
Prince George of 90 guns, in company with Admiral
W^arren and 12 other ships, he intercepted, off Cape
Finisterre, a powerful fleet, bound from France to the
East and West Indies ; when, by his valour and conduct,
he again enriched himself and his officers, and at the
same time strengthened the British navy, by taking six
men of war and four East Indiamen, not one of them es¬
caping. The French admiral, M. Jonquiere, on present¬
ing his sword to the conqueror, said, Monsieur, vous aves
vaincu VInvincible, et la Gloire vous suit—“ Sir, you have
conquered the Invincible, and Glory follows you point¬
ing to the ships named the Invincible and the Glory, which
he had taken. For his signal services he was created baron
of Soberton in Hants. The same year he was appointed
vice-admiral of the red; and, on the death of Sir John
Norris, was made vice-admiral of England. In 1748 he
was made admiral of the blue : he was afterwards appoint¬
ed first lord of the admiralty, and was at length made ad¬
miral and commander-in-chief of his majesty’s fleet, in
which rank he continued, with a very short interval, until
his death ; and the last service he performed was to con¬
vey Queen Charlotte to England. He died in June 1762.
No performance ever met with a more favourable recep¬
tion than the account of Anson’s voyage round the world.
Though it is printed under the name of his chaplain, it
was composed under his lordship’s own inspection, and
from the materials he himself furnished, by Mr Benjamin
Robins.
ANSTRUTHER, Easter, a royal borough and parish
of Scotland, in the county of Fife. It is situated on the
north shore of the Frith of Forth, and possesses an ex¬
cellent harbour. Population in 1821, 1090. 10 miles S.
of St Andrews.
ANT
fu er Anstruther, Wester, a parish and small seaport of
H Scotland, situated near Easter Anstruther, with which,
nf and the towns of Crail, Pittenweem, and Kilrenny^ it
^unites in returning a representative to parliament. The
parish includes the Isle of May. There is a weekly
packet-boat to Leith; and the steam-boat that plies be¬
tween Edinburgh and Aberdeen touches at Wester as
well as at Easter Anstruther. Population 429. 23 miles
north-east of Edinburgh. Long. 2. 44. W. Lat. 56. 12. N.
ANT. The history of a tribe of insects so long cele¬
brated for their industry and frugality, and for the dis¬
play of that sagacity which characterizes some of the
higher orders of animals, is peculiarly calculated to oc¬
cupy the attention of modern naturalists. The ancients,
indeed, had often noticed the habits and economy of the
ant; but their accounts, at all times deficient in accuracy
from the want of precise definitions and logical arrange¬
ment of the objects they describe, are in this instance
so mixed up with fanciful notions and chimerical doc¬
trines, and so coloured by the vivid imagination and cre¬
dulity of the narrators, as to have retarded rather than
advanced the progress of real knowledge. Aristotle and
Pliny report, for instance, that the labours of ants are in
a great measure regulated by the phases of the moon;
and the latter mentions a species found in the northern
parts of India, whose size was said to equal that of the
wolves of Egypt, whose colour was the same as that of a
cat, and whose occupation in winter consisted in digging
up gold from the bowels of the earth; while the inhabi¬
tants in the summer robbed them of their treasures, after
having decoyed them, by stratagem, from their nests.
Great mistakes have prevailed, even in later times, from
the circumstance of the larvae of ants bearing a resem¬
blance to grains of corn, which it was supposed these in¬
sects hoarded up as a provision for winter consumption.
The form of the eggs and of the larvae, and the attention
paid to them by the ants, were described by Dr King
in the 23d number of the Philosophical Transactions;
but Leeuwenhoeck was the first who distinguished with
precision the different forms which the insect assumes in
the several stages of its growth. He traced the succes¬
sive changes from the egg to the larva, the nymph, and
the perfect insect. Swammerdam pursued his scrutiny
into these successive developments with greater minute¬
ness ; and, unrivalled in the art of microscopic dissection,
discovered the wonderful encasement of all the parts of
the future ant at every preceding stage, and showed that
it appears under such different forms only from the nature
of its envelopes, each of which, at the proper period, is in
its turn cast off’. Linnaeus (Memoirs of the Royal Acade-
my °f Sciences at Stockholm, vol. ii.) ascertained some of
the leading facts with regard to the distinction between
the sexes, and determined that the ants which are fur¬
nished with wings are the only individuals that exercise
the sexual functions. Several particulars with regard to
the economy of the ants were published by Mr Gould, in
a book entitled An Account of English Ants, of which an
abstract is given in the Philosophical Transactions for
1747, by the Rev. Dr Miles. The facts are there stated
with tolerable correctness; but some errors have been
committed by following too closely the analogy with bees.
Geoffrey (Histoire des Insectes qui se trouvent aux Environs
de Paris), though a good naturalist on other topics, is a
bad authority on the subject of ants. The most complete
series ot observations on the natural history of these in¬
sects, is that for which we are indebted to the celebrated
Swedish entomologist De Geer (Memoires pour servir d
l Histoire des Insectes), an observer on whose fidelity the
most implicit reliance may be placed.
In the Encyclopedic Methodique, under the article
ANT 239
Fourmi, Olivier has drawn up an able statement of all Ant.
the material facts that had been established by preceding
naturalists ; without, however, adding any original obser¬
vations of his own, excepting the description of five or six
undescribed species. A full account of the habits of those
ants which for a long period infested the island of Mar¬
tinique, is contained in some of the earlier numbers of
the Journal de Physique (vols. ix. and x.) The author
of these memoirs, M. Barboteau, has given many curious
details on this subject, and has cited a number of facts on
various authorities; and the account might now be swell¬
ed by the reports of subsequent travellers in different
parts of the world; but these statements are often made
upon slender authority, and are too much tinctured with
the marvellous to admit of much credit being attached to
them. The narrative given to us by Bonnet in the second
volume of his Observations sur les Insectes, of the proceed¬
ings of a colony of ants which had established itself in the
head of a large thistle, and which he transported into his
house, is highly interesting; but it elucidates only a few
points of their economy, and leaves us to regret that so
patient and indefatigable an observer had not bestowed
more of his attention to the study of this tribe of insects.
In the Philosophical Transactions for 1790 we find an in¬
teresting memoir on the sugar-ant, a species which, for
a period of ten years, committed dreadful ravages in the
sugar plantations throughout the whole island of Grenada.
The most methodical account of this tribe of insects that
has yet appeared is that of Latreille, in his Histoire Na-
turelle des Fourmis, published at Paris in 1802, a work
which alone would have secured the reputation of the
author as an able and scientific naturalist. His merit is
particularly conspicuous in the clearness and accuracy of
his descriptions of each species, and the luminous method
of arrangement which he has adopted in their classifica¬
tion. He gives an account of one hundred species which
he had himself observed, and of twenty-four which he has
described from the reports of others : these he distributes
into nine natural families, according to the situation and
structure of the antennae, and the form of the abdominal
scales. But the work which contains the most copious
collection of facts relative to the habits and economy of
ants is that of Mr P. Pluber of Geneva, entitled Trade
des Mceurs des Fourmis Indigenes, published in 1810. By
means of an apparatus which he contrived so as to admit
of his obtaining a view whenever he pleased of the inmost
recesses of their habitation, he was enabled to observe
what was going on in the interior of the nest, and to in¬
vestigate with success some of the most important and in¬
teresting features of their history. The results of his re¬
searches, as they are reported in his work, are highly
curious and instructive, and open a wide field of specula¬
tion and inquiry to the philosophical entomologist. They
have not only elucidated many obscure points with regard
to one tribe of insects, but have disclosed some general
views of the instincts and faculties of this order of the
creation, which are totally new, and must tend, in a con¬
siderable degree, to exalt our conceptions of the inex¬
haustible powers and resources of nature.
Having thus pointed out the principal sources of infor-Economy
mation in this department of entomology, we shall proceed ancl policy
to give an outline of the leading facts that have been0*ants'
ascertained relative to the economy and domestic policy
of these remarkable insects.
In common with many tribes of hymenopterous insects, Functions
ants present the remarkable peculiarity of a threefold dis-ofthe neu-
tinction of sex among the individuals of the same species ;ters*
a circumstance which is met with in no other order of
the animal kingdom, and which appears, as far as obser¬
vation has extended, to be totally excluded from the plan
ANT.
of the vegetable creation. Besides males and females,
there exists an apparently intermediate order of neuters,
which are also denominated labouring or working ants.
The neuters, thus exempted from every sexual function,
exercise, on the other hand, all the other offices neces¬
sary for the existence and welfare of the community to
which they belong. It is they who collect supplies of
food, who explore the country for this purpose, and seize
upon every animal substance, whether living or dead,
which they can lay hold of, and transport to their nest.
It is they who construct every part of their dwelling-
place, who attend to the hatching of the eggs, to the
feeding of the larvae, and to their removal, as occasion
may require, to different situations favourable to their
growth and development; and who, both as aggressors
and as defenders, fight all the battles of the common¬
wealth, and provide for the safety of their weaker and
more passive companions. Thus all the laborious and
perilous duties of the state are performed solely by this
description of ants, who act the part of helots in these
singularly constituted republics of insects. We find, how¬
ever, on closer examination, that, in all probability, this
anomaly in point of sex is more apparent than real; and
that, however different in external conformation from the
productive females, they nevertheless originally and es¬
sentially belong to the same sex. There is every reason to
believe that the development of the sexual organs in the
former is the consequence of some difference in the cir¬
cumstances in which the larva is placed during its growth.
That such is the case with bees, is now perfectly well
established; and the analogy of bees with ants, in many
points of physiology, must be admitted as a strong argu¬
ment in corroboration of this theory. In all the essential
features of internal structure, the supposed neuters agree
with the female, and differ from the male of the same
species. In all hymenopterous insects, which are armed
with stings, a difference exists in the two sexes, as to the
number of articulations composing the antennae; those of
the female consisting of fewer pieces than those of the
male. The accurate observations of Mr Kirby {Mono-
graphia Apum) have determined that in the bee the an¬
tennae of the male have fifteen articulations, while those
of the female and the neuter have only fourteen. In the
ant, likewise, we find thirteen articulations in the male,
and only twelve in the female; and likewise only twelve
in the neuter. In the male ant the abdomen has seven
rings, in the female and neuter only six. In the two lat¬
ter classes the head is broader, and the mandibles very
large and powerful compared with those of the male, and
are furnished with serrated edges, and a sharp and often
hooked point. The external sexual organs of the female
and of the neuter are so nearly similar in appearance,
that Latreille declares he was unable to perceive the
least difference between them. On the other hand, it is
to be observed, that in the neuter the principal deviation
from the model of the female consists in the absence of
wings; a circumstance which, as it regards the organs of
locomotion only, is one of subordinate importance in the
economy ; and .their presence may, without difficulty, be
conceived to be connected with a certain condition of the
sexual organs, as are the horns of the deer, and the
beard in the human species. But although of so little
consequence in a physiological point of view, it is a cir¬
cumstance materially affecting their external condition.
It dooms them to severe toil and exertion in traversing
the ground, and in climbing up the steep paths that may
he in then loute; while their more luxurious and favoured
associates are fluttering in the spacious realms of air in
search of amusement, and wafted to the objects of their
gratification on the light breezes of the summer.
Ants appear to be endowed with a greater share of ^
muscular strength than almost any other insect of the^,
same size. Of this we have sufficient proofs in the viva-Sen!
city of their movements, the incessant toil which manypow
undergo, the great loads which they are seen to carry,^
often exceeding ten or twelve times their own weight,
and the agility which they exert in making their escape
from danger. This high degree of irritability is conjoined,
apparently, with a corresponding share of the power of
sensation; a power which is manifested in their suscepti-
bility to a variety of impressions capable of affecting the
organs of sense. They have a quick perception of all
changes of temperature, as well as of other conditions of
the atmosphere ; and are readily and disagreeably affect¬
ed by moisture. In the perfection of the sense of sight
they seem to be nearly on a level with other insects; and
the males and females are provided with both the descrip¬
tions of eyes peculiar to this class, namely, the-composite
and the simple eyes. The labouring ants, indeed, who
never fly, are frequently destitute of the latter kind; a
circumstance which appears to confirm the suspicion that
has often been entertained, that the simple eyes are chiefly
instrumental in the vision of distant objects. Latreille
describes two species of ants, in which he could not dis¬
cover the least appearance whatsoever of eyes, although
he employed a high magnifying power in examining them.
One of these (the Formica ccecd) is a foreign species, in¬
habiting the forests of Guiana, and of which the history
is therefore little known. The other (the Formica con-
tractd) is met with in the vicinity of Paris. It always
conceals itself during the day under stones, or in obscure
recesses, where no light can penetrate ; and emerges from
its retreat only during the night. It is much less social
in its habits than other ants, collecting in groups only of
about a dozen individuals, and appears to be far inferior
in sagacity to the rest of the tribe.
Ants possess a considerable acuteness of smell, a sense '
which appears to be useful not only in directing them to
their food, but also, as Bonnet first remarked, in enabling
them to follow by the scent the track of their companions.
If the end of the finger be passed two or three times
across the line of their march, so as to brush off the odo¬
rous particles with which the ants who had already passed
that way may have impregnated the track, those who fol¬
low immediately stop on arriving at the place where the
experiment has been made, and afterwards direct their
course irregularly, till they have passed over the space
touched by the finger, when they soon find the path, and
proceed with the same confidence as before. Bonnet re¬
peated this experiment frequently, and always with the
same result. Latreille has endeavoured to discover the
seat of smell, which had long been suspected to reside in
the antennae. He, with this view, deprived several la¬
bouring ants of these organs, and replaced them near their
nests. When thus mutilated, they wandered to and fro in
all directions, as if they were delirious, and utterly uncon¬
scious of where they were going. Some of their compa¬
nions were seen to notice their distress, and, approaching
them with apparent compassion, applied their tongues to
the bleeding wounds of the sufferers, and anointed them
with a liquor which they caused to flow from their own
mouths. This trait of sensibility was repeatedly witnessed
by Latreille, while he was observing their actions with a
magnifying lens.
It is indeed evident that, in all insects, the antennae are
organs of the greatest utility in conveying impressions
from external objects. But in the ant, independently of
their importance as organs of touch, they appear to be of
still greater consequence to the welfare of the individual,
and of the community to which it belongs, by being the
ANT.
241
chief instruments which enable them to communicate to
■'Vw'one another intelligence in which they are mutually inte¬
rested, and on which they are called upon immediately to
act. Mr Huber, to whom we are indebted for a variety
of curious observations on this subject, has given the
name of Language Antennal to this species of intercourse.
The situation of the antennae, which are placed in front
of the head, their great mobility, their peculiar mecha¬
nism, which presents a series of phalanges having great
freedom of play, and endowed with exquisite sensibility,
conspire to fit them admirably for the function which he
assigns to them,—that of producing a variety of different
impressions, when applied in different ways to the anten¬
nae or other parts of those ants with which they come in
contact. Thus the signal of danger, which consists in
the ant which gives the alarm striking its head against
the corslet of the other, is propagated from ant to ant
with astonishing quickness, throughout the whole society.
For a few minutes a general ferment prevails, as if they
were deliberating what measures to pursue; but their re¬
solution is soon formed, and they are ready to rush in a
body against the enemy. Any small animal that is disco¬
vered to have insolently invaded their repose is certain of
falling a victim to their resentment, unless he can make
a precipitate retreat, which he seldom effects without
being covered with the bites of these furious insects.
They are not, however, equally jealous of the intrusion of
every kind of insect, for woodlice are often found in the
interior of the nest, to whom, according to Latreille, they
offer no molestation. Ants appear to be incapable of emit¬
ting sounds, so as to communicate with one another at a
distance ; and there is, indeed, no evidence that they pos¬
sess the sense of hearing. The consideration of the sense
of taste naturally comprehends that of their food, to which
we shall therefore next proceed,
eii Very erroneous opinions were prevalent with regard to
<hjM the food of ants, which have often been supposed to con-
)r‘^' sume corn, and to do great injury to plants by devouring
^ their roots or stems. The truth is, that they are chiefly
carnivorous insects, preying indiscriminately on all the
softer parts of animals, and especially .the viscera of other
insects. These, indeed, they will often attack when alive,
and overpower by dint of numbers ; either devouring their
victim on the spot, or dragging it a prisoner into the in¬
terior of the nest. If, however, the game should be too
bulky to be easily transported, they make a plentiful
meal, and exert, like the bee, a power of disgorging a
portion, and of imparting it to their companions at home:
and it appears that they are even able to retain at pleasure
the nutricious juices unchanged for a considerable time.
The rapidity with which they consume, and in fact ana¬
tomize, the carcass of any small bird or quadruped that
happens to fall in their way, is well known, and furnishes
an easy method of obtaining natural skeletons of these
animals, by placing their dead bodies in the vicinity of a
populous ant-hill. In hot climates, where they multiply
to an amazing extent, their voracity and boldness increase
with their numbers. Bosman, in his description of Gui¬
nea, states that, in one night, they will devour a sheep,
leaving it a fine skeleton; while a fowl is for them only
the amusement of an hour. In these situations they will
venture to attack even living animals of considerable size,
llats and mice often become their victims. The sugar-
ants of Grenada cleared every plantation which they visit¬
ed of rats and other vermin, which they probably effected
by attacking their young. Poultry, or other small stock,
could not be raised without the greatest difficulty; and
the eyes, nose, and other emunctories of the bodies of
dying or dead animals, were instantly covered with them.
I hey generally, indeed, begin their attacks on the most
vol. in.
sensible parts, which have the finest cuticle; and, accu- Ant.
mulating in great numbers about the nostrils, destroy the^-^v^"*^
animal by interrupting respiration. Negroes with sores
had difficulty in keeping the ants from assailing them.
Their power of destruction keeping pace with their in¬
crease of numbers, it is hardly possible to assign limits to
either; and the united hosts of this diminutive insect have
often become formidable to man himself. A story is re¬
lated by Prevost, in his Histoire Generate des Voyages, of
an Italian missionary, resident in Congo, who was awaked
by his negroes in great alarm at the house being invaded
by an immense army of ants, which poured in like a tor¬
rent, and before he could rise had already mounted upon
his legs. They covered the floor and passages, forming a
stratum of considerable depth. Nothing but fire was ca¬
pable of arresting their progress. He states that cows
have been known to be devoured in their stalls by-these
daring devastators. Smith, in his Voyages to Guinea, re¬
ports that at Cape Corse the castle was attacked by le¬
gions of ants, who were preceded by thirty or forty, appa¬
rently acting as guides. It was at day-break when they
made this incursion, entering first by a chapel, on the
floor of which some negro servants were lying. Assailed
by this new enemy, they fled with precipitation, and gave
the alarm to their master, who, on awaking, could hardly
recover from his astonishment at beholding the advancing
multitude, which extended for a quarter of a mile before
him. There was not much time for deliberation; and a
happy expedient was adopted of putting a long train of
gunpowder across the line of their march, and extending
it to their flanks, which had already begun to deploy* and,
setting fire to the whole, millions were destroyed at one
blow; which so intimidated the rest, that the whole army
retreated in disorder, and did not renew the attack.
Descriptions of ant-hills of immense size abound in
books of travellers who have visited tropical regions. Mr
Campbell (Account of Travels in South Africa, published
in 1815) observed in the district of Albany, at the Cape,
an ant-hill, five feet high, and twelve in circumference.
In the forests of Guiana, according to M. Malouet, they
attain the height of from fifteen to twenty feet; and,
when viewed from a distance on these widely extended
savannas, resemble the rude huts of savages; but they
contain a race more ferocious than the savage or the tiger
himself, and cannot be approached by men without the
utmost danger of being devoured. When new settlers,
who are clearing the country, meet with any of these in
their progress, they must immediately desist from their
task, and even abandon the neighbourhood, unless they
can speedily destroy the enemy in the very heart of the
citadel which protects him, and from which he is able to
pour an overwhelming number of combatants. The only
method of accomplishing this is to dig a trench all round
the ant-hills, and, after having filled it with dry wood and
set fire to it on every side, by lighting it quickly in differ¬
ent places, so as to cut off all retreat to the ants, to batter
down the edifice with cannon. The ants, thus scattered,
soon perish in the flames.
The chief, if not the only vegetable substance which is
at all alluring to their appetite, is sugar. They not only
eat it in substance, but are fond of all fluids that contain
it in any quantity,—such as the secretions which exude
from many trees, and compose what has been termed the
honey-dew; and the saccharine juice which is excreted
from the bodies of many of the insects belonging to the
genus Aphis. This latter species of food they appear to
relish above all others : it resembles honey in its qualities,
and is sucked with avidity from the insect which yields it,
and which appears in no respect to suffer from the opera¬
tion. Boissier de Sauvages was the first who noticed this
ANT.
singular fact; and Mr P. Huber has ascertained a number
of curious circumstances attending it. He conceives that
the liquor is given out voluntarily by the aphis, at the so¬
licitation of the ant, who for this purpose strikes it gent¬
ly and repeatedly with its antennae, using the same motions
as it does when caressing its young; and remarks, that the
aphis retains this liquor for a longer time, where the ants
are not at hand to receive it. A single aphis may often
be seen surrounded by three or four ants who are feeding
on the honey, and deriving from it a plentiful meal. It
does not appear that the aphis uses any exertion to avoid
the ants, who are thus dependent on its bounty; for those
provided with wings are quite as passive under these cir¬
cumstances as the rest. They are, however, of an ex¬
tremely sluggish nature, and may be seen for days on the
same stem, in a state of indolent repose, and averse to use
their wings.
A singular observation has been recently made by Pro¬
fessor Savi (the younger) of Pisa, in relation to a species
of Italian ant, the nest of which is inhabited by a small
grasshopper. These animals do not appear to dwell in the
same excavations in a merely casual manner, but they are
united by some unaccountable bond of union, which ren¬
ders the society of the one indispensable to the comfort of
the other. The association of the ant and the aphis before
alluded to is of a dissimilar nature, being the result of
force on the one hand, and of necessity on the other. But,
as far as it is possible to judge from the observations
hitherto recorded, the cohabitation of the ant and the
grasshopper is of a more refined and disinterested kind.
It is really impossible at present to account for it on any
other principle than that of an affectionate interest in each
others society; for no direct advantage appears to result
to either party. On this account Signor Savi has named
the grasshopper gryllus myrmecophilus.1 He proved the
friendly alliance which subsists between these species, by
watching the migratory and other movements of the ants
themselves, during which he discovered that they always
carried their little grasshoppers along with them. These
latter, during fine weather, are seen to sport and play in
the vicinity of the ant-nests, into which they immediately
betake themselves during any unfavourable change of the
air, or the approach of threatened danger.
The cultivation of the sugar-cane in the West Indian
islands has often been severely checked by the ravages of
ants; but the injury they occasion arises altogether from
their undermining the roots, in order to establish their
nests where they can be protected from heavy rains, and
secured against agitation from violent winds ; advantages
which the sugar-cane affords them in a very great degree.
No part of the plant constitutes their food; and the same
is true of those trees among the roots of which they burrow,
and of which they speedily occasion the destruction, by
preventing the access of moisture.
Ripe fruits are often attacked by ants, probably on ac¬
count of the sugar they contain ; and, for the same reason,
the buds of trees are infested with these insects, and often
injured by their depredations. There is no evidence that
they at any time feed upon corn or other vegetable seed.
This point has been well established by Mr Gould ; and
Bonnet, who kept a colony of ants prisoners in his study,
observed, that, however long they had been kept without
food, still they never touched the corn that he put before
them. Honey and sweetmeats have strong attractions for
ants, who, if they once discover their way to a magazine
of these dainties, will immediately communicate the tidings
to the rest of the society, and, leading them to the spot,
a regular path will soon be established, which will con- Ai
tinue to be crowded with a train of depredators so long^y
as any thing remains to be pilfered. It is, however, cer¬
tain, notwithstanding the assertion of Bomare, who com¬
pares them to the miser, whose chief pleasure consists in
contemplating the riches he has amassed in his coffers,
that ants are not in the habit of hoarding provisions for
future consumption. They grow torpid when the cold ex¬
ceeds 27° of Fahrenheit, and in that state require no food;
and the aphis affords them sufficient nourishment at other
periods of the winter.
In building their nests, each species of ant follows its Their
own peculiar mode of construction, and employs different nests.
materials for this purpose. Many form them of clay, and
particularly the smaller species; one set building up a
regular series of apartments in successive stories, often
forty in number, with materials which are furnished to
them by another set of workers, who are excavating the
ground below. The cielings are supported throughout
by small pillars in some parts, and by vertical walls in
others ; while broad arches are in other places raised, in
order to protect larger spaces, and to admit of lengthen¬
ed passages of communication throughout a long extent
of apartments. These ants can proceed in the building
only at such times as the earth has been softened by rain
or dew, and the atmosphere is at the same time sufficient¬
ly moist to allow of the materials cohering firmly before
they dry. Such are probably the ants which Pliny men¬
tions as working by moonlight. On one occasion, when
the ants, under the inspection of Mr Huber, had discon¬
tinued their labours on account of too great dryness in
the atmosphere, he succeeded in getting them to renew
their operations by sprinkling water upon them with a
wet brush, in imitation of a natural shower. They care¬
fully close the doors of their habitations every night, in
order to prevent the intrusion of other insects ; and a few
remain on the outside during the night as sentinels, to
give alarm in case of danger. Some species of ants collect
fragments of leaves, of bark, or of straw, with which they
construct more permanent and artificially constructed
nests than the former. Others employ nothing but the
fine powder which they collect from decayed wood. Some,
for greater security, establish themselves under a large
stone, or in the crevices of decayed buildings. Several
tribes, on the other hand, penetrate into the solid sub¬
stance of wood, which they scoop out into numerous cells,
leaving only intermediate partitions of extreme tenuity,
just of the strength sufficient to enable the whole fabric
to support itself; while it crumbles into powder when
pressed between the fingers.
We shall now take a brief review of the principal circum-f61:11
stances relating to the fecundation of the ant, and thej™"’(
evolution and growth of the young. The former is effect-^
ed very generally during the flight of the females, iny0uii:
which they are accompanied by the males ; both appear¬
ing to be provided with wings chiefly for this object. A
certain number of the females that are impregnated, are
also, by the assistance of their wings, enabled to reach
distant situations, where they become respectively the
founders of new colonies. The males, on the other hand,
having fulfilled the office for which nature had destined
them, are left to perish on the spot where they descend,
being removed from those who formerly administered to
them food, and being destitute of the means of procuring
subsistence for themselves. Immense swarms of ants are
occasionally met with ; and some have been recorded of
such prodigious density and magnitude as to darken the
1 Billioteca Italiana, tomo xv. p. 217-
ANT.
^ air like a thick cloud, and to cover the ground to a consider-
r-^ able extent where they settled. Mr Gleditsch describes,
in the History of the Berlin Academy for 1749, shoals of
a small black ant which appeared in Germany, and form¬
ed high columns in the air, rising to a vast height, and
agitated with a curious intestine motion, somewhat re¬
sembling the aurora borealis. A similar flight of ants is
spoken of by Mr Acolutte, a clergyman of Breslaw, which
resembled columns of smoke, and which fell on the
churches and the tops of the houses, where the ants
could be gathered by handfuls. In the German Ephe-
merides, Dr Charles Rayger gives an account of a large
swarm, which passed over the town of Posen, and was
directing its course towards the Danube. The whole town
was strewed with ants, so that it was impossible to walk
without trampling on thirty or forty at every step. And
more recently, Mr Dorthes, in the Journal de Physique
for 1790, relates the appearance of a similar phenomenon
at Montpellier. The shoals moved about in different di¬
rections, having a singular intestine motion in each co¬
lumn, and also a general motion of rotation. About sun¬
set they all fell to the ground; and, on examining the
ants, they were found to belong to the Formica nigra of
Linnaeus.
The swarming of ants does not appear to be at all ana¬
logous to that of bees: its object seems to be confined to
the propagation of the species, and is not the result of
any co-operatipn of numbers, who associate together in
search of a new habitation, in which an already populous
assemblage may establish themselves. It would appear
that the infant colonies consist of very small numbers,
and are perhaps wholly the offspring of a common parent,
who has migrated alone, or with but a few companions.
The greater number of impregnated females alighting in
the neighbourhood of the nest, are laid hold of by the la¬
bouring ants, who drag them to the nest, where they keep
them prisoners till they are ready to deposit their eggs.
It is very generally asserted that they also deprive them
of their wings; but the later observations of M. Huber
disprove that opinion. The impregnated females cast
their wings of their own accord. They twist and contort
these organs in various directions, till they finally drop
off. Such as are unimpregnated have not been observed
to perform this singular action. Each female is at this
period attended by a numerous retinue of labourers, who
treat her with the greatest deference, and are solicitous
to anticipate all her wants. Contrary to what happens
among bees, many females inhabit the same nest, and live
together in the utmost harmony. The eggs, when first
deposited, are very small, but become considerably larger
before the larva is excluded, being apparently nourished
by absorption; for the ants to whose care they are con¬
fided are perpetually licking them with their tongues,—
a fact which, however curious, is by no means a solitary
one in the history of insects. The larva comes forth at
the end of a fortnight, and appears in the form of a trans¬
parent maggot, with a head and wings, but without any
external organs of motion. They are in this state fed by
their nurses with a fluid disgorged from their stomachs ;
and, in the course of their transformation to the state of
nympha, and of perfect insect, are still dependent upon
their assistance. These affectionate guardians help them
to extricate themselves from the web of the cocoon, to
unfold the duplicatures of their wings, and supply them
with food, till they are capable of procuring it for them¬
selves. The young ant is an exceedingly tender and de¬
licate animal, easily destroyed by any considerable varia¬
tion of temperature, or by excessive humidity; and great
care and attention appear to be required to bring it to
maturity: it appears to be the constant business of the
243
ants which remain at home to convey them to different Ant.
parts of the nest, where the temperature is suited to'—
them; and whenever danger threatens they show the
utmost solicitude to remove them to situations of se¬
curity.
Very different degrees of sagacity belong to different Their sa-
tribes of ants. Many traits in the history of the largerg^city.
kinds, as related by Huber, are of so singular a character
as to be scarcely credible if we had received them from
a less reputable authority, and if we were not already pre¬
pared to admit them, from our knowledge of many equal¬
ly curious circumstances in the economy of bees, which
have been established by the concurrent testimony of the
most scrupulous observers. Some tribes of ants, accord¬
ing to this naturalist, who are peculiarly fond of the honey
which exudes from the aphis, convey many of these in¬
sects into their own nests, lodging them near the vege¬
tables on which they feed, but keeping them prisoners
within their habitations, and assigning to them distinct
apartments in the subterranean recesses of their dwell¬
ings. As if conscious of the future advantages they may
derive from these insects, they collect their eggs, and su¬
perintend their hatching with the same care which they
bestow on the eggs of their own species. The aphis lives
in perfect harmony with its keepers, who, so far from mo¬
lesting it, defend it with courage against ants belonging
to other nests, who frequently attempt to get possession
of them. Occasionally they are lodged by the ants in
fortified buildings, which they construct at a distance
from the nest, in situations where they are most secure
from invasion. The aphis is not the only genus of insect
which furnishes this kind of provision to the ant; the
kermes and gall-insect are employed occasionally for the
same purpose, and are found domesticated in the nests of
ants, at the same time that they contain several species of
aphis, and from all of which they collect nutriment.
This picture of domestic harmony is strongly contrast-The;r
ed with the scenes of ferocious contention which are oc-wars.
casionally exhibited between the inhabitants of neighbour¬
ing nests; nature appearing to have instilled, together
with the love of social order, the same passions of rival¬
ry, of ambition, and of revenge, of which we deplore the
operation among beings of a higher order. War, the
scourge of the human species, exerts its desolating power
among the tribes of gregarious insects, and tends to check
their otherwise excessive increase of number. The bat¬
tles which take place between rival colonies of ants are
often on a scale of prodigious magnitude: millions of com¬
batants engage on either side with a fury and pertinacity
that is truly astonishing. Their weapons of offence are
the jaws, which are capable of inflicting a deep bite, and
of instilling into the wound a highly acrid liquor; and
also, in many species, a sting resembling in situation and
structure that of the bee, and likewise containing a venom¬
ous juice. The liquor is well known to possess acid pro¬
perties, and, though long supposed by chemists to contain
a peculiar acid, which was denominated the Formic, has
been satisfactorily shown by Fourcroy and Vauquelin to
consist of the acetic and malic acids, combined with a
portion of acid animal matter, to which it owes its peculiar
taste and smell. It is extremely volatile and pungent, and
is capable of being thrown out by the ant, when irritated,
in considerable quantities. Roux, in the Journal de Medi¬
cine for 1762, reports a number of experiments which
were made by exposing animals to its influence. Frogs
were killed by the vapour from an ant’s nest in less than
five minutes; and persons breathing it, when of a certain
intensity, were nearly suffocated, or were seized with
fever, followed by an extensive cutaneous eruption, which
terminated in desquamation of the cuticle.
244
ANT.
Ant.
Some of the most daring and courageous species, such
as that which M. Huber calls the Amazon-ant, make it
the business of their lives to attack the nests of the weak¬
er species, and succeed, after a desperate conflict, in
plundering them of their eggs and larvae, which they con¬
vey to their own nests. These are hatched and reared by
ants of the same species as themselves, who may be con¬
sidered as auxiliaries to the amazons, and who had them¬
selves, at some former period, been kidnapped from their
parent nest by the amazons. Thus, a society is formed
among different species of insects, to which no parallel ex¬
ists but in the human race. The amazons live without
labour; they are attended, fed, and cherished by the ants
which they have procured by this kind of slave-trade, and
who take as much care of their offspring as they do of
those of their own species. Perfect order is preserved,
and the natural instinct of hostility, which in another con¬
dition of the society exists between the two tribes, seems
in the auxiliaries completely extinguished, by their being
educated with the race of their original oppressors.
Ants have numerous enemies among quadrupeds and
birds; and some, as the ant-eater, dasypus, and manis or
pangolin, together with the tribe of woodpeckers, devour
a very large proportion. The Formica leonis, or myrme-
lion, feeds almost wholly on these insects. The bees at
the Cape, according, to Mr Campbell, frequently drive out
the ants from their nests, of which they take possession
themselves. Ants are also infested by lice, which, as may
well be imagined, are so minute as to be invisible without
the assistance of a very high magnifying power. They
are stated by Redi, who discovered them, to resemble in
shape those of the fowl and the dove.
Mode of The most effectual mode of destroying ants is to pour
destroying boiling water into their nests, which destroys at once both
ants. ^ perfect insects and their eggs and larvae ; so that
those who, being from home, had escaped the general
catastrophe, finding it impossible to repair the loss, aban¬
don the spot, and disperse. The addition of urine, or of
soot, or still better of tobacco, which may be infused in
the water, will render it much more efficacious. A decoc¬
tion of walnut-leaves or lime-water will also generally
answer. The night is the best time for applying these
remedies, as the ants are then all collected in the nest.
Arsenic is exceedingly destructive to ants, and affords
another ready mode of getting rid of those that intrude into
cupboards or pantries: it may, for this purpose, be mixed
with sugar, or kneaded with any kind of provision, and
placed in the paths they are observed to frequent. Cor¬
rosive sublimate is also highly poisonous to them, and
myriads of the sugar-ants at Grenada were destroyed by
means of it; and it is stated to have had the effect of
rendering the ants so outrageous that they destroyed each
other, as could be seen by a magnifying glass, and even,
though less distinctly, by the naked eye. It appears also
that this effect was produced even when they only came
in contact with the poison. The whole island, however,
was so overrun with these ants, that the numbers that
could be destroyed by these means bore no sensible pro¬
portion to the whole; and recourse was had to fire as
more applicable to destruction on a larger scale. It was
observed that when wood, burnt to the state of charcoal,
without flame, and immediately taken from the fire, was
laid in their way, they crowded to it in such amazing
numbers as soon to extinguish it, though thousands perish¬
ed by so doing. Holes were therefore dug at proper dis¬
tances in a cane-piece, and fire made in each of them.
Prodigious quantities perished in this way; for those
fires, when extinguished, appeared in the shape of mole¬
hills, from the numbers of dead that were heaped upon
them. But as none of the females or. young brood were
destroyed by this expedient, the ants soon re-appeared in Ant;
as great numbers as before; and the island would pro- ||
bably have continued subject to this scourge, had it not ^“tii
been for the occurrence of the great hurricane of 1780,
which at once cleared all the islands of this dreadful pest,
by which the sugar-cane plantations had been threatened
with total ruin. (y.)
For the specific descriptions and systematic arrange¬
ment of the different kinds of ants, see Entomology.
ANT-Eater. See Mammalia, Index.
Ant-HUIs are little hillocks of earth which the ants
throw up for their habitation and the breeding of their
young. They are a very great mischief to dry pastures,
not only by wasting so much land as they cover, but by
hindering the scythe in mowing the grass, and yielding
a poor hungry food, pernicious to cattle. The manner
of destroying them is to cut them into four parts from
the top, and then dig into them so deep as to take out the
core below, so that when the turf is laid down again it may
lie somewhat lower than the level of the rest of the land.
By this means it will be wetter than the rest of the land,
and this will prevent the ants from returning to the same
place, which otherwise they would certainly do. The
earth that is taken out must be scattered to as great a
distance every way as may be, otherwise they will collect
it together, and make another hill just by. The proper
time for doing this is winter; and if the places be left
open, the frost and rains of that time of the year will de¬
stroy the rest; but in this case care must be taken that
they are covered up early enough in the spring, otherwise
they will be less fertile in grass than the other places. In
Hertfordshire they use a particular kind of spade for this
purpose. It is very sharp, and formed at the top into the
shape of a crescent, so that the whole edge makes up more
than three fourths of a circle ; this cuts in every part, and
does the business very quickly and effectually. Others
use the same instruments that they do for mole-hills.
Human dung is a better remedy than all these, as is proved
by experiment; for it will kill great numbers of them,
and drive all the rest away, if only a small quantity of it
be put into their hills.
A NT A, in the Ancient Architecture, a square pilaster
placed at the corners of buildings.
Anta, or Ahanta, a small kingdom on the Gold Coast
of Africa, extending about ten leagues in length, between
Apollonia and the Fantee territory. The country is cover¬
ed with large trees, among which stand a number of fine
villages. The soil is exceedingly rich, and considered
superior to any other on the Gold Coast. Every kind of
tropical produce is there reared with advantage, and the
sugar-cane grows to a great size and of excellent quality.
It contains various species of valuable dyeing and orna¬
mental woods, one of which is considered little infe¬
rior to mahogany. There are supposed to be mines of
gold in the territory; but the ruling powers do not en¬
courage the working of them, which would perhaps require
more skill than the people possess. Gold, however, may
be obtained in considerable quantities, being brought
down from the interior countries of Warsaw and Dinkira.
The air is also much more salubrious than in any other
place of this coast, the number of deaths being observed
to be smaller than in any other part of Guinea. For¬
merly Anta was potent and populous, inhabited by a bold
and rapacious people, who greatly annoyed the Europeans
by their frequent incursions; but by continual wars-with
their neighbours they are now greatly enfeebled, and are
disposed to seek protection from the Dutch and other
Europeans who have forts on this coast, and to maintain
a friendly intercourse with them. Axim, Dixcove, and
Succondee are the principal towns ; and many commodious
ANT
ntttb creeks and havens are found along the coast. The British
U government, however, having since the abolition of the
Utah! slave-trade limited in a remarkable degree its intercourse
rv‘'v'with the Gold Coast, has withdrawn the garrisons which
it maintained in the three places above mentioned.
ANTACIDS, an appellation given to all medicines pro¬
per to correct acid or sour humours. Under the class of
Antacids come, 1. Absorbents, as chalk, coral, sea-shells,
haematites, and steel filings; 2. Obtundents, as oils and
fats; 3. Immutants, as lixivious salts and soaps.
ANIVEUS, in fabulous history, a giant of Libya, son
of Neptune and Terra. Designing to build a temple to
his father, of men’s sculls, he slew all he met. In his com¬
bat with Hercules he is said to have received strength
from the earth every time he was thrown upon it, which
Hercules perceiving, lifted him up from the ground and
squeezed him to death.
Antaeus was king of Mauritania ; and from several cir¬
cumstances, with which we are supplied by various au¬
thors, it appears extremely probable that he was the same
person with Atlas. They were both of them the sons of
Neptune, who reigned over Mauritania, Numidia, and a
great part of Libya; as may be naturally inferred from
his having such particular marks of distinction conferred
upon him by the inhabitants of those regions: they both
ruled with absolute power over a great part of Africa,
particularly Tingitana: Hercules defeated and slew An¬
taeus in the same war wherein he took the Libyan world
from Atlas: both Atlas and Antaeus invaded Egypt, and
contended with Hercules in the wars with the gods, and
were both vanquished by him: Antaeus, as well as Atlas,
was famed for knowledge in the celestial sciences: from
all which we may fairly conclude that they were the same
king of Mauritania. s
The golden apples so frequently mentioned by the old
mythologists wrere the treasures that fell into Hercules’s
hands upon Antaeus’s defeat, the Greeks giving the ori¬
ental word aba, riches, the signification annexed to their
own term, jttjjXa, apples. After the most diligent and im¬
partial examination of all the difterent hypotheses of his¬
torians and chronologers relating to Atlas and Antaeus,
we find none so little clogged with difficulties as that of
Sir Isaac Newton. According to that illustrious author,
Ammon, the father of Sesac, was the first king of Libya,
or that vast tract extending from the borders of Egypt to
the Atlantic Ocean, the conquest of which country was
effected by Sesac in his father's lifetime. Neptune after¬
wards excited the Libyans to rebellion against Sesac,
slew him, and then invaded Egypt under the command of
Atlas or Antaeus, the son of Neptune, Sesac’s brother and
admiral. Not long after, Hercules, the general of Thebais
and Ethiopia, for the gods or great men of Egypt, reduc¬
ed a second time the whole continent of Libya, having
overthrown and slain Antaeus near a town in Thebais,
from that event called Antaea or Antaeopolis. This is
the notion advanced by Sir Isaac Newton, who endea¬
vours to prove that the first reduction of Libya by Sesac
happened a little above a thousand years before the birth
of Christ, as the last by Hercules did some few years
after.
ANTAGOGUE, in Rhetoric, a figure by which, when
the accusation of the adversary is unanswerable, we load
him with the same or other crimes.
AN I'ALO, a considerable town of Abyssinia, capital of
the flat and fertile district of Enderta, which is dependent
on ligre. The town is built along the declivity of a moun¬
tain, commanding fine views over an extensive range of
territory to the south. Though considered in Abyssinia a
place of importance, its absolute magnitude is by no means
very large. There are not more than 1000 houses, which,
rA N T 245
with the exception of that destined for the residence of Antana.
the Ras or sovereign of Tigre, are no better than clusters clasis
of huts with conical thatched roofs. As Antalo stands near H
the border of the provinces now occupied by the Galla, An.tedl^u*
that fierce and turbulent race, who have occupied a great
part of Abyssinia, and whose armies continually threaten
the rest, the Ras, to watch their movements, has fixed
his usual residence at Antalo. There is at this place
a manufactory of spears, which are much esteemed, and
exported to various parts of the country.
ANTANAGLASIS, in Rhetoric, a figure which repeats
the same word, but in a different sense; as, dwn vivimus,
vivamus.
ANTARCTIC, in a general sense, denotes something
opposite to the northern or arctic pole. Hence antarctic
circle is one of the lesser circles of the sphere, and distant
only 23° SCK from the south pole, which is likewise called
antarctic for the same reason.
ANTARES, in Astronomy, the name of a star of the
first magnitude, called also the scorpion’s heart. Its R. A.
on 1st January 1830 was 16 h. 18 m. 59-77 sec.; An. Pr.
+ 3-66 sec.; S. D. 26° 2' 23"-5 ; An. Pr. +8'-6.
ANTAVARE, a province of the island of Madagascar,
lying about 21° 80' S. lat. and bounded by the province
and cape of Manousi. The greater part of it is watered
by the river Mananzari, whose source is in the red moun¬
tains of Ambohitsmene.
ANTEAMBULONES, in Roman Antiquity, servants
who went before persons of distinction to clear the way
before them. They used this formula, Date locum domino
meo, i. e. Make room or way for my master.
ANTECEDENT, in general, something that goes be¬
fore another, either in order of time or place.
Antecedent, in Grammar, the words to which a rela¬
tive refers.
Antecedent, in Logic, is the first of the two proposi¬
tions in an enthymeme.
Antecedent, in Mathematics, is the first of two terms
of a ratio, or that which is compared with the other.
ANTECESSOR, one that goes before. It was an ap¬
pellation given to those who excelled in any science. Jus¬
tinian applied it particularly to professors of the civil law ;
and, in the universities of France, the teachers of law take
the title antecessors in all their theses.
ANTECURSORES, in the Roman armies, a party of
horse detached before, partly to get intelligence, provi¬
sions, &c. and partly to choose a proper place to encamp
in. These were otherwise called antecessores, and by the
Greeks ffgodgopoi.
ANTEDILUVIANS, a general name for all mankind
who lived before the flood, and so includes the whole of
the human race from Adam to Noah and his family.
As Moses has not set down the particular time of any
transaction before the flood, except only the years of the
fathers’ ages in which the several descendants of Adam
in the line of Seth were begotten, and the length of their
several lives, it has been the business of chronologers to
endeavour to fix the years of the lives and deaths of those
patriarchs, and the distance of time from the creation to
the deluge. In this there could be little difficulty, were
there no varieties in the several copies we now have of
Moses’s writings; which are, the Hebrew, the Samaritan,
and the Greek version of the Septuagint; but as these
differ very considerably from one another, learned men
have been much divided in opinion concerning the chro¬
nology of the first ages of the world.
That the reader may the better judge of the variations
in the three copies in this period, they are exhibited in
the following table, with the addition of those of Jose¬
phus as corrected by Dr Wells and Mr Whiston.
246 ANT
ANT
A Table of the Years of the Antediluvian Patriarchs.
Their Ages at their Sons’ Birth.
Heb. Sam. Sept. Jos.
Adam   130 130 230 130
Seth..!’.  105 105 205 105
Enos  90
Cainan  70
Mahalaleel  65
Jared  162
Enoch  65
Methuselah   187
Lamech  182
90 190
70 170
P5 165
62 162
65 165
67 167 187
53 188 182
90
70
65
62
65
Noah was aged at the Flood  600 600 600 600
To the Flood  1656 1307 2242 1556
Years they lived after
their Sons’ Birth.
Heb. Sam.
800 800
807 807
815 815
840 840
830 830
800 785
300 300
782 653
595 600
Sept.
700
707
715
740
730
800
200
802
565
Length of their Lives.
Heb. Sam.
930 930
912 912
905 905
910 910
895 895
962 847
365 365
969 720
777 653
Sept.
930
912
905
910
895
962
365
969
753
Ant'
Diet
ft'
r*
As to the customs, policy, and other general circum¬
stances of the antediluvians, we can only form conjec¬
tures. , . . .
The only thing we know as to their religious rites is,
that they offered sacrifices, and that very early, both of
the fruits of the earth and of animals; but whether the
blood and flesh of the animals, or only their milk and
wool, were offered, is a disputed point.
The antediluvians seem to have spent their time rather
in luxury and wantonness, to which the abundant fertility
of the first earth invited them, than in discoveries or im¬
provements, which probably they stood much less in need
of than their successors. Some authors have supposed
astronomy to have been cultivated by the antediluvians,
though this is probably owing to a mistake of Josephus ;
but it is to be presumed that the progress they made there¬
in, or in any other science, was not extraordinary; it being
even very doubtful whether letters were so much as known
before the flood.
As to their politics and civil constitutions, we have not
so much as any circumstances whereon to build conjecture.
It is probable that the patriarchal form of government,
which certainly was the first, was set aside when tyranny
and oppression began to take place, and much sooner among
the race of Cain than among that of Seth. It seems also
that their communities were but few, and consisted of
vastly larger numbers of people than any formed since
the flood; or rather it is a question, whether, after the
union of the two great families of Seth and Cain, there
were any distinction of civil societies, or diversity of regu¬
lar governments at all. It is more likely that all mankind
then made but one great nation, though living in a kind
of anarchy, divided into several disorderly associations;
which, as it was almost the natural consequence of their
having in all probability but one common language, so
it was a circumstance which greatly contributed to that
general corruption which otherwise perhaps could not
have so universally overspread the antediluvian world.
And for this reason chiefly, as it seems, so soon as the
posterity of Noah were sufficiently increased, a plurality
of tongues was miraculously introduced, in order to divide
them into distinct societies, and thereby prevent any such
total depravation for the future.
One of the most extraordinary circumstances which oc¬
curs in the antediluvian history, is the vast length of hu¬
man lives in those first ages, in comparison with our
own. Few persons now arrive at eighty or a hundred
years, whereas before the flood they frequently lived to
near a thousand. Some, to reconcile this with probabili¬
ty, have imagined that the ages of those first men might
possibly be computed, not by solar years, but months; an
expedient which reduces the length of their lives rather
to a shorter period than our own. But for this there is
not the least foundation; besides, many absurdities would
thence follow,—such as their begetting children at about
six years of age, as some of them in that case must have
done, and the contracting of the whole interval between
the creation and the deluge to considerably less than two
hundred years, even according to the larger computation
of the Septuagint.
Josephus, the Jewish historian, and some Christian di¬
vines, are of opinion, that before the flood, and some time
after, mankind in general did not live to such a remark¬
able age, but only a few beloved of God, such as the patri¬
archs mentioned by Moses. They reason in this manner:
Though the historian records the names of some men whose
longevity was singular, yet that is no proof that the rest
of mankind attained to the same period of life, more than
that every man was then of a gigantic stature because he
says in those days there were giants upon the earth. Besides,
had the whole of the antediluvians lived so very long,
and increased in numbers in proportion to their age, be¬
fore the flood of Noah, the earth could not have contain¬
ed its inhabitants, even supposing no part of it had been
sea. And had animals lived as long, and multiplied in
the same manner, as they have done since, they would
have consumed the whole produce of the globe, and the
stronger would have extinguished many species of the
weaker. Hence they conclude, that for wise and good
ends, God extended only the lives of the patriarchs, and
a few besides, to such an extraordinary length. But most
writers maintain the longevity of mankind in general in
the early world, not only upon the authority of sacred,
but likewise of profane history.
The antediluvian world was in all probability stocked
with a much greater number of inhabitants than the
present earth either actually does, or perhaps is capa¬
ble of containing or supplying. This seems naturally
to follow, from the great length of their lives, which ex¬
ceeding the present standard of life in the proportion at
least of ten to one, the antediluvians must accordingly in
any long space of time have doubled themselves, at least
in about the tenth part of the time in which mankind do
now double themselves. Upon these points the reader
may consult Cockburn’s Treatise upon the Deluge, Shuck-
ford’s Connections, Faber’s Horae Mosaicae, and the An¬
cient Universal History.
ANTEGO. See Antigua.
ANTEJURAMENTUM, by our ancestors called/^
mentum calumnice, an oath which anciently both accuser
and accused were to take before any trial or purgation-
The accuser was to swear that he would prosecute the
ANT
ANT 247
lone priminal; and the accused to make oath, on the day he
| ^ vas to undergo the ordeal, that he was innocent of the
luera;Tjme charged against him,
ANTELOPE. See Mammalia, Index.
ANTELUCAN, in ecclesiastical writers, is applied to
* hings done in the night, or before day. We find frequent
1 lention of the antelucan assemblies ( Ccetus anteluccmi) of
he ancient Christians in times of persecution for religious
I worship.
ANTEMURALE, in the ancient military art, denotes
nuch the same with what the moderns call an ouhvork.
ANTENATI, in modern English history, is chiefly
nderstood of the subjects of Scotland born before King
ames the First’s accession to the English crown, and alive
fter it. In relation to these, those who were born after
he accession were denominated Postnati. The antenati
rere considered as aliens in England, whereas the postnati
laimed the privilege of natural subjects.
ANTENCLEMA, in Oratory, is where the whole de-
ence of the person accused turns on criminating the
ccuser. Such is the defence of Orestes, or the oration
or Milo: Occisus est, sed latro. Exsectus, sed raptor.
ANTENICENE, in ecclesiastical writers, denotes a
hing or person prior to the first council of Nice. We
ay the Antenicene faith, Antenicene creeds, Antenicene
athers.
ANTENNAL See Entomology, Index.
ANTENOR, a Trojan prince, came into Italy, expelled
he Enganians on the river Po, and built the city of Padua,
vhere his tomb is said to be still extant.
ANTEPAGMENTA, in the Ancient Architecture, the
ambs of a door. They are also ornaments or garnishings,
n carved work, of men, animals, &c. made either of wood
>r stone, and set on the architrave.
ANTEPENULTIMA, in Grammar, the third syllable
)f a word from the end, or the last syllable but two.
ANTEPILANI, in the Roman armies, a name given to
he hastati and principes, because they marched next be-
ore the triarii, who were called pilani.
ANTEPILEPTICS, among physicians, medicines es-
.eemed good in the epilepsy.
ANTEPOSITION, a grammatical figure, whereby a
vord, which by the ordinary rules of syntax ought to fol-
ow another, comes before it; as when, in the Latin, the
t| idjective is put before the substantive, the verb before
-he nominative case, &c.
ANTEPREDICAMENTS, among logicians, certain
* areliminary questions which illustrate the doctrine of pre-
licaments and categories.
ANTEQUERA, a commandery in the province of
Granada in Spain, extending over 165 square miles, be¬
tween the cities of Granada, Seville, and Cordova, in a
fertile soil, comprehending the city of the same name, and
eight towns, besides several villages, having in the whole
i population of about 40,000.
Antequeha, a city of Spain, in the province of Seville,
, I in Andalusia. It is situate in a beautiful and fertile valley,
covered with olive-trees, around which, in all directions,
lofty mountains rise to a great height, which contain valu¬
able quarries of marble of every description. Near it is
i saline lake, which supplies the inhabitants of the district
with salt for all their culinary purposes. As long as the
Moors possessed the kingdom of Granada, this city, from
being the point which commands the eastern entrance to
the plain, was a military post of vast importance, and its
possession was perpetually contested by the rival monarchs
on both sides of it. An ancient castle still remains, in
which are preserved specimens of the various military
weapons and accoutrements both of the Moors and the
Christians of the 14th century. It contains about 14,000
inhabitants, employed in cultivation and in the manufac- Anteros
tures of cloth and leather. II
ANTEROS, in Mythology, one of the two Cupids who Antheste-
wrere the chief of the number. They are placed at the
foot of the Venus de’ Medici. This is represented with a
heavy and sullen look, agreeably to the poetical descrip¬
tion of him, as the cause of love’s ceasing. The other was
called Eros.
ANTESIGNANI, in the Roman armies, soldiers placed
before the standards, in order to defend them, according
to Lipsius; but Caesar and Livy mention the antesignani
as the first line or first body of heavy armed troops. The
velites, who used to skirmish before the army, were like¬
wise called antesignani.
ANTESTARI, in Roman Antiquity, signifies to bear
witness against any one who refused to make his appear¬
ance in the Roman courts of judicature, on the day ap¬
pointed, and according to the tenor of his bail. The plain¬
tiff finding the defendant after such a breach of his en¬
gagement, was allowred to carry him into court by force,
having first asked any of the persons present to bear wit¬
ness. The person asked to bear witness in this case
expressed his consent by turning his right ear, which was
instantly taken hold of by the plaintiff; and this was to
answer the end of a subpoena. The ear was touched upon
this occasion, says Pliny, as being the seat of memory, and
therefore the ceremony was a sort of caution to the party
to remember his engagement.
ANTESTATURE, in Fortification, a small intrench-
ment made of palisadoes, or sacks of earth, with a view
to dispute with an enemy the remainder of a piece of
ground.
ANTHEM, a church song performed in cathedral ser¬
vice by choristers, who sung alternately. It was used to
denote both psalms and hymns when performed in this
manner; but at present anthem is used in a more con¬
fined sense, being applied to certain passages taken out
of the Scriptures, and adapted to a particular solemnity.
Anthems were first introduced, in ttfe reformed service of
the English church, in the beginning of the reign of Queen
Elizabeth.
ANTHESPHORIA, in Antiquity, a Sicilian festival
instituted in honour of Proserpine. The word is derived
from the Greek av^oi, flower, and I carry ; because
that goddess was forced away by Pluto when she was
gathering flowers in the fields. Yet Festus does not
ascribe the feast to Proserpine, but says it was thus called
because ears of corn were carried on this day to the
temples. Anthesphoria seems to be the same thing with
the florifertum of the Latins, and answers to the harvest-
home among us.
ANTHESTERIA, in Antiquity, was a feast celebrated
by the Athenians in honour of Bacchus. The most natu¬
ral derivation of the word is from the Greek ai&oj (flos), a
flower, it being the custom at this feast to offer garlands
of flowers to Bacchus.
The anthesteria lasted three days, the 11th, 12th, and
13th of the month, each of which had a name suited to
the proper office of the day. The first day of the feast
was called ftfooiyiu, i. e. opening xoj the vessels, because on
this day they tapped the vessels and tasted the wine.
The second day they called %oos, congius, the name of a
measure containing the weight of 10 pounds : on this they
drank the wine prepared the day before. The third day
they called ypr^ot, kettles : on this day they boiled all sorts
of pulse in kettles; which however they were not allowed
to taste, as being offered to Mercury.
ANTHESTERION, in ancient chronology, the sixth
month of the Athenian year. It contained 29 days, and
answered to the latter part of our November and begin-
248
ANT
ANT
Antholo-
gion
Anthrax.
rung of December. The Macedonians called it dasion or
desion. It had its name from the festival anthesteria kept
in it.
ANTHOLOGION, the title of the service-book used in
the Greek church. It is divided into 12 months, contain¬
ing the offices sung throughout the year, on the festivals
of our Saviour, the Virgin, and other remarkable saints.
ANTHOLOGY, a discourse of flowers, or a selection of
beautiful passages from various authors. It is also the name
given to a collection of epigrams taken from several Greek
poets.
ANTHONY, Saint, was born in Egypt in 251, and in¬
herited a large fortune, which he distributed among his
neighbours and the poor, retired into solitude, founded a
religious order, built many monasteries, and died anno 356.
Many ridiculous stories are told of his conflicts with the
devil, and of his miracles. There are seven epistles extant
attributed to him.
St Anthony is sometimes represented with a fire by his
side, signifying that he relieves persons from the inflam¬
mation called after his name ; but always accompanied by
a hog, on account of his having been a swine-herd, and
curing all disorders in that animal. To do him the greater
honour, the Romanists in several places keep at common
charges a hog denominated St Anthony's hog, for which
they have great veneration. Some will have St Anthony’s
picture on the walls of their houses, hoping by that to be
preserved from the plague ; and the Italians, who do not
know the true signification of the fire painted at the side
of their saint, concluding that he preserves houses from
being burnt, invoke him on such occasions. Both painters
and poets have made very free with this saint and his
followers ; the former by the many ludicrous pictures of
his temptation, and the latter by divers epigrams on his
disciples or friars.
Anthony, or Knights of St Anthony, a military order
instituted by Albert duke of Bavaria, Holland, and Zea¬
land, when he designed to make war against the Turks in
1382. The knights wore a collar of gold made in form of
a hermit’s girdle, from which hung a stick cut like a
crutch, with a little bell, as they are represented in St
Anthony’s pictures.
St Anthony also gives the denomination to a religious
order founded in France about the year 1095, to take care
of those afflicted with St Anthony’s fire (see the next ar¬
ticle). It is said that in some places these monks assume
to themselves a power of giving, as well as removing, the
ignis sacer, or erysipelas; a power which stands them in
great stead, for keeping the poor people in subjection, and
extorting alms.
St Anthony's Fire, a name properly given to the ery¬
sipelas. Apparently it took this denomination, as those
afflicted with it made their peculiar application to St An¬
thony of Padua for a cure. It is known that, anciently,
particular diseases had their peculiar saints. Thus, in the
ophthalmia, persons had recourse to St Lucia; in the
toothache, to St Apollonia ; in the hydrophobia, to St Hu¬
bert, &c.
ANTHORISMUS, in Khetoric, denotes a contrary de¬
scription or definition of a thing from that given by the
adverse party. Thus, if the plaintiff urge, that to take
any thing away from another without his knowledge or
consent, is a theft; this is called o^o;, or definition. If the
defendant reply, that to take a thing away from another
without his knowledge or consent, provided it be done
with design to return it to him again, is not theft; this is
an avdo^idfjMf.
ANTHR AX, a Greek term, literally signifying a burn¬
ing coal, used by the ancients to denote a gem, as well as
a disease more generally known by the name of carbuncle.
ANTHROPOGLOTTUS, among zoologists, an appel-An; of1''
lation given to such animals as have tongues resembling g! I
that of mankind, particularly to the parrot kind. | I t
ANTHROPOLATRiE, in Ecclesiastical History, an ap-^ T'c
pellation given to the Nestorians, on account of their wor-'
shipping Christ, notwithstanding that they believed him c
to be a mere man. 8
ANTHROPOLATRIA, the paying of divine honours to
a man : supposed to be the most ancient kind of idolatry. 11
ANTHROPOLITES, a term denoting petrifactions of
the human body, as those of quadrupeds are called zoo-
lites. See Petrifaction.
ANTHROPOLOGY, a discourse upon human nature, j ^
It is sometimes applied to designate the speculations and
inquiries that have obtained concerning the varieties of
the human race. See Man.
Anthropology, among divines, denotes that manner
of expression by which the inspired writers attribute hu¬
man parts and passions to God. *
ANTHROPOMANCY, a species of divination, per¬
formed by inspecting the entrails of a human creature.
ANTHROPOMORPHA, a term formerly given to the
primates of that class of animals which have the greatest
resemblance to the human kind. J
ANTHROPOMORPHISM, among ecclesiastical wri- *
ters, denotes the heresy or error of the Anthropomorphites. i
Sgg the next article* ^
ANTHROPOMORPHITES, in Ecclesiastical History,
a sect of ancient heretics, who, taking every thing spoken of
God in Scripture in a literal sense, particularly that passage
of Genesis in which it is said God made man after his oum c
image, maintained that God had a human shape. They
are likewise called Audeans, from Audeus their leader.
ANTHROPOMORPHOUS, something that bears the
figure or resemblance of a man. Naturalists give instances
of anthropomorphous plants, anthropomorphous minerals, 1
&c. These generally come under the class of what are
called lusus natures, or monsters. 1
ANTHROPOPATHY, a figure or expression by which
some passion is ascribed to God, which properly belongs
only to man.
ANTHROPOPHAGI (of av&gurrog, a man, and payw, to
eat, Men-Eaters). That there have been, in almost all
ages of the world, nations who have followed this barba- 1
rous practice, we have abundance of testimonies.
The Cyclops, the Lestrygons, and Scylla, are all repre¬
sented in Homer as Anthropophagi, or man-eaters; and
the female phantoms, Circe and the Sirens, first bewitch¬
ed with a show of pleasure, and then destroyed. This,
like the other parts of Homer’s poetry, had a foundation
in the manners of the times preceding his own. Accord¬
ing to Herodotus, among the Essedonian Scythians, when
a man’s father died, the neighbours brought several beasts,
which they killed, mixed up their flesh with that of the
deceased, and made a feast. Among the Massagetae,
when any person grew old, they killed him and ate his
flesh ; but if he died of sickness they buried him, esteem¬
ing him unhappy. The same author also assures us that
several nations in the Indies killed all their old people and
their sick, to feed on their flesh. He adds, that persons
in health were sometimes accused of being sick, to afford
a pretence for devouring them. According to Sextus
Empiricus, the first laws that were made were for. the pre¬
venting of this barbarous practice, which the Greek wri¬
ters represent as universal before the time of Orpheus.
Of the practice of anthropophagy in later times, we
have the testimonies of all the Romish missionaries who
have visited the interior parts of Africa, and even some
parts of Asia. When America was discovered, this prac¬
tice was found to be almost universal, insomuch that se-
A N T
'tbroi* veral authors have supposed it to be occasioned through a
’ cufflia Want of other food, or through the indolence of the people
iS t0 seek for it; though others ascribe its origin to a spirit
o tichr i< 0£ revenge. )
'V^' It appears pretty certain, from Dr Hawkesworth s ac-
c ' count of the voyages to the South Seas, that the inhabit-
* ants of the island of New Zealand, a country unfurnished
^ with the necessaries of life, eat the bodies of their ene-
11 mies. It appears also to be very probable, that both the
^ wars and anthropophagy of these savages take their rise
ft from irresistible necessity, and owe their continuance to
d the dreadful alternative of destroying each other by vio-
if lence, or of perishing by hunger.
Mr Marsden informs us that this horrible custom is
P practised by the Battas, a people in the island of Sumatra.
“ << They do not eat human flesh,” says he, “ as a means of
s satisfying the cravings of nature, owing to a deficiency of
8 other food; nor is it sought after as a gluttonous delicacy,
® as it would seem among the New Zealanders. The Bat-
11 tas eat it as a species of ceremony; as a mode of showing
^ their detestation of crimes, by an ignominious punishment;
* and as a horrid indication of revenge and insult to their un-
fortunate enemies. The objects of this barbarous repast
J are the prisoners taken in war, and oftenders convicted
» and condemned for capital crimes.”
It may be said, that whether the dead body of an
e enemy be eaten or buried, is a matter perfectly indiffer-
« ent. But whatever the practice of eating human flesh
” may be in itself, it certainly is relatively, and in its con-
* sequences, most pernicious. It manifestly tends to eradi-
( cate a principle which is the chief security of human life,
« and more frequently restrains the hand of the murderer
than the sense of duty or the dread of punishment. Even
i if this horrid practice originates from hunger, still it must
be perpetuated from revenge. Death must lose much of
its horror among those who are accustomed to eat the
< dead; and where there is little horror at the sight of death,
there must be less repugnance to murder.
ANTHROPOSCOPIA (from avtiguiroe, and <rxo«w, /con¬
sider), the art of judging or discovering a man’s charac¬
ter, disposition, passions, and inclinations, from the linea¬
ments of his body ; in which sense anthroposcopia seems
of somewhat greater extent than physiognomy or meto-
j poscopy. Otto has published an Anthroposcopia, sive ju-
( dicium hominis de homine ex lineamentis externis.
ANTHROPOTHYSIA, the inhuman practice of offer¬
ing human sacrifices. See Sacrifice.
ANTHYPOPHORA, in Rhetoric, a figure of speech,
being the counterpart of an hypophora. See Hypophora.
ANTI, a Greek preposition, which enters into the com¬
position of several words, both Latin, French, and English,
in different senses. Sometimes it signifies before, as an
antichamber; and sometimes opposite or contrary, as in the
names of these medicines, anti-scorbutic, anti-venereal.
ANTIBACCHIUS, in Ancient Poetry, a foot consisting
of three syllables, the first two long, and the last one
short: such is the word amblre.
ANTIBES, a seaport town of France, in the depart¬
ment of Yar, with a strong castle. Its territory produces
excellent fruit; and the town stands opposite to Nice, in
the Mediterranean. Long. 7. 9. E. Lat. 43. 42. N.
ANTICHRIST, among ecclesiastical writers, denotes
a great adversary of Christianity, who is to appear upon
the earth towards the end of the world. Some place his
capital at Constantinople, others at Jerusalem, others at
Moscow, and some few at London; but the generality at
Rome, though these last are divided. Grotius and some
others suppose Rome Pagan to have been the seat of
Antichrist; most of the Lutheran and reformed doc¬
tors contend earnestly for Rome Christian under the
vol. in.
'ANT 249
papal hierarchy. In fact, the point having been maturely Antichris-
debated at the council of Gap, held in 1603, a resolu- tianism
tion was taken thereupon to insert an article in the Con- . II .
fession of Faith, whereby the pope is formally declared
to be Antichrist. Pope Clement VIII. was stung to the
quick with this decision; and even King Henry IV. of
France was not a little mortified to be thus declared, as
he said, an imp of Antichrist.
M. Leclerc holds that the rebel Jews and their leader
Simon, whose history is given by Josephus, are to be re¬
puted as the true Antichrist. Lightfoot and Vanderhart
rather apply this character to the Jewish Sanhedrim.
Hippolitus and others held that the devil himself was the
true Antichrist; that he was to be incarnate, and make
his appearance in human shape before the consummation
of all things. Others among the ancients held that Anti¬
christ was to be born of a virgin by some prolific power
imparted to her by the devil.
Hunnius and some others assert that there is to be
.both an eastern and a western Antichrist. Father Mal-
venda, a Jesuit, published a large work entitled Anti-
christo, in which this subject is amply discussed.
Upon the whole, the Antichrist mentioned by the apostle
John in his First Epistle, ii. 18, and more particularly de¬
scribed in the book of Revelation, seems evidently to be
the same with the Man of Sin, &c. characterized by St
Paul in his Second Epistle to the Thessalonians, chap. ii.;
and the entire description literally applies to the excesses
of papal power. Had the right of private judgment, says
an excellent writer, been always adopted and maintained,
Antichrist could never have been; and when that sacred
right comes to be universally asserted, and men follow
the voice of their own reason and conscience, Antichrist
can be no more.
ANTICHRISTIANISM, a state or quality in persons
or principles which denominates them antichristian, or
opposite to the kingdom of Christ. M. Jurieu takes the
idea of the unity of the church to have been the source of
Antichristianism. Had not mankind been infatuated with
this, they would never have stood in such awe of the
anathemas of Rome. It is on this that the popes erected
their monarchical power.
ANTICHTHONES, in Ancient Geography, an appella¬
tion given to the inhabitants of opposite hemispheres.
ANTICOSTE, a barren island lying in the mouth of
the river St Lawrence, in North America. Long. 64.16.
W. Lat. 49. 40. N.
ANTIDICOMARIANITES, ancient heretics who pre¬
tended that the Holy Virgin did not preserve a perpetual
virginity, but that she had several children by Joseph after
our Saviour’s birth.
ANTIDORON, in ecclesiastical writers, a name given
by the Greeks to the consecrated bread, out of which the
middle part, marked with the cross, wherein the consecra¬
tion resides, being taken away by the priest, the remain¬
der is distributed after mass to the poor. On the sides of
the antidoron are impressed the words Jesus Christas vicit.
The word is formed from dagov, donum, a gift, as being
given away loco muneris, or in charity. The antidoron is
also called panis prcesanctificatus.
ANTIDOS1S, in Antiquity, denotes an exchange of
estates, practised by the Greeks on certain occasions with
peculiar ceremonies, and first instituted by Solon.
When a person was nominated to an office, the expense
of which he was not able to support, he had recourse to
the antidosis; that is, he was to seek some other citizen
of better substance than himself, who was free from this
and other offices; in which case the former was excused.
In case the person thus substituted denied himself to be
the richest, they were to exchange estates after this man-
250
ANT
ANT
Antigonus. ner: the doors of their houses were shut up and seal-
ed, that nothing might be conveyed away; then both
took an oath to make a faithful discovery of all their ef¬
fects, except what lay in the silver mines, which by the
laws were exempted from all imposts. Accordingly, within
three days, a full discovery and exchange of estates was
made.
ANTIGONUS L, one of the captains of Alexander the
Great, was the son of Philip, a Macedonian nobleman.
After Alexander’s death, a division of the provinces taking
place, Pamphylia,Lycia, and Phrygia Major fell to his share.
But Perdiccas, well acquainted with his ambitious spirit
and great abilities, determined to divest him of his govern¬
ment, and laid plans for his life, by bringing various ac¬
cusations against him. Antigonus, aware of the danger,
retired with his son Demetrius into Greece, where he ob¬
tained the favour and protection of Antipater; and in a
short time Perdiccas dying, a new division took place,
when he was invested not only with the government of the
former provinces, but also with that of Lycaonia. He was
likewise intrusted with the command of the Macedonian
household troops; and upon Eumenes being declared a
public enemy, he received orders to prosecute the war
against him with the utmost vigour. On the commence¬
ment of this war, Eumenes suffered a total overthrow, and
was obliged to retire with only 600 brave followers to a
castle situated on an inaccessible rock, where he might
rest in safety from all the assaults of Antigonus. In the
interval, his friends assembled a new army for his relief,
which was routed by Antigonus, who now began to exhibit
the great projects of his ambition. Polyperchon succeed¬
ing to the tutorship of the young king of Macedon after
Antipater’s death, Antigonus resolved to set himself up
as lord of all Asia. On account of the great power of Eu¬
menes, he greatly desired to gain him over to his interest;
but that faithful commander, effecting his escape from the
fortress where he was closely blockaded, raised an army,
and was appointed the royal general in Asia. The gover¬
nors in Upper Asia co-operating with him, he succeeded
in several engagements against Antigonus ; but was at last
delivered up to him through treachery, and put to death.
Upon this the governor of Upper Asia yielded to Anti¬
gonus. Those whom he suspected, he either sacrificed
to his resentment or displaced from their offices. Then
seizing upon all the treasures at Susa, he directed his
march towards Babylon, of which city Seleucus was gover¬
nor. Seleucus fled to Ptolemy, and entered into a league
with him, together with Lysimachus and Cassander, with
the intention of giving a check to the exorbitant power of
Antigonus, who, notwithstanding this, made a successful
attempt upon the provinces of Syria and Phoenicia. But
these provinces were soon after recovered by Ptolemy,
who defeated his son Demetrius, while he himself was
employed in repelling Cassander, who had made rapid
progress in Lesser Asia. They were again taken by An¬
tigonus, who, being flushed with his success, planned an
expedition against the Nabathsean Arabs, dwelling in the
deserts adjacent to Judea; but on the first enterprise
against the town of Petra, his general Athenaeus, with al¬
most all his troops, was cut to pieces by the Arabs. An¬
tigonus then sent his son against them, who returned after
forcing them to reasonable terms. Demetrius then ex¬
pelled Seleucus from Babylon; and success attending his
arms wherever he went, the confederates were obliged to
make a treaty with Antigonus, in which it was stipulated
that he should remain in possession of all Asia, but that
the Greek cities should continue in possession of their
liberty. This agreement was soon violated, under the
pretence that garrisons had been placed in some of these
cities by Antigonus. At first Ptolemy made a successful
descent into Lesser Asia, and on several of the islands of A
the Archipelago; but he was at length defeated by the
successful arms of Demetrius in a sea-fight, who also took A
the island of Cyprus, with many prisoners. On this victory
Antigonus was so elated that he assumed the title of king,*^
and bestowed the same upon his son; and from that time,
b. c. 306, his reign in Asia, and that of Ptolemy in Egypt,
and of the other captains of Alexander in their respective
governments, properly commence.
Irritated at the hostile conduct of Ptolemy, Antigonus
prepared a numerous army and a formidable fleet; and hav¬
ing taken the command of the army, he gave the com¬
mand of the fleet to Demetrius, and hastened to attack
him in his own dominions. After enduring the severest
hardships, they met in the vicinity of Mount Cassius; but
Ptolemy acted with such valour and address that Deme¬
trius could gain no advantage over him; and after several
fruitless attempts, he abandoned the undertaking. He
next attempted the reduction of Rhodes; but meeting
with obstinate resistance, he was obliged to make a treaty
upon the best terms that he could, having been called to
join Antigonus against Cassander, who at this time had
formed a confederacy with Seleucus and Lysimachus.
When Demetrius united his forces with those of Antigo¬
nus, they advanced to Phrygia, and having met the enemy
at Ipsus, a decisive battle was fought, in which Antigonus
fell, in the 84th year of his age, b. c. 301.
Antigonus Gonatas, son of Demetrius Poliorcetes, was
the grandson of the former Antigonus. His character was
eminently distinguished by humanity and mildness of dis¬
position. When he besieged Thebes under the command
of his father, he strongly remonstrated against the loss of
so many lives for such an insignificant object. Filial af¬
fection was so powerful in his mind, that when his father
was taken prisoner by Seleucus, he generously offered
himself in his stead; and being rejected, he wore deep
mourning, and refrained from all festivals and amusements
during his father’s imprisonment. Informed of his death,
all the floods of sorrow burst from his tender heart, and
sailing with a fleet to meet his ashes, he received them
with all the demonstrations of filial sensibility and dutiful
respect. By the death of his father he became master of
all the European dominions of Demetrius, together with
the kingdom of Macedon, and various other cities in
Greece. The Gauls invading his country, he defeated
and expelled them ; but was soon after routed by Pyrrhus,
king of Epirus. Some time after, however, Pyrrhus was
slain at Argos; and when his head was brought to him
by his son, he expressed the highest displeasure, and
throwing his robe over it, he gave orders to search for his
body, and to inter the same with all funeral honours. •
In the evening of his reign he so cultivated the arts of
peace, and so conciliated the minds of his subjects, that
he secured their affections both to himself and his de¬
scendants. The taking of the citadel of Corinth by intrigue
was the meanest action of his reign; but he improved
that event in maintaining the freedom of the small estates
of Greece, and in increasing his own dominions. The
Achaeans, and Aratus their famous chief, vigorously oppos¬
ed his measures, and at length recovered Corinth; but
Antigonus was so inclined to peace, that notwithstanding
this event, he pursued his wonted plan, and left his king¬
dom in peace about the 80th year of his life and the 44th
of his reign, b. c. 243; and Demetrius II. his son, next
ascended the throne.
ANTIGRAPHUS, in Antiquity, an officer of Athens,
who kept a counterpart of the apodecti, or chief treasurer’s
accounts, to prevent mistakes, and keep them from being
falsified.
Antigraphus is used by writers in the middle ages for
ANT
3 tier; a secretary or chancellor. He is thus called, according to
(1!hus the old glossarists, on account of his writing answers to
tl Jt ^ letters sent to his master. The antigraphus is some-
titimen. tjmes also called archigrraphus, and his dignity antigra-
phia or archigraphia.
Antigraphus is also applied by ecclesiastical writers
10 to an abbreviator of the papal letters ; in which sense the
word is used by Pope Gregory the Great in his register.
ANTIGUA, one of the Antilles or Caribbee Islands,
s' situated 20 leagues east of St Christophers, in long. 61.
^ 45. W. and lat. 17. 6. N. It is about 50 miles in circum-
ference, and is reckoned the largest of all the British lee-
T ward islands. This island having no rivers, and but few
f[ springs, or such as are brackish, the inhabitants are ob-
^ liged to preserve the rain-water in cisterns. The air
to here is not so wholesome as in the neighbouring islands,
11 and it is more subject to hurricanes; but it has excellent
to harbours, particularly English Harbour, which is capable
to of receiving the largest man-of-war in the navy. The
principal trade, however, is carried on in the harbour of
Si St Johns, the capital, situated in the north-west part of
tl the island, and which has water sufficiently deep for mer-
d chant vessels. The island, according to Edwards, con-
13 tains 59,838 acres of land, of which about 34,000 are ap-
F propriated to the growth of sugar, including those which
31 are annexed as pasture grounds. The other staples are
Cl e cotton, ginger, and tobacco.
A settlement was first attempted in Antigua by Sir
Thomas Warner, about the same time with those in St
1 Christophers and Nevis; but no establishment then took
place. It was afterwards granted by Charles II. to Lord
Willoughby, then governor of Barbadoes, who settled a
colony upon it in the space of a few years. The imports
in 1810 amounted to L.285,000, and the exports to
I L.182,000. According to Young ( West India Common-
l Place Book), the population is 40,000, of whom 36,000
J are slaves; but the free population has increased, and the
negroes diminished, since his work was published. See
Malte-Brun’s Geography, vol. v. p. 588-9 (English trans-
li f lation).
ANTIGUGGLER is a crooked tube of metal, so bent
as easily to be introduced into the necks of bottles, and
used in decanting liquors without disturbing them.
ANTILLES, the French name for the Caribbee Islands.
ANTILOGA1UTHM, the complement of the logarithm
tp of a sine, tangent, or secant; or the difference of that
1 logarithm from the logarithm of 90 degrees.
ANTILOGY, in matters of literature, an inconsistency
between two or more passages of the same book.
ANTIMENSIUM, a kind of consecrated table-cloth,
occasionally used in places where there is no proper altar.
Antimensium, in the Greek church, answers to the
allare portabile, or portable altar, in the Latin church.
They are both only of late invention, though Habertus
would have them as old as St Basil. But Durant and
Bona do not pretend to find them in any author before
the time of Bede and Charlemagne.—Antimensia is also
applied to other tables used in offices of religion, besides
those whereon the eucharist is administered: such, e. g.
are those whereon the host is exposed, &c.
ANTIMERIA, in Grammar, a figure whereby one
part of speech is used for another: e. g. velle suam caique
est, for voluntas sua cuique est; also populus late rex, for
populus late regnans.
Antimeria, in a more restrained sense, is a figure
where the noun is repeated instead of the pronoun. The
antimeria is frequent in the Hebrew, and is sometimes
retained in our version of the Old Testament according¬
ly • e. g. Hear my voice, ye wives of Lamech, for my wives,
Gen. jv. 23.
ANT 251
ANTIMETABOLE, in Rhetoric, a figure which sets Antimeta-
two things in opposition to each other. The word is hole
Greek, compounded of am, against, and /mtuZoXyi from H.
piraZdKKu, I shift or transfer, i. e. shifting, or setting two n^ns'
things over against each other.
ANTIMETATHESIS, in Rhetoric, is the inversion of
the parts or members of an antithesis. Such is that of
Cicero in Yerrem, lib. iv. cap. 52 : “ Compare this peace
with that war; the arrival of this governor with the vic¬
tory of that general; his profligate troops with the invin¬
cible army of the other; the luxury of the former with
the temperance of the latter: you will say that Syracuse
was founded by him who took it, and taken by him who
held it when founded.”
ANTIMONY, a blackish mineral substance, staining
the hands, full of long, shining, needle-like striae, hard,
brittle, and considerably heavy. It is found in different
parts of Europe, as Bohemia, Saxony, Transylvania, Hun¬
gary, France, and England; commonly in mines by itself,
intermixed with earth and stony matters. Sometimes it
is blended with the richer ores of silver, and renders the
extraction of that metal difficult, by volatilizing a part of
the silver, or, in the language of the miners, robbing the
ore. Antimony is the stibium of the ancients; by the
Greeks called drz/x/z,/. The reason of its modern denomi¬
nation, antimony, is usually referred to Basil Valentine,
a German monk, who, as the tradition relates, having
thrown some of it to the hogs, observed that, after purg¬
ing them violently, they immediately grew fat upon it.
This made him think, that by giving his fellow-monks a
like dose, they would be the better for it. The experi¬
ment, however, succeeded so ill, that they all died of it;
and the medicine thenceforward was called antimony,
q. d. anti-monk. Antimony at first was used only in the
composition of paint. Scripture describes it as a sort of
paint with which the women blackened their eyebrows.
Its modern uses are very numerous and important. It
is a common ingredient in specula or burning concaves,
serving to give the composition a finer texture. It makes
a part in bell-metal, and renders the sound clearer. It
is mingled with tin to make it harder, whiter, and more
sonorous; and with lead, in the casting of printers’ let¬
ters, to render them smoother and firmer. It is also a
general help in the melting of metals, and especially in
the casting of cannon-balls. It is likewise made use of for
purifying and heightening the colour of gold. For a long
time this mineral was esteemed poisonous. In 1566 its
use was prohibited in France by an edict of parliament;
and in 1609 one Besnier was expelled the faculty for
having administered it. The edict was repealed in 1650,
antimony having a few years before been received into the
number of purgatives. In 1668 a new edict came forth,
forbidding its use by any but doctors of the faculty. It
is now universally allowed that pure antimony in its crude
state has no noxious quality, and that though many of its
preparations are most virulently emetic and cathartic,
yet, by a slight alteration or addition, they lose their viru¬
lence, and become mild in their operation. Its virtues in
the diseases of animals are greatly extolled.
ANTINOEIA, in Antiquity, annual sacrifices and quin¬
quennial games in memory of Antinous the Bithynian.
They were instituted at the command of Adrian, the Ro¬
man emperor, at Mantinea in Arcadia, where Antinous
was honoured with a temple and divine worship.
ANTTNOMIANS, in Ecclesiastical History, certain he¬
retics who maintain that the law is of no use or obligation
under the gospel dispensation, or who hold doctrines that
clearly supersede the necessity of good works and a virtu¬
ous life. The Antinomians took their origin from John
Agricola about the year 1538, who taught that the law is
252
ANT
ANT
Antinous nowise necessary under the gospel; that good works do
i| not promote our salvation, nor ill ones hinder it; that re-
Antioch. pentance js not to preache(j from the decalogue, but
only from the gospel.
This sect sprung up in England during the protectorate
of Oliver Cromwell, and extended their system of liber¬
tinism much farther than Agricola, the disciple of Luther.
Some of their teachers expressly maintained, that as the
elect cannot fall from grace, nor forfeit the divine favour,
the wicked actions they commit are not really sinful, nor
are to be considered as instances of their violation of the
divine law; and that, consequently, they have no occa¬
sion either to confess their sins or to break them off by
repentance. According to them, it is one of the essen¬
tial and distinctive characters of the elect, that they can¬
not do any thing which is either displeasing to God or
prohibited by the law.
The doctrine of Agricola was in itself obscure, and
perhaps represented worse than it really was by Luther,
who wrote with acrimony against him, and first styled him
and his followers Antinomians, Agricola stood on his own
defence, and complained that opinions were imputed to
him which he did not hold. Nicholas Amsdorf fell under
the same odious name and imputation, and seems to have
been treated more unfairly than even Agricola himself.
ANTINOUS, the favourite of Adrian, was born at
Bithynus in Bithynia. His beauty engaged the heart of
Adrian in such a manner, that there never was a more
boundless and extravagant passion than that of this em¬
peror towards this youth. After his death the emperor
ordered divine honours to be paid him, and he also erect¬
ed a city which he named after him.
ANTIOCH, a city of Syria, in Asia, situated on the
river Orontes, in long. 36. 5. E. lat. 36. 10. N. It was
built by Seleucus Nicator, founder of the Syro-Macedo-
nian empire, who made it his capital. It stood on the
above-mentioned river, about 20 miles from the place
where it falls into the Mediterranean, being equally dis¬
tant from Constantinople and Alexandria in Egypt, that
is, about 700 miles from each. Seleucus called it An¬
tioch, from his father’s name according to some, or from
that of his son according to others. He built sixteen
other cities bearing the same name, of which one, situat¬
ed in Pisidia, is probably that where the name of Chris¬
tians was first given to the followers of Jesus Christ.
But that situated on the Orontes by far eclipsed not only
all the others of this name, but all the cities built by
Seleucus. Antigonus, not long before, had founded a
city in that neighbourhood, which from his own name he
had called Antigonia, and designed it for the capital of
his empire; but it was razed to the ground by Seleucus,
who employed the materials in building his metropolis,
and also transplanted the inhabitants thither.
Antioch was afterwards known by the name of Tetrapo-
lis, being divided as it were into four cities, each surround¬
ed with its proper wall, besides a common one which in¬
closed the whole. The first of these cities was built by
Seleucus Nicator, as already mentioned; the second by
those who flocked thither on its being made the capital
of the Syro-Macedonian empire ; the third by Seleucus
Callinicus ; and the fourth by Antiochus Epiphanes. About
four or five miles distant stood a place called Daphne, which
was nevertheless reckoned a suburb of Antioch. Here Se¬
leucus planted a grove, and in the middle of it built a tem¬
ple, which he consecrated to Apollo and Diana, making the
whole an asylum. To this place the inhabitants of An¬
tioch resorted to indulge in amusements and impure plea¬
sures, by which it became at last so infamous, that “ to
live after the manner of Daphne” was used as a proverb to
express-the most voluptuous and dissolute life.
Though Antioch continued to be, as Pliny calls it, the Ar
queen of the East, for near 1600 years, yet scarcely any city^
mentioned in history has undergone such calamities, both
from the attacks of its enemies, and its being in a remark¬
able degree subject to earthquakes. The first disaster men¬
tioned in history which befell the Antiochians happened
about 145 years before Christ. Being at that time very
much disaffected to the person and government of Deme¬
trius their king, they were continually raising tumults
and seditions. Wearied with their turbulence, he at last
solicited assistance from the Jews, and was furnished by
Jonathan, one of the Maccabees, with 3000 men. With I
this reinforcement believing himself sufficiently strong to
reduce the mutineers by force, he ordered them imme¬
diately to deliver up their arms. This unexpected order
caused a great uproar in the city. The inhabitants ran
to arms and invested the king’s palace, to the number of
120,000, with a design to put him to death. All the Jews
hastened to his relief, fell upon the rebels, killed 100,000
of them, and set fire to the city. On the destruction of
the Syrian empire by the Romans, Antioch submitted to
them, and continued for a long time under their dominion.
About the year 115, in the reign of the emperor Trajan,
it was almost entirely ruined by one of the most dreadful
earthquakes mentioned in history. Trajan himself hap¬
pened to be there at the time, on his return from an ex¬
pedition against the Parthians; so that the city was then
full of troops and strangers from all quarters, either out
of curiosity or upon business and embassies. The cala¬
mity was consequently felt almost in every province of
the Roman empire. The earthquake was preceded by
violent claps of thunder, unusual winds, and a dreadful
noise under ground. The shock was so terrible, that
great numbers of houses were overturned, and others toss¬
ed to and fro like a ship at sea. Those who happened to
be in their houses were for the most part buried under
their ruins; those who were walking in the streets or in
the squares were, by the violence of the shock, dashed to
the ground, and most of them either killed or dangerous¬
ly wounded. The earthquake continued, with some small
intermission, for several days and nights. Trajan was
much hurt, but escaped through a window. As an eye¬
witness of this terrible calamity, he would very probably
contribute largely towards the re-establishment of An¬
tioch in its ancient splendour. Its good fortune, how¬
ever, did not continue long; for in 155 it was almost en¬
tirely burnt by accidental fire, when it was again restored
by Antoninus Pius.
When the Roman empire began to decline, Antioch
became a bone of contention between it and the eastern
nations; and accordingly, on the breaking out of a Per¬
sian war, it was almost always sure to suffer. In 242 it
was taken and plundered by Sapor; and though he was
defeated by Gordian, it underwent the same misfortune
in the time of Valerian, about 18 years after; and subse¬
quently to the defeat and captivity of Valerian, being taken
by the Persian monarch a third time, he not only plunder¬
ed it, but levelled all the public buildings with the ground.
The Persians, however, being soon driven out, this unfor¬
tunate city continued free from any remarkable calamity
till about the time of the division of the Roman empire by
Constantine in 331. It was then afflicted with so terrible
a famine, that a bushel of wheat was sold for 400 pieces
of silver. During this grievous distress, Constantine
sent to the bishop 30,000 bushels of corn, besides an im¬
mense quantity of all kinds of provisions, to be distribut¬
ed among the ecclesiastics, widows, orphans, &c. In the
year 347 Constantine II. caused a harbour to be made at
Seleucia, for the conveniency of Antioch. This was effect¬
ed at great expense; the mouth of the Orontes, where the
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ANT
Ptfiocf port was made, being full of sands and rocks. When the
e iv^* emperor Julian set out on his expedition against the Per-
si K sians, he made a long stay at Antioch, which then suffer-
e % ed severely from a famine. In 381, in the reign of Theo-
^ ^ dosius the Great, Antioch was again visited by a famine,
Sl accompanied by a grievous plague. In 387 Theodosius,
fi finding his exchequer quite drained, and being obliged to
t be at an extraordinary expense in celebrating the fifth
j P year of the reign of his son Arcadius, and the tenth of his
0 own, an extraordinary tax was laid upon all the people in
^ the empire. 1 Most of the cities submitted willingly to
^ this; but the people of Antioch assailed their governor,
^ broke some of the emperor’s statues, and dragged others
^ through the city, uttering the most injurious and abusive
{: expressions against him and his whole family. They were
^ dispersed by a body of archers, and the governor pro-
cl ceeded against the offenders with the utmost cruelty, ex-
f l posing some to wild beasts in the theatre, and burning
ol others alive. Many fled from the city and never return-
E( ed. On hearing the news of the tumult, Theodosius was
h so much enraged that he commanded the city to be de-
sl stroyed, and its inhabitants to be put to the sword without
i distinction; but this order was revoked before it could be
P , put into execution, and he contented himself with inflict-
* ft ing severe punishments on individuals. In the year 458
Antioch was again almost entirely ruined by an earth-
f quake, which happened on the 14th of September; scarcely
I ^ a single house being left standing in the most beautiful
f | quarter of the city. It experienced a similar misfortune
II h in 529, during the reign of the emperor Justin; and in 15
J m years after, being taken by Chosroes, king of Persia, that
11 insulting and haughty monarch gave it up to his soldiers,
,f who put all they met to the sword. The king himself
if seized on all the gold and silver vessels belonging to the
5 i'. great church, and caused all the valuable statues, pictures,
^ &c. to be taken down and conveyed to Persia, while his
if soldiers carried off every thing else. The city being com-
f pletely plundered, he ordered his men to set fire to it;
i !i and this was done so effectually, that none of the build-
«‘k ings even without the walls escaped. Such of the inhabi-
tants as escaped slaughter were carried into Persia and
si sold as slaves. The city, however, was again restored,
J hut in a short time underwent its usual fate, being almost
t i entirely destroyed by an earthquake in 587, by which
;> 30,000 persons lost their lives. In 634 it fell into the
hands of the Saracens, who kept possession of it till the
J f year 858, when it was surprised by one Burtzas, and again
» annexed to the Roman empire. The Romans continued
i masters of it for some time, till the civil dissensions in the
( empire gave the Turks an opportunity of mastering it, as
well as the whole kingdom of Syria. From them it was
i again taken by the crusaders in 1098. In 1262 it was
i > again taken by Bibaris, sultan of Egypt, who put a final
| ’ period to its glory.
Antioch, called by the Arabs Antahia, is now a ruinous
; town, whose houses, built with mud and straw, and narrow
i and miry streets, exhibit every appearance of misery and
wretchedness. These houses are situated on the south¬
ern bank of the Orontes, at the extremity of an old de¬
cayed bridge: they are covered to the south by a moun¬
tain, upon the slope of which is a wall built by the cru¬
saders. The distance between the present town and this
mountain may be about 400 yards, which space is occu¬
pied by gardens and heaps of rubbish, but presents nothing
interesting. Antioch was better calculated than Aleppo
to be the emporium of the Europeans. By clearing the
mouth of the Orontes, which is six leagues lower down,
)oats might have been towed up that river, though they
could not have sailed up, as Pococke has asserted, its
current being too rapid. The natives, who never knew
ANT 253
the name Orontes, call it, on account of the swiftness of Antiochian
its stream, El Aasi, that is, the rebel. Its breadth at An- Ij
tioch is about forty paces. Seven leagues above that town Antipas.
it passes by a lake abounding in fish, and especially in^^^^^
eels. A great quantity of these are salted every year,
but not sufficient for the numerous fasts of the Greek
Christians. The plain of Antioch, though the soil of it
is excellent, is uncultivated, and abandoned to the Turco¬
mans ; but the hills on the side of the Orontes, particu¬
larly opposite Serkin, abound in plantations of figs and
olives, vines and mulberry trees. Seleucus Nicator, who
founded Antioch, built also at the mouth of the Orontes,
on the northern bank, a large and well-fortified city, which
bore his name, but of which at present not a single habi¬
tation remains; nothing is to be seen but heaps of rub¬
bish, and works in the adjacent rock, which prove that
this was once a place of very considerable importance. In
the sea also may be perceived the traces of two piers,
which are indications of an ancient port, now choked up.
The inhabitants of the country go thither to fish, and call
the place Souaidia. Antioch is situate in long. 37. 5. E.
and lat. 36. 20. N.
ANTIOCHIAN Sect or Academy, a name given to
what was called the fifth academy. It took the deno¬
mination from its being founded by Antiochus, a philo¬
sopher contemporary with Cicero. The Antiochian aca¬
demy succeeded the Philonian. As to doctrine, the philo¬
sophers of this sect appear to have restored that of the
ancient academy, except in the article of the criterion of
truth. Antiochus was really a Stoic, and only nominally
an Academic.
Antiochian Epocha, a method of computing time from
the proclamation of liberty granted to the city of Antioch
about the time of the battle of Pharsalia.
ANTIOCHUS of Ascalon, a celebrated philosopher, the
disciple of Philo of Larissa, the master of Cicero and the
friend of Lucullus and Brutus. He was founder of a fifth
academy. See Antiochian Sect.
ANTIOPE, in fabulous history, the wife of Licus, king
of Thebes, who being deflowered by Jupiter in the form of
a satyr, brought forth Amphion and Zethus. Another
Antiope was queen of the Amazons, and, with the assist¬
ance of the Scythians, invaded the Athenians, and was
vanquished by Theseus. J
ANTIPJEDOBAPTISTS, (derived from am, against,
Kaii, ‘jraiooi, child, and iSwirri^u, I baptize, whence jSaftriGrris),
is a distinguishing denomination given to those who ob¬
ject to the baptism of infants; because they say infants
are incapable of being instructed, and of making that pro¬
fession of faith which entitles them to this ordinance, and
an admission into church communion.
ANTIPAROS, an island in the Archipelago, opposite
to Paros, from which it is separated by a strait about
seven miles over. It is the Oleares or Oliaros mentioned
by Strabo, Pliny, Virgil, Ovid, &c.; and was, according to
Heraclides Ponticus, as quoted by Stephanus, first peopled
by a Phoenician colony from Sidon. According to Mr
Tournefort’s account, it is about 16 miles in circumference,
and tolerably fertile.
This island is remarkable for a subterraneous cavern
or grotto, accounted one of the greatest natural curiosi¬
ties in the world. It is 300 fathoms below the surface
of the earth, and appears to be about 40 fathoms high
and 50 wide, penetrating far into the bosom of the island.
It is full of large and beautiful stalactites. There have
been many descriptions of this celebrated grotto, of which
that by Tournefort is supposed to be very complete and
exact. (Relation d’un Voyage du Levant.)
ANTIPAS Herod, or Herod-Antipas, the son of
Herod the Great, by one of his wives called Cleopatra, a
254 ANT
ANT
Antipas native of Jerusalem. Herod the Great, in his first will,
. II appointed Antipas his successor in the kingdom; but af-
Antipater. terwar(js altering that will, he named his son Archelaus
his successor, giving to Antipas the title only of tetrarch
of Galilee and Peraea.
Antipas took a great deal of pains in adorning and for¬
tifying the principal places of his dominions. He married
the daughter of Aretas king of Arabia, whom he divorced
about the year of Christ 33, to marry his sister-in-law He¬
redias, wife to his brother Philip, who was still living. St
John the Baptist exclaiming continually against this in¬
cest, was, by order of Antipas, imprisoned in the castle of
Machserus. Josephus says that Antipas caused St John
to be laid hold of because he drew too great a concourse
of people after him; and that he was afraid lest he should
make use of the authority which he had acquired over
the minds and affections of the people to induce them to
revolt. But the evangelists, who were better informed
than Josephus, as being eye-witnesses of what passed,
and acquainted in a particular manner with St John and
his disciples, assure us that the true reason of imprison¬
ing St John was the aversion which Herod and Herodias
had conceived against him for the liberty he had used in
censuring their scandalous marriage. The virtue and ho¬
liness of St John were such that even Herod feared and
respected him; but his passion for Herodias would have
induced him to kill that prophet, had he not been re¬
strained by his apprehensions of the people, who esteem¬
ed John the Baptist as a prophet. (Matt. xiv. 5, 6.) One
day, however, while the king was celebrating the festival
of his birth with the principal persons of his court, the
daughter of Herodias danced before him, and pleased
him so well, that he promised with an oath to give her
whatever she should ask of him. By her mother’s advice
she asked the head of John the Baptist; upon which the
king commanded John to be beheaded in prison, and the
head to be given her. Aretas, king of Arabia, to revenge
the affront which Herod had offered to his daughter, de¬
clared war against him, and overcame him in a very ob¬
stinate engagement. Herod being afterwards detected
as a party in Sejanus’s conspiracy, was banished by the
emperor Caius to Lyons in Gaul, whither Herodias accom¬
panied him. The time when he died is not known ; how¬
ever, it is certain he died in exile, as well as Herodias.
ANTIPATER, the disciple of Aristotle, and one of
Alexander the Great’s generals, was a man of great abili¬
ties, and a lover of the sciences ; but was accused of poi¬
soning Alexander. He subdued the revolted Thracians,
relieved Megalopolis, and overthrew the Spartans there.
He died 321 years before the Christian era.
Antipater, an Idumean of illustrious birth, and pos¬
sessed of great riches and abilities, taking advantage of
the confusion into which the two brothers Hyrcanus and
Aristobulus plunged Judea by their contest for the office
of high priest, took such measures as to gain for Hyrcanus
that office, and under his government to obtain the abso¬
lute direction of all affairs; while his great abilities and
application to business made him so considerable, that he
was honoured as much as if he had been invested with the
royal authority in form: but he was at last poisoned by a
Jew named Malachus, 43 years before the Christian era.
He left, among his other children, the famous Herod, king
of the Jews.
Antipater, Ccdius, a Roman historian, who wrote a
history of the Punic war, much valued by Cicero. The
emperor Adrian preferred him to Sallust.
Antipater of Sidon, a Stoic philosopher, and likewise
a poet, commended by Cicero and Seneca. He flourished
about the 171st Olympiad. We have several of his epi¬
grams in the Anthologia.
ANTIPATHY, in Physiology, is formed from the two Ant
Greek words, am, contrary, and naioi, passion. LiterallyCrl jj
taken, the word signifies incompatibility: but for the most
part the term antipathy is not used to signify such incom¬
patibilities as are merely physical; it is reserved to ex¬
press the aversion which an animated or sensitive being
feels at the real or ideal presence of particular objects.
In this point of view, which is the light in which we at
present consider the term, antipathy, in common language,
signifies a natural and involuntary aversion which a sensi¬
tive being feels for some other object, whatever it is,
though the person who feels this abhorrence is entirely
ignorant of its cause, and can by no means account for it.
Such is, they say, the natural and reciprocal hostility be¬
tween the toad and the weasel, between sheep and
wolves. Such is the invincible aversion of particular
persons against cats, mice, spiders, &c., a prepossession
which is sometimes so violent as to make them faint at
the sight of these animals. To explore the matter with¬
out prejudice, we shall find it necessary to abstract from
this disquisition all such antipathies as are not ascertain¬
ed, as that which is supposed to be felt between the sala¬
mander and tortoise, and between the weasel and the
toad. We must abstract those which can be extinguished
or resumed at pleasure; those fictitious aversions which
only certain persons feel or pretend to feel. When we
abstract aversions, the causes of which are known and
evident, we shall be surprised, after deduction of pretend¬
ed antipathies, how small, how inconsiderable, is the
quantity of those which are conformable to our definition.
Will any one pretend to call by the name of antipathy
those real, innate, and incontestable aversions which pre¬
vail between sheep and wolves? Their cause is obvious:
the wolf devours the sheep, and subsists upon his victims;
and every animal naturally flies with terror from pain
or destruction: sheep ought therefore to regard wolves
with horror, which, for their nutrition, tear and mangle
the unresisting prey. From principles similar to this
arises that aversion which numbers of people feel against
serpents, against small animals, such as reptiles in gene¬
ral, and the greater number of insects. During the cre¬
dulous and susceptible period of infancy, pains have been
taken to impress on our minds the frightful idea that they
are venomous; that their bite is mortal; that their sting
is dangerous, productive of tormenting inflammations or
tumours, and sometimes fatal: they have been represent¬
ed to us as ugly and sordid ; as being for that reason per¬
nicious to those who touch them; as poisoning those who
have the misfortune to swallow them. Is it then wonder¬
ful (if our false impressions as to this subject have been
corrected neither by future reflections nor experiments)
that we should entertain during our whole lives an aver¬
sion for these objects, even when we have forgot the ad¬
monitions, the conversations, and examples, which have
taught us to believe and apprehend them as noxious be¬
ings ? To explain these facts, is it necessary to fly to the
exploded subterfuge of occult qualities inherent in bodies,
to latent relations productive of antipathies, of which no
person could ever form an idea ?
To what then are those antipathies of which we have
heard so much reducible? Either to legendary tales, or
to aversions against objects which we believe dangerous,
or to a childish terror of imaginary perils, or to a disre¬
lish of which the cause is disguised, or to an infirmity oi
the stomach,—in a word, to a real or pretended reluctance
for things which are either invested or supposed to be
invested with qualities hurtful to us. Too much care
cannot be taken in preventing or regulating the antipathy
of children; in familiarizing them with objects of every
kind; in discovering to them, without emotion, such as
ANT
'ipith are dangerous; and in teaching them the means of de-
T fence and security, or the methods of escaping their
iqaitidnoxious influence.
v^,‘ Antipathy, in Ethics, hatred, aversion, repugnancy.
R Hatred is entertained against persons, aversion and anti-
f indiscriminately against persons or things, and repug-
,l( nancy against actions alone.
ANTIPELARGIA, among the ancients, a law where-
i)] by children were obliged to furnish necessaries to their
ag aged parents. The ciconia, or stork, is a bird famous for
^ the care it takes of its parents when grown old ; hence,
in some Latin writers, this is rendered lex ciconiaria, or
D the stork’s law.
ANTIPHONARY, Antiphonarium, a service-book,
fl which contained all the invitatories, responsories, collects,
M and whatever else was sung or said in the choir, except
^ the lessons. This is otherwise called responsorium, from
^ the responses contained therein. The author of the Ro-
1,1 man antiphonary was Pope Gregory the Great. We also
in find mention of nocturnal and diurnal antiphonaries, for
^ the use of the daily and nightly offices ; summer and win-
tf ter antiphonaries ; also antiphonaries for country churches,
&c. By the provincial constitutions of Archbishop Win-
d chelsea, made at Merton A. d. 1305, it is required that
® one of these should be found in every church within the
F province of Canterbury. The use of these and many other
f popish books was forbid by the 3d and 4th of Edward VI.
t c. 10.
ANTIPHONY, the answer made by one choir to an-
*1 . other, when the psalm or anthem is sung between two.
Antiphony sometimes denotes a species of psalmody,
* wherein the congregation being divided into two parts,
ft repeat the psalms, verse for verse, alternately. In this
* sense antiphony stands contradistinguished from sym-
phony, where the whole congregation sing together.
Antiphony differs from responsorium, because in this
■; latter the verse is only spoken by one person, whereas in the
' former the verses are sung by the two choirs alternately.
The original of antiphonal singing in the western churches
if is referred to the time of St Ambrose, about the year
s 374. That father is said to have first introduced it into
the church of Milan, in imitation of the custom of the
s eastern church, where it appears to be of greater anti-
\ quity, though as to the time of its institution authors are
not agreed. It was probably introduced at Antioch be¬
lli tween the years of Christ 347 and 356.
Antiphony is also used to denote the words given out
a" at the beginning of the psalm, to which both the choirs
a are to accommodate their singing.
Antiphony, in a more modern sense, denotes a kind of
c| composition made of several verses extracted out of dif-
■i ferent psalms, adapted to express the mystery solemnized
o on the occasion.
ANTIPODES, in Geography, a name given to those in¬
habitants of the globe that live diametrically opposite to
!l each other. The word is Greek, and compounded of am,
opposite, and wous, a foot, because their feet are opposite to
each other. Plato is esteemed the first who thought it
1 possible that antipodes subsisted, and is looked upon as
ANT 255
the inventoi of the word. As this philosopher apprehend- Antiquare
ed the earth to be spherical, he had only one step to make II
to conclude the existence of the antipodes. The ancients Antiquities-
in general treated this opinion with the highest contempt,
never being able to conceive how men and trees could
subsist suspended in the air with their feet upwards, for
so they apprehended they must be in the other hemi¬
sphere. They never reflected that these terms upwards
and downwards are merely relative, and signify only near¬
er to, or farther from, the centre of the earth, the common
centre to which all heavy bodies gravitate; and that,
therefore, our antipodes have not their feet upwards and
head downwards any more than ourselves, because they,
like us, have their feet nearer the centre of the earth, and
their heads farther from it. To have the head downwards
and feet upwards, is to place the body in a direction of
gravity tending from the feet to the head; but this can¬
not be supposed with regard to the antipodes, for they,
like us, tend toward the centre of the earth in a direction
from head to foot.
ANTIQUARE, among Roman lawyers, properly de¬
notes the rejecting of a new law, or refusing to pass it.
In which sense antiquating differs from abrogating, as the
latter imports the annulling of an old law, the former the
rejecting of a new one.
ANTIQUARII, a name given to copiers of old books.
After the decline of learning among the Romans, and
when many religious houses were erected, learning was
chiefly in the hands of the clergy, the greater number
of whom were regulars, and lived in monasteries. In
these houses were many industrious men, who were con¬
tinually employed in making new copies of old books,
either for the use of the monastery or for their own emo¬
lument. These writing monks were distinguished by the
name of Antiquarii.
ANTIQUARY, a person who studies and searches after
monuments and remains of antiquity, as old medals, books,
statues, sculptures, and inscriptions, and, in general, all
curious pieces that may afford any light into antiquity.
In the chief cities of Greece and Italy there were persons
of distinction called antiquaries, whose business it was to
show strangers the antiquities of the place, to explain the
ancient inscriptions, and to give them all the assistance
they could in this way of learning. Pausanias calls these
antiquaries E^yproc/. The Sicilians call them mystagogi.
Antiquary is also’ used by ancient writers for the
keeper of the antiquarium or cabinet of antiquities. The
officer is otherwise called archceota, or antiquary of a king,
a prince, a state, or the like. Henry VIII. gave John
Leland the title of his antiquary.
ANTIQUE, in a general sense, something that is an¬
cient ; but the term is chiefly used by sculptors, painters,
and architects, to denote such pieces of their different
arts as wrere made by the ancient Greeks and Romans.
Thus we say, an antique bust, an antique statue, &c.
Antique is something contradistinguished from ancient,
which signifies a less degree of antiquity. Thus antique
architecture is frequently distinguished from ancient ar¬
chitecture.
ANTIQUITIES.
Etymologists derive the word antiquities, and many
other kindred words, from an obvious source, the Latin
preposition ante, before. The great arbiter of language,
custom, has ordained that it should mark out and relate
,° Periods of time, not immediately, but long before the
buys ot those who make use of it.
The early records and older monuments of every na¬
tion, of whatever kind they may be, may properly be
named antiquities; but this term ordinarily calls up in
the mind the one or the other of the two grand divisions
into which the practice of the learned has long continued
to separate so much of the wide field as has hitherto
256
ANTIQUITIES.
Antiquities.befin carefully cultivated. It either awakens the recol- sion, from the miscellaneous composition of the publica'
lections of the Greeks and the Romans, who are com- tion in which it finds a place, it is necessarily confined
monly known by the designation of the ancients, and of Not only are the remains themselves numerous and al
some other nations, who are remembered chiefly on ac- most infinite, but the works in which they have been re.
count of their connection with them, and points out the presented in figures, or described in words, are so bulk}
antiquities of the scholar, which are often described by and numberless, that it is not only impossible to give £
the Greek appellation, archeology; or it reminds us of detailed account of them, but it would be vain to en-
the history of our ancestors, and of the other European deavour to enumerate each individual. We must content
people in the middle ages, which forms the antiquities of ourselves, therefore, with arranging the vast subject un-
the antiquary. We are anxious to mark strongly the dis- der several heads, with treating briefly and in general
i4 #
tinction between archaeology, or the study of the Grecian
and Roman antiquities, and the study of the antiquary,—
the antiquities of the middle ages and of times subsequent.
The former pursuit it is scarcely possible to carry to an
improper excess, because we may derive advantage and
improvement from almost every department of the stu¬
dies of the archaeologist,—so admirable were the institu¬
tions of Greece and Rome, and to such a wonderful pitch
did the cultivation of the human intellect attain, especially
in Greece. But in the middle ages, on the contrary, there
was little peculiar of which human nature ought not to
be ashamed ; and whatever we would not wish to unlearn
as to those barbarous times, we would only consent to re¬
member for the purpose of avoiding it in future. It is
not to be denied, however, that even in the darkest and
rudest of those days of barbarism, several useful and
agreeable institutions existed, the loss of which we have
abundant cause to deplore, and to regret that they were
swept away by ignorant and bigoted men, who, under the
specious pretence of reformation, destroyed much that was
valuable ; yet it is certain—and to those who are well read
terms of each, and with allowing ourselves to dwell £
short time, as an indulgence, on one or two matters thal
appear in our eyes to be of paramount importance.
If it were possible to explain fully and in a satisfactorj
manner all the monuments of antiquity that are at pre¬
sent known, the subject would not be exhausted. Everj
year brings important additions to the large stock of an¬
tiques ; and the exposition of them, like the study of na¬
ture, in consequence of new discoveries, is infinite ant
inexhaustible. The learned Montfaucon, after much ex¬
perience, expresses, in these remarkable words, his senst
of the labours of an archaeologist, which appear to ter¬
minate only that they may commence again: “ II n’esl
guere de matiere si vaste que celle des monumens dt
1’antiquite. On voit tous les jours sortir de fobscuritt
quelque chose de singulier, et qui n’avoit pas encore etf
remarque. Lorsqu’on croit finir ses recueils, on est sou
vent oblige de recommencer sur nouveaux frais : a pein<
a-t-on acheve un ouvrage, que des materiaux se pre
sentent pour un autre. La terre en cache une infinitt
que le pur hazard fait decouvrir. On en deterre dans lei
in the history of classical antiquity the proofs of the as- champs,^ on en trouve dans les yilles: quand on se flattt
d’avoir epuise tous les cabinets, il en sort encore de nou
veaux, inconnus quelquefois meme a ceux qui les pos
sedent. Presque toutes les parties de 1’Europe en four
nissent: le Levant et 1’Egypte nous en envoient tres
souvent et de fort curieux ; et ce qui surprend davantage
il s’en est rencontre, qui exposes depuis plusieurs siecle
a la vue de tout le monde, ont demeure aussi inconnus
the worship of Greece and Rome
Men of learning, after the most laborious investigation
and study of the ancient religion, have usually come t *
the conclusion that it is a profound and impenetrabl '
mystery, and that such it was in the time of Cicero, an
as far back as the earliest records extend. All the ex
sertion are sufficiently familiar—that the institutions which
shed a light (if it were but a dim one, it was still a com¬
fort and a guide in a period of darkness, and the ab¬
sence of it has left a void in society) were not the off¬
spring of the middle ages, but were precious relics still
remaining, vestiges still unobliterated, ruins still standing,
of older and better times—the creations of the wisdom
and virtue of the ancient world. The antiquities of the que s’ils avoient 6te caches en terre, jusqu a ce que \t
middle ages, so far as they are the peculiar productions of reflexion nous les a fait estimer ce qu’ils valent.’’
those ages, are not wanting in good taste alone—that is a T-he productions ot the fine arts occupy a distinguishei
defect comparatively of trifling importance, and it might place among the remains of antiquity; and as these ge
more easily be pardoned; but they are deficient in a good nerally are closely connected with the pagan religion, i
spirit also. This is undeniably a more serious charge, a will be necessary to premise a few observations respectm
more grievous deficiency: they are devoid of a patriotic,
a benevolent, a humane intention; they are manifestly
without the purpose of benefiting the many, of bringing
profit to the people at large, of working the good of man¬
kind in general; they seek to aggrandize some feudal ty¬
rant, it may be sometimes a petty tyrant, but still a ty-
rant—to fasten the yoke upon the neck of the vassal—to planations that have hitherto been given are equally ur
add another link to his chain ; not, like the happier insti- satisfactory, the astronomical not less so than the res^
tutions of earlier and better times, to instruct and glad- Meanwhile the beauty of the mythology is undoubted
den the citizen of a free state. It is chiefly on account
6f this important and remarkable distinction that we
give the preference to the study of archaeology over the
more vulgar and more modern study of what are most
commonly denominated antiquities. We will not affect,  , — _ - y.
however, to be insensible to the superior allurements of beauty, and was admirably adapted to the wants 01 -
the former pursuit, or to be ignorant of the intrinsic ex- imagination, and to satisfy the craving of the fancy '
cellence in all other respects of the relics of ages of ex- human beings of every age and rank. To admit thi
traordinary refinement. all of its creations are allegorical, is equally impossifi
The consideration of these precious relics is not to be as to deny that some are. This solution indeed oug t
undertaken without difficulty. Their number and variety be applied sparingly: a good allegory is no doubt sati
would perplex any one who entered upon the delicate factory, but an indifferent one is scarcely tolerable, and ni
office of explaining them, even if their nature and uses thing is more tiresome and offensive than allegory or
were as obvious in all instances as they are obscure and sustained or frequently repeated. Theorists have use
mysterious in many, and if the space that was afforded this key with much confidence, and have sought to Jf
for explanation were as unlimited as on the present occa- open by its assistance the sense of the ancient mystene
it is like nature, for whose wonderful operations the me
dern theories will not account better than the ancien
while the excellence of her works cannot be denied (
questioned. It was a collection of fables from all com
tries, but it had one characteristic unity, the unity
P
ANTIQUITIES.
257
ijiti Each department of mythology has been exposed in its turn
^Wto their fruitless attempts, and the origin of the twelve
' signs of the zodiac has been a favourite point of inquiry.
Every speculator has found in them a confirmation of his
own views, a theory after his own heart, plainly written in
the heavens in legible and indelible characters, to unfold
to mankind matters of very different natures, and of very
unequal importance;—a complete development, as some
assert, of the foundation of every mode of religious faith,
or a plan of diet, as others affirm, so salubrious as to obvi¬
ate the possibility of disease in the human frame, or of
moral evil and consequent misery in the mind of man.
We may enumerate amongst mythic curiosities the
m French notion, version, or recension, of the ancient my¬
thology, which we see exemplified in their poetry, in their
If i
til
staiyi
statues and paintings, and in innumerable engravings, but
perhaps most perfectly and fully on the French stage, and
especially in the ballets which follow the opera. It is a
fantastic, affected, insipid, and strange thing, perfectly un¬
like the original, of which, with a marvellous credulity, an
% acute and sceptical nation firmly believes that it is a
faithful imitation. The French have the merit of afford¬
ing great encouragements to the study of antiquity, but
unhappily they have no feeling for the true antique : they
want every quality that is required for comprehending it,
and possess all those that can impede the pursuit. They
want, in short, nature, ease, grace, and simplicity.
The pagan religion was addressed to the imagination
and the feelings, and not to the understanding, from which
no submission was required: it sought only to amuse
and delight, not to convince. If the forms of the gods
were sometimes whimsical,—if strange actions were some¬
times attributed to them,—we are told that the object was
to attract attention, which ever has been, and ever will
be, not less difficult than desirable. The modern practice
of endeavouring to obtain hearers by scolding has been
found, and ought to be acknowledged, as equally unplea¬
sant and inefficient. Innumerable passages will occur
to the scholar, especially in the writings of Cicero, to
show that the influence of superstition did not cramp the
understanding of the philosopher,—that it was either a
plaything or an engine of state, and a part of the powers
of government. There is evidence also, that in much earlier
times it was not considered necessary to manifest a very
lively faith. Valerius Maximus relates, that in the first
Punic war, in days of pristine simplicity and primitive
piety, when Publius Claudius was consulting the augurs,
on being told that the sacred chickens refused to eat,
“ Then throw them into the sea,” he said, “ that if they
will not eat, they may drink.” If the sacred chickens eat
the corn that was placed before them, it was a favourable
omen; if they devoured it so greedily as to drop a part,
success was certain; if, on the contrary, they refused it,
there was mischief in the wind; but if they attempted to
fly away on quitting the ivory coop, inevitable destruction
was impending. The consultation respected the event of
a naval engagement; the profane remark of the consul,
therefore, was more apposite : “ P. Claudius, bello Punico
pnmo, cum praelium navale committere vellet, auspi-
eiaque, more majorum, petiisset, et pullarius non exire
cavea pullos nuntiasset, abjici eos in mare jussit, dicens,
Quia esse nolunt, bibant.”
Notwithstanding the slight influence which the pagan
religion possessed over their thoughts and actions, the
higher classes were attached to it; great men were glad
to be deified, and their relations considered it an honour
and a happiness. It was esteemed formerly as advanta¬
geous to have a god, as in Catholic countries it still is
to have a saint, in the family. It was not only an addi¬
tion to the splendour of an illustrious house, but pos-
vol. in.
sibly it also gratified the spirit of monopoly, as nothing Antiquities,
was required to go out of the family, not even prayers
and sacrifices ; and, moreover, every kind of favour might
be reasonably expected from an uncle a god, or an aunt
a goddess. Whatever parts of this religion were mys¬
terious, it is at least clear and indisputable that it was
essentially and fundamentally of a popular character, and
was totally and entirely designed for the public amusement
and gratification : it was a political institution for the edu¬
cation of the people. We cannot be surprised, therefore,
that it captivated the multitude, who were well aware that
it might have been difficult to bestow so much upon them
in any other form; and that it was used as a pretext
to cover, not taxes and severe exactions, but large, fre¬
quent, and liberal donations from the wealthy to the poor.
Among the cheerful ancients, as well as among graver
people, the immortal gods were often compelled to furnish
a decent excuse to enable men to do without censure
whatever they wished: there was this important difference,
however, that the religious hypocrisy of the former sought
commonly to shelter under the awful sanction of celes¬
tial patronage, objects, not of a narrow and selfish, but of
a liberal and patriotic nature. Works of art being for the
most part public property, were frequently vested in a
god or a goddess, as a trustee for the people ; religion sup¬
plied the means of enjoying the only species of property
that can advantageously be enjoyed in common. The
temples were in truth the museums in which works of
art were preserved and exhibited, and the ancient usage
still lingers in countries that have not been reformed,
where the churches, although not avowedly, are substan¬
tially" galleries for the display of the productions of the
fine arts. Wherever well-stored libraries and rich collec¬
tions of paintings and statues, and similar objects of virtu,
are accessible at all hours to the public, the wants of
private persons are greatly" diminished. It was not only
through these exhibitions, which were constantly present
to their eyes, that the people were gratified by the an¬
cient religion,—the occasional and periodical festivals
were of frequent recurrence, and were a source of joy
and happiness for many ages to all ranks. The subject is
an agreeable one: it is pleasant to go back to the en¬
joyments of the ancient world; and we regret that on
the present occasion we are only permitted to allude to
this interesting topic. M. de Pauw speaks sensibly of
the excellent effects of these festive institutions, in the
countries where they were most prevalent. “ Au reste,
si tous ces petits etats de 1’Attique avoient leurs vices, ils
avoient aussi leurs vertus ; et Dicearque lui-meme se loue
de 1’humanite et de la politesse avec laquelle il avoit ete
re^u sur toutes les grandes routes de cette contree. En-
suite il assure que nulle part au monde on ne pouvoit
vivre plus agreablement qu’a Athenes; soit qu’on eut de
1’argent, soit qu’on n’en eut absolument pas. Les riches,
dit-il, peuvent s’y procurer tous les agremens imaginables,
et il-y-a, ajoute-t-il, tant de spectacles, tant de fetes, tant de
jeux, tant de divertissemens, que les citoyens indigens n’y
pensent jamais a leur pauvrete.” (liecherc/icsPhilosnphiques
sur les Grecs.) All who have experienced the oppo¬
site condition, who have resided in countries where there
are no public entertainments, no festivals, no popular
amusements, no holydays, are able to bear testimony, that
there wealth can procure for the rich few pleasures, and
that the many are reminded of, and never see cause to
forget, their indigence. Festivals are very useful to the
lower classes, especially in country places, as they tend
to check the selfishness of individuals, by which their minds
are apt to be cramped, and make them feel that they form
a part of a great whole : humanity and politeness are want¬
ing wherever they are discouraged, and an absence of
2 K
ANTIQUITIES.
Antiquities, amusements is sure to generate a brutal and sullen inci-
vilitj. The cheerfulness and courtesy of the Athenians
were the fair fruits of a system of reasonable indulgence;
and intellectual culture being generally diffused, caused
an extreme toleration of all pursuits and opinions. If the
people are enabled to judge of works of art, their critical
powers will be engaged and exercised more usefully and
agreeably than in scanning the actions of their superiors,
which they are unable to estimate correctly. Where no
congenial occupation is supplied, every low ami ignorant
fellow may grow into a sour bigot, and, it may be, into
an oracle and a prophet, and in that capacity may ima¬
gine that it is his duty to seek to shape the conduct and
creed of wiser men according to the misconceptions of
his wayward fancy.
It is very desirable that some competent person should
undertake to give a plain and faithful account of a religion
which has never met with fair treatment from its histo¬
rians. It indicates a bad taste, to say the least of it, to
imitate and repeat the absurd and vehement declamations
of the fathers of the Christian church against the gods of
the ancients. In their times those deities were danger¬
ous rivals; there is certainly no cause to fear them now.
No one can see any reason to apprehend that the world
will return again to the old worship. The pope and the
archbishop of Canterbury may rest in equal security that
they will never receive a short notice either to sacrifice
a black heifer to Proserpine, or to vacate their respective
palaces and offices; the unpleasant option will never be
offered to either. It is a mere waste of words, there¬
fore, to persist in calling the heathen, of whom we have
learned so much, blind, and to rail at their gods. A
religion which was exempt from sordid rites, and of which
the end and object were the gratification and cultiva¬
tion of the people, at least deserves to have its story
told and its fortunes related without scurrility, passion,
or prejudice. Persons of good taste will be equally of¬
fended, on the other hand, at the attempts that^are often
made by writers, of more zeal than discretion, to wrest
the pagan mythology, and to compel it to seem to con¬
sent with the mysteries of the Christian religion. Lord
Bacon wisely says, in allusion to such unholy and of¬
fensive practices, “ But I have interdicted my pen all
liberties of this kind, lest I should use strange fire at the
altar of the Lord.” Nor should that excessive dread of
idolatry, which characterizes a barbarous people, find a
place in such a work: it is time to discard the absurd no¬
tion, that it is impossible to see and admire a beautiful
statue without worshipping it—that true piety and a taste
for the fine arts are of necessity incompatible.
The admirable Heyne complains of the unnatural and
forced hypotheses of mythists, and of their disposition to
torture the meaning of the ancient fables, and to pervert
them to signify matters that were diametrically opposed
to the spirit and sense of antiquity. He at the same time
lays down a golden rule, to guide the future historian of
mytholpgy; and happy will he be who shall have the good
sense and the good fortune to be governed by it. “ To
compose a plain narrative, representing the primitive form
under which each fable has been handed down to us by
the first poets and the first artists, and afterwards to
show the changes and additions that have been made by
later poets and artists.” “ II nous manque egalement pour
1’etude dont il est question (the study of antiquity),
des traites sur les connoissances accessoires, et surtout,
un bon ouvrage sur la fable. Nous avons a la verite
beaucoup d’ecrits sur la mythologie; mais je ne sais quel
mauvais genie se saisit de tous ceux qui veulent traiter
cette matiere. Ils commencent par etablir quelque hypo-
these, d’apres laquelle ils cherchent a denaturer et a forcer
le sens des anciennes fables; et aucune do ces hypo-Anty.#
theses ne se trouve etablie sur 1’esprit meme de I’anti-^vy %
quite. II nous faut une mythologie qui ne consiste qu’en
un simple recit, qui nous presente la forme primitive sous
laquelle chaque fable nous a ete transmise par les pre¬
miers poetes et par les premiers artistes. Nous devons
connoitre aussi les changemens et les additions que les
artistes et les poetes posterieurs y ont faits. La meilleure
explication est celle qu’on pent tirer de cette methode et
de cette maniere d’exposer les choses, en partant des
terns de la premiere origine des fables, et en les suivant
dans les diiferens changemens qu’elles ont eprouvees.” ■
The inexhaustible quarries of fine marble at Athens,^,
and in other parts of Greece, furnished materials for innu-ofGi,
merable statues and other sculptures: many of the mostandu
celebrated works were executed in ivory. ihese, ofniail>
course, have entirely perished; but of those in marble we
are so fortunate as to possess some specimens from the
hands of the most renowned artists, and it is universally
allowed, that even in their present state, all of them hav¬
ing received more or less injury, they are fully worthy of
the fame that has attended on the memory of the great
men by whom they were fashioned. It has been asserted,
that the most lovely of all things are the Greek statues
and the Greek tragedy; and ingenious, and perhaps
somewhat fanciful persons, have imagined that they per¬
ceived a certain resemblance in the peculiar style ol the
sculptors and tragedians of Athens.
The sentiment of repose is strongly inculcated by the
best productions of the Grecian chisel, and critics are
sometimes dissatisfied with the small amount of action
and the little apparent exertion ; and they affirm that
the expression is occasionally even that of listlessness. In
inferior productions, on the contrary, we observe an ex¬
cess of action, and a straining, that are painful to the spec¬
tator, especially if he regards them for a long time; we
find the same sobriety, frugality, and even parsimony,
in the other compositions of the ancients, especially in
their writings, which must seem cold and languid to the
admirers of the exaggerated expressions of modern authors.
In classical works, the more exalted the personage,
the more calm and dignified are his emotions; but the
hero of a modern drama or other work of the imagination
often seems, by his violence and unnatural contortions, to
be convulsed by the powerful action of a Galvanic battery,
rather than impelled and agitated by mere human feel¬
ings ; unless we may adopt a more obvious and simple
solution of the difficulty, and suppose him to be a maniac.
We presume to speak on this subject with great diffidence
and distrust, but we must confess that the ancients have
sometimes carried the sentiment of repose to an excess,
especially in has reliefs, in which the figures, although
they are engaged in pursuits demanding the utmost enei-
gy, and of intense interest to all concerned, appear fre¬
quently to be more than half-asleep. It cannot be de¬
nied, however, that an excess of tranquillity is less dis¬
pleasing than a display of unnecessary and outrageous
violence. • c I
The nakedness and full draperies of ancient times form
a striking contrast with the close, strict, and scanty
clothing of modern days, and show us symbolically the
former copiousness anil pristine candour, in opposition
to the disingenuous concealments and narrow poverty o
degenerate souls. Statues and other marbles and sculp¬
tures may be so easily, cheaply, and perfectly copied, by
means of plaster-casts, that no considerable city ought to
be without a public museum, containing a copy of all the
best pieces of this kind in existence. If a few churhs
persons should for a time refuse permission to take a cast,
a drawing or some other imitation of the sculpture tha
*
ANTIQUITIES.
259
qnkifiWas wanting might occupy the place of the cast, and an
.inscription might inform the visitor where the original was
to be found, and give the name of its unworthy possessor,
who refused to the lovers of art the facilities which others
had cheerfully granted. We possess many excellent an¬
tiques in bronze. If the colour be less agreeable than
that of marble, the superior toughness of the material ad¬
mits of greater spirit and freedom of execution; and of
this advantage the ancient workmen knew how to avail
themselves to the utmost, as any good collection of these
remains will fully demonstrate, especially the many ad¬
mirable specimens that are exhibited in the Studii at
Naples. ...
The most remarkable, and perhaps the most inimitable,
excellence of ancient art, i& the perfection that was dis¬
played in cutting gems, whether the figure be sunk be¬
neath the plane surface of the stone, as in the intaglio, or
projected above it, as in the cameo. If, on the one
hand, gems are imperishable, and almost indestructible,
on the other they are easily lost by reason of their
small size. The prodigious number of engraved stones
already known to the curious, and which is continually-
augmented by the discovery of new and beautiful speci¬
mens, proves that a vast amount of labour and of exquisite
skill was formerly employed on these minute and delicate
works. Rings, which were originally composed of coarse
materials, and were used as seals, tokens, and for other
purposes of necessity, in progress of time gradually grew
into articles of immense luxury and cost. The taste for
these ornaments had become universal in the civilized
world in the time of Alexander the Great, who was fond
of having his portrait cut on gems; and men were equally
fond of wearing his image, not through a servile adulation,
for the fashion or passion continued for several centuries
after his death, but from a notion that it was lucky, which
was indeed the chief motive in the choice of subjects for
rings. In modern times we waste our gems by engraving
upon them the ugliest device of a barbarous age—coat-
armour ; in like manner much valuable material and much
precious labour were expended anciently, in the days of
waning liberty, to preserve the worthless portrait of some
dull sample of a Jove-descended king. The public acts
of free states had sometimes been sealed with the likeness
of an individual who had been a benefactor to the com¬
munity, as a lasting and delicate compliment, that might
flatter, but could not wound, the generous modesty of a
disinterested patriot. The emperors of Rome, with that
more than Aristophanic genius for burlesque and carica¬
ture for which they were remarkable, and of which the
comic effect was the more striking and humorous, be¬
cause the masters of the world were perfectly unconscious
that they were heaping ridicule upon their own sacred
heads, adopted the usage with many aggravations and ad¬
ditions for their own glory. The patriotic Tiberius ex¬
tended the laws of treason—laws by which it was declared
to be high treason to treat with disrespect the statues of
the emperor—in order to protect from insult, by the last
and highest penalties, his own image on a ring. We de¬
sire to confine our censure to the abuse of portraits. Many
of the antique likenesses of individuals, who are remem¬
bered on account of their virtues or their talents, are
highly interesting: there are several valuable collections
of this kind in other places, but the Capitoline Museum at
Rome is the grand repertory of ancient portraits. We
read that in ancient times there were large collections of
engraved gems, both glyphs and anaglyphs, as in our own
days; and we have moreover innumerable books, contain¬
ing representations of the most celebrated Dactyliothecce,
ot very various degrees of merit, to enumerate which
would be tedious. The amulets and astrological charac¬
ters on rings have given occasion to the display of much Antiquities,
curious learning. Superstition has long been familiar with
the importance of rings: Apollonius of Tyana deemed
them so essential to quackery, that he had seven—for
each day of the week a different one, marked with the
planet of the day. The scenic mask, whether tragic or
comic, but especially the latter, was a favourite device :
we have seen many gems that exhibit beautiful and sur¬
prising examples of that wonderful creation of the fancy.
It affords one instance also of the many that might be
cited to show that ancient forms are often preserved in a
whimsical manner, and applied to purposes very remote
from those for which they were originally designed. We
have often observed an antique comic mask carved in stone
on the end of a spout on our churches, and the exagge¬
rated mouth from which jests not less grotesque than it¬
self, but well seasoned with Attic salt, were used to issue,
giving free vent to mere rain-water: so universal and in¬
destructible is the influence of antiquity. As a class,
coins are perhaps the least interesting of antiques; for,
v/ith few exceptions, they serve to illustrate nothing but
the succession of a family or dynasty of kings. They
have, however, long been favourite objects with collectors,
partly on this account, and partly because persons who can¬
not attain to the comprehension of any other part of the
study of antiquities, can at least understand the formation
of an unbroken series, and that it is often difficult to com¬
plete it. We may concede also in favour of this branch
of the science, that the Numismatists have sometimes
rendered assistance to chronology, and have even cleared
up certain points of geography, and therefore in subordi¬
nate departments have aided the historian.
Certain eminent artists and accomplished critics have
given it as their decided opinion, that enough remains of
the ancient painting to demonstrate that the ancients
were as much superior to the moderns in this art, as they
are admitted to have been in sculpture. It seems proba¬
ble that the first efforts of design were mere shadows or
outlines ; of this early style the fictile vases afford exam¬
ples. We have, however, many specimens of finished
works in fresco, which are preserved at Rome and in Naples.
Of the former, the Roman remains, some idea, although,
it must be confessed, a very inadequate one, may be de¬
rived from the engravings in Turnbull’s Treatise on Ancient
Painting. Of the latter, the Pitturedi Ercolano are more
faithful and satisfactory representations. The style of
the ancient painters, so far as our imperfect materials will
permit us to judge, rather resembled that of Perugino and
Raphael in grace, beauty, and sweetness, than the subli¬
mity and graphic bavorrn of the angelic and immortal
Michael.
Michel piu che mortal, Angiol divino.
Of the celebrated encaustic painting we know nothing,
but that the ancients have left us some brief and vague
descriptions, and the moderns have made some fruitless
attempts to revive or re-discover it.
Of the Mosaic painting we have some very lovely ves¬
tiges, and some of them are as fresh and as fair as when
they were first laid; with patient industry they may be
imitated, either with stones, with morsels of glass, or with
small tiles coloured and glazed. This kind of work is of
bewitching beauty : the eyes of Homer had been so cap¬
tivated with it, that he continued after his blindness to
describe heaven by its pavement; at least if the critics
will permit us to give this sense to the word bumbov.
We learn from the remains of ancient painting, that it
was usual to adhere scrupulously to particular colours for
the draperies of certain gods and heroes; and we may trace
the same practice in the works of many of the Italian
masters, who assign invariably the appropriated colours to
260
ANTIQUITIES.
Antiquities, the clothing of saints and personages of note in Christian
In countries where fuel was scarce the process of burn¬
ing bricks was expensive ; unburnt bricks were therefore
much used. In consequence of the greater heat of the sun
they were hardened in southern climates more perfectly
than the very limited portion of sunshine that northern
regions enjoy could possibly effect; and we read that the
desiccation was continued for several years before they
wrere consigned to the builder. If the rain, which in the
south at certain seasons falls in torrents, were warded off,
wherever the air is generally dry such structures would
last for a long period (the perpetual humidity of our at¬
mosphere, even if we were able to prepare them properly,
would speedily decompose them) ; but, even under the
most favourable circumstances, a pile of unburnt bricks is
a perishable structure, and many celebrated edifices have
accordingly perished. More durable and more ornamen¬
tal materials, however, have been fortunately very plenti¬
ful in those countries where invention and a pure taste
in architecture were most prevalent; and some of the
most celebrated of the productions of antiquity have re¬
sisted the gradual attacks of time, and the sijdden vio¬
lence of barbarians. In a few instances they are nearly
entire ; in many more, enough remains to enable us to re¬
store the building to its original state, or to build another
exactly similar to the former. Nor have architects been
wanting in diligence in this respect; very accurate sur¬
veys, and exact and minute admeasurements and drawings,
models and descriptions of every kind, have been exe¬
cuted by competent persons, to the great benefit of their
art. We should be enabled to judge very correctly of the
effect of the ancient temples and other edifices of celebri¬
ty, many of which have been admirably restored in small
drawings and engravings by architects, if the restorations
were painted in fresco on the walls of our public buildings
in various points of view, and of the full size of the origi¬
nals. Since Greece, and especially Athens, has been so
carefully explored, and the results of much valuable labour
made public, our taste in architecture has been greatly
improved. The various members, at least, and the details
of the buildings that have been lately erected in Great
Britain, are more elegant than they were formerly. Un¬
fortunately, however, we do not seem to possess an archi¬
tect capable of combining the beautiful parts into one har¬
monious whole. It should appear, therefore, that a more
profound and enlarged study of antiquity is required to
make the artist in this line a master of general effect. A
literary work may be faultless in its details, and yet it may
be inefficient as a whole ; it may be impossible to fix
blame upon any single page or paragraph, yet the entire
history of Greece, or of Rome, may be unworthy of the
events which it undertakes to record. The narration, al¬
though the style be chaste and correct, may be lifeless,
spiritless, and uninspiring. So is it in architecture; and
such is the present state of that art in Great Britain. Our
architects seem equally incapable of producing a whole,
either in the Grecian or the Gothic style, although the
parts may sometimes in themselves have merit. A sil¬
houette, shade, or profile of the object in question, espe¬
cially if it be taken in various points of view, will afford
the most simple, ready, and satisfactory means of deter¬
mining, and is the most certain and conclusive test whe¬
ther the effect as a whole be good. If our latest erec¬
tions be tried in this manner, the contours will invariably
prove to be insipid and uninteresting, and often ill propor¬
tioned and ugly.
The Romans surpassed the rest of mankind less in the
arts of government than in that remarkable art which Se¬
neca aptly compares to the constitution of civil society, the
!#*
than it is possible to convey by verbal description alone,
in his great work entitled Histoire de l'Art par les Mo-
namens depuis sa Decadence d Ame Siecle jusqud son
Renouvellement d If)mg. Paris, 1823.
The same disposition of stones, and the same artifices,
which would serve to support more securely the roof of a
temple of masonry, would be equally effectual in diminish¬
ing the tendency of the roof to fall in a cavern or excavat¬
ed temple; and we see, in fact, that they were actually
employed in the latter case, and with results equally sa¬
tisfactory. The ordinary configuration of the artificial
roof of a temple is well adapted to lighten the natural
roof of a cavern, especially if the peculiarities of forma¬
tion be carried to a greater extent than we usually find
in edifices. The part that would fall in first, and bring
down the rest with it, is the middle, it being most distant
from the supports: this is cut away and formed into hol¬
low pannels, deepening in gradual succession. The Etrus¬
can catacombs supply remarkable instances of all these
contrivances. We even find the hole in the centre of the
cupola, which is designed to lighten the living roof, where
it is least able to hang in the air, and which also serves to
admit the day. Of the two problems to support a natural
and an artificial roof, the one is precisely the converse of
the other; it being necessary in the former to hew away
whatever portion of space would not be occupied by the
structure in the latter. Certain architectural critics at¬
tribute, we know not how correctly, the undercrofts or
crypts which are commonly found beneath cathedral
churches, to the catacombs; of which, they assert, they
are an imitation and memorial; because the catacombs
were, it is said, the first places of worship used by the
early Christians. It is certain that the catacombs at Rome
serve as a crypt to the church of St Sebastian, and it is
also certain that the sepulchral chambers of the Pagans,
building of arches and vaulted roofs of masonry. TheAmUi
astonishing and colossal relics of their mastery in this use-^Jy
ful and difficult department of architecture have received
much Jess attention than many works of very inferior beauty
and utility. The most vulnerable part of a building is the
wooden frame of the roof, which is always in danger of being
destroyed by fire. It seems, however, to be unnecessary
in the construction of edifices of some kinds to use wood at
all. The tiles or other external covering might be support¬
ed, as they were in some of the ancient temples, by light
arches of masonry, which, as the weight they would have
to bear would be insignificant, might be built so slightly
as not to oppress the parts beneath that sustain them.
Many of the arches in the circus of Caracalla, near Rome,
are composed of large earthen vessels walled together,
instead of bricks or stones; and of this contrivance there
are other examples at Rome. The superior lightness is
manifest; the strength of an earthen vessel, and its power
of resisting mere pressure, is considerable. That such
structures were sufficiently solid, is demonstrated by their
standing to this day. The expedient is worthy of imi¬
tation, and of more attention than it has hitherto re¬
ceived. The cupola of the church of San Vitale at Ra¬
venna is the most remarkable specimen of this sort of
building, being composed entirely of cylindrical earthen
vessels, which are placed in a horizontal position, and are
so arranged as to form one spiral coil, the end of the one
vessel being always inserted into the mouth of the other,
like the pipes that convey water through our streets.
This very curious structure is exactly coeval with the
body of the civil law, being of the age of the emperor
Justinian ; and it is said to be in equally good repair, and
as likely to last for some ages longer, as the Corpus Juris.
M. d’Agincourt has fully explained this simple but inge-
contrivance, and has expressed in a plate, more
ANTIQUITIES.
261
^Lultieiwhieh are far more ancient than the Christian worship, al-
rv,though they were never built under the floor of temples,
closely resemble crypts.
The tombs of the ancients are very interesting to the
archaeologist, because, besides a multitude of pots and
pans, and some vases of merit, they have furnished a
countless host of lamps, that have formed the subject
of many amusing volumes, and some excellent paintings
in fresco, and other objects of considerable importance.
The ancients sought to alleviate as much as possible,
by calling up ideas of cheerfulness, grace, and beauty,
the heavy burthen of death. The Greeks were emi¬
nently distinguished by the warmth and the strength of
the domestic affections. Their tragedies present many
lovely pictures of the vigorous and luxuriant growth of
all the more tender charities, and every part of the
history of their rites of sepulture brings fresh proof of
the power and prevalence of the most amiable feelings
among this ingenious and cultivated people. The crea¬
tion of families, and the maintenance of them in the closest
union and intimacy, is undoubtedly the most desirable
object of public and private institutions ; for it is from his
family in childhood and in youth, in manhood and in old
age, that man’s happiness is mainly derived. We must
be careful, however, not to mistake the means for the
end, and we must always remember that laws, institu¬
tions, and principles, that were designed to advance an
end, are only valuable so far as they serve the purpose
for which they were designed. Men who do not steadily
look to final causes are apt to gild and hang garlands on
a scaffolding pole, and, in their insane worship of their
wooden idol, to forget the marble palace, for the sake of
which alone the unsightly pole was erected. The great
success of the Greeks in the cultivation of these affec¬
tions may be principally attributed to their extraordinary
toleration and liberality; for, in other countries, where
there is more prudish precision than mild and temperate
forbearance, by drawing the silken bonds too tight, they
are often broken. If those rules of decorum which are
to be observed only with a certain moderation, and ought
often to be considerably relaxed with a wise equity, are
enforced by the arbiters of society with a rigid and literal
severity, they will infallibly create heartlessness, hypo¬
crisy, and disgust, and there will be but little domestic
happiness or affection. Genius is in its nature eccentric ;
and if no allowances be made for its aberrations, men of
talent will be converted into enemies,—and they are most
formidable ones. If the treatment that may not be un¬
suitable to the humble and patient ass be attempted to¬
wards the generous steed, it will rouse a spirit of resist¬
ance and revenge not unworthy of the lion. Many writers
have discoursed at great length of the ancient sepulchral
rites. The folio of Mark Anthony Boldetti, entitled Os-
servazioni sopra i Cimiterj de Santi Martiri, ed antichi
Cristiani di Roma, contains a great body of curious infor¬
mation, and many valuable inscriptions ; and the compila¬
tion is made palatable by a certain simplicity and amusing
credulity. It is difficult to believe, if we reason from
analogy, that were it possible to restore the ancient system
of music, it would not richly repay the labour that might
be bestowed on the task.
It is not from the contemplation of the remains of anti¬
quity in the fine arts alone that we may hope to derive
benefit; in many of the mechanical arts the ancients were
decidedly our superiors; and by assiduous study of the
specimens of various articles, and of the descriptions of
certain processes, we may hope that ingenious practical
men will learn to restore lost arts, and to amend and im-Antiquities,
prove those which we possess. The ancient locks, forv-^^v-y
example, were of an admirable and very various construc¬
tion. Bramah’s justly celebrated inventions are merely,
as is commonly known, an adoption of as many of the de¬
vices of the ancient locksmiths as modern artists are at
present able to understand. In the manufacture of glass,
the ancients were as much our superiors as in several other
arts. This is demonstrated by the accuracy, variety, and
delicacy of the forms into which they have moulded ves¬
sels of this substance. Among the other excellencies of
this manufacture, we may mention the gems formed of
paste in imitation of stones, to which we owe the preser¬
vation of some of the most beautiful antique engravings,
the originals having been lost: many of these are of a large
size. The manufacturers of porcelain have not hitherto
been very successful in impressing their works with the
stamp of genius and true taste ; the Chinese origin is still
manifest in the shapes of even the best pieces of crockery:
herein let them pray the aid of the ancients. The con¬
struction of the antique chariots is perhaps not altogether
unworthy of our attention, for even the smallest and light¬
est of our carriages appear to be unnecessarily large and
heavy. Among the minor difficulties that were master¬
ed by the skill of antiquity, was that of driving and ma¬
naging many horses abreast. We see on a gem in the work
of Count Caylus {Recueil d'Antiquites, tome i. Plate LX.
fig. 4) a chariot with 20 horses yoked in this manner.
Three horses abreast are often used on the Continent, and
with a good effect. We have heard that an equestrian
amateur tried the experiment in England successfully,
but we do not remember to what extent. The Grecian
breed of horses, it is believed, was much smaller than the
English carriage-horses. If a London drayman, therefore,
would be surprised to meet an Athenian team rapidly ad¬
vancing in a single line, the Attic charioteer would scarcely
be less astonished at the immense bulk of the animals that
slowly march in a long file. This branch of the subject,
however, would lead us too far from our original design.
It would be dangerous to enter upon the disputed
ground of Etruscan art; for even the most experienced and
confident critics confess that it is sometimes very diffi¬
cult, if not impossible, to distinguish Etruscan monuments
from those of the early ages of Greece. It is certain, how¬
ever, that this ancient nation was much addicted to super¬
stition and the fine arts. The lax erudition of Dempster,1
the learning and critical skill of Lanzi,2 and the labours of
a myriad of antiquaries, and particularly of the estim¬
able Gori,3 are ready to conspire in instructing and per¬
plexing the student.
Archaeological critics are by no means agreed as to the Remains of
degree of merit that is to be ascribed to the Egyptian Egyptian
works of art. Artists unanimously admit that the mechani-31,1,
cal execution is very admirable ; and travellers assert with
one voice, that we cannot safely and correctly judge of
their peculiar character or general effect from the ordi¬
nary engravings. We are required, moreover, in order to
arrive at sound and solid conclusions on this difficult ques¬
tion, to distinguish most carefully between the original and
pure Egyptian works, and the modern and spurious imi¬
tations that were manufactured when the rites of Isis
were fashionable in Rome ; and generally to be on our
guard against whatever was executed whilst Egypt was
under the sway of the Romans, and to esteem it as very
inferior to the genuine productions of the country. A still
further degree of caution may perhaps be necessary: the
degradation of the old style probably was gradually pre-
1 De Etruria liegali, 2 vols. fol.
Saggio di Lingua Etrusca, 3 vols. 8vo.
s Museum Etruscum, 3 vols. fol.
262 ANTIQUITIES.
Antiquities, pared, and advancod slowly during the period of more than words are confined to some particular temple, which he A
three centuries, when Egypt was under the Grecian domi- criticises : they seem, however, to. admit ot a general apA|
nion of the Ptolemies, before it passed by conquest into plication, and they express the opinion of many. Effr; cn
the hands of the Romans. Plato indeed informs us, at the ns KoXvaroXos or/.og xa^tx-ig sv Me/xSe/, fiagfiagiitriv iyuv ry^
commencement of his second book De Legibus, that the x-aratfxsuTjv n'hnv ya% tcj gzyaXm umi, xa; xoXkuv, xa/ coXu,
Egyptian sculptors and painters were forbidden by law to enyon, <tw g-vXmv, cudsv iyjt cvdt ygcupaov, aXka, fiuTm-
change in any respect the forms of the statues and paint- iroviav t/A<pumi gaKXmi. (Lib. xvii.)
ings, but were required to follow scrupulously the ancient “ Immensa res est fEgyptiorum religio, seu cultus re¬
models—and that there were in his days works in the tustatem spectemus, seu varietatem.” The immensity of
temples of Egypt 10,000 years old; that they had not an the subject will deter us from entering upon it. We may
old-fashioned antique appearance, but were precisely like remark, however, in passing, that the worship of one fa-
the latest productions, and were neither more nor less vourite deity still subsists in that country; we mean of
beautiful. This testimony to the rigid adherence of their ^Elurus, the god cat. So great is the fondness of the
artists to patterns of such extraordinary antiquity may Mahometans for that animal, and so excessive their
possibly add to our confidence in the genuineness of Egyp- indulgence towards him, that they may be said still to
tian antiquities in general. worship him in Egypt. The lady cat was not less a fa¬
in the midst of beauty we are often shocked by a cer- vourite than her lord ; she was equally adored, and her
tain ugliness; so, in the Egyptian statues, in their very image was as frequently made. This matter is treated in
ugliness there is, if we may use an apparent contra- the 8th chapter of the 6th book of the supplement to
diction in terms, a certain beauty—a gravity, a dignity, Montfaucon.
a seriousness, a certain decorum: there is perhaps in the The Egyptians acquired some celebrity among other
air and expression a display of moral beauties, while, save nations on account of their adoration of vegetables and
health and strength, all physical ones are wanting. Gro- pot-herbs. No other people, however pious, have made a
tesque and whimsical as these figures are, they awaken pantheon of the kitchen-garden, unless we suppose that
a feeling of reverence; but the statues of the Hindoos, if the Welsh, who are very prone to religion, have succeed-
we may judge from the representations of them which we ed them in the worship of the onion, in its milder repre-
see in Europe, are endowed with an unredeemed, unre- sentative the leek; for the respect they show to that sa-
claimed, and unmixed ugliness, and inspire only disgust cred plant seems to be greater than the importance of its
and contempt. The Egyptian statues possess one quality, divine presence in mutton broth, or even its fragrance to
which is esteemed no vulgar merit in works of art,—a a Celtic nose, will warrant; and it seems, therefore, to par-
perfect repose : it is striking at first sight, and the more take somewhat of the nature of a religious observance,
attentively and the longer we contemplate them, the An attentive consideration of the structure of the Greek!
more profound does it appear. Men of good sense, good and Latin languages is a labour that always insures itsh
taste, and learning, who have been sufficiently fortunate own reward ; but this department of the study of anti-”!
to have had opportunities of judging of the Egyptian quity must be reserved for another occasion. The assi-1
architecture, assert that the general effect is very won- duous reading of old books forms of course a most im-
derful, and that the feeling of repose is produced in an portant part of the study of which we treat. We would
eminent degree by the prodigious proportions of their co- not, however, determine the antiquity of a work merely by
lossal edifices,—a sense of endless duration and of eternal the number of ages since it was written. A book may
rest. It is a striking thing to pass at once, by opening a door have been published in remote times, and yet it may
or raising a curtain, from the filth, noise, glare, and bustle closely resemble a production of yesterday. If it affords
of a hot and busy street, to the calm purity, cool shade, examples of the ancient modes of thinking and acting, it
and quiet beauty of a richly adorned church. The tran- is well worthy of the attention of the archaeologist, who
sition must have been still more striking when the Egyp- estimates it according to the antiquity of the sentiments,
tian temples stood, as did most of them, in crowded cities, and not the date of the composition,
to be suddenly translated from the tumult, and turbulence, The early antiquities of Greece are unfolded by several
and the storms of active life, to the deep, unbroken rest, the of the best masters of language in the Greek tongue,
waveless harbour, of those who had long been dead. The Homer displays the heroic ages with a purity and fide-
magnitude, solidity', and ponderous weight of the objects lity which are not less remarkable than his other trans-
have no doubt some share also in the effect which the cendent merits. His wonderful poems abound in every
contemplation of them produces on the mind. We feel kind of archaisms, or may more truly be said to be entirely
that beauty is always alluring, and we feel also, as we be- composed of them. W hen we read him, we learn to think
fore observed, that a certain kind of ugliness is sometimes as Achilles and Ulysses thought; we go back at once to
respectable and imposing. But the Egyptian works of art the times when his specious miracles were wrought; we
are not invariably ugly; there is nothing in which deter- are contemporaries of Priam and Helen; and we beconae
mined admirers will not find beauty; but less suspicious as well acquainted with the leaders of the Greeks as if we
witnesses, ordinary'' unprejudiced travellers, declare they had passed a night with them in the i rojan horse. Hero-
have found statues that were actually beautiful, particu- dotus is the beautiful Ionic bridge of nine arches, by which
larly the countenance of the famous Sphinx. we pass from the heroic ages to the times of ivonderful
We have ventured to make these remarks on Egyptian men—of Plato, Pericles, Demosthenes, and the other wor-
art at the hazard perhaps of appearing dogmatical, for to thies who flourished at different periods of the Athenian
express any opinion must have that appearance in the republic, but are seen clustering together when viewed
eyes of those who have none ; and it may be also some- at the distance we now regard them,
what paradoxical, for such is the lot of all who venture to Herodotus breathes the genuine spirit of antiquity. He
think for themselves, or even to adopt any received opi- was wisely ordained to effect the difficult and delicate
nions, except the most popular. transition from the mythic to the historical: he has per-
The judgment of Strabo wras not favourable to the formed his office with pre-eminent skill, and has passed
Egyptian architecture. He seems to consider it a bar- the golden chain to his successors as he received it from
barous style, that has nothing graceful or picturesque, the hands of him who took it up at its origin, the throne
and that it displays only a vain waste of labour. His of the Olympian Jove. These two authors, and the other
ANTIQUITIES.
263
Myit .depositaries of Grecian antiquities, are studied, not indeed
v^so generally, so attentively, or so philosophically as we
could wish; but nevertheless they attract a certain degree
of respect and observation. We lament that the early
antiquities of Rome, which are pregnant with interest and
instruction, are not always sought to be derived from the
best sources. Virgil is full of the sentiments and feelings
of a Roman, and we cannot affirm that his epic is ne¬
glected ; nor the history of Livy, who has eloquently,
and briefly related the first fortunes of the eternal city;
• but we assert with regret, that the most valuable and faith¬
ful historian of that remarkable period is at present most
unaccountably overlooked. We will venture to enlarge
somewhat upon the nature of the work to which we al¬
lude, in the hope that a few details may be a relief to
our readers after the very general observations we have
alone been able to make on an extensive subject; and
we shall be truly happy if we attract the public atten¬
tion to, and succeed in any degree in rescuing from un¬
merited neglect, the Roman Antiquities of Dionysius
of Halicarnassus. If we compare our English literature
with that of other countries, we shall find it rich in many,
and indeed in most respects. There are a few subjects,
however, as to which our poverty is remarkable : it is per¬
haps the most remarkable as to translations from Greek
and Latin authors. The French have many good ones,
. which are much read. In former times men of consider¬
able eminence enriched the Italian language with several
valuable and excellent translations ; and more recently in
Germany, writers of the greatest learning, and the highest
reputation, have undertaken this important task, and they
11 have succeeded admirably, having produced specimens of
extraordinary merit, singular fidelity, and extensive popu-
! larity. With us, on the contrary, if we make a very few
exceptions, translators have been persons of slender attain¬
ments and of very moderate diligence, who have execut¬
ed their important office in a slovenly manner, and whose
productions are hardly known by name, not only to ordi¬
nary readers, but even to persons of very extensive general
knowledge and large acquaintance with books in the Eng¬
lish language. The forcible expressions of Dryden con¬
cerning one of the early translators of Polybius, are in a
great degree applicable to our best English interpreters :
“ Neither did that learned Italian, who had undertaken
him, succeed very happily in that endeavour ; for the
perfect knowledge of the Greek language was not yet
restored ; and that translator was but as an one-eyed man
amongst the nation of the blind—only suffered until a
better could be found to do right to an author whose ex¬
cellence required a more just interpreter than the igno¬
rance of that age afforded.”
1 his deficiency is to be x’egretted, not only on account
ol the great majority of readers (who are not, and cannot
be acquainted with the learned languages, especially with
the Greek), because they are not furnished with the
means of studying in their own tongue the matter of
many estimable authors ; but it is to be deplored also on
account of the proficients in the learned languages them¬
selves, for of the great numbers who study them, few at¬
tain to a sufficient familiarity, and enjoy leisure enough
to read in the original all the voluminous works that de¬
serve to be perused, and to form a general idea of their
contents. The classical student is commonly only able
to master some short works as specimens of the rest, and
some select passages from the larger works, and to ob¬
tain thereby a higher and nobler idea of the force and
leauty of style, and of the powers of language and its
perfections; and, by learning the grammar of other lan¬
guages, to gain a notion of universal grammar, and to learn
ns native language grammatically; and therein he has his
reward. Butin order to make himself acquainted with Antiquities,
the contents of many important works, he needs transla-
tions nearly as much as those who are entirely ignorant
of the languages in which they are written.
It is singular that the same city produced the two
great archaeologists of former days: that Halicarnassus
gave birth to the father of Grecian history, Herodotus, to
whom we owe our knowledge of the antiquities of Greece ;
and to Dionysius, the author of the Roman Antiquities,
to whom we are equally indebted for the principal part of
the information that we possess respecting the earliest in¬
stitutions, and the history of the first ages of Rome. Dio¬
nysius came to Rome in the reign of Augustus, at the
conclusion of the civil wars. He resided for 22 years in
the imperial city, and spent that long period in diligently
collecting materials for his work, in studying the Latin
language, in reading all the authors who had written con¬
cerning Roman affairs, and in constant personal inter¬
course and intimacy with the great men of the time. His
history was comprehended in twenty books, and extend¬
ed from the foundation of the city to the commencement
of the first Punic war, from which epoch Polybius had
related the Roman affairs with singular judgment and
fidelity, in his inestimable work. Of the twenty books
eleven only remain, which comprise little more than the
first three centuries of the existence of Rome. The
author manifests a profound acquaintance with the mat¬
ters of which he treats. He fully illustrates the man¬
ners and customs of the ancient Romans, their laws, re¬
ligion, and discipline in peace and war, explaining many
antiquated expressions and names, and relating the origin
of states and cities; and his knowledge of geography
and chronology is remarkable, and gives an additional
value to his work. He is not only more full than Livy,
since he expands into eleven books a period of more than
300 years, which is condensed into three books by the
Roman historian ; but he is admitted also to be more
exact and correct, and is universally acknowledged to be
the most valuable of all the historians of Roman affairs.
The Greek writers are our best and most instructive
guides in all that respects the Romans, because they
wrote for Greeks, that is to say, for persons who were
ignorant of the Roman manners and institutions; and they
address themselves, as it were, to us. The Romans wrote
in the Latin language, and their compositions were in¬
tended to be read by those who were already familiar
with the subjects of which they treat. They allude
therefore to domestic matters with extreme brevity; and
their allusions are always obscure, and would common¬
ly be unintelligible to us, but for the explanations with
which we are supplied by the more copious Greeks, who
being strangers themselves, write with a fulness which
strangers can understand. Without the foreign authors,
and especially without Dionysius of Halicarnassus, the
knowledge of the moderns, if it were derived from Latin
sources alone, would be very scanty and unsatisfactory.
The most valuable Roman histories are those which are
written in Greek. Except Plutarch’s Lives, Greek writers
concerning Roman affairs have been little read in Eng¬
land. The histories in Greek are all imperfect; they have
discovered more or less, and some portions only remain.
An old French translator of Appian expresses his high
sense of their value in a quaint manner. In reference to
this, he says that the Deity was so much offended at the
bloodshed, oppression, and cruelties, through which the
Roman empire was founded, that in order to deprive the
Romans of a part of the glory which they sought by these
misdeeds, and as an adequate punishment, he has not suf¬
fered any one of the histories which manifest their glory
to reach us entire.
264
ANTIQUITIES.
Antiquities. It would be easy to bring a host of testimonies to the
great value of Dionysius. Among the ancients, Euse¬
bius praises his remarkable accuracy; Cyril bears witness
of his great fame; Photius celebrates his diligence, and
the simplicity, sweetness, and beauty of his style; and
Suidas his universal erudition. Since the restoration of
letters, learned men have vied with each other in com¬
mending him. It is needless to repeat the encomiums
of Paulus Manutius, Joseph Scaliger, Justus Lipsius, Si-
gonius, Petavius, Salmasius, Isaac Casaubon, Le Clerc,
and Vossius, or even to enumerate the names of the
great critics by whom he has been extolled, and of whom
some, as Henry Stephens, prefer him on many accounts
to his great rival Livy. One reason for his preference
is philosophical, and worthy to be stated; he says that
the history of Livy is military, and that of Dionysius
civil. Dionysius is much read on the Continent by the
French, Germans, and Dutch. He is the delight of the
Italians, and has long been a favourite and popular au¬
thor in Italy. Angelo Maio, in his courtly yet digni¬
fied dedication of a work, of which we will speak pre¬
sently, to the present emperor of Austria, says that the
emperor once told him he had often read the history of
Dionysius with great interest: “ Turn etiam addidisti
magno tibi studio Halicarnasseum Dionysium jam inde ab
annis virentibus lectitatum.” Although a lively interest,
and as it were a certain sympathy, is felt by the English
in Roman history, he has not yet become familiar to
us. An Englishman, Hudson, published at Oxford an
excellent and splendid edition of the original Greek text;
but it has found few readers in this country. The Greek
poets are chiefly studied at our universities, and some
portions of some of the Attic prose writers : the style of
Dionysius is certainly difficult to those who are not ac¬
quainted with other authors. He is not read therefore
in the ordinary course of education; and the studies of
scholars who are so happy as to be able to keep up their
knowledge of Greek are commonly directed by circum¬
stances into a different channel. The Roman Antiqui¬
ties have been translated into English some time since, by
Edward Spelman. Although this is not by any means one
of our worst translations, yet it is not such as ought to sa¬
tisfy the lover of Roman history. It is not easy to assign
a reason why the writer, from whom we derive the best
and most detailed account of the institutions of Rome,
should not be a general favourite in England; and why
we take our information at second hand from those wrho
have compiled histories of Rome by drawing largely upon
him. Dionysius has been blamed for inserting fables;
but, if it be a crime, he is less guilty in this respect than
Livy; and it is not easy to say by what authority he
could take upon himself to reject those portions of early
history which, however incredible, were generally receiv¬
ed in Rome ; and, in the account of an extraordinary peo¬
ple, the history of their superstitions is not without its
use. He was moreover a person of distinguished piety ;
and it is not a little curious to compare the religious feel¬
ings, notions, and practices, of those times with the super¬
stitious observances of the over-zealous of our owm days.
He was well skilled also in the philosophy of the ancient
world, and is rich in valuable and instructive reflections,
which illustrate the state of opinion in the Augustan age;
and his morality (and this is no ordinary merit in any
writer, but especially in a historian) is generally of the
highest order; and he powerfully and authoritatively in¬
culcates, with all the powers of consistent integrity, and
the authority of superior learning, the paramount impor¬
tance of justice, whether public or private, and the great
interests of virtue. A notion has prevailed in England,
which appears to have originated in France, that he is
not an agreeable writer. It is commonly asserted andAnti,;
believed that his style is flat and languid, and he is said^V
to be a rhetorician. A conceited French Jesuit, named
Rene Rapin, set the fashion in France, which has pre-
vailed there, and in England also to a certain extent, to
undervalue Dionysius as a writer. His petulant editor
Reiske has adopted it, and Mr Gibbon, a man infinitely su.
perior to Rapin or Reiske, repeats the censure, but with
considerable mitigation. Mr Gibbon derived his tastes and
his principles chiefly from French writers ; and the style
which he has adopted in his own immortal work shows that
he had no taste for a full and copious narrative, but was
of opinion that a history, like the response of an oracle,
should be conveyed in brief, obscure, enigmatical allusions.
A modern French writer, Schoell, strong in the confi¬
dence of ignorance, ventures to say, “ son style, forme
d’apres celui de Polybe, son modele, n’est pas toujours
d’une purete classique.” Dionysius, in common with all
judicious critics, duly appreciated the civil prudence and
military knowledge, the fidelity, accuracy, and good sense,
and all the estimable qualities of Polybius ; but so far was
he from taking his style as a model, that he places him
among those writers whose style is the most faulty, and
whose works, on that account, it is hardly possible to read
to the end. {De Structura Orationis, sect. 4.) As to the
complaint that he was a rhetorician, it cannot be denied
that we are indebted to him for the best rhetorical treatises
in the Greek tongue. It is certain that he was a rhetori¬
cian, but that he was not a mere rhetorician is equally cer¬
tain. The cultivation of language was carried to so great
an extent in the time of Dionysius, that the most eminent
men produced works on that subject; and Julius Caesar
himself, as is well known, was the author of a grammati¬
cal or rhetorical treatise, De Analogia, which was esteem¬
ed. That Caesar was not amere rhetorician, was a misfor¬
tune to Rome and to the world.
The error of undervaluing a writer of the Augustan age
because he was skilled in rhetoric, arises from confounding
different times. Subsequently there were no other pursuits
than grammar, rhetoric, and the like; learned men were
mere rhetoricians, and nothing more, and were not good
even in that narrow line, to which a hopeless despotism had
confined their energies.
Dionysius has also been censured for having introduced
too many orations into his history; but he abounds less
in speeches than many other historians who are highly
esteemed. Fie had studied oratory with great atten¬
tion, and had composed criticisms on the principal ora¬
tors of Greece, which are still extant, and are highly
and deservedly prized. It was natural, therefore, that he
should endeavour to put in practice the rules of composi¬
tion which he had laid down in such a masterly manner;
and many of his harangues have been warmly praised by
very competent judges, for great magnificence of lan¬
guage, a rich vein of good sense, a remarkable elegance
and address in the selection and arrangement of argu¬
ments, and indeed for all the resources of eloquence. If
the speeches are sometimes long, they are never super¬
fluous ; they are, in truth, merely a mode of relating
events, and differ from ordinary narrative in manner
only. Occurrences, instead of being told in the com¬
mon course of history, for the sake of variety, and to pro¬
duce a lively and dramatic effect, are detailed in an ora¬
tion : they are shown not only as effects, but as causes—as
causes in actual operation, and as producing the conse¬
quences that flowed from them; and are thus more deeply
impressed on the mind of the reader. No one can pretend
that the person to whom the speech is attributed delivered
it in the precise words used by the historian. That he did
make a speech at Rome, where it was usual to do so on
A N T I Q
quitie many occasions, is highly probable: it may in many cases
y-x^be related by contemporary writers as a fact, and as a
part of the history of the transaction. In order that he
may fully understand the subject, and, of course, the mo¬
tives of the principal actors, a careful writer, who is about
to compose a history, studies the whole matter with the
utmost diligence. It is true that he may have failed alto-
crether; for men fail in all undertakings: but if he has been
successful in discovering the motives of the speaker, it is
likely that the speech is in substance the same as that
which was actually delivered;—that it was the same in
words we cannot suppose;—indeed, some of the best his¬
tories are in a language different from that which was
spoken by the persons whose acts or fortunes are related.
Since sceptical history has been fashionable, too low a
value has been put upon such writers as Dionysius. The
French invented sceptical, or, as they term it, philosophical
history; and they conducted their inquiries, although some¬
what arbitrarily, yet with a certain tact, with ingenuity and
good taste. The Germans adopted it, as they are wont,
without acknowledgement; and using greater erudition
and elaboration, and every variety of uncommon sense,
outraged and caricatured it, and rendered investigation so
ridiculous, that the only way to avoid being laughed at
seems now to be to believe every thing we read. It was
once asked, What is truth ? and the question did not re¬
ceive an answer: in like manner we may ask, What is pro¬
bability? If every reader may reject whatever appears im¬
probable to himself, the page of history will soon become as
naked and bare as the head of the middle-aged bigamist,
who, as the fable tells us, married an old and a young wife.
If Livy and Dionysius, who lived so much nearer to
the times of which they write, were unable, by reason
of the great antiquity, to discover the truth, how is it
possible for a professor on the banks of the Rhine, the
Seine, or the Thames, nearly 2000 years after, to find
what has been so much longer hidden ? Livy honestly
and modestly gives up the hopeless attempt in despair,
and says, “ Cura non deesset, si qua ad verum via inqui-
rentem ferret: nunc famm rerum standum est, ubi certam
derogat vetustas fidem.” It would be a pious and profit¬
able work, to the studious reader at least, if not to the
patriotic translator, to make a new translation of the Ro¬
man Antiquities, a book which has been justly called a
“ grave, learned, accurate, and golden volume,” the pro¬
duction of an author who has been said with equal justice
“ to have written better about the Romans than they did
about themselves.” To translate it as it deserves, and to
the entire satisfaction of the translator, would demand
great natural and acquired powers, and a very long period
of uninterrupted leisure; but to induce some learned man to
attempt to render it into English, in some respects at least
according to the idea of accurate interpretation which we
form in the mind, and to give it in such a shape as would
be acceptable and agreeable to the English reader, and
might become popular, is all that we can venture to hope
in our most sanguine moments.
Angelo Maio, the librarian of the Vatican library at
home, published, a few years since, from a manuscript in
the Ambrosian library at Milan, an abstract or epitome
^ the last nine books, which are lost. Photius informs
us that Dionysius made such an epitome of the entire
'vork himself; and the learned editor is of opinion that
the manuscript which he discovered contains a copy of
t ie author s own abridgement. Some critics have doubted
‘vhether it be the work of which Photius speaks; but it
'as not been doubted that the fragments are portions of
t ie lost books of Dionysius, although they question whe-
tiicr the selection was made by himself.
As they contain many very interesting passages, and
von. in. - • °
U I T I E S. 265
relate to that period of the republic of which the existing
memorials are the most scanty, and have never been pub-
lished in English, it would be desirable to add a translation
of the epitome, and thus to complete, as far as is possible,
the history of Rome from its foundation to the beginning of
the first Punic war. A benevolent translator, who sought
to serve his country by the diffusion of useful knowledge,
would give, in a preface of moderate dimensions, an ac¬
count of the author, and of his other compositions, and of
the different editions and translations of this work, so far as
they are of importance ; of its general design and nature;
and such observations respecting the Romans, as would
facilitate the understanding of their ancient history. He
would add notes to illustrate obscure passages, to point
out ambiguities, and wherever the interpretation admits
of variety; together with references to authors who con¬
firm, contradict, or differ from Dionysius ; comprehending
also additional explanations of the laws, rites, customs,
and institutions, wherever these are to be obtained, and
the author seems to need them; and such information re¬
specting the earlier writers who are cited in the Roman
Antiquities, and their works, as can be gleaned from trust¬
worthy sources. In writing notes, to be plain and intel¬
ligible ought to be the constant aim of an annotator. He
ought especially to keep in view the grand object, utility;
he should religiously avoid the discussion of trifles, how¬
ever tempting they may be on account of their difficulty,
or as furnishing opportunities for the display of fruitless
ingenuity, a vain ostentation of learning, and the empty
parade of citation; he should seek to gather the fruits
of erudition, wherever they are within his reach, and
should permit the leaves of pedantry to remain untouched,
and rustle in the winds.
We have ventured thus to enlarge upon the merits of
Dionysius, because we are persuaded, that a careful peru¬
sal of the historical works of this neglected author would
greatly assist the student in forming correct and clear no¬
tions of the more ancient, fundamental, and original insti¬
tutions, which properly belong to the study of antiquities.
We may consider the civil law as forming a most valu¬
able ingredient in the general education of a scholar and a
citizen on three accounts. ls£, It is useful to the legislator,
to teach him, by the efficacious discipline of good examples,
in what manner to make laws, and how to clothe them in
language at once brief, comprehensive, and perspicuous;
2dly, to the magistrate and the lawyer, to instruct them, by
a display of the long-continued practice of the most able
and accomplished men, in the administration and sound and
consistent interpretation of laws; and, ‘idly, this science
is peculiarly interesting to the archaeologist, as being rich
in precious illustrations of many of his favourite pursuits.
And we would gladly adduce some instances of its value in
the last point of view; but we are afraid to commit our¬
selves to this vast ocean of erudition, and must be satis¬
fied with having merely indicated it as an inexhaustible
mine of antiquarian wealth.
The beauty, variety, and richness of the precious re¬
mains of antiquity (that we may resume the general con¬
sideration of the subject) are sometimes even oppressive;
and they overpower the mind, when it contemplates at¬
tentively the great theme of ancient excellence. We en¬
deavour naturally to discover the cause; of this excellence,
but we are not competent fully to solve the problem;—
we are perhaps able to make .some approaches towards its
solution. The inhabitants of Athens, that we may go at
once to the centre and fountain-head, were not less dis¬
tinguished for and characterized by an intense love of
and passion for the beautiful, and by the universality of
good taste, than by an extreme tolerance. There was no¬
thing extravagant in the productions of the imagination in
266 ANTIQUITIES.
Antiquities.that free city; but how much, and what monstrous ex- acknowledged as the test and criterion of success andAstiij,
travagance, do we constantly find, combined with great merit, the mark of contraband is set upon talent, and a1^
genius and invention, in the compositions of men who premium, a right of pre-emption, and a secure monopoly,
lived under despotism? If good taste was universal in are given to the base and vile. It is to this fatal cause we
Athens, it was very general in Florence in the best days would attribute the utter extinction of the ancient glory,
of that state, when its inhabitants enjoyed a great but in- In studying the remains of antiquity, we ouglit to en-
ferior degree of civilization. Under the ecclesiastical go- tertain with modest confidence the encouraging hope, that
vernment of modern Rome there has always been, on ac- the day will arrive when the ancient excellence will be
count of the weakness of the rulers, much licentiousness, equalled, or even surpassed; and we ought especially to
and a considerable portion of practical freedom, together cherish and foster the generous desire of imitating the ob-
with a correct taste in the fine arts. We may remark, by jects which we reverently admire. It has even been said
the way, that the papal government, like that of Athens, for that we ought to be prejudiced in favour of these works,
many ages contrived to produce the greatest effects with to be predisposed to admire them,- to view them with the
the most scanty means ; and the history of the holy see eye of faith; that it is very easy to persuade ourselves we
proves that its occupier, like the people of Athens, sel- see nothing remarkable in them, but very difficult to ap-
dom failed to promote learned and able men, and freely preciate them fully, and to understand thoroughly their
to acknowledge on all occasions the pre-eminence of learn- value. W e conceive, however, that it is not easy to show
ing. Clement VIII., on nominating the celebrated Jesuit that any advantage would be gained by substituting faith
and archbishop of Capua, Bellarmin, declared publicly, as a guide for the understanding in the place of reason, or
“We choose him cardinal because the church of God that our judgment ought not to be directed by certain
does not possess his equal in learning.” The history of rules, which will admit of being stated, examined, and
the successors of St Peter, if such they were, is replete compared among themselves, and with the principles of
with examples of the same wise policy. To convince our- things. To place the standard of excellence high, and to
selves that good taste prevails exactly in proportion as set a high value upon excellence, is favouiable to a gene-
works of art are addressed to the people at large, and de- rous emulation, and conduces to ultimate success. It is
signed for public inspection, it is only necessary to look unnecessary to caution the reader against a blind admira-
around us. At Rome, where they are freely thrown open tion of antiquity. I he general indifference of an age, in
to all, the works of the government are in a pure taste; which he who knows any thing is apt to imagine that he
in Paris they are less public, and less correct: if there knows it a priori, through the uninstructed force of his
be any country in the west of Europe where the mo- own mind, and which is sufficiently disposed to consider
narch lives in complete seclusion among his household itself wiser than any that preceded it, to the know edge
ministers and women, as in the East, we may safely con- of past times, will insure him against an excess in this
elude, that whatever works are executed at the public respect. It is not without much hesitation that the maxim,
expense, but are not intended to be submitted to the pub- peritiores vetustas facit, will now be admitted,
lie view, are conceived in the worst and most vulgar and We will readily concede, however, that the respect lor
degraded taste, and that they are worthy of a Byzantine the wisdom of our ancestors may easily be carried too tar,
emperor or an oriental prince. The history of the de- especially if that wisdom was manifested in barbarous
dining empire, and the specimens of art of the first ages ages; and a reverence for authority that leads us entirely
of Christianity that still remain, demonstrate that the fine to distrust our own powers would disable us, and render
arts were corrupted and lost when they ceased to be em- us incapable of exertion or improvement. It would be
ployed for public purposes, and ministered only to the difficult to decide whether we should err more grossly in
private and selfish gratification of emperors and wealthy believing nothing that we read, or in yielding implicit
individuals, who consumed the property of the people in faith to the assertions of every authoi. . . ,
monstrous and guilty luxury. The taste of the present age is somewhat inclined to
If the greatness of the ancients be a wonderful and favour historical scepticism. A specimen of easy credu-
inexplicable thing, it is not less wonderful how this great- lity will not be the less amusing on account of its old-ta-
ness was destroyed and annihilated. The more we con- shioned air. We transcribe the following passage rom
sider the ancient world, the more astonishing does this LAntiquite Expliquee of Montfaucon, tome i. p. 41:
total destruction appear. Many ingenious men have “ Jupiter le Pluvieux, Pluvius, appelle par les Grecs ZW
attempted to assign the true causes, but no one has o/ifyiog, et par Lucien ier/os, etoit honore par ies Atiie*
fully succeeded hitherto in explaining the extraordinary niens, qui lui avoient dresse un autel sur le MontHymet .
catastrophe. If we might venture to hazard a conjecture Nous le donnons d’une maniere bien extraordinaire, e
on the obscure subject, we should be inclined to attri- qu’il est represente dans la colonne Antonme. T est un
bute it principally to intolerance. The steady growth vieillard a longue barbe, qui a des ailes, et qui tien e
of this baneful disposition gradually destroyed every deux bras etendus, et la main droite un peu eleven. e
thing : by continually dividing and subdividing, the great sort a grands flots de ses bras et de sa barbe. Ees soiaai
masses were reduced to smaller, these again to fragments, Remains de 1’armee de Marc Aurele, que la secheresse
and finally to mere dust, which was blown away by the la soif avoit reduits a une extreme necessite, ^901V
wind. The greatest men are always the least orthodox, cette eau dans le creux de leurs bouchers. Ees Romainb,
because they think most; and men who think for them- plonges encore dans le paganisme, attribuerent ce pnr g
selves cannot fall into the common tracks, at least for a leur Jupiter Pluvieux. Mais ce furent, dit avec p u
a long line of road. The ignorant and dull, on the con- raison Baronius dans ses Annales, les soldats Ulireue
trary, who do not exercise their understandings, but the qui obtinrent cette pluie qui sauva 1 armee. 11SiimlS
memory only, learn easily to repeat the watchwords of sage is conceived in the true spirit in which marve
some narrow sect, which, as they are few in number, are relations ought to be read, if we desire to nave i
not easily forgotten; and having no originality to lead stuffed full of wonders. The miracle itse 0US
them astray, they outbid their superiors, and produce be accepted as an undoubted fact, without scrup
more of the only coin that is current, and have nothing hesitation; and the only difference of opinion a^nono to
to fear but the more tenacious memories of their inferiors torians ought to be as to the authority or in uen
in ability. Wherever orthodoxy of any kind whatever is which it is justly to be attributed. Iheie wou
in
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P
ANTIQUITIES,
liqniti' been many more specimens of ancient art in existence at
f v-s.,present, if this amicable and pacific credulity had prevailed
® ' in all ages, and to the full extent to which it might, with
advantage to society, be carried; if the tolerant rule of
C1 ’ conduct had been to repair the temple, to spare and hos-
pi pitably to entertain the statue, to preserve the sculpture
tr or painting, but to apply different names to them, and to
^ use them for various purposes, according to the fancy
8,1 and fashion of the age. The figure of Jupiter Pluvius
of 0f Montfaucon is really very curious: he is flowing with
water, which is descending in torrents from every part,
li }iis left wing only excepted. We find the same figure
ff of this deity in the work of the learned Roman John
f; Baptist Casalius, De Urbis ac Romani olim Imperii Splen-
i) fore (p. 49), represented in a rude but spirited sketch,
® with the attendant circumstances: for the particulars of
tf the story we are referred to Baronius, sub anno 176. The
or crosses Jleuris on the shields of the soldiers in the latter
t" engraving are, we presume, an addition of the engraver,
or perhaps of Pope Sixtus V., who repaired the column of
A Antoninus.
The captivating fables of the ancient mythology are use-
fa ful as a part of liberal education ; and it is good for children
to read them in order to form the imagination. It is a vul-
iS gar and a pernicious error to believe that this faculty may
1* be neglected with impunity. Persons in whom, through a
ci narrow and vicious institution, the cultivation of the inven-
tii tion has been neglected, have rarely reached great emi-
1! nence; and if by diligently exercising the reasoning powers
A they have for a short time attained to some small reputa-
1“ tion, they have scarcely ever been able to sustain, much
less to increase it. Whenever they have attempted to exert
ft their unformed fancy, and to extend thereby their fame,
ft they have commonly made themselves ridiculous, by fail¬
le ing in inventing something probable, and falling into the
® monstrous: their fictions moreover want the attractiveness
* which a practised taste can alone give to the creations of
>1 the imagination. The most acute logical powers, and the
® most profound knowledge of the rules of rhetoric and cri-
ft ticism, are unavailing without the higher faculty of inven-
ft tion, which discovers arguments and apposite illustrations,
si and finds the proper media of conviction and persuasion,
i Truth is undoubtedly the end of knowledge, but it com-
t monly happens that the end can only be attained through
the means of fiction. Whatever departments of know-
1( ledge are suited to the wants and capacities of children,
a are also adapted for the lower orders, who in many respects
l are always children of a taller stature. The common
p people can understand and feel the advantage of amuse-
a ments, of cultivating the feelings and the taste for the
beautiful, but they are unable to learn the abstract sciences,
a and it would be of no service to endeavour to teach them.
As men begin to take an interest in general matters, they
( cease to be curious concerning particulars. To get rid,
therefore, of the minute and troublesome curiosity which
i is the infallible characteristic of the ignorant and vulgar,
i and is strong exactly in proportion to the want of mental
cultivation, every encouragement ought to be afforded to
honourable recreations and liberal studies. The equalit}'
of the political rights of every citizen has been perhaps
more distinctly acknowledged in modern times; and if it
be clearly ascertained and firmly secured, much, no doubt,
is done to assure the wellbeing of civil society. Many
other institutions besides those which are required for
this purpose are nevertheless essential, or at least highly
conducive, to the happiness of mankind. Men have other
wants besides security, liberty, and equality; and for some
of them better provision was made in certain states of an¬
tiquity than in the present days the people have thought
proper to demand, or their rulers to grant. For the
267
amusement of the lower classes, although diversions may Antiquities,
be more requisite in some climates than in others, they
are of more importance in all than is commonly supposed:
for the cultivation of their tastes, and for many parts of
their education, much labour and money, much thought
and talent, were employed in Greece and in Rome. Re¬
finement and civility were accordingly universally diffus¬
ed, and the general happiness of society was greatly aug¬
mented ; for the people were rendered capable of new and
exquisite pleasures, and these pleasures were liberally sup¬
plied to them. In countries where no wish to gratify and
indulge the lower ranks is manifested by their superiors,
but rather a desire to thwart their diversions, and a sul¬
len pride in interfering with the few pleasures they are
capable of creating for themselves, the unhappy result is,
that a general rudeness and disgusting brutality become
the common characteristics of the labouring classes.
To be fully impressed with the great truth, that amuse¬
ment is as necessary to man as bread, it is requisite to
consult the golden pages of antiquity: it is unfortunately
not very easy to state in a few words where the student
can find the best expositors of those pages. A good
work is needed to guide us in the vast labyrinth of past
ages ; a work that would avoid on the one hand a vague
and desultory manner of treating the subject, and on the
other those minute details which are interesting only to
professed artists and archaeologists; a work that would
reject the husks and retain the nutritive parts of erudi¬
tion. Writers have hitherto in general'reversed this rule,
and given abundant cause for the complaint, “ L’antique
n’a servi a la plupart des savans qu’a etaler une immense
erudition, et il a ete regarde comme peu fait pour nour-
rir I'esprit.” No profane literature is more tiresome than
the commentaries on ancient works of art by ordinary
antiquaries; they are dull and heavy with heaped up ci¬
tations. There is much scope for felicitous innovation in
such a work as we desire. Of many of the remains of an¬
cient art only conjectural explanations have been given,
which in some cases are tolerably satisfactory; in many
others it is impossible to acquiesce in them : so is it also
in truth with many passages of the classics,—the ignorant
reader can alone rest content with the interpretation they
ordinarily receive.
It is sometimes a difficult matter to detect restorations;
and the art of the critic, who would decide as to the
genuineness of antiques, is not unfrequently perplexed.
By not distinguishing the modern restorations from the
original composition, many ludicrous mistakes have been
committed: it would be the duty, therefore, of the accom¬
plished guide to render us assistance in this delicate de¬
partment, and to lay down for our direction sound canons
of criticism. Impediments have been thrown in the way
of the study of antiquity. This legitimate pursuit has
been superseded and brought into discredit by the spu¬
rious imitation of the antiquary, by an insane fondness
for our own barbarous antiquities, for heraldic trumpery,
and similar trifling. We recall the remembrance of days
when every thing was worse than at present, that we
may learn to shun, not to imitate. They are happy who
have had free access in their youth to good copies and
representations of the antiques, and thrice happy who
have been able at any period of life to study many of
the originals.
The sedulous vulgar, seeking to degrade what they
are unable to understand, speak slightingly of looking at
pictures, as if it were one of the many forms of idleness;
but the studious read not in books alone, and it must be
a good modern book which contains as much instruction
as a tolerable engraving of an antique. The ancient
works of art have been engraved with a suitable spirit
268
ANT
ANT
Antiquities and effect by the Italians almost alone of nations. When¬
ever the French artists draw or engrave from the an¬
tique, they pretend to imitate the severity and simpli-
, city of the ancients, and outrage even their own natural
hardness, and, with very few exceptions, cease to be only
painful, and become intolerable. It is to be regretted
that this acute and enterprising nation cannot enter into
the feeling of the antique; for they have, with the most
laudable zeal and exemplary diligence, studied the sci¬
ence of antiquity. The numerous plates in the Encyclo¬
pedic Methodique on the subject of antiquities are ugly,
and the explanations and disquisitions are confused and
senseless. LAntiquite expliquee et representee en Figures,—
Antiquitas explanatione et schematibus illustrate—is an im¬
mense body of information, written in French and in La¬
tin, adorned with numberless plates. The learned and la¬
borious compiler, Dom Montfaucon, as we before observed,
is credulous and injudicious; and so much has been dis¬
covered since his time, that his work is very incomplete. It
is however deservedly popular; scarcely any other work is
consulted in England, except by a few. The great size of
this compilation, which consists, including the supplement,
of ten ponderous volumes in folio, places it out of the reach
of all but the wealthy; and so is it unhappily with many
other works that are important and indeed essential to the
study of antiquities. They are to be found, it is true, in
every well-stocked library; but private collections are of
course accessible to a few only: and although there are
many excellent and ample libraries, where the books are Anti,,
the property of the public, students are, with very few |
exceptions, shut out. Count Caylus, a true practical phi- At,
losopher, complains somewhere of the jealousy of the king S
of Spain with regard to antiques. In this matter as well^
as in others, and elsewhere as well as in Spain, subjects
have hitherto been too complaisant to their rulers, and the
best governments have not been sufficiently liberal in en¬
couraging learning. WT will refer the student to one
valuable guide, the admirable Winckelmann, recommend¬
ing him at the same time to read his works, like all Ger¬
man books, with extreme caution ; not because the author
has any design to deceive others, but because he is indued
with a remarkable aptitude to be himself deceived.
If we have succeeded in any degree in leading the fu¬
ture inquiries of our readers to the conclusion, that the
spirit and tendency of the institutions of antiquity were
generally favourable to the advancement and improve¬
ment of the human mind, we shall have laid a solid ground
for the veneration which we are ourselves disposed to
claim for them. On account of their intrinsic merit in
other respects, but especially on account of their popular
character, and their design to promote human happiness,
we venture with some confidence to adopt and repeat
the well-known advice of Pliny : “ Reverere gloriam ve-
terem, et hanc ipsam senectutem, quae in homine venera-
bilis, in urbibus sacra est: sit apud te honor antiquitatis,
sit ingentibus factis, sit fabulis quoque.” (u.)
A P®
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ANTISABBATARIANS, a modern religious sect, who
oppose the observance of the Christian sabbath. Ihe great
principle of the Antisabbatarians is, that the Jewish sab¬
bath was only of ceremonial, not moral obligation, and con¬
sequently is abolished by the coming of Christ.
ANTISCII, people who live on different sides of the
equator, whose shadows at noon are projected opposite
ways. Thus the people of the north are Antiscii to those
of the south ; the one projecting their shadows at noon to¬
wards the north pole, and the other towards the south pole.
ANTISCORBUTICS, medicines goodin scorbutic cases.
ANTISEPTICS, from am, and putrid, of cojww, I
putrefy, an appellation given to such substances as resist
putrefaction. We have some curious experiments in rela¬
tion to antiseptic substances by Dr Pringle, who has ascer¬
tained their several virtues. Thus, in order to settle the an¬
tiseptic virtue of salts, he compared it with that of common
sea-salt, which being one of the weakest, he supposes equal
to unity, and expresses the proportional strength of the rest
by the higher numbers, as in the following table.
Salts, their antiseptic virtue.
Sea salt 1
Sal gemmae 1 +
Tartar vitriolated 2
Spirit us Minder eri 2
Tartarus solubilis 2
Sal diureticus    .2 +
Crude sal ammoniac 3
Saline mixture 3
Nitre 4j+
Salt of hartshorn 4 +
Salt of wormwood..,  4 +
Eorax.......  12 +
Salt of amber 20 +
Alum,.... 30 +
In this table the proportions are marked in integral
numbers; only to some there is added the sign +, to
show that those salts are possessed of a stronger antisep¬
tic virtue than the number in the table expresses, by some
fractions; unless in the three last, where the same sign
imports that the salt may be stronger by some units.
ANTISPASMODICS are medicines proper for the
cure of spasms and convulsions. Opium, balsam of Peru,
and the essential oils of many vegetables, are the principal
in this class of medicines.
ANTISTASIS, in Oratory, a defence of an action from
the consideration that, had it been omitted, worse would
have ensued. This is called by Latin writers compardti-
vum argumentum ; such, e. g. would be the general’s de¬
fence who had made an inglorious capitulation, that, with¬
out it, the whole army must have perished.
ANTISTHENES,"a Greek philosopher, and founder
of the Cynics. He was born at Athens, and passed the
former part of his life as a soldier. Having afterwards
been an attendant at the lectures of Socrates, he was
principally charmed with those exhortations of that great
philosopher which persuaded to frugality, to temperance,
and to moderation: these Antisthenes was resolved to
practise by carrying every precept to its utmost extent
Permitting, therefore, his beard to grow, he went about
the streets in a thread-bare coat, scarcely to be distin¬
guished from a common beggar. He prided himself upon
the most rigid virtue, and thought himself obliged to at¬
tack the vicious wherever he found them. This gave
him some reputation in the city; but it may be supposed
that, in a place so very luxurious as Athens, he had more
enemies than disciples. His philosophy consisted rather
in action than in speculation: it was therefore his constant
maxim, that to be virtuous was to be happy, and that all
virtue consisted in action; that the wise man should live
for himself, contented in all situations, and happy alone
in the consciousness of his own virtue. He acknowledged
nothing to be good but what was honourable, and assert¬
ed that virtue might be acquired by practice. Diogenes
Laertius tells us there were 10 volumes of his works; and
he has given us many of his apophthegms.
ANTISTOCHEON, in Grammar, the using of one let¬
ter instead of another; as olli for UU.
ANTISTROPHE, in Grammar, a figure by which two
things mutually depending on each other are reciprocal!}
converted; as, ihe servant of the master, the master of tte
servant.
Antistrophe, among lyric poets, that part of a song
and dance, in use among the ancients, which was perform-
k
ten
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tie
sit
la
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at
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ANT
t ed before the altar, in returning from west to east; in op¬
position to strophe.
■ ANTITACTyE, in Ecclesiastical History, a sect of
"Gnostics, who held that God was good and just, but that a
creature had created evil; and consequently that it is our
duty to oppose this author of evil, in order to avenge God
3f his adversary.
ANTITHESIS, in Rhetoric, a contrast or opposition of
words or sentiments. Such is that of Cicero, in the second
Catilinarian: “ On one side stands modesty, on the other
inpudence; on one fidelity, on the other deceit; here piety,
•here sacrilege; here continency, there lust.”
ANTITRINITARIANS, those who deny the Trinity,
md teach that there are not three persons in the Godhead.
Thus the Samosatenians, who do not believe the distinc¬
tion of persons in God; the Arians, who deny the divinity
if the Word; and the Macedonians, who deny that of the
Holy Spirit, are all properly Antitrinitarians. Among the
moderns, Antitrinitarians are particularly understood of
Socinians, called also Unitarians.
The Bibliotheca Antitrinitariorum, or Antitrinitarian Li¬
brary, is a posthumous work of Christopher Sandius, an
eminent Antitrinitarian, in which he gives a list, digest¬
ed in order of time, of all the Socinian or modern Anti¬
trinitarian authors, with a brief account of their lives, and
i catalogue of their works.
ANTITYPE, a Greek word, properly signifying a type
ir figure corresponding to some other type. The word
intitype occurs twice in the New Testament, viz. in the
Epistle to the Hebrews, ix. 24, and in St Peter, 1 Ep. iii.
21, where its genuine import has been much controverted.
The former says that “ Christ is not entered into the holy
places made with hands, which are, ccmniTra, the figures or
antitypes of the true—now to appear in the presence, of
God for us.” Now tutos signifies the pattern by which
another thing is made ; and as Moses was obliged to make
the tabernacle, and all things in it, according to the pat¬
tern shown him in the mount, the tabernacle so formed
was the antitype of what was shown to Moses : any thing,
therefore, formed according to a model or pattern is an
antitype.
Antitype, among the ancient Greek fathers, and in the
Greek liturgy, is also applied to the symbols of bread and
wine in the sacrament. Hence it has been argued by
many Protestants, that the Greeks do not really believe
the doctrine of transubstantiation, because they call the
bread and wine antitypes, avrirwa, q. d. figures, simili¬
tudes, and this even after the consecration.
ANTIVARI, or Bar, a strongly fortified town and har¬
bour in the Gulf of Venice, in the Turkish pachalic of
Iscander or Scuttari. It is a frontier town, the seat of a
Catholic bishop, and contains 3500 inhabitants, who are
owners of several vessels, which are hired for the coasting
trade of the Adriatic Sea. It is in lat. 42. 25. N. and
long. 18. 54. E.
ANTLIA, an ancient machine, supposed to be the
same with our pump. Hence the phrase in anitiam con-
dmnari, according to the critics, denotes a kind of pu¬
nishment whereby criminals were condemned to drain
ponds, ditches, or the like.
ANTCECI, those inhabitants of the earth who live
under the same meridian, and at the same distance from
the equator; the one toward the north, and the other
toward the south. Hence they have the same longitude;
and their latitude is also the same, but of a different
denomination: they are in the same semicircle of the
meridian, but in opposite parallels : they have precisely
the same hours of the day and night, but opposite sea¬
sons ; and the night of the one is always equal to the day
of the other. ^ *
ANT
269
ANTOINE, a town of France, in Dauphiny, in the Antoine
diocese of Vienne, with a celebrated abbey. It is seated II
among the mountains, 13 miles east of Lyons. Long. 5.Antonides.
20. E. Lat. 45. 43. N. v_^v^
ANTONIA, Saint, a town of France, in the depart¬
ment of Lot and Garonne, and in the diocese of Rhodes,
whose fortifications are demolished. It is seated on the
river Aveiron. Long. 0. 55. E. Lat. 44. 10. N.
ANTONIAN Waters, medicinal waters of Germany,
very pleasant to the taste, and esteemed good in many
chronic and hypochondriac cases.
ANTONIANO, Silvio, a man of great learning, who
raised himself from a low condition by his merit, was born
at Rome in the year 1540. When he was but ten years
old he could make verses upon any subject proposed to
him. The duke of Ferrara, coming to Rome to congra¬
tulate Marcellus II. upon his being raised to the pontifi¬
cate, was so charmed with the genius of Antoniano, that he
carried him to Ferrara, where he provided able masters
to instruct him in all the sciences. From thence he was
sent for by Pius IV., who made him professor of the belles
lettres in the college at Rome. Antoniano filled this
place with so much reputation, that, on the day when he
began to explain the oration pro Marco Marcello, he had
a vast crowd of auditors, and among these no less than
25 cardinals. He was afterwards chosen rector of the
college ; and after the death of Pius IV., being seized with
a spirit of devotion, he joined himself to Philip Neri, and
accepted the office of secretary to the sacred college, of¬
fered him by Pius V., which he executed for 25 years
with the reputation of an honest and able man. He re¬
fused a bishopric which Gregory XIV. would have given
him ; but he accepted the office of secretary to the Briefs,
offered him by Clement VIII., who made him his cham¬
berlain, and afterwards a cardinal. Antoniano injured his
health by too great fatigue ; for he spent whole nights in
writing letters; which brought on a sickness, of which he
died in the 63d year of his age.
ANTONIDES Vander Goes, John, an eminent Dutch
poet, was born at Goes in Zealand on the 3d of April 1647.
His parents were anabaptists, people of good character,
but of low circumstances. They went to live at Amster¬
dam when Antonides was about four years old ; and in the
ninth year of his age he began his studies, under the di¬
rection of Hadrian Junius and James Cocceius. Anto¬
nides took great pleasure in reading the Latin poets,
and carefully compared them with Grotius, Heinsius,
&c. By this means he acquired a taste for poetry, and
enriched his mind with noble ideas. He first attempt¬
ed to translate some pieces of Horace and Ovid; and,
having formed his taste on these excellent models, he
at length undertook one of the most difficult tasks in
poetry, to write a tragedy. This was entitled Trazil, or
the Invasion of China. Antonides, however, was so mo¬
dest as not to permit it to be published. Vondel, who
was then engaged in a dramatic piece, which was taken
also from some event that happened in China, read An-
tonides’s tragedy, and was so well pleased with it that
he declared, if the author would not print it, he would
take some passages out of it, and make use of them in his
own tragedy. He accordingly did so ; and it was reckon¬
ed much to the honour of Antonides to have written what
might be adopted by such a poet as Vondel. Upon the
conclusion of the peace between Great Britain and Hol¬
land, in the year 1674, Antonides wrote a poem entitled
Bellona aan band, i. e. “ Bellona chained,” consisting of
several hundred verses. He next wrote an ingenious
heroic poem, which he entitled The River Y (the river
on which Amsterdam is built).
Antonides’s parents had bred him up an apothecary;
270 ANT
Antoninus, but his remarkable genius for poetry soon gained him the
esteem and friendship of several persons of distinction,
and particularly of Mr Buisero, one of the lords of the
admiralty at Amsterdam, and a great lover of poetry,
who sent him at his expense to pursue his studies at
Leyden, where he remained till he took his degree of
doctor of physic, and then his patron gave him a place in the
admi.alty. In 1678 Antonides married Susanna Bermans,
who had also a talent for poetry. His marriage was cele¬
brated by several poets, particularly by Peter Francius, pro¬
fessor of eloquence, who composed some Latin verses on the
occasion. After marriage he did not much indulge his
poetic genius ; and within a few years he fell into a con¬
sumption, of which he died on the 18th September 1684,
being then but thirty-seven years and a few months old.
His works have been printed several times, having been
collected by Father Antony Tansz. A complete edition
was printed by Nicholas Ten Hoorn, at Amsterdam, in
the year 1714, in 4to, under the direction of David Van
Hoogstraaten, one of the masters of the Latin school of
that city, who added to it also the life of the poet.
ANTONINUS Pius, a celebrated Roman emperor, was
born a. d. 86, at Lanuvium in Italy. His family had long
maintained the honour of the house of Nismes in Gaul, from
whence they had descended. Both his father and grand¬
father had held the office of consul. Arius Antoninus, his
maternal grandfather, by his amiable disposition and love of
literature had acquired an eminent character, and was very
intimate with Pliny the younger. Under him the young
Titus, after his father’s death, completed his education.
His character, on arriving at the age of maturity, mani¬
fested itself in the most promising manner. To an im¬
proved understanding, a virtuous heart, a mild and digni¬
fied character, and a noble eloquence, he joined a happy
physiognomy. Simple in his taste, and guided by tem¬
perance in all his actions and sentiments, he was entirely
free from all affectation and pomposity.
In the year 120, among the many public honours which
his birth and connections gave him a claim to, he was
elevated to the high post of consul, and was afterwards
appointed by Adrian to be one of the four consulars be¬
tween whom the supreme power of Italy was divided. Be¬
coming in his turn proconsul of Asia, he acquitted him¬
self with such reputation that he even excelled his grand¬
father Arius, who had formerly enjoyed that high trust.
Returning from Asia, he was not only received into the
favour, but likewise the confidence and council of Adrian,
and was always disposed to act with lenity. He married
Annia Faustina, the daughter of Annius Verus, whose
character was far from being untaxed with reproach; but
his lenient disposition induced him to avoid public scan¬
dal, and he behaved towards his aged father-in-law with
the most becoming respect. Two sons and two daughters
were the fruits of this marriage. The sons died when
they were young, and the eldest daughter, who was mar¬
ried to Lamia Sylvanus, died when Titus proceeded to¬
wards his Asiatic government. Faustina, the youngest,
married Marcus Aurelius, who was afterwards emperor.
After the death of Verus, Adrian resolving to adopt
Antoninus, he was induced to accept of the succession to
so important a charge as the Roman empire, although
with a considerable degree of reluctance, and was ac¬
cordingly nominated by Adrian in February 25, a. d. 138,
in the presence of the council of the chief senators; and he
at the same time created him his colleague in performing
the proconsular and tribunitial duties. Extending his
plans of adoption still farther, Adrian caused Antoninus
to adopt the son of Verus, then seven years of age, and
Marcus Annius, afterwards named Aurelius, then" seven¬
teen years of age, a relation of Adrian’s, and nephew to
>1
ANT
his own wife. The dutiful and merited attention which to,
Antoninus bestowed on Adrian during the last months of
his illness gives a very high idea of his character. On
July 10, a. d. 138, he succeeded to the empire amidst
the universal acclamations of the senate and people, who
anticipated in his well-tried virtues that happiness which
a good and wise sovereign is able to bestow upon his
subjects.
The Roman world enjoyed such tranquillity under his
reign that it affords few materials for history; yet it is to
be regretted that Capitolinus is the only historian from
whom any direct information can be received concerning
this peaceful period, and he is none of the most perspi¬
cuous. It however appears that the usual honours and
titles, together with the addition of the surname of Pius,
which both his conduct and zeal in defending and honour¬
ing the memory of his predecessor united to suggest,
were willingly conferred upon him by the senate. In the
beginning of his reign there were several conspiracies
formed against him; but this only afforded him an in¬
stance of signalizing his clemency, which he did in the
most striking manner. Although he was unable to pre¬
vent justice from taking its due course against the ring-
leaders, he prohibited the prosecution of their accom¬
plices, and took the son of Attilius, one of the principal
conspirators, under his protection. Various commotions
were raised in several parts of the empire; but by the vi¬
gilance of his lieutenants these were easily quelled. The
incursions of the Brigantes in Britain were restrained,
and a new wall which was built to the north of that of
Adrian, from the mouth of the Esk to that of Tweed, and
which was called the Wall of Antoninus, was fixed as the
boundary of the Roman province in Britain. The reign
of Antoninus, upon the whole, was singularly peaceful, and
realized a saying of Scipio, that “ he preferred saving
the life of one citizen, to destroying a thousand enemies.’’
Jurisprudence was to this emperor, as it was to his pre¬
decessor, an interesting subject for improvement; and
several decrees which he issued display his commendable
spirit of equity. The natural consequence of this equity
was, that Antoninus acquired a reputation and fame which
no military achievements could have conferred ; and his
friendship was courted by the neighbouring princes.
There is scarcely a blot to be found to tarnish his cha¬
racter ; and frugality, modesty, and harmless amusement
continued to employ his private hours. In the manage¬
ment of his complicated business he was exact to such a
degree, that it was even ridiculed by some ; but he found
the daily advantage of this accuracy. The growing virtue
of Marcus Aurelius soon drew his attention after he as¬
cended the throne, and having given him his daughter in
marriage, he declared him Caesar. Nor was he mistaken
in his choice ; for Aurelius acted with the utmost fidelity
and affection amid all the honours that he continued to
confer upon him. Enjoying this large share of domestic
bliss, in the 75th year of his life he was seized with a
fever, at his favourite country-seat of Lori. Convinced of
his approaching fate, he convened the principal officers of
the state, and confirmed his election of Aurelius, and
gave him the imperial ensigns. A delirium ensued, in an
interval of which he gave the watchword AEquanimitas,
and calmly resigned his breath in the 23d year of his
reign. His ashes were consigned to the tomb of Adrian,
and divine honours paid to his memory. He was univer¬
sally regretted, and succeeding emperors bore his name
as a badge of honour. The senate and his successor
erected a sculptured pillar to his memory, which is still
shown to strangers as one of the chief ornaments of Rome.
Antoninus PuiLOSOPHUSjJfara/s^w’e/ms, a very emi¬
nent Roman emperor, born at Rome on the 26th of April,
ANT
js in the 121st year of the Christian era. He was called by
/L several names till he was admitted into the Aurelian family,
when he took that of Marcus Aurelius Antoninus. Ad¬
rian, upon the death of Cejonius Commodus, turned his
eyes upon Marcus Aurelius ; but, as he was not then 18
years of age, and consequently too young for so important
a station, he fixed upon Antoninus Pius, whom he adopt¬
ed, upon condition that he should likewise adopt Marcus
Aurelius. The year after this adoption, Adrian appoint¬
ed him questor, though he had not yet attained the age
prescribed by the law. After the death of Adrian,
Aurelius married Faustina, the daughter of Antoninus
Pius, by whom he had several children. In the year 139
he was invested with new honours by the emperor Pius,
in which he behaved in such a manner as endeared him
to that prince and the whole people.
Upon the death of Pius, which happened in the year
161, he was obliged by the senate to take upon him .the
government, in the management of which he took Lucius
Verus as his colleague. Dion Cassius says that he was
induced to do this on account of his ill state of health,
and that he might have leisure to pursue his studies;
Lucius being of a strong, vigorous constitution, and conse¬
quently more fit for the fatigues of war. The same day
he took upon him the name of Antoninus, which he gave
likewise to Verus his colleague, and betrothed his daugh¬
ter Lucilla to him. The two emperors went afterwards to
the camp, where, after having performed the funeral rites
of Pius, they pronounced each of them a panegyric to his
memory. They discharged the government in a very
amicable manner. It is said that soon after Antoninus
had performed the apotheosis of Pius, petitions were pre¬
sented to him by the pagan priests, philosophers, and go¬
vernors of provinces, in order to excite him to persecute
the Christians, which he rejected with indignation, and
interposed his authority for their protection, by writing a
letter to the common assembly of Asia, then held at Ephe¬
sus. The happiness which the empire began to enjoy
under these two emperors was interrupted, in the year
162, by a dreadful inundation of the Tiber, which de¬
stroyed a vast number of cattle, and occasioned a famine
at Home. This calamity was followed by the Parthian
war; and at the same time the Catti ravaged Germany
and Rhaetia. Lucius Verus went in person to oppose the
Parthians; and Antoninus remained at Rome, where his
presence was necessary.
During this war with the Parthians, about the year
163 or 164;, Antoninus sent his daughter Lucilla to
Verus, she having been betrothed to him, and attended
her as far as Brundusium. He intended to conduct
her to Syria; but it having been insinuated by some
persons that his design of going into the East was to
claim the honour of having finished the Parthian war,
he returned to Rome. The Romans having gained a vic¬
tory over the Parthians, who were obliged to abandon
Mesopotamia, the two emperors triumphed over them at
Rome in the year 166, and were honoured with the title
of Fathers of their country. This year was fatal, on ac¬
count of a terrible pestilence which spread itself over the
whole world, and a famine under which Rome laboured.
It was likewise in this year that the Marcomanni, and
ANT 271
many other people of Germany, took up arms against theAntonmus.
Romans; but the two emperors, having marched in person
against them, obliged the Germans to sue for peace. The
war, however, was renewed the year following, and the
two emperors marched again in person ; but Lucius Verus
was seized with an apoplectic fit, and died at Altinum.
The Romans were now defeated with great slaughter;
and the emperor, not choosing to burden his subjects with
new taxes, exposed to sale the furniture of the palace, the
gold and silver plate belonging to the crown, and his wife’s
rich garments embroidered with gold, and a curious col¬
lection of pearls, which Adrian had purchased during his
long progress through the provinces of the empire, and
was called Adrians cabinet.
In the year 170 Antoninus made vast preparations
against the Germans, and carried on the war with great
vigour. During this war, in 174, a very extraordinary
event is said to have happened, which, according to
Dion Cassius, was as follows: Antoninus’s army being
blocked up by the Quadi in a very disadvantageous place,
where there was no possibility of procuring water, and
being worn out with fatigue and wounds, oppressed
with heat and thirst, and incapable of retiring or engag¬
ing the enemy, in an instant the sky was covered with
clouds, and there fell a vast quantity of rain. The Roman
army were about to quench their thirst when the enemy
came upon them with such fury, that they must certainly
have been defeated, had it not been for a shower of hail,
accompanied with a storm of thunder and lightning,
which fell upon the enemy without the least annoyance
to the Romans, who by this means gained the victory.1
In 175 Antoninus made a treaty with several nations of
Germany. Soon after, Avidius Cassius, governor of Sy¬
ria, revolted from the emperor. This insurrection, how¬
ever, was put an end to by the death of Cassius, who was
killed by a centurion named Anthony. Antoninus behaved
with great lenity towards those who had been engaged in
Cassius’s party : he would not put to death, nor imprison,
nor even sit in judgment himself upon any of the sena¬
tors engaged in this revolt; but he referred them to the
senate, fixing a day for their appearance, as if it had been
only a civil affair. He wrote also to the senate, desiring
them to act with indulgence rather than severity; nor to
shed the blood of any senator or person of quality, or of
any other person whatever; but to allow this honour to
his reign, that, even under the misfortune of a rebellion,
none had lost their lives except in the first heat of the
tumult. In 176 Antoninus visited Syria and Egypt. The
kings of those countries, and ambassadors also from Par-
thia, came to visit him. He staid several days at Smyrna;
and, after settling the affairs of the East, went to Athens,
on which city he conferred several honours, and appoint¬
ed public professors there. From thence he returned to
Rome with his son Commodus, whom he chose consul for
the year following, though he was then but 16 years of
age, having obtained a dispensation for that purpose. On
the 27th of September in the same year he gave him the
title of Imperator; and on the 23d of December he en¬
tered Rome in triumph with Commodus, on account of
the victories gained over the Germans. Dion Cassius
tells us that he remitted all the debts which were due to
1 The Pagans, as well as Christians, according to Mr Tiilemont (art. xvi. p. 621), have acknowledged the truth of this prodigy,
but have greatly differed as to the cause of such a miraculous event, the former ascribing it, some to one magician and some to an¬
other. In Antoninus’s pillar the glory is ascribed to Jupiter the god of rain and thunder. But the Christians affirmed that Lod
granted this favour at the prayer of the Christian soldiers in the Homan army, who are said to have composed the twelfth or Meli-
tone legion; and, as a mark of distinction, we are told that they received the title of the Thundering Legion from Antoninus. (Euseb.
Seeks. Hist. lib. v. cap. 5.) Mr Moyle, in the letters published in the second volume of his works, has endeavoured to explode this
story of the Thundering Legion, which occasioned Mr Whiston to publish an answer in 1726, entitled, Of the Thundering Legion; or.
Of the Miraculous Deliverance of Marcus Antoninus and his Army upon the Prayers of the Christians.
272
ANT
ANT
Antoni¬
nus’s Wall.
himself and the public treasury during 46 years, and burnt
the writings relating to these debts. In the year 179 he
left Rome with his son Commodus, in order to go against
the Marcomanni and other barbarous nations ; and in the
year following he gained a considerable victory over them,
and would in all probability have entirely subdued them,
had he not been seized with an illness, which carried him
off on the 17th of March 180, in the 59th year of his
age, and 19th of his reign. The whole empire regretted
the loss of so valuable a prince, and almost every person
had a statue of him. His book of Meditations has been
much admired. It is the most precious work that has
come down to us from the Stoical school. The Oxford
edition of 1704, and that of London, published in 1707,
are both esteemed. An English translation by Drs Moor
and Hutcheson was published at Glasgow in 2 vols. 12mo,
in 1749.
ANTONINUS’S Wall, the name of the third ram¬
part or defence that had been built or repaired by the
Romans against the incursions of the North Britons. It
is called by the people in the neighbourhood Graham’s
Dike, from the notion that one Graham, or Grimus, first
made a breach in it after the retreat of the Romans out
of Britain. The first barrier erected by the Romans was
the chain of forts made by Agricola from the frith of
Forth to that of Clyde, in the year 81, to protect his con¬
quest from the inroads of the Caledonians. The second
was the vallum or dike thrown up by Adrian in the year
121. It terminated on the western side of the kingdom
at Axelodimum or Brngh, on the Solway sands, and was
supposed to have reached no farther than Pons El\i or
Newcastle on the eastern; but from an inscription lately
discovered, it appears to have extended as far as the wall
of Severus. This rampart of Adrian’s was situated much
farther south than Agricola’s chain; the country to the
north having been either, according to some authors,
recovered by the native Britons after the departure of
Agricola, or, according to others, voluntarily slighted by
Adrian. However, this work of Adrian’s did not long
continue to be the extreme boundary of the Roman ter¬
ritories to the north in Britain; for Antoninus Pius, the
adopted son and immediate successor of Adrian, having,
by his lieutenant Lollius Urbicus, recovered the country
once conquered by Agricola, commanded another rampart
to be erected between the friths of Forth and Clyde, in
the track where Agricola had formerly built his chain of
forts. The great number of inscriptions which have been
found in or near the ruins of this wall or rampart, to the
honour of Antoninus Pius, leave us no room to doubt its
having been built by his direction and command. If the
fragment of a Roman pillar with an inscription, now in
the college library of Edinburgh, belonged to this work,
as is generally supposed, it fixes the date of its execu¬
tion to the third consulship of Antoninus, which was
a. d. 140, only twenty years after that of Adrian, of which
this seems to have been an imitation. This wall or ram¬
part, as some imagine, reached from Caer-ridden on the
frith of Forth to Old Kirkpatrick on the Clyde; or, as
others think, from Kinniel on the east to Dunglass on the
west. These different suppositions hardly make a mile of
difference in the length of this work, which, from several
actual mensurations, appears to have been 37 English or
40 Roman miles. Capitolinus, in his life of Antoninus
Pius, directly affirms that the wall which that emperor
built in Britain was of turf. This in the main’is unques¬
tionably true, though it is evident (from the vestiges of
it still remaining, which not very many years ago were
dug up and examined for near a mile together) that the
foundation was of stone. Mr Camden also tells us that
the principal rampart was faced with square stone, to pre¬
vent the earth from falling into the ditch. The chief A
parts of this work wrere as follows: 1. A broad and deepnu
ditch, whose dimensions cannot now be discovered with
certainty and exactness, though Mr Pont says it was 12 ^
feet wide. 2. The principal wall or rampart was about^
12 feet thick at the foundation, but its original height
cannot now be determined. This wall was situated on
the south brink of the ditch. 3. A military way on the
south side of the principal wall, well paved, and raised a
little above the level of the ground. This work, as well
as that of Adrian, was defended by garrisons placed in
forts and stations along the line of it. The number of
these forts or stations, whose vestiges were visible in Mr
Pont’s time, was 18, situated at about the distance of two
miles from each other. In the intervals between the forts
there were turrets or watch-towrers; but the number of
these, and their distance from each other, cannot now be
discovered.
It is not a little surprising, that though it is now more
than 1600 years since this work was finished, and more
than 1300 since it was slighted, we can yet discover, from
authentic monuments which are still remaining, by what
particular bodies of Roman troops almost every part of it
was executed. This discovery is made from inscriptions
upon stones, which were originally built into the face of
the wall, and have been found in or near its ruins. From
these inscriptions it appears in general, that this great
work was executed by the second legion, the vexillations
of the sixth legion and of the twentieth legion, and one
cohort of auxiliaries. Some of these inscriptions have
suffered greatly by the injuries of time and other acci¬
dents ; so that we cannot discover from them with abso¬
lute certainty how many paces of this work were exe¬
cuted byr each of these bodies of troops. The sum of
the certain and probable information contained in these
inscriptions, as it is collected by Mr Horsley, stands thus:
Faces.
The second legion built  11603
The vexillation of the sixth legion  7411
The vexillation of the twentieth legion  7801
All certain  26815
The vexillation of the twentieth legion, the mo¬
nument certain, and the number probable  3411
The same vexillation on a plain monument, no j
number visible, supposed    3500
The sixth legion, a monument, but no number,
supposed    3000
Cohors prima Cugernorum  3000
Total  39726
or 39 miles 726 paces, nearly the whole length of the wall.
It would be both useful and agreeable to know how long
these troops were employed in the execution of this great
work. But of this we have no information. Neither do
we know what particular bodies of troops were in garrison
in the several forts and stations along the line of this wall,
because these garrisons were withdrawn before the Notitia
Imperii was written.
Though we cannot discover exactly how many years
this wall of the emperor Antoninus continued to be the
boundary of the Roman territories in Britain, yet we.
know with certainty that it was not very long. For we
are told by an author of undoubted credit (Dion Cassius,
lib. Ixxii.), that, in the reign of Commodus, a. d. 180, “ he
had wars with several foreign nations, but none so dan¬
gerous as that of Britain; for the people of the island,
having passed the wall which divided them from the Ro¬
mans, attacked them, and cut them to pieces.”
ANTONIO, Nicholas, knight of the order of St
ANT
•to ) James, and canon of Seville, was born at Seville in 1617,
ill being the son of a gentleman whom King Philip IV. made
Ions, president of the admiralty established in that city in 1626.
^ ^ After having gone through a course of philosophy and di¬
vinity in his own country, he went to study law at Sala¬
manca, where he closely attended the lectures of Fran¬
cisco Ramos del Manzano, afterwards counsellor to the
king and preceptor to Charles II. Upon his return to
Seville, after he had finished his law studies at Salamanca,
he shut himself up in the royal monastery of Benedic¬
tines, where he employed himself several years in writing
his Bibliotheca Hispanica, having the use of the books of
Bennet de la Sana, abbot of that monastery, and dean of
the faculty of divinity at Salamanca. In the year 1659
he was sent to Rome by King Philip IV. in the character
of agent general from the prince: he had also particular
commissions from the inquisition of Spain, the viceroys
of Naples and Sicily, and the governor of Milan, to nego¬
tiate their affairs at Rome. The cardinal of Arragon
procured him, from Pope Alexander VII., a canonry in
the church of Seville, the income whereof he employed in
charity and the purchasing of books: he had above 30,000
volumes in his library. By this help, joined to continual
labour and indefatigable application, he was at last en¬
abled to finish his Bibliotheca Hispanica, in four volumes
folio, two of which he published at Rome in the year
1672. The work consists of two parts; the one contain¬
ing the Spanish writers who flourished before the 15th
century, and the other those since the end of that cen¬
tury. After the publication of these two volumes, he was
recalled to Madrid by King Charles II. He left nothing
at his death, which took place in 1684, but his vast li¬
brary; and his two brothers and nephews being unable to
publish the remaining volumes of his Bibliotheca, sent
them to Cardinal d’Aguisne, who paid the expence of the
impression, and committed the superintendence of it to
M. Martin, his librarian, who added notes in the name
of the cardinal. These two volumes were published in
1696. Improved editions of both these works, by F.
P. Bayer, were published at Madrid in 4 vols. folio, in
1783-8. A work by Antonio was published for the first
time at Valencia in 1742, entitled Censura de Historias
Fabulas, obra postuma, folio.
Antonio, St, one of the Cape de Verd Islands, about
40 miles in length and 20 in breadth. It is separated
from St Vincent by a clear navigable channel two
leagues in breadth. On the north coast there is a good
road for shipping, with a supply of fresh water. The island
stretches from north-east to south-west, and is filled with
mountains, one of which is of so extraordinary a height
as to be compared with the Peak of Teneriffe. Its top is
constantly covered with snow, and, notwithstanding the
clearness of the sky, generally hid in clouds. . The island
produces a variety of fruits, among which are oranges,
lemons, melons, and some sugar-canes. The potatoes and
melons are particularly excellent. Long. 25. W.Lat. 17. N.
ANTONIUS, Marcus, a famous Roman orator. While
he filled the office of pretor, Sicily fell to his lot, and he
cleared the seas of the pirates which infested that coast,
le was made consul with A. Posthumius Albinus, in the
year of Rome 653, when he opposed the turbulent de¬
igns of Sextus Titus, tribune of the people, with great
Resolution and success. Some time after he was made
governor of Cilicia, in quality of proconsul, where he
performed so many great exploits that he obtained the
lonour of a triumph. We cannot omit observing, that in
or er to improve his great talent for eloquence, he be¬
came a scholar to the greatest men at Rhodes and Athens,
n ns way to Cilicia, and when on his return to Rome,
oon after he was appointed censor, which office he dis-
vol. in.
ANT
273
charged with great reputation, having carried his cause Antonius.
before the people, against Marcus Duronius, who had pre-v
ferred an accusation of bribery against him, in revenge for
Antonius’s having erased his name out of the list of sena¬
tors, which this wise censor had done because Duronius,
when tribune of the people, had abrogated a law which
restrained immoderate expense in feasts. He was one of
the greatest orators ever known at Rome ; and it was owing
to him, according to the testimony of Cicero, that Rome
might boast herself a rival even to Greece itself in the art of
eloquence. He never would publish any of his pleadings,
that he might not as he said, be proved to say in one
cause what might be contrary to what he should advance
in another. He was unfortunately killed during those
bloody confusions raised at Rome by Marius and Cinna.
He was discovered in the place where he had hid himself,
and soldiers were sent to dispatch him; but his manner
of addressing them had such an effect, that none but he
who commanded them, and had not heard his discourse,
had the cruelty to kill him. His head was exposed be¬
fore the rostra, a place which he had adorned with his
triumphal spoils. This happened 90 years before the
Christian era.
Antonius, Marcus, the triumvir, was grandson to the
former. When the civil war broke out, he took Caesar's
part, and was made a tribune of the people, in which
office he did Caesar great service. Caesar, having made
himself master of Rome, gave Antonius the government
of Italy. At the battle of Pharsalia Caesar confided so
much in him, that he gave him the command of the left
wing of his army, while he himself led the right. After
Caesar was made dictator he made Antonius general of
the horse, though he had never been pretor; in which com¬
mand he exerted his power with the utmost violence. He
was made consul when Caesar enjoyed that honour for the
fifth time, the last year of that usurper’s life. On Caesar’s
death he harangued the populace with great art, and
raised their fury against his murderers, flattering himself
that he should easily get into the place which Caesar had
filled; but his haughty behaviour made him lose all the
advantages his affected concern for Caesar had gained
him. His ill treatment of Octavius, and quarrel with
him, produced another civil war, which ended in an ac¬
commodation between him, Octavius, and Lepidus, fatal
to the peace of Rome. They agreed to share the su¬
preme power among them; and many of the most illus¬
trious Romans were sacrificed by proscription to cement
this bloody league, which is known by the name of the
Second Triumvirate. But the triumvirs were too ambi¬
tious, and hated one another too much, to be long united.
Antonius went into Asia to raise money for his soldiers, and
during his absence Fulvia, his wife, quarrelled with Octa¬
vius. When Antonius was in Asia, indulging himself in
all manner of luxury, the famous Cleopatra inspired him
with the most violent passion. Hearing of the quarrel
between Fulvia and Octavius, and finding Octavius was
become publicly his enemy, Antonius entered into a con¬
federacy with Sextus Pompeius, who was still master of
Sicily. He then went into Italy, in order to fight Octa¬
vius ; but Fulvia, who had been the author and promoter
of this war, dying, Octavius and Antonius came to an
agreement. One of the conditions of this new peace was,
that they should together attack Pompey, though the
former had lately made an alliance with him. Antonius
then married Octavia, sister of Octavius, as a pledge of
their renewed friendship, but returned soon after to his
beloved Cleopatra, and again lived with her in Alexandria.
Octavius took hold of this pretence to inveigh against
him, and begin the war again. At last they engaged in
a sea-fight at Actium, in which Octavius gained a com-
2 M
274
ANT
Antrim.
Antono- plete victory, which was followed by the death both of
mask Antonias and Cleopatra. The infatuated Antonins fell
upon his own sword ; and Cleopatra stung herself to death
, with an asp, as was supposed, to avoid gracing the victoi s
triumph at Rome.
ANTONOMASIA, a form of speech, m which, for a
proper name, is put the name of some dignity, office, pro¬
fession, science or trade ; or when a proper name is put in
the room of an appellative. Thus a king is called ms
■majesty; a nobleman, his lordship. We say the philosopher
instead of Aristotle, and the orator for Cicero. 1 hus a man
is called by the name of his country, a German, an Italian.;
and a grave man is called a Cato, and a wise man a Solo¬
ANTOSIANDRIANS, a sect of rigid Lutherans, who
oppose the doctrine of Osiander relating to justification.
These are otherwise denominated Osiandromastiges. The
Antosiandrians deny that man is made just with that jus¬
tice wherewith God himself is just; that is, they asseit
that he is not made essentially^ but only imputatively, just;
or, that he is not really made just, but only pronounced so.
ANTRIM, a maritime county of Ireland, in the province
of Ulster, situate in the northern extremity of the island.
It presents a considerable line of coast to the Northern
Ocean and to the Irish Channel. By the former it is
bounded on the north, and by the latter on the east.
Carrickfergus Bay, or Belfast Lough, and the river La¬
gan, on the south-east, divide it from the county of Down,
as far to the south as Spencer’s Bridge. To the south¬
west it has the same county, which, running to a point,
meets Loughneagh at Shanport. The winding shores of
Loughneagh and Loughbeg form its boundaries on the
w’est, as far as the point where it meets the river Bann;
whence this river taking a northern course, inclining west,
separates the counties of Antrim and Derry, until it
touches the liberties of Coleraine (about 3000 acres),
which are on the Antrim side of that river.
This county lies between 54>° 26' and 55° 12' north lati¬
tude. Its greatest length, from Bengove Head north to
Spencer’s Bridge south, is 41 Irish miles; and its greatest
breadth, from the Gobbins east to loome west, is about
24 miles; comprising, according to the latest authorities,
420,999 Irish acres.
In 1584-5 the county was divided into eight baronies,
viz. Dunluce, Glenarm, Toome, Antrim, Belfast, Masse-
reene, Carey, and Kilconway. Of late years all except the
two last have been subdivided into half-baronies, called
Upper and Lower. There are also smaller divisions, as
parishes, granges, manors, constablewicks, townlands or
quarterlands. The number of parishes is 72, the town-
lands amount to 1543. As far as the original names of
the latter have been discovered, they are purely Celtic,
and expressive of the qualities of the land, or of some other
local circumstances. This subdivision is said to have taken
place in the 13th century. Several of the granges are
extra-parochial, and some of them do not pay tithes.
The county returns four members to the imperial parlia¬
ment, viz. two for the shire, and one for each of the towns
of Belfast and Lisburn, both of which are close boroughs.
Carrickfergus, though within the lower half-barony of Bel¬
fast, yet is a county corporate, distinct from the county of
Antrim. It is a free borough, and returns one member to
parliament. In Carrickfergus are held the assizes, elec¬
tions, and sessions twice every year, for the county of An¬
trim. The other chief towns are, Ballymena, Ballymony,
Antrim, and Larne: sessions are held in the first three,
and also in Belfast. : ■ ■ :; >
The bishopric of Connor comprehends the county of
Antrim and liberties of Coleraine, except the parish of
Aghalee, in the barony of Massereene, which is in the
Divisions.
ANT
diocese of Dromore, and the townland of Ballyscullion- A ,
beg, on the Antrim side of the river Bann, attached toCA
that of Derry.
The interior of the county on the eastern side is moun-Gt ,|
tainous, nearly destitute of plantations, and abounding in vie,[
boo-s, many of which, from their situation, appear irre-th(
claimable. This character also in some measure applies toC01
the northern side ; and it is computed that at least 119,136
acres are incapable of improvement. The baronies of
Belfast, Antrim, Massereene, and Toome, are the most
level and fruitful. A stupendous assemblage of basaltic
columns, the Giant’s Causeway, which is described under
its own title, is seen on the maritime confines of Antrim;
as also Fairhead, and other lofty capes and promontories.
These are composed of thousands of prismatic pillars of
various dimensions, ranged in successive strata, and so
closely connected in some places that a cavity formed in
the surface holds water. The principal mountains are,
Knocklead, near Ballycastle; Aura,Trostram, Slemish; and
Devis, near Belfast.
Besides basalt, there are found limestone, gypsum, coals,
surturbrand or fossil wood, freestone, and marble. The fos¬
sil wood, or wood-coal, in most places, as at Ballintoy and
Killymorris, is covered with columns of basalt. In burn¬
ing it emits a disagreeable smell, resembling that of rotten
wood. Notwithstanding the compressed state in which
it is found, the bark and knots are quite distinct, and the
rings denoting the annual growth of the wood may be
counted. In some instances the roots of the trees maybe
traced. Their heads all lie to the east, and seem as if
laid down by a storm. Of the three coal mines which are
wrought in Ulster, there are two in Antrim; the one at
Ballycastle, the other at Killymorris. The greater quantity
of coal raised at Ballycastle is exported; at Killymorris
little is raised, except in wet seasons when peat is scarce.
The rivers of this county are numerous, but in general
small. The most considerable are, the Lower Bann, which
discharges the waters of Loughneagh into the sea near
Coleraine ; the Lagan, which falls into the Lough of Bel¬
fast ; and the Maine, which rises near Ballymony, and
disembogues itself into Loughneagh near Randlestown.
The other rivers are the Bush, Revel, Braid, Kells-water,
Six-mile-water, Crumlin, and Glencavy, none of which is
navigable. Near Ballycastle and Rasharkin are chaly¬
beate springs ; and there is a salt spring near Carrickfer¬
gus. Loughneagh, belonging more properly to the county
of Armagh, will be described under that article. It may
be proper, however, to notice in this place, that, of the
two islands in this expanse of water, Ram Island, from its
contiguity to Antrim, is considered as belonging to that
county. It contains about seven acres, and is the property
of Lord O’Neill, who has erected on it a beautiful cottage.
Rathlin Island lies off the northern coast of the county,
opposite to the town of Ballycastle, from whose quay its
nearest point is distant five miles. This island is about
five miles in length, and, at.a mean, upwards of three
quarters of a mile in breadth, divided into 2o quarter-
lands, and containing 1996 acres, about one fourth of
which is arable. Barley is almost the only grain sown,
and, with kelp, furnishes their chief exports. In 1802 the
island contained 145 dwelling-houses, and 1021 inhabit¬
ants: in 1821 it had 1080 inhabitants. On the northern
angle of the island are some vestiges of a castle celebrat¬
ed as having afforded refuge in 1306 to Robert Bruce.
Near this building is a natural cavern called Bruces
Cave ; at its entrance is a wall of lime and stone, which
had evidently been erected for its defence.
No regular accounts of the climate of Antrim have
been kept except at Belfast; and from these it appear
that less rain falls here than is generally supposed, tm
ANT
ANT
275
annual fall of rain, on an average of six complete years,
being only 24*700 inches. The greatest height of the
barometer between the years 1796 and 1809 was 31
inches, the lowest 28 inches. The greatest height of the
thermometer during that period was 78°*80, the lowest
25°. The mean temperature of the northern coast of An¬
trim, near the town of Ballycastle, in latitude 55° 12', as
observed in the year 1788, by means of copious springs
flowing from limestone soil, was 48°.
The estates in Antrim are in general freehold, being
either immediate grants from the crown, or held under
those grants : the only exceptions are the properties held
under the see of Connor. Some of the estates are very
large. The marquises of Hertford and Donegall, and the
Antrim family, possess the fee of the greater part of the
county. The estate of the first includes 11 parishes, con¬
taining nearly 80,000 English acres. The marquis of
Donegall usually lets his lands on a fine for 61 years, or
three lives : of late he has also granted many perpetuities.
Most of the Antrim estate is let on perpetuity, in lots
worth from L.1000 to L.4000 per annum. The other chief
proprietors are Lord O’Neill, the countess of Massereene,
Colonel Packenham, and Lord Templeton. The estate of
the last is only leasehold under the marquis of Donegall.
In January 1830 the total number of registered free¬
holders in this county for L.10 and upwards was 2037 :
in the same year the artiount of the county cess was
L.41,627. 9s. lid.
The farms in Antrim are in general small; in the arable
districts they generally vary from six to thirty acres,
and the average rent is estimated at between 20s. and
35s. the Irish acre. The principal feature in the til¬
lage system of a great part of the county is the potato
fallow. The quantity of potato land is commonly regu¬
lated by the manure that can be collected: of late years
the culture of potatoes has been much increased by the
use of lime. After potatoes, wheat or oats are sown;
if the latter, two or three crops are successively taken.
When the ground is exhausted, potatoes are again planted,
or the land is suffered to rest for a year or two, until it is
covered with natural grass, in which state it is termed lea.
The sowing of wheat is chiefly confined to the baronies of
Belfast, Antrim, and Massereene. In 1763 there was not
one flour-mill in the county. Flax is also sown after po¬
tatoes, except in the lower or northern part of the coun¬
ty. It bears a very small proportion in the general crop,
less being sown than formerly. Flax-seed is rarely at¬
tempted to be saved. Of late years a considerable quan¬
tity of flax has been imported, chiefly from Holland. In
1830 the quantity of flax-seed imported at Belfast was
5637 hogsheads, the greater part of which was sown in
the counties of Down, Armagh, and Derry. Barley is
also sown in many places, but seldom in large quantities.
1 lie culture of beans is chiefly confined to the parishes
of Island-Magee and Cairncastle; they are mostly ex¬
ported to Scotland. Turnips or vetches are rarely sown,
hail are seldom planted as food for cattle. Such is the
principal feature of the husbandry of the county of An¬
trim, which, however, from the improvements made by
individuals, admits of many exceptions. This is strikingly
exemplified in those districts where the tenants hold
leases under liberal landlords;—there underwoods have
been cleared oft’, bogs or marshes reclaimed into arable
lands or meadow, and better and less cumbrous fences
erected. Where the tenants hold at will, the lands are
usually let at a rack-rent; and the smallest improvement
by the occupier is almost certain of promoting a corre¬
sponding advance in his rent, of which he rarely receives
advice till he waits on the land-agent, or is visited by
his bailiff,
The county at present(1830) perhaps possesses less tim- Antrim,
ber than at any former period. The woods of Portmore
and Glenarm have long since yielded to the axe ; and the Fr°duc-
extensive plantings at Antrim, Templepatrick, Ballyclare,tlons”
and Clementshill, have shared a similar fate. Many thriv¬
ing plantations of trees have, however, been planted of
late years near noblemen and gentlemen’s seats, which
already add much to the appearance of the face of the
country. The plantations of Lord O’Neill at Shanescastle
and Claggan, and those of the late Lord Macartney near
Loughguile, are the most extensive. On the Hertford
estate, near Loughneagh, many orchards are planted,
which produce valuable varieties of the apple, the greater
part of which is sold in Belfast; and considerable quanti¬
ties are annually exported to Scotland.
The cattle of Antrim have no feature to distinguish
them as being allied to any particular stock. Of late
years considerable attention has been paid by gentlemen
farmers to the improvement of the breed, by crossing with
the Dutch, Leicester, and Ayrshire cattle, which is said
to have improved much those kept for milk. In 1827
81,092 firkins of butter were exported from Belfast. Sheep
are little attended to, and the few kept are mostly of an
inferior kind. Few goats are kept, and those chiefly by
cottagers. Pigs are reared and kept in considerable num¬
bers, and on these the small farmers and cotters depend
chiefly to make up their rents ; so that it is not uncommon
to find from two to eight or ten of these animals about
each farmer’s house. During the salting season, which
may be said to commence in September and end in May,
the number brought to market is immense. In the months
of Novembel*, December, and January, 1826-27, upwards
of 71,000 pigs were sold in Belfast, which, taken one
with another, weighed 200 lbs., and varying in price from
L.l. 12s. to L.2. 14s. per cwt.
Antrim has long been distinguished for its linen manu- Manufac-
facture; but latterly the manufacture of cotton has in tures.
some measure supplanted it, especially in the vicinity of
the towns of Belfast, Lisburn, Antrim, and Carrickfergus.
In 1771 there were 441 linen looms at work in Belfast; at
present not one is employed. The cotton spinning by
jennies was first introduced in 1777 by Robert Joy and
Thomas M‘Cabe of Belfast, under the direction of a fe¬
male spinner from Glasgow. In the following year the
latter gentleman also introduced the fly-shuttle. In the
year 1800 it was computed that upwards of 13,000 people
were directly employed in the cotton manufacture; and,
including all manner of persons occupied in it in various
ways, the number was at least 27,000, within a circuit
of ten miles, comprehending, however, the towns of Bel¬
fast, Lisburn, and Carrickfergus. The number employed
in the same space is now probably little short of twice
that number. For many years after the introduction of
the cotton business, the greater part of the yarn used for
w'arps, and much of the weft yarn, were imported from
Manchester or Scotland. Of late years cotton yarn has
been exported from Belfast, though some is still imported,
chiefly from Glasgow. In 1790, 39,603,451 lbs. of cotton
wool were imported at Belfast; in 1826, 159,999,446 lbs.
were imported at the same port, since which time the
quantity has increased. In 1800 a weaver commonly
earned, at weaving calico, from 10s. to 16s. per week ; at
present his earnings vary from 3s. 6d. to 5s. each week,
for which he perhaps works about 17 hours per day.
The linen manufacture, though now much depressed,
may still be considered the staple manufacture of Antrim^,
It is a peculiarity of this business, as it is established in
Ireland, that it does not remove the peasant from the com¬
forts and healthiness of rural life. In Antrim the weaver
and the labourer of the soil are united in the same person.
276
'ANT
A’ N' U
Antrim. Many weavers have small farms, and only employ them-
selves inweaving during the intervals of their farming
occupations; and almost all who pursue this trade possess
gardens, and ground for potatoes. Many of the houses
have from two to three looms, which cost from L.4 to
L.5. 5s. each. Looms are also let out on hire by the year,
at about 10s. Boys are hired out to attend looms : when
they attend two looms, which is ample work for a boy of
12 or 15 years of age, the wages are about 16s. the half-
year, with diet and lodging. A fine web, that is, a 16 or
18 hundred, is commonly woven in ten days or a fortnight.
In some places the cloth is chiefly wrought by the fly-
shuttle. Formerly the wages paid for this work varied
from 14s. to 20s.; at present it is less: hence many weav¬
ers have become day-labourers. The price of linen yarn
is also much reduced: that which formerly sold at lOd. or
Is. per hank often brings little more than the half of that
price. This is in a great measure owing to the spinning
of flax by machinery. Of late, cloth-merchants prefer
cloth made from the yarn spun by the hand, and some
refuse altogether to buy that made from the machine yarn.
The best linen cloth is made in a district commonly called
Kells-water, extending from Connor to near Randlestown.
Nearly all the yarn wrought in this district is bought in
Ballymena, and the cloth is sold in Belfast.
Fisheries. There are several considerable salmon fisheries on the
rivers and coast of Antrim. One at llcdbay, near Cush-
indall, another at the Point of Tor, near Fairhead; one at
Ballycastle; one at Carrickarcade; another between it
and the Giant’s Causeway, and another at the Bush-foot.
The greatest is at the river Bann, at a place called the
Cutts, near Coleraine. The price of salmon, when sold
in the neighbouring towns, or Belfast, varies from 5d. to
lOd. per lb. There is also a considerable eel fishery at
Toome.
Antiqui- The antiquities of this county consist of cairns, caves,
ties. cromlechs, mounts or forths, ecclesiastical and military
remains, and round towers. There are three round towers
standing, viz. Antrim, which is perfect, and 95 feet high;
Armoy, about four miles from Ballycastle, which is 44
feet high, part only being standing. Ram Island tower is
43 feet high, a portion having evidently fallen down. Un¬
til lately there was also a small round tower at Trumery :
it fell in March 1829.
Population. In the number of dwelling-houses in the county
of Antrim was 19,268; in 1726 their number was 18,916;
in 1791 the houses were 30,314, of which 22,353 paid for
one hearth, and the remainder were returned as inhabited
by paupers, being unable to pay that tax. By the popu¬
lation returns of 1813, the county contained 42,258 dwell¬
ing-houses and 231,548 inhabitants; by the returns of 1821,
46,661 dwelling-houses and 262,860 inhabitants, 125,053
of whom were males, and 137,807 females.
Antrim has been supposed to contain a greater pro¬
portion of Protestants than any other county in Ireland;
and of the Protestants a very great proportion are Pres¬
byterians. The greater part of these are in connection
with the general synod of Ulster, the others are Remon¬
strants, who separated from the synod in 1829; Burghers,
Antiburghers, Covenanters, Independents, and a few Mo¬
ravians. In several parishes, however, a decided majority
are Roman Catholics: these parishes are Loyd, Culleigh-
toin, and Duneane. In several other parishes the number
of Roman Catholics is also considerable. >
Antrim, a town in Ireland, in the county of the same
name, situated near the north end of Loughneagh, on the
banks of the Six-mile-water, 12 miles north-west of Bel¬
fast, and 84 north of Dublin. It gives the title of earl to
the noble family of MacDonnell, and prior to the Union
in 1800 it was a potwalloping borough, and returned two
members to parliament, under the patronage of the Skef- At *
fington family.
The town has been much improved of late years; and Al1 Y
adjoining is the castle of the earl of Massereene, which'"'’ ^
was thoroughly repaired a few years ago. Markets are
held each Thursday, and fairs in May and November.
In 1821 the town contained 476 dwelling-houses and
2489 inhabitants. Near the town is a flour-mill and two
paper-mills. On the 7th of June 1798 a smart action was
fought in the town between the king’s troops and a large
body of rebels, in which the latter were defeated. In this
action Lord O’Neill was mortally wounded by a pike.
ANTWERP, one of the provinces which compose the
kingdom of the Netherlands. It is formed out of the
two French departments of the two Drenthes, or out
of the more ancient county of Antwerp, and barony of
Mechlin. It is bounded on the north-east and north by-
North Brabant, on the south-east by Limburg, on the south
by South Brabant, and on the west by West Flanders,
from which it is divided by the Scheldt. It is an exten¬
sive plain, w ith scarcely an elevation; and the soil is a
light sand mixed with a clayey loam, which is highly fer¬
tile. The land is protected from inundation by extensive
embankments, and these dams inclose some of the most
productive and highly cultivated spots, provincially known
as polders. The northern and eastern part of the pro¬
vince is sandy and poor, and filled with morasses. The
chief river is the Scheldt, which, before its junction with
the sea, receives the Rupel, Nuthe, and Dyle. It is 2160
feet broad and 30 feet deep at Antwerp. There are two
navigable canals, one from Brussels and the other from
Louvain. The province is highly productive, both in agri¬
cultural and manufacturing commodities. The extent is
1004 square miles, or 642,560 acres. The inhabitants, at
the last census, were 287,347. It is divided into three
circles or arrondissements, 17 cantons, and 141 communes.
This province elects five deputies to the states-general of
the kingdom.
Antwerp, the chief city of the province of that name,
as well as of a circle comprehending six cantons, 55 com¬
munes, and 131,169 inhabitants. The city is in the form
of a crescent, on the right bank of the Scheldt; is strongly
fortified, and protected by a citadel which connects the
w'alls with the river. The houses are large and handsome,
the streets tolerably wide, well paved, and at night well
lighted. The most remarkable building is the Gothic ca¬
thedral, 500 feet in length and 240 in breadth, adorned by
two of the best productions of the pencil of Rubens, with
a tower 380 feet in height. Besides the cathedral, the
church of St James, the exchange, the town-house, the
easterling’s-house, the theatre, and the hotel de charite,
invite the attention of strangers. There are many manu¬
factures of all kinds. The most considerable is that of
silk goods. The breweries, distilleries, sugar-refineries,
and tanneries, are numerous. One art, that of cutting
diamonds, had been long practised here, and very ex¬
tensively till the French ruled the country; and since
their expulsion it has been once more revived. The city
is well situated for foreign trade, from its easy connec¬
tion by canals wfith the interior, and from its conveni-
encies for landing and shipping goods, to which last the
docks constructed by the French vastly contribute. The
trade has not, however, hitherto made rapid progress,
but has gradually increased since the port has been open¬
ed. The inhabitants, at the last census, were 60,057.
It is in lat. 51. 13. 22. N. and long. 4. 18. 14. E.
ANUBIS, a symbolical deity of the Egyptians, was re¬
garded as the faithful companion of Osiris and ol Isis.
Temples and priests were consecrated to him, and his
image was borne in all religious ceremonies. Cynopohs,
situated in the Lower Thebais, was built in honour of malleable metals, is an instrument on which substances Anvil.
./ ^nubis. The temple in which he was worshipped no are laid for the purpose of being hammered. v—
longer exists. The priests celebrated his festivals there For some purposes anvils are made of cast iron; but
with great pomp, and consecrated the dog to him as his when the face of the anvil is required to possess great
living representation. “ Anubis,” says Strabo, “ is the city hardness, or a bright surface, it is made of wrought iron
of dogs, the capital of the Cynopolitan prefecture. These and faced with steel. The core or body of wrought iron
animals are fed there on sacred aliments, and religion has anvils is prepared at the forge, where malleable iron is first
decreed them a worship.” An event, however, related formed into bars, or into masses for any particular purpose,
by Plutarch, brought them into considerable discredit with The body of the anvil is formed by welding a number of
the people. Cambyses having slain the god Apis, and smaller masses together under the forge-hammer. These
thrown his body into a field, all animals respected it ex- are rude blocks of different sizes, according to the size
cept the dogs, which alone ate of his flesh. This impiety of the anvil. Smaller masses are also furnished in this
diminished the popular veneration for them. way, which the anvil-maker occasionally welds to the large
Cynopolis was not the only city which burned incense blocks, for giving to the anvil any particular form,
on the altars of Anubis. He had chapels in almost all the The fire-place or hearth of the anvil-maker’s forge is
temples. On solemnities, his image always accompanied similar to the common smith’s forge. His bellows are not
those of Isis and Osiris. Rome having adopted the cere- double, like the latter. His fuel is cork, which produces
monies of Egypt, the emperor Commodus, to celebrate the a great heat without much flame. Adjacent to the hearth
Isiac feasts, shaved his head, and himself carried the god is a crane, which, turning upon a pivot, brings the heated
Anubis. The statue of this god was either of massive masses of iron from the fire to the anvil. The latter is a
gold or gilt, as well as the attributes that accompanied large mass of cast metal, about 18 inches square on the
him. Anubis signifies gilded. The denomination was face, and about a foot from the ground. When the core
mysterious; and the Egyptian priests, it would seem, had of the anvil to be formed is heated, the first thing is to
not given it without reason. make three square holes, one in the bottom, and one at
The signification of this emblematical deity is thus ex- each end of the anvil. Ihese holes are about 1£ inch
plained by Plutarch: “ The circle which touches and se- long, 1 inch broad, and about 2 inches deep. I hey are
parates the two hemispheres, and which is the cause of for the purpose of receiving a bar of iron, which is con-
this division, receiving the name of horizon, is called nected with the crane by which the anvil is held in the
Anubis. He is represented under the form of a dog, be- fire, and by which it is turned and guided while forming
cause that animal watches day and night.” St Clemens with the hammers.
of Alexandria, who was well informed in the mystic theo- The common smith’s anvil is generally made of seven
logy of the Egyptians, favours this explication. The two pieces, namely, the core or body; the four corners, for the
dogs, says he (the two Anubis), are the symbols of two purpose of enlarging its base; the projecting end, which
hemispheres which environ the terrestrial globe. He adds contains a square hole, for the reception of a set, or chisel,
in another place,—others pretend that these animals, the to cut off pieces of iron; and the seventh piece is the
faithful guardians of men, indicate the tropics, which beak, or conical end, used for turning pieces of iron into
guard the sun on the south and on the north like porters, a circular form, welding hoops, &c. Ihese pieces are
According to the former of these interpretations the each separately welded to the core, and hammered so as
priests, regarding Anubis as the horizon, gilded his sta- to form a regular surface with the whole. When large
tue, to mark that this circle, receiving the first rays of pieces are required to be welded to the core, one fire is
die sun, appears sparkling with brightness on his rising, not sufficient to heat both at the same time. In this case
and that at his setting he reflects his last rays upon the two hearths are employed. Ihe core and the piece are
earth. They said, in their sacred fables, that Anubis was both raised to a wolding heat. Ihe piece being put into
the son of Osiris, but illegitimate. In fact, he only gives its place, is hammered by a quick succession of blows till
to the earth a borrowed light, and cannot be esteemed, it adheres. Ihe whole is again heated and hammered till
like Horus, as the father of the day, or as the legitimate the due form is obtained. The hammering is performed
offspring of Osiris. It may be added, that the visible hori- by a number of men at the same time, each using a large
zon, turning with the sun, is his inseparable companion. swing-hammer. Ihe blows follow each other in regular
In the latter of these explications, where Anubis repre- succession, great experience and care being required to
sents the tropics, he is also the faithful guardian of Isis prevent the hammers from coming in contact with each
and Osiris. In fact, the course of the sun and of the other.
moon is contained between the circles wherein the sol- When the anvil has received its due form, it now re-
stices are performed. They neither deviate to the right quires to be faced with steel. I his is performed by first
nor left. These limits, assigned by the Author of nature, preparing the steel face to the size of the anvil. The an-
might, therefore, in hieroglyphic language, be represented vil is then heated to a strong welding heat in one fire,
by a divinity with the head of a dog, who seemed to op- while the steel facing is heated in another, but not so hot
pose the passage on the side of the two poles. The other as the iron. Ihe anvil is now brought out and placed in
opinion, notwithstanding, seems more natural, and to be a proper position, and the facing is brought to it. The
more analogous to the ideas of the priests. surfaces which are to be brought together are brushed,
Upon the whole, it is reasonable to imagine that Anu- and the facing is then laid on and hammered as rapidly
bis at first was only a symbolical image, invented by astro- as possible, till it is closely united. Ihe whole is finished
nomers to give a sensible expression of their discoveries; by repeated heating and hammering,
that afterwards the people, accustomed to see it in their The next process is that of hardening the anvil. This
temples, which wrere the depositories of science, adored it consists in heating the face, in particular, to a full red
as a deity ; and that the priests favoured their ignorance heat, and quenching it in cold water. \\ hen a stream of
by connecting it with their religion. The worship of water can be employed it is better. \\ here this cannot be
Anubis being introduced, that of the dog became his em- had, the mass of water should be great, and the anvil
bletn. Almost all the gods of the Gentiles have origi- moved about as quick as possible. The facing should be
nated in this manner. laid on as thin as it can be firmly welded; when it is too
Ah ML, in smithery, and other manufactures of the thick it is apt to crack in the hardening.
278 ANY
D’Anville. After hardening, the face is ground till it is perfectly
even, and the edges made sharp or round, as may be re¬
quired. When the anvil is required for planishing metals,
it is polished with emery, and afterwards with crocus.
The smith’s anvil is generally placed loose upon a wood¬
en block, the root-end of an oak-tree being preferred.
The anvils used in cutlery and for files are fastened into
a large block of stone, which is doubtless better than
having the anvil loose upon a small block. The more
firmly the anvil is connected with the earth and the sub¬
stance it stands upon, the greater will be the effect of the
blow of the hammer.
ANVILLE, Jean Baptiste Bourguignon d’, a French
geographer of the highest eminence, and perhaps the most
celebrated in modern times. He was born at Paris on
the 11th of July 1697. His passion for geographical re¬
search displayed itself from his earliest years. At the
age of 12, while reading the Latin authors at college,
he amused himself with drawing maps of the countries
which they described. While he was thus busily employ¬
ing himself one day in the class, his master observed and
was about to punish him; but upon casting his eye upon
the performance, he immediately judged him to be rather
deserving of encouragement. D’Anville from this time
devoted himself entirely to geography, particularly that of
the ancient world; and at the age of 22 he began to de¬
lineate maps which attracted the attention of the most
eminent geographers.
There are two modes by which problems in geography
may be solved; one mathematically, by astronomical ob¬
servation or geometrical measurement; the other histori¬
cally, by the distances of places inferred from the narra¬
tive of historians and travellers. The former is certainly
the most satisfactory, and would supersede every other,
could it be extended over the whole surface of the globe.
But, notwithstanding the splendid progress made since
the era of D’Anville, it is still far from such a degree of
perfection. In all countries the bulk of the positions
must be filled up, and in some the whole must be con¬
structed from mere historical materials. Perhaps there
is no department of science which requires greater ex¬
tent of knowledge and accuracy of judgment. The vari¬
ety of sources out of which the materials must be drawn
is almost infinite; and their application is equally nice and
difficult. It must be regulated by a complete acquaint¬
ance with all the modes of measurement used by all na¬
tions ; by a careful notice of those errors and contradic¬
tions which naturally arise from a partial and limited ob¬
servation ; and by the marking of certain delicate proces¬
ses in the human mind, by which space and distance are
sometimes diminished, and more frequently exaggerated.
In the skilful geographer, sound natural judgment, en¬
lightened by experience, creates, as it were, a new sense,
which enables him to see consistency amid a labyrinth of
contradictions, and to elicit truth from a multitude of
statements that are all erroneous. This art may be said
to have originated with D’Anville, and to have been
brought by him to its highest perfection.
The course of study on which D’Anville entered was
truly immense. Works professedly geographical formed
the least part of it; those of all the ancient and modern
historians, travellers, narrators of every description, were
assiduously examined. He studied, but only for the sake
of the occasional geographical lights which they afforded,
the philosophers, orators, and poets; for it was remarked
that, in perusing these masterpieces of human genius, he
was totally indifferent to every thing which did not tend
to fix a geographical position. The object of this immense
labour was to effect a complete reform in the science of
geography; to banish the system of copying blindly from
ANY
preceding maps, and never to fix a single position without I
a careful examination of all the authorities upon which it's
rested. By this process he detected many and great
errors in the works of his most celebrated predecessors,
while his own accuracy was soon attested on all sides by
the travellers and mariners who had taken his works as
their guide. His principles led him also to another inno¬
vation, which was that of omitting every name for which
there existed no sufficient authority. The public were at
first amazed at seeing vast spaces, which had before been
covered with countries and cities, suddenly reduced to a
perfect blank; but they soon recognised that this was the
only accurate course, and that the defect lay in the science,
not in the geographer.
D’Anville was at first employed in the humbler task of
illustrating by maps the works of different travellers, such
as Marchais, Charlevoix, Labat, and Duhalde. The ques¬
tion respecting the figure of the earth coming to be much
agitated, he published, in 1735 and 1736, two treatises,
with a view to illustrate it. But this attempt to solve a
geometrical problem by historical materials was eminent¬
ly unsuccessful. Maupertuis having gone to measure a
degree within the polar circle, the result was found direct¬
ly opposite to our geographer’s prediction. This, how¬
ever, was considered by the intelligent public rather as
fixing limits to his mode of investigation, than as implying
any want of diligence and ability in its employment.
Any loss of reputation which this failure might occasion
was completely" retrieved by his map of Italy, published in
1743. It was marked by a species of investigation, often
employed by D’Anville wdth peculiar success. This con¬
sisted in the application of ancient materials to correct the
existing geography". By the diligent study of the Latin
authors, he was enabled to trace numerous errors which
had crept into the delineation of this interesting country.
A trigonometrical survey which Pope Benedict XIV. al¬
most immediately after caused to be made in the Ecclesi¬
astical States, confirmed, in a surprising degree, all these
alterations. On this occasion he first set the example,
which cannot be too much applauded, of accompanying
the map with a memoir, exhibiting a view of the data on
which it had been constructed.
He now applied himself to ancient geography, always
his favourite department, and the aspect of which, under
his hands, was soon completely changed. He illus¬
trated successively, by maps, all the countries known to
the ancients, among which Egypt attracted his peculiar
attention. To render these labours more extensively use¬
ful, he published in 1768 an Abridgement of Ancient Geo¬
graphy. His attention was finally turned to the middle
ages, which were illustrated by his States formed in Europe
after the Fall of the Western Empire, and by some other
works equally learned. Entirely devoted to geographical
inquiries, the appearance of his successive publications
formed the only events by which his life was diversified.
From causes which are not explained, he was late in
being admitted into the literary societies. In 1754, at
the age of 60, he became a member of the Academy ot
Inscriptions and Belles Lettres, whose Transactions he
enriched with many papers. In 1775 he received the
only place in the Academy of Sciences which is allotted
to geography; and in the same year he was appointed,
without solicitation, first geographer to the king. But
these honours came too late to illustrate a life which was
now drawing to its utmost verge. His last employment
consisted in arranging his collection of maps, plans, and
geographical materials. It was the most extensive in
Europe, and had been purchased by the king, who, how¬
ever, left him the use of it during his life. This task per¬
formed, he sunk into a total imbecility, both of mind and
ANY
ANY 279
hodv which continued for two years, and ended only with
his death in January 1782, when he had nearly reached
the great age of 85.
Danville, with the qualities which form the great geo¬
grapher, united all the essentials of an honourable and
worthy character. The advancement of the science to
hicli he had devoted himself formed almost the sole
passion of his life; and, mingling little with society, he
contracted peculiarities which solitary study is but too
apt to engender. He talked with little interest on any
subject except geography. This topic necessarily led to
tint of his own discoveries, on which he was never weary
of expatiating. He boasted without any reserve of the
services which he had rendered to that science, using not
unfrequently the expression of Augustus, “ I found it of
brick, and left it of marble.” He, however, did full justice
to the merit of those who excelled in other branches of
knowledge; and to such as furnished him with materials
for his researches, his gratitude was unbounded.
We shall subjoin a list of the numerous memoirs and
dissertations composed by D’Anville, of which some were
published separately, and others in the Transactions of
the academies. The following were published separately:
1. Memoire pour faire la carte du diocese de Lizieux.
2. Memoire pour la revision de cette carte.
3. Memoire instructif pour dresser des cartes particu-
lieres, avec une carte in folio.
4. Observations sur la carte du Paraguay, avec une carte
dune demi-feuille.
5. Proposition d’une mesure de la terre, avec une carte
dune demi-feuille.
6. Mesure conjecturale de la terre sur 1’equateur, avec
une carte d’une demi-feuille.
7. Reponse de M. d’Anville au memoire centre cette
mesure.
8. Lettre au P. Castel sur le Kamtchatka, avec une carte
d’un quart de feuille.
9. Article de la geographie, tire de 1’PIistoire Ancienne
de Rollin.
10. Nomenclature alphabetique de ITtalie, tiree de 1’His-
toire Romaine de Rollin.
11. Eclaircissemens sur fancienne Gaule, avec deux cartes
de deux demi-feuilles.
12. Lettre a M. de la Roque, sur un lieu nomme ancienne-
ment Chora.
13. Memoire pour dresser des cartes d’un canton renfer-
mant dix ou douze paroisses.
14. Analyse de I’ltalie, avec trois cartes de 4 feuilles in
folio.
15. Memoire pour dresser une cai'te de la generalite de
Soissons.
16. Dissertations sur 1’ancienne Jerusalem, avec une carte
de demi-feuille.
17. Lettres sur la carte de 1’Amerique meridionale, avec
une carte de 3 feuilles in folio.
18. Eclaircissemens sur la carte de ITnde, avec deux cartes
de 5 feuilles in folio.
19. Memoire sur la carte du Canada, etc., avec une carte
de 4 feuilles in folio.
20. L’article Vents Etesiens, tire de FEncyclopedie.
21. Analyse de la carte des cotes de la Grece, avec une
carte in folio.
22. Notice de 1’ancienne Gaule, avec une carte in folio.
23. Memoires sur 1’Egypte ancienne et moderne, avec
5 cartes, dont 2 in folio.
24. Geographie ancienne abregee, avec 9 cartes in folio.
25. Traite des mesures itineraires.
2(5. Etats formes en Europe, avec une carte in folio.
27. L’Empire Turc. loosuodt mirf fiol ytove
28. L’Empire de Russie.
29. Eloge de M. Gravelot, frere de M. d’Anville, tire du D’Anville
Necrologe. 11
30. Antiquite de ITnde. Anweiier.
31. Memoire sur la Chine.
32. Considerations sur la composition des cartes geogra-
phiques.
33. Memoire sur la Mer Caspienne, avec une carte m 4fo.
34. L’Euphrate et le Tigre, avec une carte in folio.
35. Memoires sur les cartes de 1’ancienne Gaule.
36. Memoire sur la vallee de Tempe.
The following appeared in the Transactions of the Aca¬
demy of Belles Lettres:—
1. Sur le pas militaire du soldat Remain et celui de sol-
dat Fran^ais.
2. Sur la nation des Getes.
3. Sur les sources du Nil, avec une carte.
4. Sur les rivieres de I’Afrique, avec une carte.
5. Sur la mesure du Schene Egyptien, avec une carte.
6. Sur la mesure de la terre par Eratosthene.
7. Sur la determination de plusieurs positions dans le
Levant.
8. Decouverte d’une cite dans 1’ancienne Gaule, avec
une carte.
9. Sur un monument ancien de la Metlie.
10. Sur la position de Babylone, avec une carte.
11. Description de fHellespont, avec une carte.
12. Sur le rnille Romain, avec une carte.
13. Sur le Portus Itius, avec une carte.
14. Sur les villes de Taurunum et de Singidunum, avec
une carte.
15. Description de la Dace de Trajan, avec une carte.
16. Sur le Li, mesure itineraire des Chinois.
17. Sur quelques points de geographie dans 1’Arabie
Heureuse.
18. Sur la difference de latitude et de longitude entre n
Alexandria et Syene, avec une carte.
19. Sur le pays d’Ophir, avec une carte.
20. Sur la situation de Tartessus, avec une carte.
21. Sur le Golfe Persique, avec une carte.
22. Sur 1’etendu de 1’ancienne Rome, avec une carte.
23. Sur les peuples qui habitent la Dace de Trajan.
24. Du rempart de Gog et de Magog, avec une carte.
25. Sur deux villes nommees Justiniana, avec une carte.
26. De la mesure itineraire Armenienne.
27. Description du Golfe d’Ambracie, avec une carte.
28. Sur ITsle de Cypre, avec une carte.
29. Sur 1’expedition d’Heraclius en Perse, avec une carte.
30. Sur la Serique des anciens, avec une carte.
31. Limiles du monde connu des anciens, avec une carte.
32. Du Lac Asphaltite ou Mer Morte, avec une carte.
33. Examen critique d’Herodote sur la Scythie, avec une
carte.
34. Sur la Mer Erythree, avec une carte.
35. Sur 1’etendue de Constantinople, comparee a celle
de Paris, avec une carte.
36. Des fleuves du nom d’Araxe.
37. Sur la navigation de Pytheas a Thule.
38. Sur les noms de peuples et de villes cites dans un
fragment du 91me livre de Tite-Live, avec une carte.
And the following in the Transactions of the Academy
of Sciences:—
Memoire pour corriger la latitude de la Mesopotamie,
avec une carte. (e.)
ANWEILER, a canton in the district of Landau, in
the circle of the Rhone, belonging to the kingdom of
Bavaria; containing one city and 29 villages. The capi¬
tal of the canton is of the same name. It contains 1841
persons, employed in various manufactures. Near it are
the ruins of the castle of Greifels, where, under the trench
emperors of Germany, the crown jewels were kept, and
28a A P A APE
Aonides where our Richard Cceur de Lion, in 1193, was detained APALACHIAN Mountains. See Allegany Moon- 4
II as a prisoner. tains. , , tli!
Apagoge. AONIDES, in Mythology, one of^the many appellations APANTHROPi, in Medicine, denotes a love of soli- '
of the muses; so called from Aonia, a part of ancient Bceotia. tude, and aversion lor the company of mankind. A pan- '^P
AORASIA, in Antiquity, the invisibility of the gods, thropy is by some reckoned among the symptoms, by^'
The word is Greek, ao^aova, and derived from a priv. and others among the species or degrees, of melancholy; and
ogaw, I see. The opinion of the ancients with regard to also passes for an ill indication in leucophlegmatic cases,
the appearance of the gods to men was, that they never APARI i IIMESIS, in Rhetoric, denotes the answer to
showed themselves face to face, but were known from the protasis, or proposition itself, d lius, if the protasis
their backs as they withdrew. be, Appellandi tempus non erat,—the aparithmesis is, At
AORIST, among grammarians, a tense peculiar to the tecum anno plus vixi.
Greek language, comprehending all the tenses, or rather APARTISMENUS, in ancient poetry, an appellation
expressing action in an indeterminate manner, without given to a verse which comprehended an entire sense or
any regard to past, present, or future. sentence in itself. This is sometimes also written apar-
AORISTIA, in the sceptic philosophy, denotes that temenus, i. e. suspended, as not needing any following
state of the mind wherein we neither assert nor deny any verse.
thing positively, but only speak of things as seeming or APATHY, among the ancient philosophers, implied
appearing to us in such a manner. The aoristia is one of an utter privation of passion, and an insensibility of pain,
the great points or terms of scepticism to which the phi- The word is compounded of a priv. and vadoi, affection.
losophers of that denomination had continual recourse by The Stoics affected an entire apathy: they considered it
way of explication or subterfuge. Their adversaries, the as the highest wisdom to enjoy a perfect calmness or
dogmatists, charged them with dogmatizing, and assert- tranquillity of mind, incapable of being ruffled by either
ing the principles and positions of their sect to be true pleasure or pain. In the first ages of the church the
and certain. Christians adopted the term apathy to express a con-
AOSTA, a duchy of Piedmont, separated by the Alps tempt for all earthly concerns, a state of mortification
from Savoy and the Valais, and bounded on the east and such as the gospel prescribes. Clemens Alexandrinus,
south by the Navarese and the provinces of Biella and in particular, brought it exceedingly in vogue; thinking
Yvry. The country is in general mountainous; but there thereby to draw the philosophers to Christianity who aa-
are several valleys of great extent, particularly the Val pired after such a sublime pitch of virtue.
cCAosta. By the industry of the inhabitants these low APATURIA, in Antiquity, a solemn feast celebrated
grounds are very fruitful in wine, oil, and pasture; and by the Athenians in honour of Bacchus. The word is
the mountains abound in iron and copper. usually derived from anarri, fraud. It is said to have
Aosta, the chief town of the foregoing duchy, and the been instituted in memory of a fraudulent victory ob-
see of a bishop. It is situated on the river Doria, at the tained by Melanthus, king of Athens, over Xanthus, king
foot of the Alps, where the great commercial roads from of Bceotia, in a single combat, which they agreed upon,
Savoy and the Valais to Piedmont, over the Great and to put an end to a debate between them relating to the
Little St Bernard, meet each other. The town, though frontiers of their countries. Hence Budaeus calls it
large, is meanly built and thinly peopled. It is remark- festum deceptionis, the feast of deceit,
able for several monuments of the Romans, and for being Other authors give a different etymology of this feast,
the birthplace of Anselm, archbishop of Canterbury. They tell us that the young A thenians were not admitted
Long. 7. 33. E. Lat. 45. 58. N. into the tribes on the third day of the apaturia, till their
APiEDUSIA denotes ignorance or unskilfulness in fathers had first sworn that they were their own children;
what relates to learning and the sciences. Hence also and that till that time they were supposed in some mea-
persons uninstructed and illiterate are called apcedeutce. sure to be without fathers, acrarogj;; whence the feast,
The term apcedeutce was particularly used among the say they, took its name. Xenophon, on the other hand,
French in the time of Huet, when the men of wit at informs us that the relations and friends met on this
Paris were divided into two factions, one called by way occasion, and joined with the fathers of the young people
of reproach apcedeutce, and the others eruditi. The who were to be received into the tribes; and that from
apcedeutce are represented by Huet as persons who, find- this assembly the feast took its name; that in ararovpct,
ing themselves either incapable or unwilling to undergo the a, far from being a privative, being here a conjunc-
a severe course of study in order to become truly tive, signifies the same thing with ogou, together. This
learned, conspire to decry learning, and turn the know- feast lasted four days: the first day, those of the same
ledge of antiquity into ridicule, thus making a merit tribe made merry together; and this they called
of their own incapacity. The apcedeutce in effect were The second day, which they called amgguas, they sacri-
the men of pleasure, the eruditi the men of study. The ficed to Jupiter and Minerva. The third day, which they
apcedeutce in every thing preferred the modern writers to called xougtwr/g, such of their young men and maids as
the ancient, to supersede the necessity of studying the were of age were admitted into their tribes. The fourth
latter. The eruditi derided the moderns, and valued day they called
themselves wholly on their acquaintance with the ancients. APAULIA, in Antiquity, the third day of a marriage
APAGOGE, in the Athenian law, the carrying a crimi- solemnity. It was thus called because the bride, return-
nal taken in the fact to the magistrate. If the accuser was ing to her father’s house, did aruuXifyaQui too vv/ifwo, lodge
not able to bring him to the magistrate, it was usual to apart from the bridegroom. Some will have the apaulia
take the magistrate along with him to the house where to have been the second day of the marriage, viz. that
the criminal lay concealed or defended himself. whereon the chief ceremony was performed; thus called
Apagoge, in Mathematics, is sometimes used to denote by way of contradistinction from the first day, which was
a progress or passage from one proposition to another, called wgoauA/a. On the day called araukia (whenever
when the first, having been once demonstrated, is after- that was), the bride presented her bridegroom with a
wards employed in the proving of others. garment called cwrauX^rjjg/a.
APAGOGICAL Demonstration, an indirect way of APE. See Mammalia, Index.
proof, by showing the absurdity of the contrary. APELLES, one of the most celebrated painters of an*
APE
APE
281
I Li • tiauitv. He was born in the island of Cos, and flourished
f R-in the time of Alexander the Great, with whom he was in
| high favour. He executed a picture of this prince hold-
* ing a thunderbolt in his hand,—a piece finished with so
much skill and dexterity, that it used to be said there
were two Alexanders ; one invincible, the son of Philip ;
the other inimitable, the production of Apelles. Alexan¬
der o-ave him a remarkable proof of his regard ; for when
he employed Apelles to draw Campaspe, one of his mis¬
tresses, having found that he had conceived an affection
for her, he resigned her to him ; and it was from her that
Apelles is said to have drawn his Venus Anadyomene.
One of Apelles’s chief excellencies was his making his
pictures exactly resemble the persons represented; but
what is called grace was the characteristic of this artist.
His pencil was so famous for drawing fine lines, that Pro¬
togenes discovered by a single line that Apelles had been
at his house. Protogenes lived at Rhodes: Apelles sailed
thither, and went to his house with great eagerness to
see the works of an artist who was known to him only by
name. Protogenes was gone from home, but an old wo¬
man was left watching a large piece of canvass, which was
fitted in a frame for painting. She told Apelles that Pro¬
togenes was gone out; and asked him his name, that she
might inform her master who had inquired for him. “ Tell
him,” said Apelles, “ he was inquired for by this person;”
at the same time taking up a pencil, he drew on the canvass
a line of great delicacy. When Protogenes returned, the
old woman acquainted him with what had happened.
That artist, upon contemplating the fine stroke of the line,
immediately pronounced that Apelles had been there, for
so finished a work could be produced by no other person.
Protogenes, however, himself drew a finer line of another
colour, and, as he was going away, ordered the old wo¬
man to show that line to Apelles if he came again; and
to say, “ This is the person for whom you are inquiring.”
Apelles returned and saw the line: he would not for
shame be overcome; and therefore, in a colour different
from either of the former, he drew some lines so exqui¬
sitely delicate that it was utterly impossible for finer
strokes to be made. Protogenes now confessed the supe¬
riority of Apelles, flew to the harbour in search of him,
and resolved to leave the canvass with the lines on it for
the astonishment of future artists.
Apelles showed great liberality of mind towards Proto¬
genes. With ideas enlarged by education and literature,
he was incapable of harbouring little jealousies of noble
competitors; on the contrary, he was the first who made
the works of Protogenes to be valued as they deserved
among the Rhodians. He acknowledged that Protogenes
was in some respects superior to himself; but that in one
particular he himself excelled, viz. in knowing when to take
his hand from the picture, an art which Protogenes had
not yet learned, and therefore over-worked his pieces.
Apelles equally disapproved of too elaborate diligence, or
too hasty negligence ifi execution. A studied work of
Protogenes he esteemed less on the one account; and on
the other, when a silly painter once brought him a picture,
and said, “ This I painted in a hurry,” he replied,
“ Though you had not told me so, I perceived it was
painted in haste; hut I wonder you could not execute
more such pieces in the same time.”
There are two stories related of Apelles, which show
him to he at once an artist of modesty, in amending even
trifling improprieties, when pointed out to him by compe¬
tent judges, and yet of self-confidence sufficient to make
him know the perfection and value of his own paintings.
It was customary with Apelles to expose to public view
the works which he had finished, and to hide himself be¬
hind the picture, in order to hear the remarks passed on it
vol. in.
by persons who chanced to view it. He once overheard Apelles
himself blamed by a shoemaker for a fault in the slippers II
of some picture: he corrected the fault which the man
had noticed ; but on the day following the shoemaker be¬
gan to animadvert on the leg; upon which Apelles with
some anger looked out from behind the canvass, and bade
him keep to his own province, “ Ne sutor ultra crepidam.”
It is well known that Alexander forbade any one besides
Apelles to paint his portrait. We are not, however, to
conclude from this that Alexander was a more skilful
judge of painting than he was of poetry. Like Augustus,
he cherished the fine arts more from vanity than taste. A
remarkable proof is given of this prince s inability to dis¬
cern merit, and of the painter’s freedom in expressing the
mortification he felt, when a work of his was not suffi¬
ciently commended. “ Alexander,” says iElian, lib. if. c.
3. Var. Hist. “ having viewed the picture of himself which
was at Ephesus, did not praise it as it deserved. But
when a horse was brought in, and neighed at seeing the
figure of a horse in the picture, as though it had been a
real horse, O king ! said Apelles, this horse seems to be by
far a better judge of painting than you'.' It happened more
than once that the horses drawn by him were mistaken for
real ones, by living horses which saw and neighed at the
pictures. In his finishing a drawing of this animal, a re¬
markable circumstance is related of him. He had painted
a horse returning from battle, and had succeeded to his
wishes in describing every other mark that could indicate
a mettlesome steed impatient of restraint; there was
wanting nothing but a foam of a bloody hue issuing from
the mouth. He again and again endeavoured to express
this, but his attempts were unsuccessful. At last, with
vexation, he threw against the reins of the horse a sponge
which had in it many colours ; a mixture of which coming
out of the sponge, and tinging the reins, produced the
very effect desired by the painter.
The works of Apelles were all admired ; but the most
celebrated were the picture of Alexander in the temple of
Diana at Ephesus, and that of Venus emerging from the
sea. Alexander was drawn with thunder in his hand;
and such relief was produced by the chiaroscuro in this
piece, that the fingers seemed to shoot forward, and tne
thunderbolt to be out of the picture. His \ enus Ava-
hvofLi\ir\ was esteemed the most exquisite figure which the
pencil could create.
APELLITES, Christian heretics in the second century,
who affirmed that Christ received a body from the four
elements, which at his death he rendered back to the
world, and so ascended into heaven without a body.
APENE, in Antiquity, a kind of chariot wherein the
images of the gods were carried in procession on certain
days, attended with a solemn pomp, songs, hymns, danc¬
ing, &c. It was very rich, made sometimes of ivory, or
of silver itself, and variously decorated. t ,
APENNINES, now the Apennine, a mountain, or ridge
of mountains, running through the middle of Italy, from
north-west to south-west, in the form of a crescent (Pfiny) ;
beginning at the Alps in Liguria, or the Rivierra di Ge¬
noa, and terminating at the Strait of Messnna, or at
Reggio, and the promontory Leucopetra, and separating,
as by a back or ridge, the Adriatic from the Tuscan Sea.
(Pliny, Strabo, Ptolemy, Polybius, Vitruvius.) See Italy.
' APENRADE, a city in the duchy of Sleswick, the
chief of the bailiwick of the same name. It contains 309
houses and 2850 inhabitants. The harbour is shallow, and
vessels must discharge below the town. The roadstead at
the entrance is without shelter. It is in long. 9. 3 L. L.
lat. 55. 2.N. . , v
APERTURE, the opening of any thing, or a hole or
cleft in any continuous object.
■ 2 N
282 A P H
Aperture Aperture, in Geometry, the space between two right
II lines which meet in a point and form an angle.
Aphrodi- Aperture, in Optics, a round hole in a turned bit of
wood or plate of tin, placed within the side of a telescope
or microscope, near to the object-glass, by means of
which more rays are admitted, and a more distinct ap¬
pearance of the object is obtained.
APETALOSE, or Apetalous, among botanists, an
appellation given to such plants as have no flower-leaves.
APEX, the vertex or summit of any thing.
Apex, in Antiquity, the crest of a helmet, but more es¬
pecially a kind of cap worn by the flamens.
Apex, among grammarians) denotes the mark of a long
syllable, falsely called a bng accent.
APHfERESIS, in Grammar, a figure by which a letter
or syllable is cut off from the beginning of a word. Thus
ciconia, by aphaeresis, is written conia; contemnere, tem-
nere ; omittere, mittere, Ac.
APHEK, the name of several cities mentioned in Scrip¬
ture. 1. Aphek in the tribe of Judah, where the Philis¬
tines encamped when the ark was brought from Shiloh,
which was taken by them in battle. 1 Sam. iv. 1, 2, &c.
It is thought to be the same with Aphekah, mentioned in
Josh. xv. 53. 2. Aphek in the valley of Jezreel, where
the Philistines encamped while Saul and his army were
near Jezreel, upon the mountains of Gilboa. 1 Sam. xxix.
1, Ac. 3. Aphek, a city belonging to the tribe of Asher,
near the country of the Sidonians. Josh. xix. 30, and
xiii. 4. 4. Aphek, a city of Syria, one of the principal in
Ben-hadad’s kingdom, near which the battle was fought
between Ahab and Ben-hadad, wherein the Syrians were
worsted, and whex*eof, as they retreated with precipita¬
tion into the city, the walls fell upon them, and crushed
in pieces 27,000. 1 Kings, xx. 26, et seq. This city lay
between Heliopolis and Byblus.
APHELIUM, or Aphelion, in Astronomy, is that
point in any planet’s orbit in which it is farthest distant
from the sun, being that end of the greater axis of the
elliptical orbit of the planet most remote from the focus
where the sun is.
APHIOM, Karahissart, a town of Natolia, in Asiatic
Turkey. It is named Aphiom because it produces a great
deal of opium, called aphiom by the Turks. Long. 30. 26.
E. Lat. 38. 35. N.
APHIS, the Puceron, Vine-fretter, or Plant-
louse. See Entomology, Index.
APHLASTUM, in the ancient navigation, a wooden
ornament, shaped like a plume of feathers, fastened on
the goose’s or swan’s neck used by the ancient Greeks in
the heads of their ships. The aphlastum had much the
same office and effect in a ship that the crest had on the
helmet. It seems also to have had this further use, viz.
by the waving of a party-coloured riband fastened to it,
to indicate from what quarter the wind blew.
APHONIA, among physicians, signifies a suppression
or total loss of voice. It is never a primary disease, but
a consequence of many different disorders. The cure is
to be effected by removing the disorder from whence the
aphonia proceeds.
APHORISM, a maxim or principle of a science, or a
sentence which comprehends a great deal in a few words.
The word comes from apog/£w, I separate.
APHRACTI, in the ancient military art, denotes open
vessels, without decks or hatches, furnished only at head
and stern with cross planks, whereon the men stood to
fight.
APHRODISIA, in Antiquity, festivals kept in honour
of Venus, the most remarkable of which was that cele¬
brated by the Cyprians. At this solemnity several mys¬
terious rites were practised; all who were initiated to
A P 1
them offered a piece of money to Venus as a harlot, and
received as a token of the goddess’s favour a measure of
salt and a pccXXo;; the former, because salt is a concre¬
tion of sea-water, to which Venus was thought to owe
her birth; the latter because she was the goddess of wan-V
tonness.
APHRODISIACS, among physicians, medicines which
were supposed to increase the quantity of semen, and
create an inclination to venery.
APHRODITE, in Mythology, a name of Venus, de¬
rived from apgoj, froth ; because, according to the poets,
Venus is supposed to have been produced from the froth
or foam of the sea.
APHTH ARTODOCETiE, a sect, sworn enemies of the
council of Chalcedon. The word is derived from atpSapos,
incorruptible, and Boxzu, I imagine; and was given them
because they imagined that the body of Jesus Christ was
incorruptible and impassible, and not capable of death.
They arose among the Eutychians, and made their ap¬
pearance in the year 535.
APIARY. Under the article Bee, in this work, direc¬
tions will be given at considerable length as to the ma¬
nagement of an apiary, and various methods detailed of
procuring honey and wax from the hive without destroy¬
ing the bees themselves. The most economic mode of
attaining these ends deserves more attention as a national
object than it has in general received in this country. It
appears, from the returns of the custom-house, that Eng¬
land pays annually to the north of Germany from LAG,000
to L.50,000 sterling for the wax and honey which are im¬
ported from thence, and which might very easily be raised
by a more extended and judicious cultivation of bees at
home. Greater attention to this useful appendage to the
cottage would not only be productive of commercial ad¬
vantage, but would tend to improve the condition of the
lower order of peasantry. It is not generally known, in¬
deed, what profitable returns may be obtained, at a trifling
expense of time and labour, by very simple processes.
Mr Huish, the author of a valuable practical treatise on
the management of bees, has made a calculation, from
which he infers, that even supposing the first cost of a
swarm to be one guinea, which is the price in the places
where they are sold the dearest, the cottager is almost
certain, by proper care and management, of clearing, in
five years, a net produce of nearly L.60, and of having
besides, at the end of that period, ten good stocks of bees
in his garden.
The principal objects to be attained in the construction
and management of an apiary, are to secure the prosperity
and multiplication of the colonies ; to increase the amount
of theii* productive labour; and to obtain their products
with facility, and with the least possible detriment to the
stock. The apiary should afford to the bees the best shel¬
ter against moisture and the extremes of heat and of cold,
and especially against sudden vicissitudes of temperature;
it should protect them against their numerous enemies ;
it should afford them every facility of constructing their
combs, and of rearing their young; it should allow of
every part of the combs being occasionally inspected, and
being capable of removal when requisite; and, while due
attention is paid to economy, it should be made of mate¬
rials that will insure its durability. Much ingenuity has
been displayed by different apiarians in the construction
of hives which should unite in the greatest possible de¬
gree all these advantages. Although it be in vain to hope
that every one of these objects can at once be perfectly
attained, yet there is still great room for improvement on
the hives that are at present in common use; artd we shall
here point out a few of the more recent modes of con¬
struction.
API
API
283
fL)ia - While some cultivators of bees have been chiefly anxi*
'/'vinous to promote their multiplication, and to prevent the
escape of the swarms in the natural way, by procuring
what they have termed artificial swarms,—which they
effected by separating a populous hive, previous to its
swarming, into two parts, and allowing to each greater
room for the extension of their works; others have con¬
templated only the abundance of the products which they
yielded, and the facility of extracting them from the hive,
without showing any particular solicitude as to the preser¬
vation of the bees themselves. Another class of apiarians
have, on the other hand, had it more particularly in view
to facilitate the prosecution of researches in the natural
lr H! history and economy of bees. The hive invented by Mr
ip Le. Huber is peculiarly calculated for the last of these objects,
and its construction is founded on an accurate knowledge
of the habits of these insects. He has given it the name
of ruche en livre ou en feuillets, from its opening and shut¬
ting somewhat in the manner of the leaves of a book.
This hook or leaf hive is composed of from eight to twelve
square wooden frames, placed vertically, and joined to¬
gether sidewise like the hoops of a cask. Each frame
consists of two uprights, one inch in thickness, a foot in
height, and an inch and a third in width, connected by
an upper and lower cross bar, ten inches long, and of the
same breadth and thickness as the former; so that all the
frames may be joined together, without leaving any inter¬
val. The two external frames are closed each by a pane
of glass, which is covered by a shutter on the outside;
and the whole is properly secured in its place, and further
protected by an external cover. An aperture must of
course be left in the lower part of one of the frames to
serve as a door. In order to determine the bees to con¬
struct their combs in the plane of each leaf, a small piece
of honeycomb is fixed, by means of pegs, to the top of
each in the proper position, as it is well known that bees
always complete their work in the direction in which they
find it begun, unless they meet with some insurmountable
obstacle. A proper distance is thus preserved between
the lateral surfaces of the perpendicular combs; and the
external ones, being only three or four lines distant from
the glass panes, may be easily inspected by opening the
shutters; and also by opening in succession the different
divisions of the hive, both surfaces of every comb may at
pleasure be fully brought into view. No difficulty is ex¬
perienced in introducing swarms into hives of this con¬
struction ; and after the lapse of a few days, when the
colony is fully established, the bees will very patiently
submit to be daily inspected.
Mr Huber’s hive is exceedingly well calculated for pro¬
ducing artificial swarms on the principle of Schirach’s dis¬
covery, of which a full account will be given in the article
Bee. It allows us to judge by inspection whether the
population is sufficient to admit of division,—if the brood
is of the proper age,—and if males exist, or are ready to
be produced, for impregnating the young queen; all which
circumstances are of material consequence to the success
of the operation. It is essential that some of the larvae
should not have been hatched above three days before
this attempt is made. The frames must then be gently
separated at the middle of the hive, and two empty frames
be introduced in the interval between the former; each
of these new frames having a partition which closes them
completely, so as to enable the two portions to be entirely
separated without leaving any opening. The door of that
portion in which the queen happens to be at . this time
may i etnain open, but the one belonging to the other part
must be closed, so as to retain the bees that have no queen
prisoners for f:4. hours, allowing still, however, sufficient
eirculation of air. After this interval of time they appear
to have forgotten their queen, at least they are no longer Apiary,
anxious to seek for her, but bestow all their solicitude
the education of the larvas, so as to convert a certain num¬
ber of them into queens to supply the loss they have sus¬
tained. This they accomplish in ten days or a fortnight
after the operation. The two colonies are now perfectly
distinct, and are never found afterwards to intermix.
Another advantage attending a hive of this construc¬
tion consists in its enabling us to force the bees to pro¬
duce a much greater quantity of wax than they would
naturally do. The interval which separates the combs
when the bees have not been disturbed in their opera¬
tions is constantly the same, namely, about four lines.
Were they too distant, it is evident that the bees would
be much dispersed, and unable to communicate their heat
reciprocally, and the brood would not be preserved in a
sufficient degree of warmth. Were the combs too close,
on the contrary, the bees could not freely traverse the
intervals, and the work of the hive would suffer. It is
evident that we may avail ourselves of this instinct, and,
by separating farther asunder the combs that are already
built, induce the bees either to extend the breadth of
those they had begun, or to build others in the interval,
if sufficient space be allowed them for this purpose. Thus,
by interposing three empty frames, one between every al¬
ternate interval of the combs in a hive containing six
combs, three additional combs, if the proper season be
chosen, will be obtained at the end of a week; and if the
weather continue favourable, the operation may be re¬
peated, and the same number of additional combs pro¬
cured the week after.
The principal obstacles to the general employment of
Mr Huber’s hives are the expense of constructing them,
and the greater degree of attention which they perhaps
require from the cultivator. It has also been objected
that the flatness of the roof was prejudicial, by allowing
the njoisture which exhales from the bees to collect at
the top, and to fall in drops at different parts, to the great
injury of the subjacent contents of the hive. Feburier Hives of
proposes therefore the employment of frames in the form other apia-
of a trapezium, so that the roof shall be considerably in-rians-
dined to the horizon. He borrows this shape from Bose,
whose hive consists, however, only of two boxes joined
together sidewise, and separable in order to form artificial
swarms. This was an improvement upon Gelieu’s hive,
which was formed of two square boxes united laterally.
Delator had recommended a still more simple form than
that of Bose, though less convenient; namely, that of a
triangle resting on its base. Mr Ravenel’s hive consists
of three square boxes instead of two; Mr Scrain’s is also
made up of three boxes, but they are low and of great
length, and are joined endwise,—a communication being
established between them by apertures made in the divi¬
sions which separate the boxes. It is now, however, well
established, that partitions of any kind are detrimental to
the prosperity of the colony. The same objection applies,
though perhaps in an inferior degree, to the system of
storied hives, or those which are divided into stories one
above another. A great variety of the latter description,
however, have been recommended by different cultiva¬
tors. In France they are known by the name of ruches en
hausses. Mr Thorley’s improved hive is of this class, and
Mr Lombard’s trvche villageoise may also be referred to the
same head, although it be of much simpler construction
than any other compound hive. Mr Lombard’s hive is com¬
posed of two parts, a body and a cover, forming together
an elevation of from seventeen to twenty inches, on a
uniform diameter of one foot, excepting the upper part,
which ought to be convex. The body is formed of bands
of straw, similar to that of the cottages in this country.
284
Apiary.
API
At the top and bottom of the body is placed an exterior
band, which forms a projecting border on each end, the
lower one giving the hive a firm station on its pedestal,^
the upper one contributing to secure the attachment ot
the cover, or allowing of another similar body being placed
above the first, if such an addition should be deemed ne¬
cessary. At the top of the body, and even with the up¬
per band, is placed a flooring board, made of a light plank,
ten inches in breadth in all directions, and the four cor¬
ners of which are sawed off in such a mannei that the
breadth along the diagonal measures one foot. This
board is fixed by nails inserted in the upper double band,
and entering a little into the front. I he foui openings^
that are left"on the sides are necessary for the passage of
the bees, and for the escape of the vapours which are ex¬
haled from them .in winter. A flat rod traverses the hive
immediately under the board, and projecting from the two
sides about an inch and a half, affords handles for lifting
the hive, and facilitates the fastening of the cover, which
has also a projecting rod corresponding with that of the
hive. At the bottom is an opening two inches broad and
nine lines in height for the ingress and egress of the bees.
The cover is formed in the shape of a dome, with a ver¬
tical handle at the top, and a cross bar at the lower part,
by the projecting ends of which it may be tied to the
ends of the bar in the body, and which serves also as a
support to the combs that are constructed in the cover.
For the latter purpose, also, two other bars are placed
crosswise, one above the other. All the hives and all the
bases of the covers are to be made of one uniform diame¬
ter, in order that the hives may, if occasion require it, be
placed upon each other, and the covers be adapted to any
of the hives that may happen to be at the top.
The pyramidal hive of iVI. Ducouedie, which the inven¬
tor extols in his book entitled La lluche Pyramidale, ayec
I'art d'etablir et d'utiliser les ruches, &c. as leaving nothing
more to be wished for as to the cultivation of bees, differs
but little from that of Mr Thorley. A common straw
hive is taken, containing a swarm, which is allowed to re¬
main till the spring of the following year; it is then placed
on the top of a square box, with which it is made to com¬
municate by a round aperture at the top of the box. In
this state it is termed by the French la ruche Ecossaise,
or, ruche de M. de la Bourdonnaye. In the following
spring a second box is placed under the first, and the
whole now assumes the name of la ruche pyramidale. The
bees are still allowed no other ingress or egress but by a
single hole made in the lowest story. The upper stories
may then be removed in succession, while further room is
allowed below by the addition of fresh boxes. It is stated
by M. Ducou6die, that the bees in his pyramidal hive
never perish by hunger or by cold; for they always abound
in provisions, and are too numerous to be affected by the
most rigorous winter. When the bees are in groups, they
maintain the necessary warmth in the hive, and the brood,
on the return of spring, is hatched one month sooner than
in any other hive. Mr Huish has, however, made it clear¬
ly appear that these pretended advantages are much ex¬
aggerated, while its inconveniences are passed over in
silence. It is difficult, if not impossible, to proportion the
hives in all cases to the magnitude of the swarms, or to
the energy with which they labour. The honey being
taken from the oldest cells, is deteriorated by an admix¬
ture of pollen, communicating to it a degree of bitterness,
of which it is difficult to deprive it; and it is less abundant,
in consequence of the diminished capacity of the cells,
in which the coccoons of successive bees in their state of
nympha have accumulated. From their being divided
into different stories, the bees are obliged to live, as it
were, in different families; while their own preservation
API
and that of the brood requires them to live in the strict- A]L
est union. The heat is also lessened by the division of
the bees into different groups. The upper part of these ^
hives being all necessarily flat (except the first or straw^ ^
hive), occasions a serious inconvenience, by allovying mois¬
ture to collect and drop down into the middle of the hive,
instead of trickling down the sides. The injury which
this does to the combs, and to the bees themselves, who
are constantly exposed to its influence, is, according to
Mr Huish, the most common cause of the loss of the
hives during the winter. The bees, he observes, always
begin their work in the most elevated point of the hive,
and seek for that purpose the central part of the roof. If
the top be flat, and especially if it be as spacious as in
the hives called pyramidal, the bees will not find this cen¬
tre ; they will work one year in one part, and the follow¬
ing year in another. This is without doubt one of the
causes which oblige a proprietor to wait three or four
years before any honey can be gathered from these hives.
The hive recommended by Mr Huish as affording suffi¬
cient facility for examining any of the combs, and perform¬
ing on them any operation at pleasure, is very similar in
form to that described as being used in Greece. The body
of the hive is a straw basket in the shape of a flower-pot,
that is, of a broader diameter above than below. Eight
pieces of well-seasoned wood, about eight inches broad
and half an inch thick, are laid parallel to one another, at
equal distances, over the top of the basket, and fastened
to an outer projecting band: they are then covered with
network, over which is placed a circular board, or what
is better, a convex cover of straw extending over the
whole of the top of the hive. This network obliges the
bees to fasten their combs to the transverse boards, by
means of which each comb can easily be lifted up with¬
out interfering with any other part of the hive, or occa¬
sioning the loss of a single bee; and the whole of the in¬
terior of the hive is thus open to inspection, and we are
enabled to trace the devastations of the moth, or to as¬
certain the presence of any other enemy.—See the arti¬
cle Bee. (y0
APICIUS. There were at Home three persons of that
name, all famous for their gluttony. The second is the
most celebrated of the three. He lived under Tiberius,
and invented divers sorts of cakes which bore his name.
He kept as it were a school of gluttony at Home.
AFINGADAM, a circle in the province of Groningen,
in the kingdom of the Netherlands, comprehending four
cantons, and containing 40,741 inhabitants. The chiel
town of the circle bears the same name, is situated on
the river Fivel or Hamster Diep, and contains 2660 inha¬
bitants.
APIS, a divinity worshipped by the ancient Egyptians
at Memphis, namely, an ox, having certain exterior
marks. The soul of Osiris was supposed to subsist in the
body of this animal. “ A white spot,” says. Pliny, “re¬
sembling a crescent, on the right side, and a lump under
the tongue, were the distinguishing marks of Apis.
When a cow, therefore, which was thought to be struck
with the rays of the moon, produced a calf, the sacred
guides went to examine it, and if they found it conform¬
able to this description, they announced to the people the
birth of Apis. ,
“ Immediately,” says /Elian, “ they built a temple to the
new god, facing the rising sun, according to the precepts
of Mercury, where they nourished him with milk foi uHir
months. At the expiration of this term, the priests repair¬
ed in pomp to his habitation, and saluted him by the name
of Apis. They then placed him in a vessel magnificently
decorated, covered with rich tapestry, and resplendent
with gold and conducted him to Nilopolis, singing hymns,
A P O
A P O
285
I: U)ob' ’* and burning perfumes. There they kept him for forty
' rio days. During this space of time women alone had per-
■ II mission to see him, and saluted him in a particular manner,
f A?'*" After the inauguration of the god in this city, he was
b'P- conveyed to Memphis with the same retinue, followed by
' ^ an innumerable quantity of boats sumptuously decked
out. There they completed the ceremonies of his inau¬
guration, and he became sacred to all the world. Apis
was superbly lodged, and the place where he lay was
mystically called the bed."
There was a mysterious term fixed for his life. “ Apis,”
says Pliny, “ cannot live beyond a certain number of
years. When he has attained that period they drown
him in the fountain of the priests; for it is not permitted
to let him prolong his life beyond the period prescribed
for him by the sacred books.” When this event hap¬
pened he was embalmed, and privately let down into the
subterraneous place destined for that purpose, after which
the priests announced that he had disappeared; but when
he died a natural death before this period arrived, they
proclaimed his death, and solemnly conveyed his body to
the temple of Serapis. Huet, bishop of Avranches, has
endeavoured to prove that Apis was a symbolical image
of the patriarch Joseph, and has supported his opinion
with all his erudition. Mr Bryant apprehends that the
name Apis was an Egyptian term for father; that it re¬
ferred to the patriarch Noah; and that the crescent which
was usually marked on the side of the animal was a repre¬
sentation of the ark.
APOBATERION, in Antiquity, a valedictory speech
or poem, made by a person on departing out of his own
country, and addressed to his friends or relations.
APOCALYPSE, Revelation, the name of one of the
sacred books of the New Testament, containing revela¬
tions concerning several important doctrines of Christia¬
nity. The word is Greek, and derived from
I reveal or discover. t .
This book, according to Irenseus, was written about the
year 96 of Christ, in the island of Patmos, whither St
John had been banished by the emperor Domitian. But
Sir Isaac Newton places the writing of it earlier, viz. in
the time of Nero. Some attribute this book to the arch¬
heretic Cerinthus; but the ancients unanimously ascribed
it to John, the son of Zebedee, and brother of James,
whom the Greek fathers called the Divine, by way of
eminence, to distinguish him from the other evangelists.
This book has not at all times been esteemed canonical.
There were many churches in Greece, as St Jerome in¬
forms us, which did not receive it; neither is it in the cata¬
logue of canonical books prepared by the council of Lao-
dicea, nor in that of St Cyril of Jerusalem: but Justin,
Irenaeus, Origen, Cyprian, Clemens of Alexandria, Ter-
tullian, and all the fathers of the fourth, fifth, and the fol¬
lowing centuries, quote the Revelation as a book then
acknowledged to be canonical. The Alogians, Marcio-
nites, Cerdonians, and Luther himself, rejected this book :
hut the Protestants have forsaken Luther in this parti¬
cular; and Beza has strongly maintained, against his ob¬
jections, that the Apocalypse is authentic and canonical.
I here have been several other works published under
the title of Apocalypses. Sozomen mentions a book used
m the churches of Palestine, called the Apocalypse or
Revelation of St Peter. He also mentions an Apocalypse
of St Paul, which) the Cophtae retain to this day. Euse¬
bius also speaks of both these Apocalypses. St Epipha-
mus mentions an Apocalypse of Adam; Nicephorus, an
Apocalypse of Esdras; Gratian and Cedrenus, an Apoca¬
lypse of Moses, another of St Thomas, and another of St
Stephen ; St Jerome, an Apocalypse of Elias. Porphyry,
ln h‘s hfe of Plotin, makes mention of the Apocalypse
or Revelations of Zoroaster, Zostrian, Nicotlueus, Alio- Apocope
genes, &c. y
APOCOPE, among grammarians, a figure which cuts Apocry-
off a letter or syllable from the end of a word; as ingeni P11*1’
for ingenii. -
APOCRISARIUS, in Ecclesiastical History, a sort of
resident in an imperial city, in the name of a foreign
church or bishop, whose office was to negotiate, as proc¬
tor at the emperor’s court, in all ecclesiastical causes in
which his principals might be concerned. The institution
of the office seems to have taken place in the time of Con¬
stantine, or not long after, when, the emperors having be¬
come Christians, foreign churches had more occasion to
promote their suits at court than formerly. However, we
find it established by law in the time of Justinian. In
imitation of this officer, almost every monastery had its
Apocrisarius, or resident, in the imperial city. The title
and quality of apocrisary became at length appropriated
to the pope’s agent, or nuncio as he is now called, who
resided at Constantinople to receive the pope’s dispatches
and the emperor’s answers. The word is formed from
uKoxgiviiv, to answer.
APOCRUSTICS, in Medicine, the same with repellents.
APOCRYPHA, or Apocryphal Books, such books
as are not admitted into the canon of Scripture, being
either not acknowledged as divine, or considered as spu¬
rious. The word is Greek, and derived from ano, and
jcgysrrw, 1 hide or conceal. When the Jews published their
sacred books, they gave the appellations of canonical and
divine only to those which were then made public, while
such as still remained in their archives were denominated
apocryphal, for no other reason but because they were not
published; so that these books might be really sacred
and divine, though not promulgated as such. Thus, in
respect of the Bible, all books were called apocryphal
which were not inserted in the Jewish canon of Scripture.
Yossius observes, that, with regard to the sacred books,
none are to be accounted apocryphal except such as had
been admitted neither into the synagogue nor the church.
The Protestants not only consider those books apocry¬
phal which are esteemed as such in the church of Rome—
namely, the Prayer of Manasseh king of Judah, the third
and fourth books of Esdras, St Barnabas’s epistle, the Book
of Hermos, the addition at the end of Job, and the 151st
Psalm—but also Tobit, Judith, Esther, the Book of WTs-
dom, Jesus the Son of Sirach, Baruch the Prophet, the
Song of the Three Children, the Story of Susanna, the
History of Bel and the Dragon, and the books of the Mac¬
cabees. The protestant doctrine is, that these books
were not received by the Jews, nor so much as known to
that people. None of the writers of the New Testament
cite or make mention of them; and neither Philo nor Jo¬
sephus speaks of or alludes to them. The Christian church
was for several ages an utter stranger to these books;
while Origen, Athanasius, Hilary, Cyril of Jerusalem,
and all the orthodox writers who have given catalogues
of the canonical books of Scripture, unanimously concur
in rejecting these from the canon. Nay, even in regard
to the New Testament, these fathers are divided in opi¬
nion whether the epistle to the Hebrews, the epistle of
St James, and the second epistle of St Peter, the second
and third epistles of St John, the epistle of St Jude, and
the Revelation, ought to be acknowledged as canonical or
not. Protestants, however, acknowledge those books of
Scripture only to be canonical which were accounted so
in the first ages of the church,—which were cited by the
earliest writers among the Christians as of divine autho¬
rity, and, after the most diligent inquiry, received as such
by the council of Laodicea. The several epistles above
jnentioned, and the book of Revelation, whatever may
286
A P O
Apodectae have been the sentiments of particular persons respecting
II them, are allowed by all the reformed churches to be of
Apollina- authority, and are therefore held as constituting
i part of the canon of the New Testament.
APODECTiE, in Antiquity, a denomination given to
ten general receivers appointed by the Athenians to ie-
ceive the public revenues, taxes, debts, and the like. The
apodectae had also a power to decide all controversies
arising in relation to money and taxes, except those of the
most difficult nature and highest concern, which were re¬
served to the courts of judicature. _ .
APODES, in a general sense, denotes things without
feet. Zoologists apply the name to a fabulous sort of
birds, said to be found in some of the islands of the new
world, which, being entirely without feet, supported them¬
selves on the branches of trees by their crooked bills.
APODICTICAL, among philosophers, a term import¬
ing a demonstrative proof, or systematical method of
teaching.
APODYTERIUM, in the ancient baths, the apart¬
ments where persons dressed and undressed.
APOGEE, in Astronomy, that point in the orbit of a
planet which is at the greatest distance from the earth.
The apogee of the sun is that part of the earth’s orbit
which is at the greatest distance from the sun; and, con¬
sequently, the sun’s apogee and the earth’s aphelion are
one and the same point.
APOLIDES, in Antiquity, those condemned for life to
the public works, or exiled into some island, and thus di¬
vested of the privileges of Roman citizens
A P O
this law, in concurrence with the decrees of differentApoR
councils, reduced them to a very small number, and their f
doctrine had no long duration. Api
APOLLINARIS, Caius Sulpicius, a very learned^ P
grammarian, born at Carthage, lived in the 2d century,
under the Antonines. He is supposed to be the author of
the verses which are prefixed to the comedies of Terence,
and which contain the arguments of them. He had for
his successor in the profession of grammar Helvius Perti-
nax, who had been his scholar, and was at last emperor.
Apollinaris Sidonius, Caius Lollius, an eminent
Christian writer and bishop in the 5th century, was born
of a noble family in France. He was educated under the
best masters, and made great progress in the several arts
and sciences, but particularly in poetry and polite litera¬
ture. He married Papianilla, the daughter of Avitus,
who was consul, and afterwards emperor, by whom he
had three children. But Majorianus, in the year 475,
having deprived Avitus of the empire, and taken the city
of Lyons, in which our author resided, Apollinaris fell
into the hands of the enemy. However, the reputation of
his learning softened Majorianus’s resentment, so that he
treated him with the utmost civility; in return for which
Apollinaris composed a panegyric in his honour, which
was so highly applauded, that he had a statue erected to
him at Rome, and was honoured with the title of Count
In the year 467 the emperor Anthemius rewarded him
for the panegyric which he had written in honour of him,
by raising him to the post of governor of Rome, and af¬
terwards to the dignity of a patrician and senator. But
APOLLIN ARIAN Games, in Roman Antiquity, were he soon quitted these secular employments for the service
instituted in the year of Rome 542. The occasion was a
kind of oracle delivered by the prophet Marcus after the
fatal battle at Cannae, declaring that, to expel the enemy,
and cure the people of an infectious disease which then
prevailed, sacred games were to be annually performed
of the church. The bishopric of Clermont being vacant
in 472 by the death of Eparchus, Apollinaris, who was
then only a layman, was chosen to succeed him. Clermont
being besieged by the Goths, he animated the people to
the defence of that city, and would never consent to the
in honour of Apollo; the pretor to have the direction of surrender of it; so that, when it was taken about the year
480, he was obliged to retire; but he was soon restored
by Evariges, king of the Goths, and continued to govern
the church as he had done before. He died on the 21st
of August 487. He is esteemed one of the most elegant
writers of his age, both in prose and verse. His chief
works are his Panegyrics upon the emperors Avitus, Ma¬
jorianus, and Anthemius, and a collection of Letters and
Poems. The best edition of these productions is that by
Sirmond, published in 1614, and republished by Labbe in
1652, in 4to. There is a French translation of his Letfew.
APOLLO, in Mythology, a pagan deity worshipped by
the Greeks and Romans. Cicero mentions four of this
name, the most ancient of whom was the son of Vulcan;
the second a son of Corybas, and born in Crete; the
third an Arcadian, called Nomian, from his being a great
legislator; and the last, to whom the greatest honour is
ascribed, the son of Jupiter and Latona.
Apollo had a variety of other names, either derived
from his principal attributes, or the chief places where he
was worshipped. He was called the Healer, from his
enlivening warmth and cheering influence; Nomius, or
the shepherd, from his fertilizing the earth, and thence
sustaining the animal creation ; Delius, from his rendering
all things manifest; Pythius, from his victory oyer Py¬
thon ; Lycias, Phoebus, and Phaneta, from his purity and
splendour. As Apollo is almost always confounded by
the Greeks with the sun, it is no wonder that he should
be dignified with so many attributes. It was natural
for the most glorious object in nature, whose influence is
felt by all creation, and seen by every animated part ol
it, to be adored as the fountain of light, heat, and life.
The power of healing diseases being chiefly given by thy
ancients to medicinal plants and vegetable productions, it
them, and the decemviri to offer sacrifices after the Gre¬
cian rite. The first pretor by whom they were held was
P. Cornelius Sylla. For some time they were movable
or indictive, but at length were fixed, under P. Licinius
Varus, to the fifth of July, and made perpetual. The
Apollinarian games were merely scenical, and at first only
observed with singing, piping, and other sorts of music;
but afterwards there were also introduced all manner of
mountebank tricks, dances, and the like ; yet they still re¬
mained scenical, no chariot races, wrestling, or laborious
exercises of the body, being ever practised at them.
APOLLINARIANS, Apollinarists, called also by
Epiphanius Dimaritce, ancient heretics, who denied the
proper humanity of Christ, and maintained that the body
which he assumed was endowed with a sensitive, and not
a rational soul, but that the divine nature supplied the
place of the intellectual principle in man. This sect de¬
rived its name from Apollinaris, bishop of Laodicea in
the fourth century.
The Apollinarians have been charged with other opi¬
nions, such as the Millenarian and Sabellian, the pre-ex¬
istence of the body of Christ, and the passion of his deity;
but ecclesiastical writers are not agreed with respect to
these and other particulars. Their doctrine was first con¬
demned by a council of Alexandria in the year 362, and
afterwards in a more formal manner by a council at Rome
in 375, and by another council in 378, which deposed
Apollinaris from his bishopric. Notwithstanding all this,
his doctrine spread through most of the churches of the
East, and his followers were subdivided into various sects.
In 388 the emperor Theodosius enacted a law forbidding
them to hold assemblies, to have any ecclesiastics or
bishops, or to dwell in cities. The rigorous execution of
A P O
polio was natural to exalt into a divinity the visible cause of
V'''their growth. Hence he was also styled the God of
Physic ; and that external heat which cheers and invigo¬
rates all nature, being transferred from the human body
to the mind, gave rise to the idea of all mental efferves¬
cence coming from this god : hence likewise, poets, pro¬
phets, and musicians, are said to be Numine afflati, in¬
spired by Apollo.
Whether Apollo was a real personage, or only the great
luminary, many have doubted. Vossius has taken great
pains to prove this god to be only a metaphorical being,
and that there never was any other Apollo than the sun.
“ He was styled the Son of Jupiter” says this author, “ be¬
cause that god was reckoned by the ancients the author
of the world. His mother was called Latona, a name
which signifies hidden, because, before the sun was
created, all things were wrapped up in the obscurity of
chaos. He is always represented as beardless and youth¬
ful, because the sun never grows old or decays ; and what
else can his bows and arrows imply, but his piercing
beams ?” And he adds, that all the ceremonies which
were performed to his honour had a manifest relation to
the great source of light which he represented. However,
though this be in general true, it appears from many pas¬
sages in ancient authors, that there was some illustrious
personage named Apollo, who, after his apotheosis, was
taken for the sun; as Osiris and Orus in Egypt, whose
existence cannot be called in question, were, after their
death, confounded with the sun, of which they became
the symbols, either from the glory and splendour of their
reigns,'or from a belief that their souls had taken up their
residence in that luminary.
Of the four Apollos mentioned by Cicero, it appears
that the last three were Greeks, and the first an Egyp¬
tian, who, according to Herodotus, was the son of Osiris
and Isis, and called Orus. Pausanias is. of the same opi¬
nion as Herodotus, and ranks Apollo among the Egyptian
divinities. The testimony of Diodorus Siculus is still
more express; for in speaking of Isis, after saying that
she had invented the practice of physic, he adds, that she
taught this art to her son Orus, named Apollo, who was
the last of the gods that reigned in Egypt.
It is easy to trace almost all the Grecian fables and
mythologies from Egypt. If the Apollo of the Greeks
was said to be the son of Jupiter, it was because Orus, the
Apollo of the Egyptians, had Osiris for his father, whom
the Greeks confounded with Jupiter. If the Greek Apollo
was reckoned the god of eloquence, music, medicine, and
poetry, the reason was, that Osiris, who was the symbol
of the sun among the Egyptians, as well as his son Orus,
had there taught those liberal arts. If the Greek Apollo
was the god and conductor of the Muses, it was because
Osiris carried with hirh, in his expedition to the Indies,
singing women and musicians. This parallel might be
carried on still further ; but enough has been said to prove
that the true Apollo was that of Egypt.
To the other perfections of this divinity the poets have
added beauty, grace, and the art of captivating the ear
and the heart, no less by the sweetness of his eloquence,
than by the melodious sounds of his lyre.
The defeat of the serpent Python forms a celebrated
incident in the history of Apollo. The waters of Deuca-
ion s deluge, says Ovid, which had overflowed the earth,
eta slime, from whence sprung innumerable monsters ;
an among others the serpent Python, which made great
lavoek in the country about Parnassus. Apollo, armed
V -1 , . rts> him to death; which, physically ex-
pamed, implies, that the heat of the sun having dissipated
if tl steams> these monsters soon disappeared : or,
is fable be referred to history, the serpent was a rob¬
A p o
287
Apollo
ber, who haunting the country about Delphi, and very
much infesting those who came hither to sacrifice, a II
prince who bore the name of Apollo, or one of the priests Apollonius,
of that god, put him to death.
This event gave rise to the institution of the Pythian
games, so frequently mentioned in the Grecian history;
and it was from the legend of Apollo’s victory over the
Python that the god himself acquired the name of Py-
thius, and his priestess that of Pythia. The city of Del¬
phi, where the famous oracles were so long delivered, was
frequently styled Pytho.
Apollo Belvidere, ranked the first in the first class of
ancient statues, and so called from having been placed in
the Belvidere of the Vatican at Rome by Pope Julius II.,
where it remained for 300 years, and till Rome was taken
and plundered by the French in 1797. This celebrated
statue was found in the ruins of ancient Antium about
the end of the 15th century. The artist is unknown.
APOLLODORUS, a famous architect under Trajan
and Adrian, was born at Damascus. He had the direc¬
tion of the bridge of stone which Trajan ordered to be
built over the Danube in the year 104, which was esteem¬
ed the most magnificent of all the works of that emperor.
Adrian, one day as Trajan was discoursing with this
architect upon the buildings he had raised at Rome, would
needs give his judgment, and showed he understood no¬
thing of the matter. Apollodorus turned upon him blunt¬
ly, and said to him, “ Go paint gourds, for }mu are very
ignorant of the subject we are talking upon.” Adrian at
this time boasted of his painting gourds well. The insult
cost Apollodorus his life.
Apollodorus, a celebrated painter of Athens about
408 years before the birth of Christ, was the first who in¬
vented the art of mingling colours, and of expressing lights
and shades. He was admired also for his judicious choice
of subjects, and for beauty and strength of colouring sur¬
passed all the masters that went before him. He excelled
likewise in statuary.
Apollodorus the Athenian, a famous grammarian, the
son of Asclepiades and disciple of Aristarchus. He wrote
many works not now extant; but his most famous pro¬
duction is his Bibliotheca, which treats of the gods and the
heroic ages. It is supposed by some that this is only an
abridgement by another hand, and not the original work of
Apollodorus. In any view it is, however, of value in my¬
thological inquiries. The best edition is that of Heyne,
in 2 vols. 8vo, published in 1803. A French translation,
with notes, was published at Paris in 1805, in 2 vols. 8vo.
APOLLONIUS of Perga, in Pamphylia, is one of the
most illustrious of the ancient Greek geometricians. The
date of his birth has not been precisely ascertained; but
as he flourished under Ptolemy Philopater, who died in the
year 205 b. c., after a reign of 16 years, it is conjectured that
he was born about the middle of the third century before
our era, and that he was about 40 years posterior to Archi¬
medes. He studied at Alexandria under the successors
of Euclid, and is pre-eminently distinguished among the
disciples of that illustrious school, in which the mathema¬
tical sciences were at all times held in the highest esti¬
mation.
Few of the numerous compositions of Apollonius have
escaped the ravages of time; but the description which
has been given of them by Pappus, in the preface to the
seventh book of the Mathematical Collections, explains
their nature and value, and gives the admirers of the an¬
cient analysis great reason to regret the loss of those
which have perished. The most celebrated of his produc¬
tions was the treatise on the Conic Sections; a worhwhich,
according to the testimony of Geminius Rhodius, was re-^
garded with so much admiration by the contemporaries of
288
A P O
A P O
Apollonius, its author, that they bestowed on him the title of the
Great Geometrician. This title is justified by the excel¬
lence of the work, which is unquestionably far superior to
any treatise on the subject which we know to have exist¬
ed among the ancients, and which has not indeed, in some
respects, been surpassed in modern times. But while we
bestow this praise on the treatise of Apollonius, we are
not to suppose that he was the inventor of all, or even the
greater part, of the properties which are demonstrated in
it. Several treatises on the conic sections are known to
have existed previously, in which the theory of these curves
seems to have been prosecuted to a very considerable
length. Pappus mentions, in particular, in terms of the
highest eulogy, the five books on Solid Loci, or the conic
sections, which were composed by Aristseus the ancient^
who lived about 350 years b. c. ; and the construction
given by Menechmus, of the problem to find two mean
proportionals between two given straight lines, which leads
to the duplication of the cube, shows that the disciples of
Plato had advanced far in the same department of geo¬
metry. In fact, as it was the object of Apollonius to give a
complete treatise of the conic sections, he did not scruple
to avail himself of the discoveries of his predecessors, and,
accordingly, embodied in his own work what had previously
been done by Aristseus, Eudoxus of Cnidus, Menechmus,
Euclid, Conon, Thrasidaeus, Nicoteles, and others. It is
now impossible to distinguish the propositions which were
borrowed from his predecessors from those which were
invented by himself; but it is certain that he both made
great additions to the theory of the conic sections, and
improvements in the manner of treating it. Eutocius in¬
forms us that Apollonius was the first who showed that
all the three sections may be cut from the same cone, by
varying the position of the intersecting plane ; for previous
authors had always supposed the plane of the section per¬
pendicular to the side of the cone,—an hypothesis which
requires that the three sections be cut from three cones
of different species, namely, the parabola from a right-
angled cone, the ellipse from an obtuse, and the hyperbola
from an acute. It has, however, been established by Guido
Ubaldus, in his commentary on the second book of the
2Equiponderantes of Archimedes, that the Syracusan geo¬
meter was acquainted with the fact, that the three sec¬
tions may be derived from the same cone. The generali¬
zation is indeed so very obvious, that we can scarcely per¬
suade ourselves that it was not previously made by the
more ancient writers; and it is probable, that if they
usually assumed the cutting plane to have a particular
position with reference to the cone, it was only on account
of some facilities which that hypothesis afforded them in
establishing the fundamental properties of the sections.
Pappus ascribes to Apollonius the names by which the
three sections are now distinguished and characterized:
the term Parabola, however, occurs in the writings of
\ Archimedes.
Of the eight books which Apollonius composed on the
conic sections, the first four only have reached us in the
original Greek. Three more have been preserved through
the medium of an Arabic version; the last is unfortunate¬
ly lost. A Latin translation of the first four was publish¬
ed by Memmius, at Venice, in 1537; and another, much
more accurate, by Commandine, in 1568, with the addi¬
tion of the commentary of Eutocius, and the lemmas of
Pappus to all the eight books. Hitherto the last four
books had not been discovered; but as the nature of their
contents was sufficiently known from the indications of
Pappus, several attempts were made to supply their loss
by a restoration. Maurolycus, a Sicilian geometer of the
16th century, successfully commenced the theory of the
fifth and sixth books; and Viviani, the last and favourite
disciple of the illustrious Galileo, was employed on theAptL
same subject, when two different manuscript versions
of the work of Apollonius were accidentally brought to
light. Among a number of Arabic manuscripts brought
from the East by Golius, one was found which contained
seven books of the conics. Golius was sufficiently in-
structed in geometry to be aware of the value of his dis¬
covery ; he hastened to communicate it to the mathema¬
ticians of that time, and proposed to publish a transla¬
tion of the work. This project, however, failed from some
cause which has not been explained ; and, notwithstand¬
ing the intimation which had been given, the last four
books still continued to be regarded as lost, till the year
1658, when Alphonso Borelli, the celebrated author of the
treatise De Motu Animalium, happened to discover, in the
library of the Medici at Florence, an Arabic manuscript
with the following inscription : Apollonii Pergcei Conico-
rum Libri Octo. Borelli obtained permission to carry this
manuscript to Rome, where, with the assistance of Abra¬
ham Ecchellensis, he translated the fifth, sixth, and
seventh books. Notwithstanding the inscription, the
eighth book was wanting; and as this was also the case
with regard to the manuscript of Golius, it seems probable
that it had not been translated into Arabic.
The last four books of the conics of Apollonius formed a
considerable part of what may be termed the transcenden¬
tal geometry of the ancients ; and they exhibit some of the
most elegant and successful applications of the geometrical
analysis. The fifth book, for example, which treats of the
greatest and least lines that can be drawn from given
points to the peripheries of the curves, contains nearly all
the properties of normals and radii of curvature which
are now generally investigated by the aid of the differen¬
tial calculus, and almost anticipates the admirable theory
of involutes and evolutes which confers so brilliant a
lustre on the name of Huygens. The seventh book also
contains some theorems which, although they have now
passed into the elements, are sufficiently difficult and re¬
mote to afford scope for the exercise ot address and in¬
genuity, even when their investigation is attempted by
the modern analysis. Dr Halley, guided by the descrip¬
tion of Pappus, divined the contents of the eighth book,
and published a magnificent edition of the whole at Ox¬
ford in 1710.
The other treatises of Apollonius which are mentioned
by Pappus are the following:—Is#, The Section of Ra¬
tio, or Proportional Sections; 2<7, the Section of Space;
3(7, the Determinate Sections; 4#/«, the Tangencies; 5th,
the Inclinations; 6th, the Plane Loci. Each of these
was divided into two books, and, with the data of Euclid
and the porisms, they formed the eight treatises which,
according to Pappus, constituted the body of the ancient
analysis. Of the above treatises of Apollonius, the first
only has reached us through an Arabic translation. It was
discovered in Arabic among the Selden manuscripts in
the Bodleian Library at Oxford, by Dr Edward Bernard,
who commenced a translation of it, from which, however,
he was deterred by the difficulties occasioned by the ex¬
treme inaccuracy of the manuscript before he had finished
a tenth part. This small portion of the translation was
revised by Dr David Gregory ; the rest was translated, or
more properly speaking, divined, by Dr Halley, who pub¬
lished it in 1706, together with the analogous treatise on
the Section of Space, which he had restored after the in¬
dication of its contents given by Pappus. The genera
problem resolved in the first treatise, although it is branch¬
ed out into a great variety of cases, may be comprehend¬
ed in the following enunciation: “ Two straight lines
being given by position, together with a point in eac. ’1
is required to draw through a third given point a straight
A P O
A P O
289
n , jjne intersecting the two former straight lines, so that the
'segments intercepted between the given points and the
points of intersection with the third line may be to each
other in a given ratio.” The problem which forms the
subject of the second treatise differs from the above only
in requiring that the intercepted segments on the two
straight lines given by position shall contain a given rect-
angle.
The object of the treatise on the Determinate Sections
was “ to find a point in a straight line given by position,
the rectangles or squares of whose distances from given
points in the given straight line shall have a given ratio.”
A restoration of this and the two preceding treatises was
attempted by Snellius; but although he certainly resolved
the problems which had been proposed by Apollonius, his
solutions were far inferior in point of elegance to those
of the Greek geometer. The discovery of the treatise on
the Section of Ratio enabled a comparison to be made of
the restored with the original work. Some cases of the
Determinate Section were also resolved by Alexander An¬
derson of Aberdeen, in his supplement to the Apollonius
Redivivus, published at Paris in 1612. But by far the
most complete and elegant restoration of the problem
was given by Dr Simson of Glasgow, with two additional
books on the same subject. It has been published among
his posthumous works.
The treatise on Inclinations,—the object of which was
to insert a straight line of a given length, and tending to
a given point, between two lines (straight lines or circles)
given by position,—was first investigated by Marinus
Ghetaldus, a patrician of Ragusa, afterwards by Hugo
de Omerique in his ingenious treatise on the Geometrical
Analysis, published at Cadiz in 1698. The different cases
of the problem have been resolved in a very elegant
manner by Dr Horsley, who published his restoration in
1770.
The treatise de Tactionibus, which relates to the con¬
tact of circles and straight lines, has afforded exercise for
the ingenuity of many modern mathematicians. The ge¬
neral problem which it embraces may be enunciated as
follows: Three things (points, straight lines, or circles)
being given by position, it is required to describe a circle
which may pass through the given points and touch the
given straight lines and circles. The most difficult case
of the problem is that in which the three things given are
circles; the question being then to determine the centre
and radius of a circle, which shall touch these circles
given in magnitude and position. This problem, which is
now considered as quite elementary, possesses an histpri-
cal interest on account of the great names connected with
its solution. It was proposed by Vieta, the most skilful
geometrician of the 16th century, to Adrianus Romanus,
who, in constructing it, employed the very obvious con¬
sideration of the intersection of two hyperbolas. Such a
solution of a plane problem, which ought to be construct¬
ed by means of straight lines and circles only, was very
far from being satisfactory to Vieta: he therefore himself
proposed a more geometrical construction, and restored
the whole treatise of Apollonius, in a small work which he
published at Paris in 1660 under the title of Apollonius
Gallus. The treatise of Vieta is entitled to the praise of
great ingenuity, but it falls far short of the geometrical
elegance of the known productions of Apollonius; and
simpler solutions have since been found of the more dif¬
ficult cases of the general problem. An algebraic solu¬
tion ot the same question was attempted by Descartes;
hut the equations at which he arrived were so exceed-
ingly complicated, that he himself ingenuously confessed
that he should not be able to construct one of them in a
shorter time than three months. The Princess Elizabeth
vol. in.
of Bohemia, who carried on an epistolary correspondence Apollonius,
with Descartes, gave a solution of the same kind. New-
ton himself, in his Universal Arithmetic, condescended to
consider this problem ; but he succeeded little better than
Vieta, whose method he followed. In the 16th lemma
of the first book of the Principia, he has, however, given
a different and simpler investigation, and reduced with
great skill the two hyperbolic loci of Adrianus Romanus
to the intersection of two straight lines. Simple geome¬
trical solutions, since that of Dr Simson was published,
are to be found in every elementary work. In speaking
of this problem, Montucla observes, that it is one of those
to which the algebraic analysis applies with difficulty.
His opinion, however, would have been different had he
lived to see the extremely simple and elegant algebraic
investigation given by Gergonne in the Annales des Ma-
thematiques, not only of this, but of the analogous pro¬
blem in space which was proposed by Descartes to Fer¬
mat, viz. to describe a sphere touching four spheres given
by position. In fact, it would be difficult to select a pro¬
blem in elementary geometry better calculated to display
the resources and pliability of the algebraic calculus, than
this very one which had been considered as belonging so
exclusively to the analysis of the ancients. A very full
and interesting historical account of this problem is given
in the preface to a little work of Camerer, entitled Apol-
lonii Pergcei quee supersunt, ac maxime Lemmata Pappi
in hos libros, cum Observationibus, &c. Gothae, 1795, 8vo.
The last of the treatises mentioned by Pappus,—de
Locis Planis,—is only a collection of properties of the
straight line and circle, and corresponds to the construc¬
tion of equations of the first and second degree. It has
been restored in the true spirit of the ancient geometry
by Dr Simson, whose treatise well deserves the attention
of the student.
Besides the works which we have now enumerated, we
are informed, by the fragment of the second book of Pap¬
pus, published among the works of Dr Wallis, that Apol¬
lonius occupied himself with arithmetical researches, and
composed a treatise on the multiplication of large numbers.
Astronomy is also indebted to him for the discovery, or at
least for the demonstration, of the method of represent¬
ing, by means of epicycles and deferents, the phenomena
of the stations and retrogradations of the planets. He
appears also to have been the inventor of the method of
projections, and has the distinguished merit of having been
the first who attempted to found astronomy on the prin¬
ciples of geometry, and establish an alliance between
these two sciences which has been productive of the great¬
est benefit to both.
Of the personal character of this most assiduous and
inventive geometrician, nothing is known excepting what
may be gathered from a few unfavourable hints thrown
out by Pappus. Pappus describes him as vain, arrogant,
envious of the reputation of others,, and inclined to de¬
preciate their merit; and contrasts him with the amiable
and disinterested Euclid, who was always ready to allow
to every one his just share of praise, and who manifested
on every occasion the most benevolent feelings towards
all men, especially towards those who laboured to improve
or extend the science of geometry. The charge of ap¬
propriating to himself the discoveries of Archimedes,
which was brought against Apollonius by Heraclius, had
probably no other foundation than the boastful manner in
which he spoke of his own discoveries, and affected to
despise those of other mathematicians; for, as has been
well remarked, pretensions pushed too far excite in the
rest of mankind a sort of re-action of self-love, which
leads them to contest the most legitimate titles. But
whatever may have been the case with regard to the per-
290
A P O
A P O
Apollonius, sonal qualities of Apollonius, the powers of his mind and
his unwearied industry command universal admiration.
The great value attached to his productions by the an¬
cients is manifest from the number and celebrity of the
commentators who undertook to explain them. Among
these we find the names of Pappus, the learned and un¬
fortunate Hypatia, Serenus, Eutocius, &c.
The remarkable editions of the works of Apollonius
are the following:—1. Apollonii Pergoei Conicorum libri
quatuor, ex versions Frederici Commandini. Bononiae,
1566, fol. 2. Apollonii Pergcei Conicorum libri v. vi. vii.
Paraphraste Abalphato Asphanensi nunc primum editi :
Additus in calce Archimedis Assumtorum liber, ex Codici-
bus Arabicis Manuscr.: Abrahamus Ecchellensis Latinos
reddidit: J. Alfonsus Borellus cur am in Geometricis Ver-
sioni contulit, et Notas uberiores in universum opus adjecit.
Florentise, 1661, fol. 3. Apollonii Pergeei Conicorum li¬
bri octo, et Sereni Antissensis de Sectione Cylindri et Coni
libri duo. Oxonias, 1710, fol. (This is the splendid edi¬
tion of Dr flalley.) 4. The edition of the first four
books of the Conics given in 1675 by Barrow. 5. Apol¬
lonii Pergcei de Sectione Rationis libri duo: Accedunt
ejusdem de Sectione Spatii libri duo Restituti: Prcemittitur,
Ae. Opera et Studio Edmundi Halley. Oxonise, 1706,
4to.
See Bayle’s Dictionary ; Bossut, Essai sur THist. Gen.
des Math., tome i.; Montucla, Hist, des Math., tome i.;
Vossius de Scient. Math.; Simson’s Sectiones Conicce, pre¬
face ; and Hutton’s Mathematical Dictionary. (s.)
Apollonius, the author of the Argonautics, and sur-
named the Rhodian, from the place of his residence, is
supposed to have been a native of Alexandria, where he
is said to have recited some portion of his poem while he
was yet a youth. Finding it ill received by his country¬
men, he retired to Rhodes, where he is conjectured to
have polished and completed his work, supporting himself
by the profession of rhetoric, and receiving from the Rho¬
dians the freedom of their city. He at length returned
with considerable honour to the place of his birth, suc¬
ceeding Eratosthenes in the care of the Alexandrian li¬
brary in the reign of Ptolemy Euergetes, who ascended
the throne of Egypt in the year before Christ 246. That
prince had been educated by the famous Aristarchus, and
rivalled the preceding sovereigns of his liberal family in
the munificent encouragement of learning. Apollonius was
a disciple of the poet Callimachus; but their connection
ended in the most violent enmity, which was probably
owing to some degree of contempt expressed by Apollo¬
nius for the light compositions of his master. The learn¬
ed have vainly endeavoured to discover the particulars of
their quarrel. The only work of Apollonius which has
descended to modern times is his poem above mentioned,
in four books, on the Argonautic expedition. Both Lon¬
ginus and Quintilian have assigned to this work the mor¬
tifying character of mediocrity. It was published for the
first time at Florence in 1496, with the ancient Greek
Scholia, in a 4to volume, now exceedingly rare. There is
an excellent edition by Brunck, published in 1780, and
another by Beck, published in 1797; but the best is that
of Professor Schafer, printed at Leipsic in 2 vols. 8vo, in
1810-13.
Apollonius, a Pythagorean philosopher, born at Tyana
in Cappadocia about the beginning of the first century. At
16 years ot age he became a strict observer of Pythagoras’s
rules, renouncing wine and all sorts of flesh ; not wearing
shoes, letting his hair grow, and wearing nothing but linen.
He soon after set up for a reformer of mankind, and chose
his habitation in a temple of JEsculapius, where he is said
to have performed many wonderful cures. Philostratus
has written the life of Apollonius, in which there are num¬
berless fabulous stories recounted of him. We are told
that he went five years without speaking, and yet during 11
that time stopped many seditions in Cilicia and Pamphy.
lia; that he travelled, and set up for a legislator; that he^ \
gave out he understood all languages without having ever
learned them ; and that he could tell the thoughts of men,
and understood the oracles which birds gave by their
singing. The heathens were fond of opposing the pre¬
tended miracles of this man to those of our Saviour;
and by a treatise which Eusebius wrote against one Hie-
rocles, we find that the object of the latter, in the treatise
which Eusebius refutes, seems to have been to draw a
parallel between Jesus Christ and Apollonius, in which he
gives the preference to this philosopher. M. Dupin wrote
a confutation of Philostratus’s life of Apollonius.
Apollonius wrote four books of Judicial Astrology; a
Treatise upon the Sacrifices, showing what was proper to
be offered to each deity ; and a great number of Letters;
all of which are now lost.
APOLLOS, in Scripture History, a Jew of Alexandria,
who came to Ephesus during the absence of St Paul, who
was gone to Jerusalem. (Acts xviii. 24.) Apollos was an
eloquent man, and well versed in the Scriptures ; and as he
spoke with zeal and fervour, he taught diligently the things
of God : but knowing only the baptism of John, he was
no more than a catechumen, or one of the lowest order of
Christians, and did not as yet distinctly know the myste¬
ries of the Christian doctrine. However, he knew that
Jesus Christ was the Messiah, and declared himself open¬
ly to be his disciple. When, therefore, he was come to
Ephesus, he began to speak boldly in the synagogue, and
to show that Jesus was the Christ. Aquila and Priscilla
having heard him, took him home with them, instructed
him more fully in the ways of God, and baptized him,
probably in the name of Jesus Christ.
Some time after this he had a mind to go into Achaia;
and the brethren having exhorted him to undertake this
journey, they wrote to the disciples, desiring them to re¬
ceive him. He arrived at Corinth, and was there very
useful in convincing the Jews out of the Scriptures, and
demonstrating to them that Jesus was the Christ. Thus
he watered what St Paul had planted in this city. (1 Cor.
iii. 6.) But the great affection which his disciples enter¬
tained for him threatened.to produce a schism, some say¬
ing I am of Paul, others I am of Apollos, I am of Cephas.
However, this division, which St Paul speaks of in the
chapter last quoted, did not prevent that apostle and
Apollos from being closely united by the bonds of chari¬
ty. Apollos hearing that the apostle was at Ephesus, went
to meet him, and was there when St Paul wrote the
first epistle to the Corinthians ; wherein he testifies that
he had earnestly entreated Apollos to return to Corinth,
but hitherto had not been able to prevail with him; that
nevertheless he gave him room to hope that he would go
when he had an opportunity. St Jerome says that Apol¬
los was so dissatisfied with the division which had happen¬
ed upon his account at Corinth, that he retired into Crete
with Zena, a doctor of the law; and that this disturbance
having been appeased by the letter which St Paul wrote
to the Corinthians, Apollos returned to this city, and was
bishop thereof. The Greeks make him bishop of Uuras,
others say he was bishop oflconium in Phrygia, and others
that he was bishop of Caesarea.
APOLLYON, a Greek word that signifies the destroyer,
and answers to the Hebrew Abaddon. St John in the Re¬
velation (ix. 11) says that an angel having opened the
bottomless pit, a thick smoke issued out of it, and with
this smoke locusts, like horses prepared for battle, and
commanded by the angel of the bottomless pit, called in
Hebrew Abaddon, but in Greek Apollyon.
A P O
A P O
291
10 e APOLOGUE, in matters of literature, an ingenious
ji method of conveying instruction by means of a feigned
Ire relation called a viorctl fable. The only difference between
parable and an apologue is, that the former, being drawn
from what passes among mankind, requires probability in
the narration ; whereas the apologue, being taken from the
supposed actions of brutes, or even of things inanimate, is
not tied down to the strict rules of probability. iEsop’s
fables are a model of this kind of writing.
APOMYOS Deus (Wo, and fima., fly), in the Heathen
Mythology, a name under which Jupiter was worshipped
at Elis, and Hercules as well as Jupiter at the Olympic
games. These deities were supplicated under this name
to destroy or drive away the vast number of flies which
always attended at the great sacrifices ; and in those which
accompanied the Olympic games, the first was always to
the Apomyos, or Myiagrus Ueus, that he might drive away
the flies from the rest. The usual sacrifice was a bull.
APONO, Peter d’, one of the most famous philosophers
and physicians of his age, born in the year 1250, in a vil¬
lage about four miles from Padua. He was suspected of
magic, and prosecuted by the inquisition. “ The common
opinion of almost all authors,” says Naude, “ is, that he was
the greatest magician of his age; that he had acquired
the knowledge of the seven liberal arts by means of the
seven familiar spirits, which he kept inclosed in a crystal;
and that he had the dexterity to make the money he had
spent come back into his purse.” The ^ame author adds,
that he died before the process against him was finished,
being then in the 80th year of his age; and that, after his
death, they ordered him to be burnt in effigy, in the public
place of the city of Padua. He was the author of various
works, the most remarkable of which are the following:
Conciliator DiflercntiarumPhilosophorum, first published in
1471 ; De Venenis eorumque Remediis, which was translat¬
ed into French by Boet in 1593 ; Expositio Problematum
Aristotelis, 1475 ; Geomantia, 1549; and Dionocides diges-
tus Alphabet. Ord. 1512.
APOPEMPTIC, in ancient poetry, a hymn addressed
to a stranger on his departure from a place to his own
country. The ancients had certain holydays, wherein they
took leave of the gods with apopemptic songs, as suppos¬
ing them returning each to his own country. The deities
having the patronage of divers places, it was but just to
divide their presence, and allow some time to each. Hence
it was that among the Delians and Milesians we find feasts
of Apollo, and among the Argians feasts of Diana, called
Epidemice, as supposing these deities then more peculi¬
arly resident among them. On the last day of the feast
they dismissed them, following them to the altars with apo¬
pemptic hymns.
APOPHTHEGM, a short, sententious, and instructive
remark, pronounced by a person of distinguished character.
APOPLEXY, a distemper in which the patient is sud¬
denly deprived of all his senses, and of voluntary motion.
See Medicine.
APOltIA, a figure in Rhetoric, by which the speaker
shows that he doubts where to begin for the multitude
of matter, or what to say in some strange and ambiguous
j thinfo and, as it were, argues the case with himself.
APORON, or Aporime, a problem difficult to resolve,
and which has never been resolved, though it be not in
itself impossible. The word is derived from aftogog, which
signifies something very difficult and impracticable, being
termed from the privative a, and vo^og, passage. When a
question was proposed to any of the Greek philosophers,
especially of the sect of hcademists ; if he could not give
a solution, his answer was Awogsw, 1 cannot see through it.
ms word is also used by some law writers for an inexpli-
eable speech or discourse.
APOSIOPESIS, in Rhetoric, afterwards called reft'cewcyAposiopesis
and suppression, a figure by which a person really speaks II
of a thing, at the same time that he makes a show as if he AP°stle.
would say nothing of it. The word comes from anoauxau,
I am silent. It is commonly used to denote the same with
ellipsis.
APOSPHRAGISMA (from aero, and o'pgayi^co, I seal),
in Antiquity, the figure or impression of a seal. It was
forbidden among the ancients to have the figure or image
of God on their rings and seals. To this purpose the pre¬
cept of Pythagoras, Ev daxrvTjp iixovu, 0$ou gq eri^Kpepsni!
But in process of time this was little regarded; it was
usual enough to have the figures of Egyptian and other
deities, as well as of heroes, monsters, friends, ancestors,
and even brutes, on their dactyli or ring-seals.
APOSTASY, a renouncing of the true religion. The
primitive Christian church distinguished several kinds of
apostasy. The first, of those who went over entirely from
Christianity to Judaism; the second, of those who mingled
Judaism and Christianity together ; and the third, of those
who complied so far with the Jews as to communicate
with them in many of their unlawful practices, without
making a formal profession of their religion. But the fourth
sort was of those who, after having been some time Chris¬
tians, voluntarily relapsed into Paganism.
APOSTLE properly signifies a messenger or person
sent by another upon some business ; and hence, by way
of eminence, denotes one of the disciples commissioned
by Jesus Christ to preach the gospel.
Christ selected twelve out of the number of his disciples
to be invested with the apostleship. Their names were
Simon Peter, Andrew, James the greater, John, Philip,
Bartholomew, Thomas, Matthew, James the less, Jude,
surnamed Lebbeus or Thaddeus, Simon the Canaanite,
and Judas Iscariot. Of these, Simon, Andrew, James the
greater, and John, were fishermen, and Matthew a publi¬
can, or receiver of the public revenue ; of what profession
the rest were we are not told in Scripture, though it is
probable they were fishermen.
Our Lord’s first commission to his apostles was in the
third year of his public ministry, about eight months after
their solemn election; at which time he sent them out by
two and two. They were to make no provision of money
for their subsistence in their journey, but to expect it
from those to whom they preached. They were to de¬
clare that the kingdom of heaven, or the Messiah, was at
hand; and to confirm their doctrine by miracles. They
were to avoid going either to the Gentiles or to the Sama¬
ritans, and to confine their preaching to the people of
Israel. In obedience to their Master, the apostles went
into all the parts of Palestine inhabited by the Jews,
preaching the gospel and working miracles. The evan¬
gelical history is silent as to the particular circumstances
attending this first preaching of the apostles, and only
informs us that they returned and told their Master of
all that they had done.
Their second commission, just before our Lord’s ascen¬
sion, was of a more extensive and particular nature. They
were now not to confine their preaching to the Jews, but
to “ go and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name
of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.”
Accordingly they began publicly, after our Lord’s as¬
cension, to exercise the office of their ministry, working-
miracles daily in proof of their mission, and making great
numbers of converts to the Christian faith. This alarmed
the Jewish Sanhedrim ; whereupon the apostles were ap¬
prehended, and being examined before the high-priest
and elders, were commanded not to preach any more in
the name of Christ. But this injunction did not terrify
them from persisting in the duty of their calling; for they
292
A P O
A P Q
Apostle continued daily, in the temple, and in private houses,
II teaching, and preaching the gospel.
Apostles’ After the apostles had exercised their ministry for
twelve years in Palestine, they resolved to disperse them¬
selves in different parts of the world, and agreed to deter¬
mine by lot what parts each should take. According to
this division, St Peter went into Pontus, Galatia, and
other provinces of the Lesser Asia; St Andrew had the
vast northern countries of Scythia and Sogdiana allot¬
ted to his portion ; St John’s was partly the same with
Peter’s, namely, the Lesser Asia; St Philip had the Up¬
per Asia assigned to him, with some parts of Scythia and
Colchis ; Arabia Felix fell to St Bartholomew’s share ; St
Matthew preached in Chaldea, Persia, and Parthia; St
Thomas preached likewise in Parthia, as also to the Hyr-
canians, Bactrians, and Indians; St James the less con¬
tinued in Jerusalem, of which church he was bishop; St
Simon had for his portion Egypt, Cyrene, Libya, and
Mauritania; St Jude, Syria and Mesopotamia; and St
Matthias, who was chosen in the room of the traitor Judas,
Cappadocia and Colchis. Thus, by the dispersion of the
apostles, Christianity was very early planted in a great
many parts of the world. Me have but very short and
imperfect accounts of their travels and actions.
In order to qualify the apostles for the arduous task of
converting the world to the Christian religion, they were,
in the first place, miraculously enabled to speak the lan¬
guages of the several nations to whom they were to
preach ; and, in the second place, were endowed with the
power of working miracles, in confirmation of the doc¬
trines they taught; gifts which were unnecessary, and
therefore ceased, in the after-ages of the church, when
Christianity came to be established by the civil power.
St Paul is frequently called the apostle by way of emi¬
nence ; and the apostle of the Gentiles, because his minis¬
try was chiefly made use of for the conversion of the gen¬
tile world, as that of St Peter was for the Jews, who is
therefore styled the apostle of the circumcision. The se¬
veral apostles are usually represented with their respec¬
tive badges or attributes : St Peter with the keys; St Paul
with a sword; St Andrew with a cross or saltier; St
James minor with a fuller’s pole; St John with a cup, and
a winged serpent flying from it; St Bartholomew with a
knife; St Philip with a long staff, whose upper end is
formed into a cross; St Thomas with a lance; St Matthew
with a hatchet; St Matthias with a battle-axe ; St James
major with a pilgrim’s staff and a gourd bottle ; St Simon
with a saw; and St Jude with a club.
Apostle was also used among the Jews for a kind of
officer anciently sent into the several parts and provinces
in their jurisdiction, by way of visitor or commissary, to
see that the laws were duly observed, and to receive the
monies collected for the reparation of the temple, and the
tribute payable to the Romans.
Apostle, in the Greek liturgy, is particularly used for
a book containing the epistles of St Paul, printed in the
order in which they are to be read in churches through
the course of the year. Another book of the like kind,
containing the Gospels, is called EyayysX/oi', Gospel. The
Apostle, of late days, has also contained the other canoni¬
cal epistles, the Acts of the Apostles, and the Revelation.
Hence it is also called Acts of the Apostles, nga^cwrooYfAos;
that being the first book in it.
Apostle is also thought by many to have been the ori¬
ginal name for bishops, before the denomination bishop
was appropriated to their order. Thus Theodoret says
expressly, the same persons were anciently called promis¬
cuously both bishops and presbyters, while those who are
now called bishops were called apostles.
Apostles’ Creed, a formula or summary of the Christian
faith, drawn up, according to Ruffinus, by the apostles Ap
themselves, as a rule of faith, and as a word of distinction, '
by which they were to know friends from foes. Baronius A:
and some other authors conjecture that they did not. 1
compose it till the second year of the reign of Claudius,
little before their dispersion. As to their manner of com¬
posing it, some fancy that each apostle pronounced his
article, which is the reason of its being called symbohm
apostolicum; it being made up of sentences jointly con¬
tributed, after the manner of persons paying each their
club (symbolum) or share of a reckoning.
But there are reasons which may induce us to question
whether the apostles composed any such creed as this.
For, first, neither St Luke in the Acts, nor any other ec¬
clesiastical writer before the 5th century, makes any men¬
tion of an assembly of the apostles in order to the com¬
posing of a creed. Secondly, The fathers of the first
three centuries, in disputing against the heretics, endea¬
voured to prove that the doctrine contained in this creed
was the same which the apostles taught; but they never
pretend that the apostles composed it. Thirdly, If the
apostles had made this creed, it would have been the same
in all churches and in all ages; and all authors would
have cited it after the same manner. But the case is quite
otherwise. In the second and third ages of the church
there were as many creeds as authors, and one and the
same author sets down the creed after a different manner in
several places of his works, which is an evidence that there
was not at that time any creed which was reputed the pro¬
duction of the apostles. In the fourth century Ruffinus
compares together the three ancient creeds of the churches
of Aquileia, Rome, and the East, which differ very con¬
siderably in the terms. Besides, these creeds differed
not only in the terms and expressions, but even in the
articles, some of which were omitted in one or other of
them, such as those of the descent into hell, the communion
of the saints, and the life everlasting. From these reasons
it may be gathered, that though this creed may be said
to be that of the apostles in regard to the doctrines con¬
tained therein, yet it is not to be referred to them as the
authors and first composers of it. Who was the true au¬
thor of it, it is not easy to determine, though its great anti¬
quity may be inferred from this, that the whole form, as
it now stands in the English liturgy, is to be found in the
works of St Ambrose and Ruffinus, both of whom flourish¬
ed in the fourth century.
APOSTOLIC, in the primitive church, was an appella¬
tion given to all such churches as were founded by the
apostles; and even to the bishops of those churches, as
being the reputed successors of the apostles. These were
confined to four, viz. Rome, Alexandria, Antioch, and Je¬
rusalem. In after-times other churches assumed the same
quality, on account, principally, of the conformity of their
doctrine with that of the churches which were apostolical
by foundation, and because all bishops held themselves
successors of the apostles, or acted in their dioceses with
the authority of apostles.
Apostolical Fathers is an appellation usually give0
to the writers of the first century who employed their
pens in the cause of Christianity. Of these writers, Cote-
lerius, and after him Leclerc, have published a collection
in two volumes, accompanied both with their own annota¬
tions and the remarks of other learned men.
APOSTOLIANS, a sect of the Mennonites, which first
sprung up in the year 1663, and derived its name from
Apostool, one of the Mennomte ministers at Amsterdam.
They concurred with them in doctrine, and admitted to
their communion those only who professed to believe all
the sentiments which are contained in their public con¬
fession of faith.
A P O
« fee ' APOSTOLICI, or Apostolics, was a name assumed
M 1 by three different sects, on account of their pretending to
imitate the manner and practice of the apostles. The first
ijiifim' ap0stolici, otherwise called Apotactitce and Apotactici, rose
out of the Encratitae and Cathari in the third century.
They made profession of abstaining from marriage, and
the use of wine, flesh, money, &c. Gerhard Sagarelli
was the founder of the second sect: he obliged his fol¬
lowers to go from place to place as the apostles did, to
wander about clothed in white, with long beards, dishe¬
velled hair, and bare heads, accompanied with women,
whom they called their spiritual sisters. They likewise
renounced all kinds of property and possessions, inveighed
against the growing corruption of the church of Rome, and
predicted its overthrow, and the establishment of a purer
church on its ruins. Sagarelli was burnt alive at Parma in
the year 1300, and was afterwards succeeded by Dul-
cinus, who added to the character of an apostle that of
a prophet and of a general, and carried on a bloody and
dreadful war for the space of more than two years against
Reynerius, bishop of Vercelli: he was at length defeated,
and put to death in a barbarous manner, in the year 1307.
Nevertheless, the sect subsisted in France, Germany, and
other countries, till the beginning of the 15th century,
when it was totally extirpated under the pontificate of
Boniface IX. The other branch of apostolici was of the
12th century. These also condemned marriage, prefer¬
ring celibacy, and calling themselves the chaste brethren
and sisters; though each was allowed a spiritual sister,
with whom he lived in a domestic relation ; and on this
account they have been charged with concubinage. They
held it unlawful to take an oath, they set aside the use
of baptism, and in many things imitated the Manichees.
Bernard wrote against this sect of apostolici.
APOSTOLICUM is a peculiar name given to a kind
of song or hymn, anciently used in churches. The apos-
tolicum is mentioned by Greg. Thaumaturgus as used in
his time. Vossius understands it as spoken of the apostles’
creed: Suicer thinks this impossible, because this creed
was then unknown in the churches of the East.
APOSTROPHE, in Rhetoric, a figure by which a per¬
son who is either absent or dead is addressed as if he
were present and attentive to us. This figure is, in bold-1
ness, a degree lower than the addresses to personified
objects (see Personification), since it requires a less
effort of imagination to suppose persons present who are
dead or absent, than to imitate insensible beings and di¬
rect our discourse to them.
Apostrophe, in Grammar, the contraction of a word by
the use of a comma ; as call'd for called, tho' for though.
APOTACTITfE, or Apotactici, an ancient sect, who,
affecting to follow the examples of the apostles and pri¬
mitive Christians, renounced all their possessions, and de¬
voted them to the common cause. It does not appear
that they at first fell into any errors. Some ecclesiastical
writers assure us that several holy virgins and martyrs of
this sect suffered under the persecution of Dioclesian in
the fourth century; but they afterwards embraced the
opinions of the Encratitae, and taught that the renoun¬
cing of all riches was not only a matter of counsel and ad¬
vice, but of precept and necessity; and hence the sixth
law in the Theodosian code joins the Apotactitae with the
Punomians and Arians.
APOTEICHISMUS, in the ancient military art, a kind
ol line of circumvallation drawn round a place in order to
besiege it. This was also called periteichismus. The first
thing the ancients went about when they designed to lay
close siege to a place, was the apoteichismus, which some¬
times consisted of a double wall or rampart, raised of earth;
a p P 293
the innermost to prevent sudden sallies from the town, Apothecary
the outermost to keep off foreign enemies from coming II
to the relief of the besieged. This answered to what are Apparent,
called lines of contravallation and circumvallation among
the moderns.
APOTHECARY, one who practises the art of phar¬
macy. In London, the apothecaries are one of the city
companies. They were incorporated by a charter from
King James L, procured at the solicitation of Dr Mayerne
and Dr Atkins: till that time they only made a part of
the grocers’ company ; plums, sugar, spice, &c. being sold
in the same shop and by the same person. By an act
which was made perpetual in the ninth year of George I.
they are exempted from serving upon juries, or in ward
and parish offices. They are obliged to make up their
medicines according to the formulas prescribed in the
college dispensatory; and are liable to have their shops
visited by the censors of the college, who are empowered
to destroy such medicines as they think not good.
APOTHEOSIS, in Antiquity, a heathen ceremony,
whereby their emperors and great men were placed among
the gods. The word is derived from a<ro, and @£05, God.
After the apotheosis, which they also called deification and
consecration, temples, altars, and images were erected to
the new deity; sacrifices, &c. were offered, and colleges
of priests instituted. It was one of the doctrines of Py¬
thagoras, which he had borrowed from the Chaldees, that
virtuous persons after their death were raised into the
order of the gods ; and herfee the ancients deified all the
inventors of things useful to mankind, and those who had
done any important services to the commonwealth.
APOTOME, in Geometry, the difference between two
incommensurable lines.
Apotome, in Music, the difference between a greater
and a lesser semi-tone ; expressed by the ratio, 128, 125.
APOTROP/E (from avrorgeTu, I avert), in the ancient
poetry, verses composed for averting the wrath of incen¬
sed deities; and the deities invoked for averting any
threatened misfortune were called Apotrepeans. They
were also called Alexiaci, from aXs^w, / drive away ; and
Averrunci, from averrunco, which denotes the same.
APPARATUS, a term used to denote a complete set of
instruments, or other utensils, belonging to any artist or
machine.—Apparatus is also used as a title of several
books composed in the form of catalogues, bibliothecas,
dictionaries, &c. for the ease and conveniency of study.
APPARENT, in a general sense, something that is vi¬
sible to the eyes, or obvious to the understanding.
Apparent, among mathematicians and astronomers,
denotes things as they appear to us, in contradistinction
from real or true : thus we say, the apparent diameter,
distance, magnitude, place, figure, &c. of bodies.
Apparent Heir, in Law. No inheritance can vest, nor
can any person be the actual heir of another, till the an¬
cestor is previously dead. Nemo est lucres viventis. Be¬
fore that time the person who is next in the line of suc¬
cession is called an heir apparent, or heir presumptive.
Heirs apparent are those whose right of inheritance is
indefeasible, provided they outlive the ancestor; as the
eldest son or his issue, who must by the course of the
common law be heirs to the father whenever he happens
to die. Heirs presumptive are those who, if the ancestor
should die immediately, would in the present circum¬
stances be his heirs, but whose right of inheritance may
be defeated by the contingency of some nearer heir being
born ; as a brother or nephew, whose presumptive succes¬
sion may be destroyed by the birth of a child ; or daugh¬
ter, whose present hopes may be hereafter cut off by the
birth of a son.
294
APPARITIONS.
Appari- An apparition may be defined a spectral illusion, invo-
tions. luntarily generated, by means of which figures or forms,
not present to the actual sense, are nevertheless depic¬
tured with a vividness and intensity sufficient to create a
temporary belief of their reality. It is the result of the
re-action of an excited imagination, renovating past feel¬
ing or impressions, with an energy proportioned to the de¬
gree of excitement; arranging them often in new and fan¬
tastical groups ; and thus surrounding us with a phantas¬
magoria of the bodiless creation of the brain, so distinct
both in outline and lineament, that, while the exciting
cause continues to operate, the illusion of reality predo¬
minates over the mind with an intensity generally equal
to, sometimes greater than, that of the impressions pro¬
duced by actual perceptions. But although the illusion
thus generated is necessarily co-existent with the state of
excitement in which it has its origin; or, in other words,
ceases to be active when the spectral phenomena vanish;
it does not therefore follow that the mind, when it regains
its ordinary condition, becomes immediately sensible of
the hallucination under which it has for a time been la¬
bouring, or capable of distinguishing between the percep¬
tions of sense and the phantasms of imagination. On the
contrary, observation proves, Vhat theory equally sanc¬
tions, that the conviction of reality generally outlasts the
impressions which originally produced it; and that, so far
from any suspicion of illusion being entertained, or any
power of discriminating the actual from the imaginary
being evinced, this conviction takes entire possession of
the mind, and, in many instances, maintains its hold with
a firmness which all the force of argument and reason is
insufficient to overcome. Hence the tenacity, and we
may add the universality, of the belief in apparitions ; and
hence also the prodigious diversity of forms under which
these spectral illusions are presented in the popular legends
and superstitions of different ages and countides ;—a diver¬
sity, in fact, which seems commensurate with the incredi¬
ble variety of influences, whether morbific or other, by
which the imagination may be excited, and past feelings
or impressions vividly renovated in consequence of its re¬
action on the organs of sense.
But however this may be, even*- one must, we think,
agree that the subject of apparitions, viewed in connection
with the philosophy of the human mind, is one of no mean
importance : and, as it has more or less engaged the atten¬
tion of philosophers from the earliest times, a brief and
condensed historical view of the various theories which
have been formed to account for these illusions may prove
neither uninteresting nor uninstructive ; while, in a work
of this nature, intended to form a record of the great mass
of human knowledge, such an outline appears to be not
only requisite, but altogether indispensable.
In the ancient systems of philosophy we meet with the
most opposite and contradictory opinions on the subject
of spiritual essences, as well as in regard to their suppos¬
ed occasional manifestations to the eye of flesh and blood.
Ocellus Lucanus, one of the earliest of the Greek philo¬
sophers whose works have come down to our times, at¬
tempts to account for the appearances of the universe by
having recourse to eternity and the circle. The circle he
conceived to be the appropriate representative of eternity,
if not absolutely identical with it; and as form, time,
motion, and substance are without beginning and without ij
end, so the universe, of which these are but parts, cannot is.
have been generated, and, for the same reason, must be^i'V
incapable of corruption. It is in fact a circle, without be¬
ginning and without end. But this stupendous circle is
divided into parts totally dissimilar, by an isthmus which
our fanciful author has placed somewhere in the neigh¬
bourhood of the moon, and which forms the boundary be¬
tween the residence of the gods, where all is invariable,
and the material universe, where every thing is in a state
of endless change and revolution ; the fates having drawn
this line of demarcation to separate the passible and cor¬
ruptible part from that which is impassive and incorrupti¬
ble, or, in other words, subject to neither motion nor change.
The changes on this side of the isthmus, however, are,
according to Ocellus, just as endless as the state of things
beyond it is immutable; for these changes revolve in a
circle, which has neither beginning nor end, and conse¬
quently must be eternal; and hence the only difference
between the two unequal compartments is, that, in the
one, every thing is in a state of eternal rest, while, in
the other, all is motion and revolution without end. It
seems to follow, therefore, that the fates, in tracing this
line of demarcation, have excluded the gods from all con¬
trol over the material or corruptible part of the universe;
and that the existence of an immortal essence, in the midst
of the confusion of our lower world, is wholly impossible.
Yet, in his fourth book, Ocellus speaks of the Deity con¬
ferring instincts and appetites on man: and, in a fragment
preserved by Stobaeus, he says that life is that which bolds
the body together, and that the cause of life is the soul;
that the world is held together by harmony, and that the
cause of harmony is the Deity; that states are held toge¬
ther by agreement, and that the cause of this agreement
is the law;—sentiments which seem strangely at variance
with the transcendental doctrine of eternity and the circle,
by which all the varied phenomena of the universe were
>to be explained.
The atomic theory of Democritus, which some have re¬
cently attempted to revive, was adopted with certain modifi¬
cations by Epicurus, and has been explained and illustrated
by Lucretius in his philosophical poem on the Nature of
Things; in which he enters with ardour and enthusiasm
into the views of his favourite master, assails his enemies
with the bitterest invective, combats every objection anddif-
ficulty, palliates and mystifies what cannot be defended, and
pours forth his whole genius in support of the system which
Democritus imagined and Epicurus taught. But neither
the numbers nor the ingenuity of the poet have succeeded
in recommending to any rational mind a theory based on
the most extravagant assumptions, and involving conse¬
quences subversive of all those checks and restraints by
which society is held together. At the same time, Lu¬
cretius is the first ancient writer who makes a formal at¬
tack on the popular notions entertained respecting ghosts
and apparitions. These he justly regards as complete il¬
lusions ; and maintains, conformably to the philosophy of
Democritus and Epicurus, that so far from being spirits
returned from the mansions of the dead, they are nothing
more than attenuated films, pellicles, or membranes, cast
off from the surface of all bodies, like the exuvitz or
sloughs of reptiles j1 or, in other words, the mere shadows
1 It is often amusing as well as instructive to trace the history and descent of opinions. The strange notion of Lucretius, that ap¬
paritions are subtile films or images rising from the surfaces of bodies, appears to have entered more or less into many of the systems
APPARITIONS. 295
of things which fear, and its offspring superstition, mistake a self-moving monad or number; Plato thought it a sub- Appari-
for realities. The world, he observes, has long been in a stance conceivable only by the understanding, and moving tions*
Estate of horror and despair from dread of these incorporeal according to harmony and number; Aristotle described
beings ; and he acknowledges that his principal object, in as the first entelecheia, or, to use the language of the trans¬
expounding the doctrines of his master, is to rescue man- lator of Nemesius, “ the first continuall-motion of a bo-
kind from their vain apprehensions, by showing that all die-naturall, having in it those instrumental parts, where-
things are corporeal and dissoluble, not even excepting in was possibility of life and Dinarchus considered it a
the soul itself; and thus destroying that pneumatophobia harmony of heat, cold, moisture, and dryness, or, in other
which, to use the language of Cudworth, makes men words, a contradiction. Some imagined that there is but
“ have an irrational but desperate abhorrence from all one universal soul, distributed in portions throughout all
spirits or incorporeal substances.” Philosophy cannot bodies, animate and inanimate, which doctrine was subse-
certainly be better employed than in endeavouring to quently adopted by the Manicheans ; while others taught
emancipate the mind from the unreal terrors by which it that there is indeed one universal soul, but at the same
is so frequently enslaved. But it can scarcely fail to time many different species. The illustrious head of the
be a subject of regret that the philosophers of the Epi- Platonic school seems to have believed in the existence
curean school should have sought to accomplish a laud- of an universal soul, by means of which all things were
able end by the intervention of means alike absurd and supported in being ; but he conceived that those only were
pernicious. Material necessity, and by consequence athe- to be accounted living creatures which had separate souls,
ism, is at the root of all their doctrines; nor can these, The doctrine of transmigration was a natural consequence
therefore, be admitted to be true without overwhelming of these opinions, and, what is not a little remarkable, it
religion in the same ruin with superstition. Hence they seems to have been generally received among those phi-
are chargeable with the grievous fault of striking at a losophers who believed most firmly in the immortality of
mass in order to reach an individual; of attempting to hew the soul; some making it pass indiscriminately into the
down the trunk in order to clear away a withered branch, bodies of plants and animals; others, into all organized
At the same time they have the unquestionable merit of structures; while a third set, conceiving that every kind
being the first who endeavoured, however unsuccessfully, of soul, whether rational or irrational, has a structure
to account, upon natural principles, for those appearances, exactly suited to its own faculties and no other, con-
which have in all ages more or less excited the fears fined it to structures of the same species. Plato distin-
and mingled with the superstitions of mankind. guished these faculties into three classes, the vegetative,
But, without dwelling on particular systems of philoso- sensitive, and rational; and assigned a separate residence
phy, we may observe generally, that although the belief to each, the habitation of the last being, according to
in spectres or phantasms appears to be as old as the exis- him, in the head.
tence of the human race, this belief has in every in- Indeed the practice of arranging the logical entities,
stance been modified, and we may almost say regulated, known by the names of powers, faculties, ov functions, into
by the prevalent pneumatological opinions respecting the different classes, and ascribing them to different species
soul, whether these have been derived from the writings of souls, appears to have been prevalent at an early pe-
of philosophers and poets, or imbibed from sources pure- riod, both among philosophers and poets. Empedocles
ly mythological. Strictly speaking, indeed, the character allotted a rational and a sensitive soul to every animal;
of superstitious credulity has been in all ages the same; the rational one being derived from the gods, and the
but it is nevertheless true, that its particular objects have sentient a product of the four elements. But the ancients
varied, as the opinions of mankind have changed respect- generally reserved the rational soul for man. In Homer's
ing the sentient principle or cause of the vital phenomena, time the soul was divided into two species, the (p^v and
In the case of the Greeks and Romans this is peculiarly the dupas, but afterwards, according to Diogenes Laertius,
remarkable; inasmuch as their superstitions afford ample into three; while the body was considered tripartite,
evidence of the diversity of opinion that prevailed re- being composed of a mortal or crustaceous part,—a divine,
garding the soul, yet are all more or less tinctured with ethereal, or luciform portion, appropriated to the <p^v,—
its predominant colour and complexion. Democritus and and an aerial, misty, or vaporous part, allotted to the
Epicurus, as we have seen, considered it corporeal, but 8v[jjog. After the dissolution of the mortal part, however,
differed widely as to its substance; the Stoics maintain- the pgjjn was entirely separated from the Qv^oi, and a dif-
ed that it was ignited air; Hippo held that it was ferent habitation assigned to each. Hence we learn from
water; and Heraclitus was of opinion that, as the anima Homer, that the of Hercules was actually feasting
mundi, or soul of the world, was a vapour or exhalation with the gods, and making love to Hebe, at the very time
from the moist elements, so the souls of animals were that Ulysses was conversing with his in Hades,
vapours or exhalations from their own bodies, or some- Similar notions were entertained by the Roman poets,
thing external. Of those, again, who believed the soul to According to them, every man possessed a threefold soul,
be incorporeal, some maintained that it was a substance, which, after the dissolution of the body, resolved itself
and immortal, while others asserted that it was neither, into the Manes, the Anima or Spiritus, and the Umbra,
I bales taught that it was always in motion, and itself the to each of which a different place was assigned. The
origin or cause of that motion ; Pythagoras regarded it as Manes descended into the infernal regions, to inhabit
')a ^le same subject taught by the schoolmen in the middle ages, although the latter have not always remembered to acknowledge
uieir obligations to the Roman poet. A similar view may also be detected in the reveries of the sympathetic philosophers, and par-
iculaiiy in the theory of the transmission of spirits propounded by Lavater; nor are there wanting traces of its existence in the
poindar superstitions both of ancient and modern times. Some of the older philosophers, on the other hand, appear to have con-
pU'i, t*ie Epicurean doctrine of corporeal images much more literally than its great poetical expounder seems to have intended.
■'Cllus, for instance, stoutly contends for the heretical doctrine of the materiality of demons, in which he seems to have been a stanch
lever. Paracelsus, conceiving that the elements were inhabited by four kinds of demons—spirits, nymphs, pigmies, and salaman-
i ers—argues, in like manner, for the materiality of these non-descript beings, but seems inclined to think that they possessed caro
wn-adamica, which may easily be conceded to him. Cudworth maintains the materiality of angels; and some of his successors, im-
piovmg upon their models, contend for the materiality of every thing in heaven above or in the earth beneath; thus completing the cycle
a surdity, and bringing us back at last to the Epicurean doctrine, from which we set out.
296
APPARITIONS.
Appari- either Tartarus or Elysium; the Anima ascended to the
tions. skies, to mingle with the gods ; while the Umbra hovered
around the tomb, as if unwilling to quit its connection
with the body, of which it was the wraith or shadow.
Hence Virgil represents Dido, Avhen about to expire, as
threatening to haunt iEneas with her umbvci, at the same
time consoling herself with the expectation that the tidings
of his punishment will reach her manes in the shades below.
Nor are there wanting traces of an analogous belie! in the
popular superstitions of modern times. It is an article of
ghostly faith, that apparitions are frequently seen near
the spot where the gross or crustaceous body lies, waiting
either until that body be interred, or until some crime be
confessed and expiated ; and, if tradition may be in aught
believed, the spectral appearances of individuals have oc¬
casionally been observed previous to their death, of which,
indeed, these illusions are the sure forerunners or har¬
bingers. Among the Greeks such spectres were denomi¬
nated cpcLVTMti/jjCiTa, ‘TtviMfLarU) s/ci&Aa, apparitions, aerial foims,
likenesses; while the Romans called them spectra, umbrce,
simulacra, manes, imagines, visions, shades, similitudes,
ghosts, and images.
Some, however, thought that spectral illusions were souiS
visibly expanded ; but others doubted whether they were
the principles of life, or merely the vehicles of such
principles. The ghost of Hercules, which Ulysses saw in
Hades, was, according to Homer, his and £/SwXov, or
his corporeal likeness, animated by his A//.og; and such si¬
mulacra were supposed to speak, to complain, to feel hun¬
ger, and to receive nourishment, though probably at that
table only where spare fast diets with the gods. It may
also be observed, that, according to Virgil, the umbrce
were the animce or souls themselves, and were all sprung
from the same source as the soul of the universe, namely,
from ether or elemental fire. Hence, the umbrce which
iEneas beheld in the shades below, when he went thither
to visit his father Anchises, were ethereal souls, receiving
rewards or suffering punishments for their past deeds;
some for inexpiable crimes, which rendered their punish¬
ments eternal; others for offences, the stains of which
might be obliterated, and who, consequently, were ex¬
posed for a series of ages to the action of air, water, or
fire, “ until the crimes done in their days of nature were
burned and purged away.” At the same time, it is quite
true, as Dr Barclay has remarked, that “ in most, if not in
all of these simulacra, the dress and its fashions were re¬
presented as well as the body; while, in all the poetical
regions of the dead, chariots and various species of ar¬
mour were honoured likewise with their separate simu¬
lacra; so that these regions, as appears from the Odys¬
sey, jEneixl, and Edda, were just the simulacra of the
manners, opinions, customs, and fashions, that character¬
ized the times and countries in which their poetical his¬
torians flourished.”1 2
To the superstitions of Greece and Rome we are also in¬
debted for those subordinate spirits named demons or genii,
who for many centuries were the subject of numberless
spectral illusions. These intermediate beings were distin¬
guished by the Platonists from the superior deities of the
popular mythology on the one hand, and from heroes or
demigods on the other. They were divided into beneficent
and malignant spirits; and, according to the conceptions of
the Platonic philosophers, differed in no material degree
from the good and evil angels of the Christian belief. So¬
crates fancied himself constantly attended by a demon or
genius, to whose inspirations or suggestions he conceived
himself indebted for those views of practical wisdom and
philosophy which have rendered his name so deservedly
illustrious. Among the Romans, again, genii were sup¬
posed to be messengers of the gods, employed, on particular
occasions, to give intimation to men of approaching events,
or calamities soon to befall them. Of this kind was the
phantasm which appeared to Brutus sitting dejected in
his tent, and told him that they would meet again at
Philippi.3 Cornelius Sylla received a similar intimation
from an apparition, which accosted him by his name: and,
concluding that his death was at hand, the ex-dictator
prepared himself for the event, which took place the fol¬
lowing evening, in consequence of a sudden and violent
attack of fever. Cassius Severus, the poet, a short time
before he was slain by order of Augustus, saw, during the
night, a human form of gigantic size, with his skin black,
his countenance squalid, his beard grizzled, and his hair
dishevelled; a phantasm not unlike the evil genius so
powerfully described by Lord Byron as appearing to Man¬
fred in the hour of his agony.4 The emperor Julian, on
1 This notion of a threefold soul is well expressed in the following lines, attributed to Ovid
Bis duo sunt homini: Manes, Caro, Spiritus, Umbra:
Quatuor ista loci bis duo suscipiunt;
Terra tegit Carncm, tumulum circumvolat Umbra,
Orcus habet Manes, Spiritus astra petit.
1 Inquiry into the Opinions, ancient and modern, concerning Life and Organization, p. 14. By John Barclay, M. D. F.dinb. 1822, ovo.
1 The observations of Sir Walter Scott on the spectre which appeared to Brutus on the eve of the battle of Philippi are equall)
just and philosophical, in so far as regards the exciting cause:—“ The anticipation of a dubious battle, with all the doubt and uncer¬
tainty of its event, and the conviction that it must involve his own fate, and that of his country, was powerful enough to conjure up
to the anxious eye of Brutus the spectre of his murdered friend Caesar, respecting whose death he perhaps thought himself less justi¬
fied than at the Ides of March, since, instead of having achieved the freedom of Rome, the event had only been the renewal of cm.
wars, and the issue might appear most likely to conclude in the total subjection of liberty. It is not miraculous that the masculint
spirit of Marcus Brutus, surrounded by darkness and solitude, distracted probably by the recollection of the kindness and favour o
the great individual whom he had put to death to avenge the wrongs of his country, though by the slaughter of his own friend, shout
at length place before his eyes in person the appearance which termed itself his evil genius, and promised again to meet him at u
lippi. Brutus’ own intentions, and his knowledge of the military art, had probably long since assured him that the decision ot 11<
civil war must take place at or near that place; and allowing that his own imagination supplied that part of his dialogue with <
spectre, there is nothing else which might not be fashioned in a vivid dream or a waking reverie, approaching, in absorbing and en
grossing character, the usual matter of which dreams consist. That Brutus, well acquainted with the opinions of the Tlatonis s
should be disposed to receive without doubt the idea that he had seen a real apparition, and was not likely to scrutinize very minute;
the supposed vision, may be naturally conceived ; and it was also natural to think, that although no one saw the figure but himse
his contemporaries were little disposed to examine the testimony of a man so eminent, by the strict rules of cross-examination am
conflicting evidence, which they might have thought applicable to another person and a less dignified occasion.” {Demonology
Witchcraft, p. 10, 11.)
4 The description alluded to in the text is as follows:—
I see a dusk and awful figure rise
Like an infernal god from out the earth;
His face wrapt in a mantle, and his form
Robed as with angry clouds; he stands between
Thyself and me, but I do fear him not.
APPARITIONS.
ri one occasion, while engaged in an expedition, beheld a
is!- spectre or apparition clad in rags, yet bearing in its hands
a horn of plenty, covered with a linen cloth; and thus
emblematically attired, the spirit stalked mournfully past
the hangings of the Apostate’s tent. Lastly, Dio of Sy¬
racuse was visited by one of the Furies in person, not in
the shape of a vixen, but of a horrid phantasm, the ap¬
pearance of which was considered by the soothsayers in¬
dicative of the death of his son (which occurred soon af¬
ter), as well as of his own approaching dissolution. Many-
other instances might be given of similar illusions, evi¬
dently conjured up by the workings of an excited imagi¬
nation re-acting on the organs of sense, and believed to be
harbingers of “ coming eventsbut those we have men¬
tioned are sufficient to show the opinions entertained in
regard to such apparitions, and to exemplify the power
which superstition exercises over the mind when unen¬
lightened by a sound and rational philosoph}\ We may
add, however, that demons or genii were frequently re¬
garded as private monitors, who by their insinuations dis¬
posed each man to good or evil actions, and were not only
reporters of his crimes in this life, but registrars of them
J against his trials in the next; an opinion which the Romans
evidently derived from the Greeks, among whom a similar
notion prevailed from an early period of their history.
Among the Jews and early Christians we find analogous
superstitions, though, as might have been expected, much
more varied and complex in their details. Like the Greeks
and Romans, the Jews believed in good and evil spirits,
to the latter of which the name of demons came to be ex¬
clusively appropriated; and this belief they founded part¬
ly on the statements contained in their own Scriptures,
partly on notions derived from the Pagans. Some of their
angels were supposed to be created out of the elements
of fire, others out of the wind ; and both classes forfeited
their immortality whenever they issued from their allot¬
ted place. Their business was to instruct mankind in
wisdom and knowledge ; and every thing in the world was
conceived to be under their government. Even to the herbs
of the field, supposed to exceed twenty thousand in number,
presiding angels were assigned; and rain, hail, thunder,
lightning, fire, fishes, reptiles, animals, men, cities, em¬
pires, nations, were ^11 respectively under the dominion
of spiritual powers. Nor were their demons less nume¬
rous than their tutelar genii or angels, as any one may
easily satisfy himself by consulting the Talmud, in which
this multitudinous array of spirits is very minutely de¬
scribed. Every form of evil, whether physical or moral,
was ascribed to the direct agency of one or other of this
subordinate tribe of devils, whose sole business it was to
work mischief, and who were also conceived to be inde¬
fatigable in the exercise of their calling; so much so that,
in the constant warfare carried on between the good and
evil spirits, it is far from being clear that the former had
always the advantage. Demoniacal possession is only one
form under which this infernal agency manifested itself.
In a word, the superstitious Jew who devoutly believed
in the wild vagaries engendered by the seething imagina¬
tions of the Rabbin, might have said with the Roman
satirist, Nostraregio tamplena est numinibus, utfaciliuspos-
sis deum quam hominem invenire.
It is not to be wondered at, however much it may
be regretted, that many of these notions accompanied
297
the spreading of the gospel, and communicated a taint Appari-
of Jewish superstition to the faith of the first Christ- tions.
ians. The mind is unable at once to emancipate itselfv,-^v~>‘"'/
from the dominion of delusions, which have been conse¬
crated by time and sanctioned by authority, and which,
insensibly imbibed by education and habit, address them¬
selves to the natural fears and feelings of the human
heart. Hence it ought not to surprise us that, not only
at the commencement of the Christian dispensation, but
during a very long period afterwards, evident traces may
be discovered of the prevalence of the popular opinion
mentioned by Symmachus, namely, “ that the Divine Be¬
ing had distributed to cities various guardians, and that
as souls were communicated to infants at their birth, so
particular tutelary spirits were assigned to particular so¬
cieties of men.” On the other hand, some sects, puzzled
to account for the origin of evil, and affecting philosophy
without possessing a philosophical spirit, systematized the
Jewish superstitions, by combining them with the creed
of Zoroaster, and promulgating formally the doctrine of a
ceaseless antagonism between the good and evil principles,
personified in the Ormusd and Ahriman of the Persian
mythology; while others, again, imitating the classifica¬
tion of the different orders of spirits by Plato, attempted
a similar arrangement with respect to the hierarchy of an¬
gels.1 Both systems involved the constant agency of spirit¬
ual power in the government of the world, and admitted
also its occasional manifestation in the shape of apparitions.
Among the Fathers, however, great diversity of opinion
prevailed in regard to these illusions, which no one seems
to have dreamt of attempting to explain by reference to
natural causes. Origen, for example, conceived that souls,
tainted with the guilt of flagrant crimes, and not purged
from their impurity, were either confined in a species of
limbo, or attached to particular spots, where, within cer¬
tain limits, they might ramble about at will. Athanasius
maintained that souls, when they were once released from
their bodies, held no more communion with mortal men;
and the more rational of the early theologians condemned
all visions and apparitions that had not the unequivocal
sanction of the Deity, our Saviour, or the angels. Augus¬
tin also remarked that, if souls did actually walk and visit
their friends, he was convinced his mother, who had fol¬
lowed him by land and sea, would have shown herself to
him, in order to inform him what she had learned in an¬
other state, as well as to give him much useful advice.
Others, however, yielded to the current superstitions,
which they laboured to reconcile with the doctrines and
statements of Holy Writ.
But it was not until a much later period of Christianity
that more decided doctrines were established relative to
the origin and nature of demons; and it is principally to
the Papal Church of Rome that the unenviable honour is
due, of adopting and methodizing the vagaries of the Pa¬
gans, as well as the legends of the Talmud, and thus ori¬
ginating that system of demonology which, from various
causes, grew to such a monstrous height during the mid¬
dle ages, as completely to overwhelm Christianity under
its revolting and abominable fictions. When this church
recognised the doctrine, that the functions of ministering
angels were assigned to the spirits of departed saints, she
opened a door for the admission of the abominations of
Paganism in a new form,2 3 and the encouragement of su-
1 We allude to the Gnostics, according to whom the gradations in the hierarchy of angels stood thus:—The first and highest order
"as named seraphim, and the second cherubim; the third was the order of thrones, and the fourth that of dominions ; the fifth was
the order of virtues, the sixth of powers, the seventh of principalities, the eighth of archangels, and the ninth or lowest that of angels,
fhis fable, as Dr Hibbert remarks, was pointedly censured by the apostles; yet, nevertheless, it outlived the pneumatologists of the
Middle ages, and is scarcely even now exploded.
3 It is impossible not to feel that the reproaches which Reginald Scot casts upon the church of Rome, on account of her hea¬
thenism, are well merited, and that their chief bitterness is not so much in the unrelenting irony of that dauntless writer, as in
VOL. in. 2 P
298
APPARITIONS.
Appari- perstltions, utterly subversive of all true religion; while,
tions. on the other hand, by countenancing and fostering the fran-
tjc extravagances of the demonologists, more particularly
in regard to the impossible crime of witchcraft, she did all
in her power to perpetuate the empire of delusion, and at
the same time made herself responsible for the multiplied
atrocities which were committed under its influence. She
became, in fact, the nursing mother of lies, and the avowed
patroness of the powers of darkness. The devil and his
legions were everywhere and in every thing: diabolical
agency was supposed to be unremitting and universal.
The priests strengthened their dominion by practising
conjurations and exorcisms; while the monks fabricated
legends suited to the prevailing taste, and calculated to
thicken the delusion which added so greatly to their spirit¬
ual power. In the meanwhile Satan’s invisible world was
displayed with a topographical minuteness of detail, which
could scarcely have proved very agreeable to that great
personage. The nature, history, and rank of devils were
curiously inquired into, and the point of precedency in the
infernal hierarchy settled to a nicety; the various forms
assumed by them in the course of their operations upon
earth were also very fully described; the different tests
by which their presence might be detected were given
with something like scientific precision; and, what is still
more extraordinary, the number of these fallen spirits was
determined to a fraction. In short, the wildest fictions
which imagination ever coined were gravely received as
matters of faith and doctrine; while a new impulse and
direction were thereby given to popular superstition, which
the ghostly legends of the Church had far outstripped in
point of extravagance.
At this period, accordingly, the belief in apparitions
was universal, and people would have sooner doubted
their own existence or identity, than ventured to call in
question the most grotesque fooleries which the human
fancy ever imagined. Even the Reformation, which over¬
threw so many errors, eradicated so many prejudices,
and destroyed so many delusions, left this one as hideous
as ever. And so far from proving himself superior to the
vain imaginations and follies of his time, Martin Luther
has left abundant evidence to show, that he was as deep¬
ly imbued with superstitious credulity, and believed as
firmly in diabolical apparitions, as tbe most illiterate monk
in the church which he shook to its very foundations.
He even fancied that the devil took a particular pleasure
in annoying him, doubtless from pique at the successful re¬
sistance he had opposed to the power and pretensions of
Rome ; and he relates several conversations, or rather al¬
tercations, he had had with the Evil One, in which, by his
own showing, the reformer had clearly the best of it (so far
at least as abuse was concerned), and generally ended by
putting the fallen spirit to flight. On one occasion in par¬
ticular, when the Tempter had intruded himself rather un¬
seasonably, and had chosen to assume “ a glorious form of
our Saviour Christ,” the reformer, who at first expected a
revelation, lost all temper as soon as he discovered the real
character of his visitant, and exclaimed fiercely, “ Away,
thou confounded devil; I know no other Christ than he that
was crucified, and who, in his word, is pictured and preach¬
ed unto me ; whereupon,” he adds, “ the image vanished,
which was the very Devil himself." And all his narratives
of losses or misfortunes which happened to individuals in
whom he felt an interest commonly end with the pithy
solution, “ This did the devil.”1 Nor was he at all singular
in entertaining these notions, which in fact were equally
shared by the other reformers, and continued long after¬
wards to exert a most powerful influence upon the faith
of all Europe; particularly in regard to the imaginary crime
of witchcraft, for which so many unhappy wretches suf¬
fered death both in this and in other countries.
It would be vain to inquire whether, at the period in
question, or indeed for a long time afterwards, any attempt
was made to expose the impostures which were continual¬
ly practised, or to account, upon rational principles, for
those spectral illusions which are known to be generated
in particular states of the body and mind. Such an idea
seems never to have entered the head of any one; and
indeed if a sceptic had arisen bold enough to insinuate
even a suspicion of the fallacy of the received opinions,
he would have been sacrificed without mercy to the bloody
Moloch, who was then the object of almost universal ho¬
mage. He might perhaps have denied his God, and blas¬
phemed his Saviour with impunity; but if he had dared to
dispute the agency of the Devil, to doubt the reality of his ap¬
pearances, or in any manner of way to assail the creed of the
their truth. “ Surelie,” says he, “ there were in the Popish church more of these antichristian gods in number, more in com¬
mon, more private, more publicke, more for lewd purposes, and more for no purpose, than among all the heathen, either heretofore or
at this present time ; for I dare undertake, that for everie heathen idol I might pronounce twenty out of the Popish church. For
there were proper idols of every nation, as St George on horseback for England, St Andrew for Burgundie and Scotland, St Michael
for France, St James for Spain, St Patrike for Ireland, St Davie for Wales, St Peter for Rome and some part of Italic. Had not
every citie in all the Pope’s dominions his severall patrone ; as Paule for London, Denis for Paris, Ambrose for Millen (Milan), Louen
for Gaunt, Itomball for Mackline, St Mark’s Lion for Venice, the three magician kings for Cullen, and so of other ? Yea, had they
not for everie small towne and everie village and parish (the names whereof I am not at liberty to repeat) a severall idol: as St Se¬
pulchre for one, St Bride for another; St All Hallowes, All Saints, and Our Ladie for all at once ? Had they not hee idols and shee
idols, some for men, some for women, some for beasts, and some for fowels ? And do you not thinke that St Marline might be op¬
posed to Bacchus ? If St Marline be too weak, we have St Urbane, St Clement, and manie others to assist him. Was Venus and
Meretrix an advocate for whores among the Gentiles ? Behold, there were in the Romish church to encounter them, St Aphra, St
Aphrodite, and St Maudline. Was there such a traitor among the heathen idols as St Thomas Becket ? or such a whore as St Bridget ?
I warrant you, St Hugh was as good a huntsman as Anubis. Was Vulcane the protector of the heathen smithes ? Yea, forsooth, and
St Euloge was patron for ours. Our painters had Luke, our weavers had Steven, our miliars had Arnold, our potters had St Gore
with a devil on his shoulders and a pot in his hand. Was there a better horseleech among the gods of the Gentiles than St Loy ? or
a better sow-gelder than St Anthonie ? or a better tooth-drawer than St Apolline ? I believe that Apollo Parnopeius was no better
a rat-catcher than St Gertrude, who hath the Pope’s patent and commendation therefore.” And so honest Reginald proceeds with
his expostulatory comparison, which, in the true spirit of his age (when the phantasms of demonology maintained their dominion even
over those minds which had cast off the fetters of the church of Rome), he concludes by declaring that “ all these antichristian gods,
otherwise called popish devils, are as rank devils” as any that are spoken of in the Psalms, or mentioned in other parts of Scripture.
(See Discourse on Devils and Spirits, appended to the Discourse of Witchcraft.)
1 Mr Coleridge, in his Friend, vol. ii. p. 336, gives the following natural and rational account of the origin of Luther’s visions:—
“ Had Luther been himself a prince, he could not have desired better treatment than he received during his eight months’ stay ij1
the Wartzburg: and in consequence of a more luxurious diet than he had been accustomed to, he was plagued with temptations both
from the ‘ flesh and the devil.’ It is evident from his letters that he suffered under great irritability of his nervous system, the
common effect of deranged digestion in men of sedentary habits, who are at the same time intense thinkers; and this irritability add¬
ing to and vivifying the impressions made upon him in early life, and fostered by the theological systems of his manhood, is
abundantly sufficient to explain all his apparitions, and all his mighty combats with evil spirits.”
APPARITIONS. 299
to ,a demonologists, it would have been better for him that amill-
Mon stone had been hanged about his neck, and he had been
'fv'--'cast into the midst of the sea. On the gibbet or at the stake,
he would infallibly have expiated the audacity of his unbe¬
lief. In process of time, however, humanity began to lift up
her voice, and reason seemed to recover from the long trance
into which the reign of delusion had thrown her. Scattered
rays of light broke in from various quarters; as knowledge
advanced, the mind became expanded; a spirit of inquiry
was gradually developed ; the learned began to reason and
to doubt; and the empire of superstition was shaken. For
long, the vulgar creed, which had been deeply tinged with
the monstrosities and follies we have alluded to, resisted
the influence of the causes which were now at work, sap¬
ping the foundations of the whole edifice of delusion ; and
even yet, amidst all the light with which we are surrounded,
some corners of the world still remain unilluminated. But
a change had come over the spirit of the dream in which
the nations had so long been entranced; and men, having
begun to examine, soon learned to doubt and disbelieve.
About the end of the sixteenth and beginning of the
seventeenth century, various theories were suggested to
account for those extasies of imagination in which spectral
illusions have their origin; and, in the memorable experi¬
ment of palingenesis, or the resurrection of plants (a secret
known to Digby, Kircher, Schot, Gafferel, Vallemont, and
others), an explanation was sought of apparitions, which
were thought to be reproduced in a similar manner. To
this succeeded the doctrine of astral spirits, as they were
called; which was an attempt to combine the metaphysical
opinions then entertained respecting ideas, with the con¬
clusions deduced from the experiment of palingenesis, or
the reproduction of a rose, like the phenix from its ashes.
Others, again, referred all the phenomena of extasies,
hallucinations, and apparitions to the phantasy dr imagi¬
nation, which was justly conceived to exert a powerful in¬
fluence over the mind, and to be primarily concerned in
the production of those illusions which give birth to a
belief in apparitions. Van Helmont, Hoffmann, and most
of the medical inquirers of that age, adopted this explana¬
tion ; and several passages in Hamlet show that such was
also the belief entertained by our immortal dramatist. If Appari-
the imagination, it was argued, can induce a particular form tions-
or mark upon the foetus in the womb, much more must'v->^v^v‘
it be capable of vivifying and clothing ideas in the mind
so as to create an illusion of reality. Nor were these in¬
quiries confined to apparitions alone. In the year 1701 the
celebrated Thomasius distinguished himself by an inau¬
gural dissertation De Crimine Magice, in which he attack¬
ed, with irresistible force of reasoning, the prevalent belief
in witchcraft, and boldly exposed the insane and murder¬
ous delusions which had conducted whole hecatombs of
victims to the stake. This thesis, embodying a formal
attack on demonology, was publicly read in the univer¬
sity of Halle, which, to its honour, greeted with applause
the bold scepticism of the young jurisconsult; and so
well did the latter perform his task, that his juvenile pro¬
duction is still considered valuable, both for its facts and
its reasonings.
The approbation with which the inaugural dissertation
of Thomasius was at first received, and the merited cele¬
brity which it subsequently obtained, may be considered
as proofs that more rational opinions had already begun
to prevail, at least among the learned; and that the
minds of men were in some measure prepared for the re¬
ception of the new doctrines he so fearlessly promul¬
gated. Popular credulity, indeed, still continued gaping
and greedy: it still yearned, with an unabated craving, for
the supernatural and the diabolical. But the softening and
humanizing influence of knowledge had imperceptibly mi¬
tigated the ferocity which the belief in demonology had
originally inspired; and, although the public generally
were not more enlightened or less superstitious, the ma¬
gistrate had insensibly become more humane, and the fires
of persecution burned less frequently and fiercely. The
tide, in short, had obviously turned; and the first indi¬
cation of the reflux is afforded by the justly-celebrated
discourse in question.
At the same time, Thomasius, though among the fore¬
most, was not the first, to assail demonology. This ho¬
nour of right belongs to Dr Balthasar Bekker,1 a pro-
testant clergyman at Amsterdam, and author of a learned
1 Balthasar Bekker was a native of Metselawier in Friesland, where he was born in the year 1C34. He had no othei master than
his father, who was the pastor or clergyman of the place, until he attained the age of sixteen, when he went to prosecute his studies
at Groningen, and afterwards at Franeker. In the first of these universities Alting was his master in Hebrew, and conceived a
strong affection for his pupil, whom he subsequently supported against his numerous enemies and persecutors. Having completed his
studies at Franeker, Bekker was appointed rector of a Latin school, and afterwards pastor at Ooterlitten, where he signalized him-
self by his zeal in the discharge of his duty, and in consequence drew down upon himself the enmity of his less active colleagues.
In 1GCC he took the degree of Doctor of Divinity at Franeker, together with the situation of pastor, and soon afterwards pub¬
lished a tract entitled De Philosophia Cartesiana Admonitio Sincera, in which he attempted to prove that the Cartesian philosophy, a
taste for which he was anxious to diffuse, might be easily allied with the study of theology. This piece appears to have procured
him nothing but enemies, the number of whom was considerably increased by the publication, about the same period, yf two cate¬
chisms, under the absurd titles of Gesneden Brood and Vaste Spyze; in the last of which he advanced some peculiar opinions concern¬
ing the state of Adam before his fall, the nature and duration of the pains of hell, the ecclesiastical hierarchy, and the rights of eccle¬
siastical assemblies. His jealous colleagues accused him of Socinianism and Cartesianism ; and although he wrote a defence of his
opinions, and showed a disposition to alter or retract every thing that might be conceived contrary to the faith, the synod, disregard¬
ing his concessions, prohibited the printing of the Vaste Spyze under a severe pecuniary penalty. Chagrined at this proceeding, he
quitted Franeker, and became successively pastor at Loenen and Wesop, chaplain of a regiment ot the line, and finally, in 1679}
established himself at Amsterdam, where new writings soon kindled up afresh the animosity of his brethren. He combated the pre¬
judices of the vulgar in a tract which he published on the occasion of the appearance of a comet in 1680 and 1681 ; and, in his Re-
chcrchcs sur Ics Comctcs, published in 1683, he adopted a course of argument similar to that pursued by Bayle, showing that comets are
neither presages nor forerunners of calamities, as was then currently believed, and ridiculing the popular notions and superstitions
on this subject. This little work, replete with sound and just ideas, was well received. But a very different fate awaited another
and far more important one, which he published soon after, under the title of De Betooverde Wereld., or 7 he World Bewitched; a per¬
formance which justly entitles him to be ranked with the freest, boldest, and most philosophical thinkers which any age or country
has produced. Dc Betooverde Wereld was first printed at Franeker, and afterwards reprinted several times at Amsterdam, where a
French translation, in four volumes 12mo, appeared in 1694 ; and a new edition was published at Deventer so late as the year 1737*
Ibis work, which had the misfortune to appear too soon, is the one which has most contributed to render Bekker s name famous,
both from its own intrinsic merits, and from the fury of calumny and persecution to which it exposed him. If formerly he was re¬
garded as a Cartesian and Socinian, he was now denounced as a downright Sadducee. All pens were in motion against him ; and be¬
fore Bekker had time to reply to the host of adversaries by whom he was assailed, his book was submitted to the censure ot the ec¬
clesiastical council. The author published a defence or apology, Schriftelike Satisfactie, in which he protested against all malignant
interpretations of his book, and avowed his belief in the existence of the devil, but at the same time expressed his conviction that
300
APPARITIONS.
Appari- work, first published in Dutch and afterwards in French
tions. entitled, The World Bewitched, or an Examination of
the Common Opinions concerning Spirits, their Nature,
their Administration, and their Operations, and also con¬
cerning the Effects which Men are capable of producing by
their Intercourse and their Virtue: a work which Thoma-
sius must in all probability have seen and consulted, as
the French edition appeared in 1694, ten years prior to
the publication of his thesis; and the persecution which
the author experienced on account of his scepticism about
devils and their supposed operations could scarcely fail to
make it generally known. But be this as it may, the per¬
formance of the Dutchman is certainly an extraordinary
one for the time at which it appeared; being not more re¬
markable for the learning it displays than for the boldness
with which it combats the received opinions regarding
spirits, and the exceeding ingenuity with which the various
frauds and impostures of the demonologists are detected
and exposed.
The author sets out by giving an able and accurate expo¬
sition of the opinions, or rather fables, of the Pagans, Jews,
and Mahometans, on the subject of demons, or good and
evil spirits, with their supposed attributes, functions, and
operations, as described in their different mythological sys¬
tems, and particularly as received at the period when Chris¬
tianity was first preached to the world. He then proceeds
to show that the early Christians insensibly introduced and
mixed up with the new faith many of the fictions of Pa¬
ganism and Judaism; and that this corrupting process
went on continually increasing, until it attained a maxi¬
mum under the Papacy, when all the miracles which the
Pagans had supposed to have been performed by their
demons or inferior divinities were ascribed to angels, to
the souls of sinful men, and, above all, to the power of the
devil. In particular, he traces the progress of Mani-
cheism, from the time when it first assumed consistency
and form; and shows, in a very striking manner, how this
heresy, though anathematized by the Church, gradually
insinuated itself into the very core of all her doctrines
respecting spiritual agency in human affairs; and thus
became part and parcel of the creed which she ordained
men to believe under the penalty of eternal damnation.
It is to this unfortunate intermixture of Paganism with
Christianity, therefore, that he ascribes all the abominations
with which the latter was polluted; and hence he con¬
tends, “ que plus on se trouve eloigne du Paganisme, soit
pour le temps, soit pour les lieux, moins on ajoute de foi
a toutes les choses qui regardent le diable et son pouvoir.”
But his great principle is, that the doctrines of the de¬
monologists are not more repugnant to reason, than ad¬
verse to Scripture when rationally interpreted. Revela¬
tion, he holds, contains nothing to sanction such doctrines ;
and he supports this opinion by a detailed examination of a
all the cases mentioned in holy writ where the devil is 1
either represented as appearing to men, or exercising an^ v
immediate power over their bodies or minds,—explaining
them on rational or natural principles with singular skill
and ingenuity. For example, he rejects as absurd the
idea of demoniacal possession, though generally received
by the Protestant as well as the Catholic Church ; and re¬
gards the cases of dcemonia mentioned in the New Testa¬
ment as not properly “ une expulsion des diables, mais une
guerison miraculeuse de maladies incurables.” Again, with
regard to the metaphysical doctrine of the demonologists,
“ qu’un esprit en tant qu’esprit, et d’autant plus meme
qu’il est un esprit, peut sans corps agir sur toutes sortes
de corps et sur les autres esprits,” he does not meet it
by a direct denial, but calls upon his adversaries to prove
their own fundamental proposition. “ Je demande des
preuves de cette these,” says he, in his Abrege and De¬
fense ; “ et parce que cette demande est imprevue et ex¬
traordinaire, et sur laquelle par consequent on ne s’etoit
prepare, on prend ma demande pour une negative.—I do
not deny the truth of it, if it be true, but neither can I
admit the truth of it till it be proved, nor can you assume
it without proof, and then call upon others to believe it.”
Upon the same principle he demonstrates the utter ab¬
surdity of all supposed compacts with the devil, which
he considers as not more impossible in themselves than
incapable “ subsister, en aucune maniere, avec ce qui
est contenue dans la doctrine de 1’Ecriture, ni avec 1’eco-
nomie de falliance de Dieu, tant avant la Loi que sous la
Loi, et moins encore sous 1’Evangile.”
But the most interesting part of this curious work, per¬
haps, is that where the author exposes, with equal skill and
severity, the various frauds and impostures which have been
practised upon ignorant credulity, and have thus given rise
to all the delusions of witchcraft, and to a vast majority of
those on the subject of apparitions. Fie examines in detail
a great number of cases of both descriptions, and never fails
to detect and drag to light the deception in which they
originated. He exhibits a commerce of imposture and
dupery, of fraud and credulity, often amusing, always in¬
structive, sometimes truly horrible with reference to its
consequences. In short, his exposure is complete and
triumphant. “ Les diables qui se faisoient voir et en¬
tendre,” says he, “ etoient dans la cervelle des hommes;
si non, ils etoient faits de chair et d’os;” and he holds,
qu’il n’y auroit point du tout de sorcellerie, si 1’on ne
croyoit pas qu’il y en eust.” But this being once be¬
lieved, and the magistrate having set himself to punish
an imaginary and impossible crime, the belief became
stronger as the fires of persecution grew hotter, and
each new holocaust only prepared fresh victims for the
r
Satan was chained in the bottom of hell, and consequently prevented from intermeddling with human affairs. The council had the
good sense to be satisfied with this explanation ; but the clergy of Holland, irritated at the indulgence shown to Bekker, overwhelmed
it with reclamations, and forced it, by dint of clamour, to examine the affair more seriously. Bekker then demanded that the mat¬
ter should be carried before the synod, and presented a new defence of his opinions; but the synod condemned the work, and deposed
the author from his ministerial charge. This judgment was received with a sort of triumph by the clergy, and attacked by some of
the author’s friends in a clever tract, entitled, Le Diable Triomphant, parlant sur le Mont Parnasse. The synod, however, adhered
to its sentence, and Bekker died of a pleurisy in 1698, without having been reinstated in his charge. On the occasion of his deposi¬
tion, his enemies caused a medal to be struck, representing the devil dressed in clerical costume, and mounted upon an ass, with a
sort of banner in his hand, emblematical of the triumph which the clergy had obtained in the synod. But this triumph was short¬
lived ; for although the synod declared to a man in favour of the devil, the rational part of the world were ultimately convinced by
the reasonings of the deposed minister; which soon began to gain ground, and contributed largely to emancipate the minds of men
from the thraldom of a bloody and debasing superstition. Bekker, it seems, though a profound theologian and an able scholar, was
a very ugly man, with bandy legs, and a nose and chin so prominent that they almost met; peculiarities which gave rise to the fol¬
lowing epigram of Lamonnoye, prefixed to some of the French editions of The World Bemtclied:—
Oui, par toi de Satan la puissance est brisde ;
Mais tu n’as cependant pas encore assez fait;
Pour nous oter du Diable entierement 1’idde,
, . Bekker, supprime ton portrait.
APPARITIONS.
301
sacrifice. Dr Bekker concludes his remarkable work in
[ K these words“ Si les souverains et les magistrals punis-
r V^'soient aussi exactement ceux qui accusent les autres de
magie, qu’il y en a qui sont prestes a punir ceux qui sont
accuses, lesquels ils jettent ala premiere delation dans les
fers, et qu’ils donnassent la question seulement la moitie
aussi forte aux delateurs, pour donner des preuves de
leurs accusation, qu’ils'la donnent a ceux-la pour confes-
ser, ie suis certain qu’ils n’auroient pas beaucoup besoin
de bois pour les bruler. Car quoique dans le commence¬
ment ils eussent beaucoup a faire avant que cette nouvelle
maniere de plaider fust venue a leur connoissance, cela
ne laisseroit pas de se passer bientost, lorsqu’ils verroient,
qu’en accusant, ils se mettroient dans 1’obligation de
prouver ce qu’ils avanceroient, ou de subir la peine de la
faute, en cas qu’ils ne peussent la prouver.” Whoever
takes the trouble to read the records of our own criminal
procedure, and to observe the nature of the evidence
upon which persons accused of witchcraft and sorcery
were “ fylh, convict, and brynt,” will probably be con¬
vinced that these records would have been disgraced by
few such atrocities had Dr Bekker’s principle been adopt¬
ed and acted upon. But a different form of practice was
followed, of which it may with literal truth be said, Siqui-
dem accusdsse hie suffic'd, quis insons habebitur ?l
Upon the whole, it is impossible not to regard the pro¬
duction of the Dutch divine as in many respects one of
the most remarkable extant, considering the time when
it appeared; nor are we aware of any similar instance of
a writer who so far outstripped his age, and evinced so
complete a superiority to its prejudices and superstitions.
Bekker’s work, indeed, had the misfortune to appear too
soon; and of this he was early made sensible, by the tor¬
rent of abuse with which he was assailed, and the perse¬
cution he was called upon to undergo. What must have
been the boldness and courage of that man who, in an
age when the wildest fictions of demonology and witch¬
craft were implicitly, nay almost universally believed, com¬
menced his attack on them by declaring, “ C’est pour de-
truire cette vaine idole de la credulite populaire que j’ai
ecrit mon livre: si le demon s’en fache, qu’il emploie sa
puissance pour m’en punir; s’il est Dieu, qu’il se defende
lui-meme, et qu’il s’en prenne a moi qui ait renverse ses
autels 1”
When Lucian ridiculed apparitions, and laughed at
those who believed in them, he thought only of the lies,
impostures, and absurdities which the ignorant and cre¬
dulous had received as undoubted facts. All the passions
exaggerate, and none more so than that of fear, the pa¬
rent of superstition. Hence every thing seen through
such a medium is beheld distorted, and out of all natural
proportion. But, in cases of this description, it too fre¬
quently happens that the love of the marvellous comes in
to finish the caricature which passion had commenced;
and that imagination performs the double function of first
imposing upon the seer himself, and afterwards contribut¬
ing to enable him to impose still farther upon others. It
is certain, indeed, that most if not all of the ghost stories'
which have been told are grossly exaggerated in almost
every particular. Indeed, with the exception of Nicolai’s
truly philosophical narrative of the spectral illusions, which
he beheld during a period of strong excitement produced
by various misfortunes,2 we scarcely know of a single
case which does not bear on the face of it evident marks
of embellishment and romance. Hence the difficulty of
forming any theory of apparitions, to which, as matters
stand, strong objections may not be taken, on the ground
of its not embracing all, or even a majority, of the cases
reported. We still want data upon which we can safely
rely : and this want is to be ascribed mainly, if not solely,
to the circumstance that every reporter was not a Nicolai;
and that most of them have chosen rather to pander to
the appetite for the marvellous than to tell their story
simply and rationally. Lucian perceived this tendency
of human nature, and unphilosophically ridiculed all ap¬
paritions as gross impositions on the credulity of the world;
while the inquirers of the period to which we refer went
to the opposite extreme, and, admitting every legend as
authentic, racked their brains to account for what was
in its own nature inexplicable upon any metaphysical the¬
ory. They never thought of cross-interrogating the wit¬
nesses before proceeding to consider the import of their
testimony, or of endeavouring to test the credibility of
the evidence before attempting to construct a theory out
of it. They believed every thing without discrimination,
and therefore could account for nothing. Thus Reginald
Scot ridicules the paganism of the Church of Rome, yet
comes to the conclusion that all her saints are as authentic
devils as any in Pandemonium. Burton is scarcely more
fortunate ; and later inquirers, who finally gave up Satan
and his invisible world altogether, landed in absurdities
nearly as great as those they attempted to expose, though
of course incomparably less mischievous.
But the progress of discovery and knowledge, inde¬
pendently of all theory, has cleared away many of the
marvels which puzzled our ancestors. The devils, for ex¬
ample, which Benvenuto Cellini saw when he got into
the conjurer’s circle are now known to have been pro¬
duced by a magic lantern; the Giant of the Broken, in
the Hartz Mountains, has lost all his terrors since it was
discovered that the spectre which had frightened men for
ages is nothing more than the image of the individual who
happens to be on the mountain-top at sun-rise reflected
from the clouds beyond in gigantic proportions ; and the
Fata Morgana, as well as the Mirage, are now classed as
pseudo-apparitions.
Of the more modern attempts to account for appari¬
tions, the first which we shall notice is attributed to Meyer,
and proceeds upon a particular theory respecting the ori¬
gin of ideas, the conception of which appears to have
Appari¬
tions.
1 One of the charges, it seems, against Dr Bekker, in the libel tried by the synod which ultimately deposed him, was his hay¬
ing attempted to banish all devils from the world. This absurd charge proceeded upon a complete misundeystandm^ot the whole
ui reserve at ce que l'Ecriture nous en ensagne, plus i on peut coimunre uicu cu ,,cou., .... — que
connoit assez ; et toutes les connoissances qui sont. hors de cet Etre Divin, ne sont que vanxtes et sottises. Scripture has declare
that a knowledge of God is necessary to salvation ; but it has nowhere said, so far as we remember, that, unless men know and believe
in the devil, they will be damned. Dr Bekker, however, knew and believed all that the Scripture, rationally interpreted, warrants
us to believe respecting the father of lies; and if his belief did not rise exactly to the pitch required by the demonologists ol the
Butch synod, but, on the contrary, recoiled from their diabolical dogmas, it is precisely this inferiority of faith, conjoined with his
manifest superiority of reason, which entitles him to the respect of all who can appreciate the honest boldness which ena e im o
rise above the prejudices of his acre, and to assail the abominations by which it was degraded and enslaved. -r> 4 ^ vr i *
^ Memoir on the Appearance of Spectres or Phantoms occasioned by Disease, with 1 sychological Remarks. Rea . y ic° ai
tke Royal Society of Berlin on the 28th of February 1799. See a translation of this paper in Nicolson't Journal, voi. vi. p. toi.
302
APPARITIONS.
Appari¬
tions.
been derived from the subtile images of Epicurus. These,
the reader will remember, were held by the Epicureans
to be spontaneously exhaled or given off by all bodies;
and, when they entered the mind, or, we should rather
say, were impressed on the attenuated atoms or corpus¬
cles, of the material soul, were supposed to generate spec¬
tral illusions. Rejecting the notion of exhalation, how¬
ever, M. Meyer adhered to the spirit of this philosophy;
contending that all our ideas are material, and that they
are transported from unknown sources to the storehouse
of the memory, through the medium of the organs of
sense. Hence it was conceived, that the nerves upon
which sensations depend might not only be affected by
external agents, but impressed by internal causes, and
that the,result of this impression wrould be hallucinations
or illusions. Thus, rays of light impressing the optic nerves
from without might cause the sensation of yellow, while
corrupt humours, as those of jaundice for instance, by
impressing the nerves from within, might produce a simi¬
lar effect. Further, as ideas were held to be material,
and might be treasured up by the memory, it was con¬
ceived that they might, through some unknown channel,
find their way to the nerves, and impress them after the
manner of internal causes influencing the mind. “ I shall
suppose,” says M. Meyer, “ that I have lost a parent
whom I loved, and whom I have seen and spoken to an
infinity of times. Having perceived him often, I have
consequently preserved the material figure and perception
of him in the brain ; for it is very possible and recon¬
cilable to appearances, that a material figure, like that of
my deceased friend, may be preserved for a long time in
my brain, even after his death. By some intimate yet
unknown relation, therefore, which the figure may have
to my body, it may touch the optic or acoustic nerves. In
the very moment, then, that my nerves are affected in
the same manner that they formerly were when I saw or
listened to my living friend, I shall be necessarily induced
to believe that I really see or hear him, as if he were pre¬
sent.”1 This has certainly the merit of being teres atque
rotundus; but, in the first place, it proceeds upon the as¬
sumed materiality of ideas, which, besides being aban¬
doned by all philosophei-s, is an assumption that is far
from being self-evident, and can never be proved ; second¬
ly, M. Meyer is forced at every step to take for granted
some new principle, in regard to the re-action of these
material ideas on the nervous system, that equally re¬
quires, without admitting of, proof; lastly, he ascribes to
his ideas the functions performed by the imagination, and
thus infuses an ingredient of truth which gives a colour of
plausibility to his theory.
Dr Ferriar’s Theory of Apparitions, as he has been
pleased to call his very entertaining collection of ghost
stories, is a complete misnomer, inasmuch as the book
1 Essay on Apparitions, attributed to M. Meyer, professor in the university of Halle, 1748.
• aT1d°te 13 this author, which serves to illustrate the incidental observation in the text: “ A gentleman was be-
-Shted, while travelling alone, in a remote part of the Highlands of Scotland, and was compelled to ask shelter for the evening at a
n one y iu . * len le was to be conducted to his bed-room, the landlady observed, with mysterious reluctance, that he would
“fA. ® w.indo7 very ^ure. On examination, part of the wall appeared to have been broken down to enlarge the opening. After
fnnnV^n111^’ told that.a P^lar, who had lodged in the same room a short time before, had committed suicide, and was
thP hnHv dT.,inuthe mornin£' According to the superstition of the country, it was deemed improper to remove
Somp bmts wpIL flrin house ’ a^d t(? convey it through the window was impossible, without removing part of the wall,
menared lAinst theJoom had beuenJ sl?bsequently haunted by the poor man’s spirit. My friend laid his arms, properly
Fn a dreanAv -i fHo-hif A ° k111^ A bed-side, and retired to rest, not without some degree of apprehension. He was visited
On casting a apPar AA and’ awtkini? 111 as°ny’ found himself sitting up in bed, with a pistol grasped in his right hand.
wSl close to^wimW AmA he ATm he dlSvcovere(k by the moonlight, a corpse dressed in a shroud, reared erect against the
and the minutest mrts of its f ^ 1 dl®cAt-r he summoned up resolution to approach the dismal object, the features of which,
rn the vtfefa intpfF fal he Per.ceived distinctly. He passed one hand over it, felt nothing, and staggered back
oiiect of his terror was nrndnrrJ ,va ’ and much reasoning with himself, he renewed his investigation, and at length discovered that the
his dream had nictured with mk W moon-heams forming a long bight image through the broken window, on which his fancy, impressed by
^thd^iHstt^^had^excited^the^rpeoUp11/ ^ lineaments of a bod.v prepared for interment. Powerful associations of terror,
in tms instance, naa excited the recollected images with uncommon force and effect.
really contains no theory at all. “ It is a well-known law ”
says he at the outset, “ that the impressions produced on
some of the external senses, especially on the eye, are''- \
more durable than the application of the impressing cause.”
It certainly required no ghost to tell us this; yet it is all
that Dr Ferriar has vouchsafed to give us of a theoretical
kind; “ and,” as Dr Hibbert pertinently remarks, “ the
brevity with which it is given is in exact conformity with
the abruptness of its dismissal; for, after being applied
to explain one or two cases only of mental illusions, nu¬
merous other instances of the kind are related, but the
theory is not honoured with any further notice.” Still the
book is valuable as a collection of cases establishing the
existence of morbid impressions, without any sensible ex¬
ternal agency, and also as showing the power which the
imagination possesses under particular circumstances, of
re-acting upon the organs of sense with an intensity suffi¬
cient to create a temporary belief in the reality of the ob¬
jects, the impressions of which are thus renovated and
vivified.2
The work of Dr Hibbert, modestly entitled Sketches oftk
Philosophy of Apparitions, is of a different description from
that of Dr Ferriar. In it a theory is distinctly propounded,
and followed up through a vast complexity of details, which
the theory is employed to explain and reconcile; and if the
author had carried his generalization a step further, and at
the same time paid more attention to the logical arrange¬
ment of his topics, he would have left little to be supplied
by any future writer on this curious branch of the philo¬
sophy of the human mind. As it is, however, the book is
full of interesting matter, and, what is of still greater im¬
portance, it furnishes ample materials for extending and
enlarging the view of the subject, which the author has,
upon the whole, so satisfactorily developed. After a not
very skilful sketch of the opinions, ancient and modern,
which have been entertained respecting apparitions, Dr
Hibbert proceeds, in the first place, to consider the morbid
affections with which the production of phantasms is often
connected; 'Hdly, to show that the objects of spectral il¬
lusions are frequently suggested by the fantastic imagery
of superstitious belief; 2>dly, to investigate the mental
laws which give rise to spectral illusions; \thly, to notice
the modifications which the intellectual faculty often un¬
dergoes during intense excitements of the mind; and,
lastly, to state the comparative degrees of faintness, vivid¬
ness, or intensity subsisting between sensations and ideas
during their various excitements and depressions. And
the general result at which he arrives, or, in other words,
tire law which connects and explains all the phenomena
of apparitions, whether arising from morbid affections
suggested by the fantastic imagery of superstition, or in¬
duced by certain states of the mind without any sensible
extrinsic agency, is this, viz. “ That apparitions are no-
A P P A R
f-A thing more than ideas, or the recollected images of the
t tioi mind, which have been rendered as vivid as actual im-
t' f'/' J pressionsa principle which, though somewhat incurious¬
ly expressed, makes, in our opinion, a very close approxi¬
mation to the truth.
Dr Hibbert further conceives that the organs of sense
are the actual medium through which past feelings are
renovated; or, in other words, that when, from strong
mental excitement, ideas have become as vivid as past
impressions, or even more so, this intensity is induced by,
or rather productive of, an absolute affection of those
particular parts of the organic structure on which sensa¬
tions depend; in the same way precisely as the sali¬
vary glands are known to be occasionally as much excited
by the idea of some favourite food, as if the sapid body
itself were actually present, stimulating the papillce of the
fauces. It would have been more simple and equally true
if Dr Hibbert had said that the imagination, in some
states, re-acts upon the organs of sense, and renovates past
feelings or sensations, the natural antecedents of certain
perceptions, with an intensity sufficient to create an illusion
of reality; and this statement would have had the double
advantage, of not only expressing, in a more generalized
form, the important law of the human mind, which it is
the object of all Dr Hibbert’s investigations to evolve, but
at the same time of excluding the particular views of phy¬
siology which are more or less mixed up with his meta¬
physical speculations. But the re-action in question may
be either of a pleasurable kind or the reverse, according
to the nature of the causes by which it is primarily pro¬
duced ; and as the mind can only exist in one state at
an indivisible instant of time, it follows that when any
agent, morbific or other, adds to the general vividness of
our pleasurable feelings, those of an opposite or painful
kind become proportionally less vivid, or rather are for the
moment excluded ; and, vice versa, the same law holds in
regard to all our painful feelings, the' increased intensity
of which is necessarily accompanied with a correspond¬
ing abatement of those of an opposite kind. As the
mind, however, passes from one state to another, or alter¬
nates between opposite states, with inconceivable rapidity,
memory is sometimes apt to blend the recollected feelings
of the one with those of the other, and thus to create a
confusion in our conceptions of things which are in their
own nature perfectly distinct. In some cases, where the
nitrous oxide was administered, the patient, while under
its influence, vibrated between perfect happiness and most
consummate misery; but in the majority of instances the
sensations produced were of a pleasurable description, to
the exclusion of all those of an opposite kind; just as the
sensations produced bjr an attack of the febrile miasma
are almost invariably and exclusively those of the most
acute pain. Hence the law above stated may be consi¬
dered as a general one, when taken with the modifications
proper to be applied to it. Lastly, Dr Hibbert has shown,
that when mental feelings of any description attain a cer¬
tain degree of vividness or intensity, muscular motions
obey the impulse of the will, which is as much influenced
by the re-acting and renovating power of imagination, as
by any of our ordinary passions, appetites, or desires.
Ihese principles, if we are not mistaken, go far to ex¬
plain all the phenomena of dreams and apparitions; for
the latter are merely waking dreams, and differ from the
former in degree only, not in kind. In the case of Nico¬
lai, which, as Dr Ferriar justly remarks, is one of the ex-
i T i o N s. 303
treme instances of mental delusion which a man of strong Appari-
judgment has ventured to report of himself, past impres- tions-
sions were renovated with the utmost accuracy and mi-'v-^v^/
nuteness. The philosophical seer of Berlin beheld no
“ gorgons, hydras, and chimaeras dire.” The visions which
he saw were neither terrible, ludicrous, nor repulsive; on
the contrary, most of them were ordinary in their appear¬
ance, and some of them even agreeable. They were ge¬
nerally phantasms of his friends and acquaintance; or, in
other words, exact copies of his past impressions and per¬
ceptions, so renovated and vivified as to create an illusion
of reality, though for the most part oddly, if not gro¬
tesquely, put together. The story told so well by Dr
Ferriar of the vision seen by the benighted gentleman who
took up his quarters in the lonely Highland hut, is expli¬
cable on precisely the same principle ; for his imagination,
excited by his dream, pictured the corpse of the self-
murdered pedlar behind the door by renovating and vivi¬
fying the mental images produced by the recital of the
circumstances previously given to the traveller. In the
cases of disease or superstition, again, the exciting causes
are different, and the illusions generated consequently
vary ; but, in every instance where we can get at the cir¬
cumstances, it will be found that these illusions or phan¬
tasms are merely vivid renovations of mental impressions
previously received, and that, although the grouping may
be fantastical, the ordinary laws of association are never
transgressed.
Dr Brewster has remarked, as a physical fact, that
“ when the eye is not exposed to the impressions of
external objects, or when it is insensible to these objects
in consequence of being engrossed with its own opera¬
tions, any object of mental contemplation, which has either
been called up by the memory or created by the imagi¬
nation, will be seen as distinctly as if it had been formed from
the vision of a real object. In examining these mental
impressions,” he adds, “ I have found that they follow the
motions of the eye-ball exactly like the spectral impres¬
sions of luminous objects, and that they resemble them
also in their apparent immobility when the eye-ball is
displaced by an external force. If this result shall be
found generally true by others, it will follow that the ob¬
jects of mental contemplation may be seen as distinctly as
external objects, and will occupy the same local position in
the axis of vision as if they had been formed by the agency
of light.”1 * This goes to the very root of the theory of
apparitions; all the phenomena of which seem to depend
upon the relative intensities of the two classes of impres¬
sions, and upon the manner of their accidental combina¬
tion. In perfect health, the mind not only possesses a
control over its powers, but the impressions of external
objects alone occupy its attention, and the play of imagi¬
nation is consequently checked, except in sleep, when its
operations are relatively more feeble and faint. But in
the unhealthy state of the mind, when its attention is
partly withdraAvn from the contemplation of external ob¬
jects, the impressions of its own creation, or rather repro¬
duction, will either overpower or combine themselves with
the impressions of external objects, and thus generate il¬
lusions which in the one case appear alone, while in the
other they are seen projected among those external ob¬
jects to which the eye-ball is directed, in the manner ex¬
plained by Dr Brewster. We may add, that the same
reasoning which applies to the impressions derived from
the sense of sight, is equally applicable to those received
1 See in the Edinburgh Journal of Science, conducted by Dr Brewster, a paper by the editor, entitled “ Observations on the Vision
Vol if^8]0113 on ^ie ■^,etina> in reference to certain supposed Discoveries respecting Visions announced by Mr Charles Bell.”
304
APPARITIONS.
Appari- through the medium of any other sense,—as the ear, for in-
tions. stance, an organ which ministers abundantly to the pro-
duction of spectral illusions.
Again, with regard to those illusions, the objects of
which are, according to this theory, suggested by the
imagery of superstition, it is obvious that a belief in such
imagery is calculated, in an ignorant and credulous age,
to make a strong impression on the mind, and to imbue it
deeply with all the peculiarities of the prevailing creed.
In point of fact, there is nothing which men know so
thoroughly, or remember so minutely, as superstitious le¬
gends, when this unearthly lore forms the subject of un¬
questioned and unquestionable belief. But all such im¬
pressions are more or less productive of and accompanied
, with fear; and hence when, from accidental circumstances,
this passion happens to be excited to any degree of in¬
tensity, it not only withdraws the attention of the mind
from the contemplation of external objects, but at the
same time stimulates the imagination; which, again, re¬
acts through the senses, vivifying mental images alone, or
perhaps intermingling them, in fantastical combinations,
with the impressions derived from external objects, and
thus creating those spectral illusions which dreamers and
seers in all ages have mistaken for realities. It the force
of imagination alone can in some instances, without any
sensible extrinsic agency, generate unreal mockeries and
phantasms, much more must it do so when excited by a
belief in supernatural agency, reinforced by fear, the most
powerful of all the passions. “ What brighter colours the
fears of superstition give to the dim objects perceived in
twilight, the inhabitants of the village,” says Dr Thomas
Brown, “ who have to pass the churchyard at any late hour,
and the little students of ballad-lore, who have carried
with them, from the nursery, many tales which they al¬
most tremble to remember, know well. And in the se¬
cond sight1 of this northern part of the island, there can
be no doubt, that the objects which the seers conceive
themselves to behold, are truly more vivid as conceptions,
than, but for the superstitious and melancholy character *
of the natives, which harmonize with the objects of this
foresight, they would have been; and that it is in conse-^ \
quence of this brightening effect of the emotion, as con¬
curring with the dim and shadowy objects which the va¬
poury atmosphere of our lakes and valleys presents, that
fancy, relatively to the individual, becomes a temporary
reality. The gifted eye, which has once believed itself
favoured with such a view of the future, will, of course,
ever after have a quicker foresight, and more frequent
revelations; its own wilder emotion communicating still
more vivid forms and colours to the objects which it dimly
perceives.” In the case of such visions, however, there is
often more of delusion in the seer, than of illusion in the
phantasms which his “ gifted eye” is supposed to have
beheld; and hence the difficulty, as we have already re¬
marked, or perhaps it would be more correct to say the
impossibility, of explaining upon any one theory all the
phenomena, as these have been detailed. But although
it is inconsistent with the object of this article to diverge
into illustrations in detail, we may be permitted to observe
that all the narratives of spectral illusions which can be
relied upon as deserving of credit, are perfectly explicable
upon the principles here briefly but we trust intelligibly
unfolded.
Having said thus much in reference to the theory of ap¬
paritions, it will not be necessary to enter at any length
into that part of Sir Walter Scott’s work on demonology
and witchcraft2 which relates to the present subject. Sir
Walter has indeed attempted to sound the very depths of
the philosophy of spectral illusion, and to account for their
phenomena on known or admitted principles; but, with all
possible respect and deference for this gifted writer, it may
be doubted whether his line has reached the bottom, or
afforded any just measure of its profundity. He has narrat¬
ed, with a skill and effect peculiar to himself, a number of
very striking cases,3 and has connected these by a variety
of observations, some of them not less remarkable for the
1 Most of the stories of second-sight told by the Highlanders seem arrant fabrications; and although we are by no means inclined to
doubt the possibility of such illusions, any more than to question the fact, that they have sometimes accidentally coincided in point of
time with events which seemed to give some confirmation to the belief in deuteroscopy, yet there is so much absurdity and impos¬
ture in nearly all the narratives of this kind which we have read, that we consider them utterly unworthy of serious consideration.
The honest fellow who proposed to sell the secret for a pound of tobacco, knew more of the mysteries of second-sight than some grave
philosophers. Dr John Macculloch has the following very pertinent remarks on the subject:—“To have circumnavigated the
Western Isles without even mentioning the second-sight, would be unpardonable. No inhabitant of St Kilda pretends to have been fore¬
warned of our arrival; ceasing to be believed, it has ceased to exist. It is indifferent whether the propagators of an imposture, or of
a piece of supernatural philosophy, be punished or rewarded. In either case the public attention is directed towards the agent;
whether by the burning of the witch, or by the flattering distinction which attended the Highland seer. When witches were no longer
burned, witchcraft disappeared. Since the second-sight has been limited to a doting old man, or a hypochondriacal tailor, it has been
a subject for ridicule ; and in matters of this nature ridicule is death.” {Description of the Western Isles, by John Macculloch, M. D.
vol. ii.,p. 32.) While the world believed in the second-sight and in witchcraft, there never failed to be seers and witches. The supposed
possession of these faculties insured notoriety, flattered vanity, conferred power, and afforded the means of gratifying malice: And
what will not men and women do to attain distinctions and advantages like these ? The vain will covet them, the ambitious will
grasp at them, the malicious, if otherwise helpless and spited at the world, will run all risks, both here and hereafter, to secure them.
Hence the enormous impostures of witchcraft, and hence also delusions as hideous as the knavery was gross and revolting. This is
the true key to the solution of a vast number of cases which, it has been supposed, we can neither believe, account for, nor refute.
But the misfortune is, that most of those who have written on the subject have had more faith than philosophy, and more fancy than
faith, in consequence of which they have jumbled truth and falsehood together in such wild confusion, that all the alchemy of logic
is insufficient to resolve the compound into its constituent elements, and separate the one from the other.
2 Letters on Demonology and Witchcraft, addressed to J. G. Lockhart, Esq. By Sir Walter Scott, Bart.
3 The following is one of the most striking, and although the narrative be long, it will be found exceedingly interesting:—“ A se¬
cond, and equally remarkable instance, was communicated to the author by the medical man under whose observation it fell, but who
was, of course, desirous to keep private the name of the hero of so singular a history. Of the friend by whom the facts were attested,
I can only say, that if I found myself at liberty to name him, the rank which he holds in his profession, as well as his attainments in
science and philosophy, form an undisputed claim to the most implicit credit.
“ It was the fortune of this gentleman to be called in to attend the illness of a person now long deceased, who in his lifetime stood,
as I understand, high in a particular department of the law, which often placed the property of others at his discretion and control, and
whose conduct, therefore, being open to public observation, he had for many years borne the character of a man of unusual steadi¬
ness, good sense, and integrity. He was, at the time of my friend’s visits, confined principally to his sick-room, sometimes to bed,
yet occasionally attending to business, and exerting his mind, apparently with all its usual strength and energy, to the conduct of im¬
portant affairs intrusted to him; nor did there, to a superficial observer, appear any thing in his conduct, while so engaged, that
could argue vacillation of intellect or depression of mind. His outward symptoms of malady argued no acute or alarming disease.
But slowness of pulse, absence of appetite, difficulty of digestion, and constant depression of spirits, seemed to draw their origin from
APPARITIONS. 305
acuteness they display, than for the very great felicity bert’s work as a guide, and all the collateral lights which Appari-
with which they are expressed. But even with Dr Hib- have been thrown upon the subject by the researches of ti0115-
some hidden cause, which the patient was determined to conceal. The deep gloom of the unfortunate gentleman—the embarrass¬
ment, which he could not conceal from his friendly physician—the briefness and obvious constraint with which he answered the inter¬
rogations of his medical adviser—induced my friend to take other methods for prosecuting his enquiries. He applied to the sufferer’s
family, to learn, if possible, the source of that secret grief which was gnawing the heart and sucking the life-blood of his unfortunate
patient. The persons applied to, after conversing together previously, denied all knowledge of any cause for the burden which ob¬
viously affected their relative. So far as they knew—and they thought they could hardly be deceived—his worldly affairs were pros-
perous; no family loss had occurred which could be followed with such persevering distress; no entanglements of affection could be
supposed to apply to his age, and no sensation of severe remorse could be consistent with his character. The medical gentleman had
finally recourse to serious argument with the invalid himself, and urged to him the folly of devoting himself to a lingering and me¬
lancholy death, rather than tell the subject of affliction which was thus wasting him. He specially pressed upon him the injury
which he was doing to his own character, by suffering it to be inferred that the secret cause of his dejection, and its consequences,
was something too scandalous or flagitious to be made known, bequeathing in this manner to his family a suspected and dishonoured
name, and leaving a memory with which might be associated the idea of guilt, which the criminal had died without confessing. The
patient, more moved by this species of appeal than by any which had yet been urged, expressed his desire to speak out frankly to
Dr     Every one else was removed, and the door of the sick-room made secure, when he began his confession in the following
manner:—
“ ‘ You cannot, my dear friend, be more conscious than I, that I am in the course of dying under the oppression of the fatal dis¬
ease which consumes my vital powers ; but neither can you understand the nature of my complaint, and the manner in which it acts
upon me; nor, if you did, I fear, could your zeal and skill avail to rid me of it.’—‘ It is possible,’ said the physician, 4 that mv skill
may not equal my wish of serving you ; yet medical science has many resources, of which those unacquainted with its powers "never
can form an estimate. But until you plainly tell me your symptoms of complaint, it is impossible for either of us to say what may
or may not be in my power, or within that of medicine.’—‘ I may answer you,’ replied the patient, ‘ that my case is not a singular
one, since we read of it in the famous novel of Le Sage. You remember, doubtless, the disease of which the Duke d’Olivarez is there
stated to have died ?’—4 Of the idea,’ answered the medical gentleman, 4 that he was haunted by an apparition, to the actual exist¬
ence of which he gave no credit, but died, nevertheless, because he was overcome and heart-broken by its imaginary presence.’ 4 I,
my dearest Doctor,’ said the sick man, 4 am in that very case ; and so painful and abhorrent is the presence of the persecuting vi¬
sion, that my reason is totally inadequate to combat the effects of my morbid imagination, and I am sensible I am dying, a wasted
victim to an imaginary disease.’ The medical gentleman listened with anxiety to his patient’s statement, and for the present judi¬
ciously avoiding any contradiction of the sick man’s preconceived fancy, contented himself with more minute enquiry into the nature
of the apparition with which he conceived himself haunted, and into the history of the mode by which so singular a disease had made
itself master of his imagination, secured, as it seemed, by strong powers of the understanding, against an attack so irregular. The
sick person replied by stating, that its advances were gradual, and at first not of a terrible or even disagreeable character. To illus¬
trate this, he gave the following account of the progress of his disease.
“ 4 My visions,’ he said, 4 commenced two or three years since, when I found myself from time to time embarrassed by the pre¬
sence of a large cat, which came and disappeared I could not exactly tell how, till the truth was finally forced upon me, and I was
compelled to regard it hs no domestic household cat, but as a bubble of the elements, which had no existence save in my deranged
visual organs or depraved imagination. Still I had not that positive objection to the animal entertained by a late gallant Highland
chieftain, who has been seen to change to all the colours of his own plaid if a cat by accident happened to be in the room with him,
even though he did not see it. On the contrary, I am rather a friend to cats, and endured with so much equanimity the presence of
my imaginary attendant, that it had become almost indifferent to me; when within the course of a few months it gave place to, or was
succeeded by, a spectre of a more important sort, or which at least had a more imposing appearance. This was no other than the ap¬
parition of a gentleman-usher, dressed as if to wait upon a lo”d-lieutenant of Ireland, a lord high commissioner of the kirk, or any
other who bears on his brow the rank and stamp of delegated sovereignty.
44 4 This personage, arrayed in a court dress, with bag and sword, tamboured waistcoat, and chapeau-bras, glided beside me like the
ghost of Beau Nash; and, whether in my own house or in another, ascended the stairs before me, as if to announce me in the
drawing-room ; and at some times appeared to mingle with the company, though it was sufficiently evident that they were not aware
of his presence, and that I alone was sensible of the visionary honours which this imaginary being seemed desirous to render me.
This freak of the fancy did not produce much impression on me, though it led me to entertain doubts on the nature of my disorder,
and alarm for the effect it might produce upon my intellects. But that modification of my disease also had its appointed duration.
After a few months the phantom of the gentleman-usher was seen no more, but was succeeded by one horrible to the sight and dis¬
tressing to the imagination, being no other than the image of death itself—the apparition of a skeleton. Alone or in company,’ said
the unfortunate invalid, 4 the presence of this last phantom never quits me. I in vain tell myself a hundred times over that it is no
reality, but merely an image summoned up by the morbid acuteness of my own excited imagination and deranged organs of sight.
But what avail such reflections, while the emblem at once and presage of mortality is before my eyes, and while I feel myself, though
in fancy only, the companion of a phantom representing a ghastly inhabitant of the grave, even wrhile I yet-breathe on the earth?
Science, philosophy, even religion, has no cure for such a disorder ; and I feel too surely that I shall die the victim to so melancholy
a disease, although I have no belief whatever in the reality of the phantom which it places before me.’
“ The physician was distressed to perceive, from these details, how strongly this visionary apparition was fixed in the imagination
of his patient. He ingeniously urged the sick man, who was then in bed, with questions concerning the circumstances of the phan¬
tom’s appearance, trusting he might lead him, as a sensible man, into such contradictions and inconsistencies as might bring his com¬
mon sense, which seemed to be unimpaired, so strongly into the field, as might combat successfully the fantastic disorder which pro¬
duced such fatal effects. 4 This skeleton, then,’ said the Doctor’, 4 seems to you to be always present to your eyes ?’—4 It is my fate,
unhappily,’ answered the invalid, 4 always to see it.’—4 Then I understand,’ continued the physician, 4 it is now present to your ima¬
gination ?’—4 To my imagination it certainly is so,’ replied the sick man—4 And in what part of the chamber do you now conceive the
apparition to appear ?’ the physician enquired. 4 Immediately at the foot of my bed ; when the curtains are left a little open,’ an¬
swered the invalid, 4 the skeleton, to my thinking, is placed between them, and fills the vacant space.’—4 You say you are sensible of
the delusion,’ said his friend ; 4 have you firmness to convince yourself of the truth of this ? Can you take courage enough to rise
and place yourself in the spot so seeming to be occupied, and convince yourself of the illusion ?’ The poor man sighed, and shook his
head negatively. 4 Well,’ said the Doctor,4 we will try the experiment otherwise.’ Accordingly, he rose from his chair by the bed¬
side, and placing himself betw’een the two half-drawn curtains at the foot of the bed, indicated as the place occupied by the appari¬
tion, asked if the spectre was still visible? 4 Not entirely so,’ replied the patient, 4 because your person is betwixt him and me;
hut I observe his skull peering above your shoulder.’
“ It is alleged the man of science started on the instant, despite philosophy, on receiving an answer ascertaining, with such mi¬
nuteness, that the ideal spectre was close to his own person. He resorted to other means of investigation and cure, but with equally
indifferent success. The patient sunk into deeper and deeper dejection, and died in the same distress of mind in which he had spent
the latter months of his life; and his case remains a melancholy instance of the power of imagination to kill the body, even when its
fantastic terrors cannot overcome the intellect, of the unfortunate persons who suffer under them. The patient, in the present case,
sunk under his malady; and the circumstances of his singular disorder remaining concealed, he did not, by his death and last illness,
lose any of the well-merited reputation for prudence and sagacity which had attended him during the whole course of his life.”
VOL. in. r v J 2 q
306
APPARITIONS.
Appari- Dr Ferriar, Dr Brewster, and others, Sir Walter has fail-
tions. ec] reach any general principle applicable to a given
class of cases. The consequence is, that, although his ob¬
servations are almost always valuable, and often involve
the very law which connects and explains the phenomena
of spectral illusion, he constantly stops short on the verge
of the discovery, and is therefore under the necessity of
seeking a new explanation of each successive case, which
is, for the most part, considered separately and without
reference to or comparison with others. On several occa¬
sions, indeed, he attempts to generalize, and makes very
close approximations to the truth ; but, like those tune¬
less persons who sometimes essay good-naturedly to sing,
and stumble about the outskirts of an air, without ever
being able to hit it exactly, Sir Walter frequently comes so
very near the point he aims at, that we are surprised how
he should miss it.
This is singularly exemplified in the following obser¬
vations, which, with reference to the view we have now
taken, are exceedingly important:—“ Enthusiastic feel¬
ings of an impressive and solemn nature,” says Sir Wal¬
ter, “ occur both in private and public life, which seem
to add ocular testimony to an intercourse betwixt earth
and the world beyond it. For example, the son who has
been lately deprived of his father feels a sudden crisis ap¬
proach, in which he is anxious to have recourse to his sa¬
gacious advice—or a bereaved husband earnestly desires
again to behold the form of which the grave has deprived
him for ever—or, to use a darker yet very common in¬
stance, the wretched man who has dipped his hand in his
fellow-creature’s blood, is haunted by the apprehension
that the phantom of the slain stands by the bedside of his
murderer. In all, or any of these cases, who shall doubt
that imagination, favoured by circumstances, has power to
summon up to the organ of sight spectres which only exist in
the mind of those by whom their apparition seems to be wit¬
nessed? If we add, that such a vision may take place in
the course of one of those lively dreams in which the
patient, except in respect to the single subject of one
strong impression, is or seems sensible of the real parti¬
culars of the scene around him, a state of slumber which
often occurs—if he is so far conscious, for example, as to
know that he is lying on his own bed, and surrounded by
his own familiar furniture, at the time when the supposed
apparition is manifested, it becomes almost in vain to argue
with the visionary against the reality of his dream, since
the spectre, though itself purely fanciful, is inserted amidst
so many circumstances which he feels must be true beyond
the reach of doubt or question. That which is undeni¬
ably certain becomes in a manner a warrant for the reality
of the appearance to which doubt would have been other¬
wise attached. And if any event, such as the death of
the person dreamt of, chances to take place, so as to corre¬
spond with the nature and the time of the apparition, the
coincidence, though one which must be frequent, since our
dreams usually refer to the accomplishment of that which
haunts our minds when awake, and often presage the
most probable events, seems perfect, and the chain of
circumstances touching the evidence may not unreason¬
ably be considered as complete.”
Now, it must be obvious to every one, that the true the¬
ory ol apparitions is involved in these observations, though
not unfolded in such a manner as to render it available for
the explanation of spectral illusions. The author distinctly
indicates, in the first place, the power of imagination, when
excited, “ to summon up to the organ of sight spectres
which only exist in the mind of those by whom their ap¬
parition seems to be witnessed,” or, in other words, to
reproduce past impressions through the medium of the
senses; and, secondly, in certain kinds of dreams, he re-
Mti
cognises the principle, which Dr Brewster has shown to
hold good in our waking hours, that “ the objects of mental
contemplation may be seen as distinctly as external ob-Sfv
jects, and will occupy the same local position in the axis
of vision, as if they had been formed by the agency ol
light;” while their being “ inserted” amidst so many objects
in regard to which there is no deception, will at the same
time contribute to strengthen the illusion of reality, and
to render the visionary inaccessible to any arguments
tending to call it in question. But no use whatever is
made of these important principles; which, so far from
being pushed to their consequences, and thus disencum¬
bered of the limitations which the author has assigned to
them, are stated apparently for no other reason than that
they may be straightway cast aside and forgotten.
Another example may be given of this unavailing ap¬
proximation to the truth, on a most important branch ol
the subject. That disordered or excited state of the ima¬
gination arising from morbific causes, in which it re-acts
upon the organs of sense, and generates spectral illusions,
“ is not,” he thinks, “ properly insanity, although it is
somewhat allied to that' most horrible of maladies, and
may, in many constitutions, be the means of bringing it
on, and although such hallucinations are proper to both.”
The difference he conceives to be, that u in cases of in¬
sanity, the mind of the patient is principally affected,
while the senses or organic system offer in vain to the
lunatic their decided testimony against the phantasy of a
diseased imagination.” There is some confusion here,
both in conception and expression; but still the author is
correct in his general idea, however vaguely indicated,
that the difference he alludes to is one of degree rather
than of kind. A few observations, will, we think, make
this abundantly evident, and at the same time show in how
remarkable a manner the phenomena of insanity, viewed
in reference to the subject before us, illustrate that re¬
flective or renovating power of the imagination to which
alone we ascribe the production of phantasms and spectres.
The history of this malady (says Pinel) claims alliance
with all the errors and delusions of superstitious credulity
—with those of witchcraft, demoniacal possession, oracles,
divinations, and spectral illusions; and hence he considers
it as eminently deserving of attention, on the part of the
mental, as well as on that of the medical philosopher who
may be called upon practically to minister consolation and
relief to minds diseased. Insanity, considered generally,
is merely the excess of that state or of those states of the
mind during which hallucinations are produced; and this
excess, when prolonged beyond a certain limit, terminates
in fatuity, or the complete exhaustion and paralysis of the
mental powers, just as bodily exertion, when urged be¬
yond a certain pitch (varying, however, in each indivi¬
dual), terminates in the suspension of all physical ener¬
gy, and ultimately in death. In both cases nature has
provided a restorative power, which, up to a definitive
point, can repair the injury produced by excited action,
and enable the mind and body to recover their wonted
tone and health; but if the excitation continue, or be
pushed beyond this limit, the restorative efficacy is de¬
stroyed, and neither can ever regain their former condi¬
tion. It is this excess alone which, in the case of mind,
constitutes insanity. It is the unnatural continuance or
prolongation of excited action which ultimately over¬
whelms the whole mental powers; not even excepting the
imagination itself, the very instrument, if we may so ex¬
press it, by which this melancholy ruin is accomplished.
Hence it is commonly observed that persons endowed
with the greatest susceptibility of mental excitement,
with the warmest passions, the most active imaginations,
and the most acute sensibilities, evince the strongest pie-
APPARITIONS. 307
disposition to insanity; and as this is the temperament
Sonf that usually accompanies genius, every one can easily ap-
predate the truth of the observation which a celebrated
poet has consecrated in his numbers, that great wit is
nearly allied to madness, and that “ thin partitions do
the bounds divide” which separate the one from the
other. But this predisposing temperament, of which
genius is a natural product, and insanity the excess or
diseased state, is also that which renders men pecu¬
liarly susceptible of superstitious impressions, and upon
which these, when once received into the mind, and trea¬
sured up in the memory, are likely, through the medium
of the imagination, to re-act with the greatest force, and
thus to give a sort of reflex impulse to the temperament
which predisposes towards their reception. Need we
wonder, then, to find the imagery of superstition so fre¬
quently blended and mixed up with the wild delusions of
insanity, or the one acting upon and aggravating all the
symptoms of the other ? Need we wonder that in a great
variety of instances superstition should become the ex¬
citing cause of insanity, or that the visions of insanity
should, in their turn, form new objects of superstition ?
In all cases of mental excitement, howsoever produced,
the results may vary in proportion to the relative intensity
of the excited action; but on a close examination it will
be found that the difference observable amongst them is a
difference of degree only, not of kind. “ From recalling
images by an act of the memory,” says Dr Ferriar, “ the
transition is direct to beholding spectral objects which
have been floating in the imaginationand he adds that
he has frequently, in the course of his professional prac¬
tice, conversed with persons who imagined they saw de¬
mons, and heard them speak ; a species of delusion which,
he thinks, admits of many gradations and distinctions ex¬
clusive of actual insanity. Sir Walter Scott also men¬
tions the case of a patient similarly affected, who, being
troubled with a diurnal vision of an unsightly hag, con¬
sulted the late Dr Gregory on the subject of this visita¬
tion, but, as appears from the narrative, without deriving
any material benefit from the skill of that eminent and
learned physician. As the spectre was very regular in
its appearance, and always visited the patient at a stated
hour, the doctor, on one occasion, exerted all his powers
of conversation, which were very great, to engage the
mind of this individual, and if possible beguile him into
a forgetfulness of time, that the awful hour might pass
unobserved—but, as it turned out, without effect; for
scarcely had the clock struck the hour, when the patient
screamed out that he beheld the apparition. Ordinary
impressions, indeed, are never sufficient to control such
as are produced by an imagination excited as this man’s
must have been. Hence, finding his expedient vain, Dr
Gregory had recourse to his usual remedy of blood-let¬
ting, in order to relieve the plethoric or apoplectic af¬
fection under which he concluded that the patient must
be labouring; but whether this antiphlogistic treatment Appari-
had the effect of dismissing the phantom hag who had tions.
previously repeated her visits so regularly, Sir Walter
has not informed us. Delusions of this sort, as Dr Fer¬
riar observes, certainly admit of gradations short of ac¬
tual insanity; but the difference, as we have already re¬
marked, is one of degree only, not of kind; for, in all
such cases, a little additional intensity of excitement is
only wanting to deprive the mind of that power over its
impressions generally which it has already lost over one
set, and thus to overwhelm it at once under a hideous
mass of morbid hallucinatibns. The same observation is
applicable to the partial illusions generated by hysteria,
hypochondria, febrile affections, inflammations of the brain,
delirium tremens, and other diseases which exert a disturb¬
ing influence over the nervous system, especially that part
of it more immediately connected with sensation. The
exciting causes may vary, and the particular illusions cre¬
ated may partake of this variation ; yet it will be found
that, the excitement once produced, the resulting pheno¬
mena observe invariably the same law, and that accord¬
ing as the degree of that excitement is greater or less,
so will the morbid affection of the mind either amount to
actual insanity, or fall short of it by some gradations. The
true theory of apparitions, therefore, is essentially the
same with that of insanity; nor, in determining the ge¬
neral principle which connects the one class of phenome¬
na, can we fail, if we pursue the proper course of investi¬
gation, to ascertain that which regulates and consequent¬
ly explains the other.1
These observations, as the reader must have already
perceived, apply only to that part of Sir Walter Scott’s
work which relates to apparitions, and which, in fact, is
greatly inferior in interest as well as importance to the
masterly exposition he has given of the various systems
of magic and demonology which have prevailed at different
times and in different countries. Here he is evidently
quite at home; and as his treasures of ghostly lore are
unbounded, his judicious observations are continually il¬
lustrated by the most apposite and striking narratives,
frequently derived from sources which are not generally
accessible. His remarks on the denunciation against
witches contained in the Old Testament, as well as on the
particular case of the sorceress of Endor, consulted by
Saul, are exceedingly interesting; and we think the dis¬
tinction he has drawn between Jewish witchcraft, which
was connected with the abominations of idolatry, and
that of modern times, which was the joint product of
ignorance, credulity, fear, persecution, and imposture, per¬
fectly sound. That the witch of Endor was a mere for¬
tune-teller, to whom the unfortunate king of Israel had
recourse in his despair, is beyond all question or doubt;
and the only difficulty is to explain how it was so or¬
dained that the spirit of the prophet Samuel should arise
amidst the incantations of an impostor, and thus lend a
* The activity which the soul frequently displays during sleep, or, in other words, the phenomena of dreams, engaged the attention
of metaphysicians at an early period, and gave rise to numerous learned and ingenious speculations, an exquisite summary of which,
accompanied with many truly refined and subtile observations of his own, the reader will find in the chapter where Mr Dugald Stewart
treats of this subject in his Elements of the Philosophy of the Human Mind. “ Dreams,” says Mr Addison, “ look like the relaxations and
amusements of the soul when she is disencumbered of her machine ; her sports and recreations when she has laid her charge asleep.
The soul is clogged and retarded in her operations when she acts in conjunction with a companion that is so heavy and unwieldy in its
motions; but in dreams she converses with numberless beings of her own creation, and is transported into ten thousand scenes
of her own raising. She is herself the theatre, the actor, and the beholder.” This is finely said, and not more beautiful than true.
But the reader will not fail to observe, that as Mr Addison’s description, if somewhat heightened in its colouring and distorted in its
features, would apply to insanity as well as to dreams, so the state of the soul which produces the one would, if highly excited, ex¬
hibit all the characteristic phenomena of the other. Dreams, indeed, are but faint adumbrations of that vivid phantasmagoria which
madness presents to the eye of the mind, and which is also accompanied with an increased intensity in all the feelings and emotions of
the soul, whether connected with the predominant hallucination, or otherwise. Hence Pinel has remarked, that, even during the in¬
tervals of comparative calmness and reason, he has nowhere met, except in romance, with fonder husbands, more affectionate parents,
more impassioned lovers, or purer and more exalted patriots, than in an asylum for lunatics.
308 A P P
Apparitor sort of countenance to the belief in magical charms and
II divinations, which was already but too generally and
n^* deePly root:ed in the minds of the Israelites. This, how-
ever, is not the place to enter into the discussion of mat-
A P P
ters which properly fall to be treated of under differ¬
ent heads, and which involve principles totally different
from those which are applicable to the case of apparitions
alone. (a.)
APPARITOR, among the Romans, a general term to
comprehend all attendants of judges and magistrates ap¬
pointed to receive and execute their orders. Apparitor,
in England, is a messenger that serves the process of a
spiritual court, or a beadle in a university who carries the
mace.
APPAUMEE, in Heraldry, denotes one hand extended
with the full palm appearing, and the thumb and fingers at
full length.
APPEAL, in Law, the removal of a cause from an in¬
ferior to a superior court or judge, when a person thinks
himself aggrieved by the sentence of the inferior judge.
Appeals lie from the ordinary courts of justice to the
house of lords. In ecclesiastical cases, if an appeal is
brought before a bishop, it may be removed to the arch¬
bishop ; if before an archdeacon, to the court of arches,
and thence to the archbishop; and from the archbishop s
court to the king in chancery.
APPELLATION, the name by which any thing is
known or distinguished when spoken of. Nothing can be
more foreign to the original meaning of many words and
proper names than their present or vulgar appellations;
frequently owing to the history of those things being for¬
gotten, or an ignorance of the language in which they
were expressed. Who, for example, would dream that the
legal proclamation called “ O yes,” was a proclamation com¬
manding the talkers to become hearers, being the French
word Oyez, listen, retained in our courts ever since the
law pleadings were held in French ? Or would any per¬
son suppose that the headland on the French coast near
Calais, called by our seamen Blackness, would be so titled
from its French name of Blanc Nez, or the White Head-land?
King Henry the Eighth having taken the town of Bou¬
logne in France, the gates of which he brought to Hardes
in Kent, where they are still remaining, the flatterers of
that reign highly magnified this action, which, Porto Bello
like, became a popular subject for signs; and the port or
harbour of Boulogne, called Boulogne Mouth, was accord¬
ingly set up at a noted inn in Holborn. The name of the
inn long outliving the sign and fame of the conquest, an
ignorant painter, employed by a no less ignorant landlord
to paint a new one, represented it by a bull and a large
gaping human mouth ; answering to the vulgar pronun¬
ciation of hidl and mouth. The same piece of history
gave being to the bull and gate, originally meant for Bou¬
logne gate, and represented by an embattled gate or en¬
trance into a fortified town.
The barber s pole has been the subject of many conjec¬
tures ; some conceiving it to have originated from the
word poll or head, with several other conceits as far¬
fetched and as unmeaning; but the true intention of that
party-coloured staff was to show that the master of the
shop practised surgery, and could breathe a vein as well
as mow a beard. The white band which encompasses the
staff was meant to represent the fillet thus elegantly twined
about it.
Nor were the chequers, at this time a common sign of
a public house, less expressive,—being the representation
of a kind of draught-board called tables, and showing that
there that game might be played. From their colour,
which was red, and the similarity to a lattice, it was cor¬
ruptly called the red lettuce, which word is frequently used
by ancient writers to signify an ale-house.
The Spectator has explained the sign of the bell-savage
inn plausibly enough, in supposing it to have been origi-
nally the figure of a beautiful female found in the woods
called in French la belle sauvage. But another reason has
since been assigned for that appellation, namely, that the
inn was once the property of Lady Arabella Savage, and
familiarly called Bell Savage's Inn, probably represented,
as at present, by a bell and a savage or wild man, which
was a rebus for her name; rebuses being much in fashion
in the 16th century.
The three blue balls prefixed to the doors and windows
of pawnbrokers’ shops, by the vulgar humorously enough
said to indicate that it is two to one that the things pledg¬
ed are never redeemed, were in reality the arms of a
set of merchants from Lombardy, who were the first that
publicly lent money on pledges. They dwelt together in
a street, from them named Lombard Street, in London,
and also gave their name to another at Paris. The appel¬
lation of Lombard was formerly all over Europe consider¬
ed as synonymous with that of usurer.
At the institution of yeomen of the guards, they used
to wait at table on all great solemnities, and were ranged
near the buffets. This procured them the name of buffe-
tiers, not very unlike in sound to the jocular appellation
of beef-eaters, now given them; though probably it was
rather the voluntary misnomer of some wit, than an acci¬
dental corruption arising from ignorance of the French
language.
The opprobrious title of bum bayliffe, so constantly be¬
stowed on the sheriff’s officers, is, according to Judge
Blackstone, only the corruption of bound bayliffe, every
sheriff’s officer being obliged to enter into bonds and to
give security for his good behaviour, previous to his ap¬
pointment. t
A cordwainer seems to have no relation to the occupa¬
tion it is meant to express, which is that of a shoemaker.
But cordonier, originally spelt cordaunier, is the French
word for that trade ; the best leather used for shoes com¬
ing originally from Cordova in Spain.
APPELLATIVE Names, in Grammar, in contradis¬
tinction to proper names, are such as stand for universal
ideas, or a whole rank of beings, wdiether general or spe¬
cial. ThuSj^’sA, bird, man, city, river, are common or ap¬
pellative names ; and so are trout, eel, lobster ; for they all
agree to many individuals, and some to many species.
APPENZELL, one of the cantons of Switzerland. It
is a mountainous district, surrounded by the canton of St
Gall. Three chains of hills, continuations of the Alps,
with valleys between them, form the chief part of the sur¬
face. The highest point of the hills is 7671 feet. In
these are some extraordinary natural excavations, parti¬
cularly the Ziegerloch and the Wildkirchlein. The cli¬
mate is raw and cold, little calculated for agriculture, but
adapted in some degree for breeding cattle, and for the
dairy. The extent has been variously reported: it is
probably about 220 square miles. The number of inha¬
bitants, by the last estimate, is about 58,000, who are
divided into 22 communes or parishes. The outer part of
the canton was occupied by manufacturers of cotton and
linen goods, and by calico printers ; but of late years these
fabrics have declined, and much distress has followed.
The poverty thus produced has led to extensive emigra¬
tions to the western world. The constitution is a pure
A P P
^ 11 democracy, each individual above 16 years having a vote.
|i About one third of the inhabitants are Catholics, the re-
)iai;. mainder Protestants of the Calvinistic confession. The
vV canton is formed into two divisions, each with its respec¬
tive capital: Herisau is the capital of the outer division,
and Appenzell of the inner.
Appenzell, a city, the capital of the inner division of
the canton of that name in Switzerland. It stands on the
river Sitter, in a beautiful valley. It contains one church
of Gothic architecture, a capuchin monastery, a nunnery,
with several chapels, and about 3000 inhabitants, who
chiefly subsist by linen weaving and bleaching.
APPETITE, in a general sense, the desire of enjoying
some object, supposed to be conducive to our happiness.
This term is applied particularly to hunger, thirst, and
the appetite of sex. Considered as principles of action,
the appetites are distinguished by the following circum¬
stances :—1. They take their rise from the body, and are
common to us with the brutes. 2. They are not constant,
but occasional. 3. They are accompanied with an uneasy
sensation, which is strong or weak in proportion to the
strength or weakness of the appetite. See Stewart’s
Philosophy of the Active Powers, book i. chap. i.
APPIA Via, a way reaching from Rome through Capua
to Brundusium, between 330 and 350 miles long. Ap-
pius Claudius, surnamed Coccus, in the year of the city
441, carried it from the Porta Capena to Capua. (Livy,
Frontinus.) It wras afterwards carried on to Brundusium,
but by whom, or when, is uncertain. It was laid with
very hard stone, brought from a great distance, large, and
squared (Diodorus); and it was so wide that several wag¬
gons could go abreast. Statius calls it the queen of roads.
Its course is described by Horace, Strabo, and Antonine.
APPIAN, an eminent writer of the Roman history in
Greek, under the reigns of Trajan and Adrian. He was
of a good family in Alexandria in Egypt; whence he went
to Rome, and there distinguished himself so well as an
advocate, that he was chosen one of the procurators of the
empire, and the government of a province was committed
to him. He did not complete the Roman history in a
continued series, but wrote distinct histories of all na¬
tions that had been conquered by the Romans, in which
he placed every thing relating to those nations in the pro¬
per order of time. Of all this voluminous work there re¬
mains only what treats of the Punic, Syrian, Parthian,
Mithridatic, and Spanish wars, with those against Hanni¬
bal, the civil wars, and the wars in Illyricum, and some
fragments of the Celtic or Gallic wars. An excellent
edition of Appian was published by Schweighasuser in
Greek and Latin, at Leipsic, in 1785, in 3 vols. 8vo. The
extracts from the lost books, preserved by various authors,
have been collected in this edition.
APPIUS Claudius, a Sabine by birth, one of the prin¬
cipal inhabitants of Regillum. His shining merit having
drawn the envy of his fellow-citizens upon him, he retired
to Rome with all his family. Appius was admitted into
the senate, and was made consul with Publius Servilius
Priscus in 258 from the building of Rome; but he was
hated by the plebeians, being an austere opposer of their
clamours and seditions. The Claudian family continued
long one of the most illustrious of the patrician families in
home, and several in succession of the name of Appius
supported the same stern character that distinguished
their first founder.
APPLAUSE, an approbation of something, signified by
clapping the hands, still practised in theatres. Applause,
■n antiquity, differed from acclamation, as the latter was
articulate and performed with the voice, the former with
the hands. Among the Romans, applause was an artifi¬
cial kind of noise made by the audience or spectators to
A P P 309
express their satisfaction. There were three species of Appleby
applause, denominated from the different noises made in II
them, viz. Bombus, Imbrices, and Testce ; the first a con-APPraisen
fused din, made either by the hands or the mouth; the
second and third, by beating on a sort of sounding vessels
placed in the theatres for this purpose. Persons were in¬
structed to give applause with skill; and there were even
masters who professed to teach the art. The proficients
in this way let themselves out for hire to the vain-glori¬
ous among the poets, actors, &c., and were properly dis¬
posed to support a loud applause. These they called
Laudicceni, and At the end of the play a loud
peal of applause was expected, and even asked of the
audience, either by the chorus or the persons who spoke
last. The formula was Spectatores plaudite, or Valete et
plaudite. The plausores or applauders were divided into
chori, and disposed in theatres opposite to each other,
like the choristers in cathedrals, so that there was a kind
of concert of applauses.
APPLE. See Horticulture.
APPLEBY, a small market and borough town in the
county of Westmoreland, 269 miles from London, 14 from
Penrith, and 32 from Carlisle. It is on the river Eden,
which nearly surrounds it. The assizes and the election
of county members are held here. It returns two mem¬
bers to parliament. There is a corn market held on Sa¬
turday. The population in 1801 was 711; in 1811, 815 ;
and in 1821, 999.
APPLICATION, in a general sense, is the laying of
two things together, in order to discover their agreement
or disagreement.
Application, in Geometry, is used either for division;
for applying one quantity to another, whose areas, but not
figure, shall be the same; or for transferring a given line
into a circle or other figure, so that its ends shall be in
the perimeter of the figure.
Application, in Theology, is particularly used by some
divines for the act whereby our Saviour transfers or makes
over to us what he had earned or purchased by his holy
life and death. Accordingly it is by this application of the
merits of Christ that we are to be justified and entitled
to grace and glory. The sacraments are the ordinary
means or instruments whereby this application is effected.
APPOLLONIA, a considerable kingdom in Africa,
about 100 miles in length, situated on the Gold Coast,
from the western extremity of which it extends to the
river Ancobra. The territory being intersected by nu¬
merous small streams which overflow their banks during
the rainy season, is very well adapted for the growth of rice
and the sugar-cane. The coast affords neither harbour
nor creek; but goods are conveyed on shore in canoes,
which are managed by the natives with great dexterity.
The government is monarchical; the people are honest,
courteous, and hospitable ; and the trader, in dealing with
them, finds his person and property quite secure. The
ports are Appollonia, Assinee, Great and Little Bassam; at
each of which may be obtained gold and ivory, the for¬
mer of rather superior quality. The British had formerly
a fort at Appollonia, which they have now withdrawn.
APPOLONIA, a town of Austrian Italy, in the dele¬
gation of Brescia, in the government of Venetian Lom¬
bardy. It is in a lofty situation, and contains 1386 inha¬
bitants, who are mostly employed in making gun-locks,
bayonets, swords, and other implements of war.
APPOSITION, in Grammar, the placing of two or more
substantives together, in the same case, without any co¬
pulative conjunction between them ; as Ardebat Alexim,
delicias domini.
APPRAISER (from ad, to, and pretium, value), one
who rates or sets a value upon goods, &c. He must be
310
A P P
A P P
Appren¬
tice.
Apprehen- a skilful and honest person. It is not a business of it-
sion ggif^ but is practised by brokers of household furniture,
to which set of men the word is chiefly applied; yet
upholsterers and other brokers are employed, or even any
' person or persons who are supposed to be skilled in the
commodities to be appraised or valued.
APPREHENSION, in Logic, denotes the simple atten¬
tion of the mind to an object presented either to our
sense or our imagination, without passing a judgment or
making an inference.
Apprehension, in Law, signifies the seizing of a cri¬
minal in order to bring him to justice.
APPRENTICE (from apprendre, to learn), one who
is bound by covenant to serve a tradesman or artificer a
certain time, upon condition of the master’s instructing
him in his art or mystery.
By the common law, every person is left at liberty to
follow whatever trade or employment may be agreeable
to him. But as it was supposed that great injury would
result to the public if unqualified persons were to exer¬
cise the various crafts and mysteries connected with the
mechanical trades, it was specially provided, by the 5th
Eliz., that no person should exercise any art or craft un¬
less he had previously qualified himself for it by a regu¬
lar apprenticeship, under a penalty of L.400 for every
month. Considerable doubts were always entertained as
to the trades to which this statute applied ; and as the
courts of law do not seem generally to have favoured the
principle of the statute, their decisions tended rather to
confine than to extend the restriction. It was at length
agreed that the law was only applicable to such trades as
existed at the time of passing the act, and to such also
as implied some mystery or craft. The operation of the
statute was also held to be limited to market-towns, it
being supposed necessary for the convenience of the in¬
habitants of country villages, that the same person should
exercise different trades, even though he had not been
regularly bred by a seven years’ apprenticeship to each.
These various limitations of the statute gave rise to many
very absurd distinctions, which plainly showed how very
unsuitable this antiquated law was to the present advanced
state of the mechanical trades. It was found, for exam¬
ple, that a coachmaker could neither himself make nor
employ journeymen to make his coach-wheels, but that it
behoved him to buy them of a master wheelwright, this
last trade having been exercised in England before the 5th
Eliz. But a wheelwright, though he has never served an
apprenticeship to a coachmaker, might either himself
make, or employ journeymen, to make coaches, the trade
of a coachmaker not having been prohibited by the sta¬
tute, as not being exercised in England at the time it was
passed. All the great manufactures which, in modern
times, have arisen throughout England—in Manchester,
Birmingham, Sheffield, Wolverhampton—were on this ac¬
count exempted from the restrictive operation of this law;
and the perfection to which they have arrived seems a prac¬
tical proof of its inutility for the encouragement of trade.
The effects of those restrictions imposed by the 5th
Eliz. were at length felt to be so injurious, that, in the
year 1813, petitions were presented to parliament from
various manufacturing towns for a repeal of certain parts
of this exceptionable statute ; and the 54th Geo. III. was
accordingly passed, by which all the penalties and prohi¬
bitions imposed by 5th Eliz. on those who should exercise
any trade or mystery, unless qualified by six or seven
years’ apprenticeship, were repealed. That part of the
Statute was also repealed which enacted that no person
should become an apprentice except in strict conformity
to the provisions of the 5th Eliz., and which rendered all
indentures contrary to this act null and void. In opposi¬
tion to this, it was provided that all indentures or covenants a
which would otherwise be valid, should now be valid, any tii
thing in the 5th Eliz. to the contrary notwithstanding. 1V
APPRENTICESHIP, the servitude of an apprentice,
or the duration of his indenture.
Seven years seem anciently to have been, all over Eu¬
rope, the usual term established for the duration of ap¬
prenticeships in the greater part of incorporated trades.
All such incorporations were anciently called universities,
which indeed is the proper Latin name for any incorpora¬
tion whatever. The university of smiths, the university
of tailors, &c. are expressions which we commonly meet
with in the old charters of ancient towns. When those
particular incorporations which are now peculiarly called
universities were first established, the term of years which
it was necessary to study in order to obtain the degree of
master of arts, appears evidently to have been copied
from the term of apprenticeship in common trades, of
which the incorporations were much more ancient. As
to have wrought seven years under a master properly qua¬
lified was necessary in order to entitle any person to be¬
come a master, and to have himself apprentices in a com¬
mon trade ; so to have studied seven years under a mas¬
ter properly qualified -was necessary to entitle him to be¬
come a master, teacher, or doctor (words anciently syno¬
nymous) in the liberal arts, and to have scholars or ap¬
prentices (words likewise originally synonymous) to study
under him.
Apprenticeships were altogether unknown to the an¬
cients. The reciprocal duties of master and apprentice
make a considerable article in every modern code. The
Roman law is perfectly silent with regard to them. There
is no Greek or Latin word which expresses the idea we
now annex to the word apprentice—a servant bound to
work at a particular trade for the benefit of a master du¬
ring a term of years, upon condition that the master shall
teach him that trade.
Dr Smith considers the institution of apprenticeships as
a device, by which trading corporations endeavour to con¬
fine to as few hands as possible the mystery of their craft,
and by which, keeping the market always understocked
with their particular sort of labour, they expect to regu¬
late according to their discretion the price of such manu¬
factures as they bring to market. He accordingly con¬
demns all those laws which limit the number of appren¬
tices to be taken by each master in particular trades, or
which prescribe to apprentices a certain term of service
before they are permitted to work as journeymen. The
tendency of such laws, he observes, is to restrain the com¬
petition to a much smaller number than might otherwise
be disposed to enter into the trade; the limitations of the
number of apprentices restraining it directly, and a long
apprenticeship restraining it indirectly, but as effectually,
by increasing the expense of education. Long appren¬
ticeships, or indeed any apprenticeship, for however short
a term, Dr Smith considers quite unnecessary, as the
nicest mechanical arts, such as the making of clocks and
watches, contain, according to his theory, no such mys¬
tery as to require a long course of instruction. A few
weeks, he calculates, or even a few days, would be suffi¬
cient to enable a mechanic to set to work in any of those
trades ; and if he were paid the full price for his work,
he paying of course for such materials as he might spoil
through awkwardness and inexperience, he imagines that
he would learn his business more effectually, and be more
apt to acquire habits of attention and industry, than when
he works under a master who has a right to share in the
produce of his labour.
It may be generally remarked, however, that, in his
reasonings on these subjects, Dr Smith seems uniformly
A P P
•. r. disposed to overrate the practical effect of those expe-
fcsl • dients by which corporations have been always endea-
>v -/vouring to secure special advantages for particular trades ;
and that his theory respecting apprenticeships is only a
part of that more general theory, by which he endeavours
to show that the policy of Europe has always been to en¬
courage the industry of the towns at the expense of that
of the countryand that the effect of this policy has
t ’ been to enable the merchants and manufacturers of the
town, in bartering their produce for that of the country,
to levy, for several centuries, an unjust and oppressive tax
on the agricultural classes of the community. We know,
however, that, according to the nature of human society,
as it is so admirably explained in Dr Smith’s work, mono¬
poly can never succeed on so great a scale; and, on the
same principle, we may rationally q-uestion, if the contract
between the apprentice and his master were merely the
device of corporations, whether it ever could have come
into such universal use throughout Europe. The engage¬
ment by which the apprentice is bound to his master is
his own voluntary act. He agrees to bind himself to work
to his master at an inferior rate, on condition of receiving
from his master the necessary instruction in his business.
This instruction, Dr Smith asserts, may be given him in
the course of a few days or weeks. It is well known,
however, to every practical tradesman, or to any one ac¬
quainted with the nature of mechanical employments,
that the instruction of three days or weeks would scarce¬
ly teach an apprentice the name of his tools, and that al¬
most all the mechanical trades require throughout their
various operations such nicety and exactness, that the ne¬
cessary habits are not formed by the training of years, in
place of weeks or days. It is for the troublesome super¬
intendence of the apprentice during this period that the
master exacts compensation, without which he would em¬
ploy none but finished workmen. But he puts up with
the awkwardness of his apprentice because he expects to
be benefited by his labour after he shall be better instruct¬
ed in his business; on the same principle that the farmer
lays out his capital on the improvement of his land, in
expectation of a future increase Of produce. The contract
of apprenticeship is thus a voluntary agreement between
two parties for their mutual benefit, the result neither of
law nor of the usages of petty corporations, but of cir¬
cumstances. The law, indeed, takes cognizance of the
contract, and enforces its fulfilment; and it may also have
encumbered it with absurd regulations : but the contract
itself stands independent both of law and usage, having
its origin in the plainest principles of reciprocal expe¬
diency. There seems no reason, therefore, to class it with
those artificial expedients which originate in the exclusive
spirit of trading corporations.
Dr Smith appears also to have greatly overrated the
effects of those laws, the object of which is to limit the
number of apprentices who shall be reared to particular
trades. No law of any corporation will ever be found in
practice to impose any limitation on the number of ap¬
prentices who may be trained to a business. It will de¬
pend on the state of the business, whether it is advancing,
stationary, or declining, what number of apprentices will
be bred to it; and if, while a flourishing trade called for
a continual supply of new hands, any corporation were to
enact a law limiting the masters to such a number of
apprentices as would barely keep up th^ir present stock,
a s^arcity of hands would soon be felt, wages would rise,
and the masters would soon be induced, by regard to their
own interest, to rescind the law which imposed so great
an inconvenience on themselves. But if the law is thus
modified and accommodated to the state of the trade, it is
a mere form. It imposes in reality no restraint, since it
APR 311
is always in the power of the masters to alter it whenever Approach-
they feel that it interferes with their arrangements. ing
But though the law were even rigidly persisted in, it is H
evident that it wmuld not permanently diminish the
ber of apprentices who would be bred to a business,
since the consequence would be, that the workmen would
turn masters, and each taking the full allowance of ap¬
prentices which the law permits, would soon train up an
ample supply of hands. All those petty contrivances of
corporations, therefore, though they may originate in the
lowest mercantile jealousy, and though they may be ex¬
ceedingly absurd, cannot materially disturb the general
progress of things; and, though they may harass indivi¬
duals, their effect on the industry of a great country
hardly deserves notice; their bad effects being corrected
by those general causes on which society depends for com¬
pleting its arrangements, in spite of the obstacles arising
from the mistaken policy of legislators. See Smith’s
Wealth of Nations, with Notes, and an additional volume
of Dissertations, by David Buchanan.
APPROACHING, in fowling, a term used to express
such devices as are contrived for the getting within shot
of shy birds. It is principally used in marshy low places.
The best method of approaching is by means of three
hoops tied together at proper distances, according to the
height of the man that is to use it, and having boughs of
trees tied all round it, with cords to hang it over his
shoulders. A man getting into this conceals himself, and
approaches by degrees towards his game in the form of a
moving bush. Geese, ducks, and teal, quit the waters in
the evening, and pass the night in the fields; but at the
approach of morning they return to the water, and even
when on the water they will retire to great distances on
the approach even of a horse or cow, so that the business
of the stalking-horse is of little use; but this device of
approaching by the moving bush is more successful.
APPROBATION, a state or disposition of the mind,
wherein we put a value upon, or become pleased with,
some person or thing.
APPROPRIATION, in the Canon Law, a severing of
a benefice ecclesiastical to the proper and perpetual use of
some religious house.
APPROVER, in Law, one who, professing felony in
himself, appealeth or impeacheth another or more of his
accomplices. He is so called from the French approuver,
comprobare, because he must prove what he hath alleged
in his appeal. This proof was anciently either by battle or
by the country, at the choice of the appellee, and the form
of this accusation may be found in Crompt. Just. 250.
APPROXIMATION, in Arithmetic and Algebra, the
coming nearer and nearer to a root, or other quantity
sought, without expecting ever to find it exactly.
APPULSE, in Astronomy, the approach of any planet
to a conjunction with the sun or a star. It is a step
towards a transit, occultation, conjunction, eclipse, &c.
APRIES, son of Psammis, king of Egypt, the same
with Pharaoh Hophrah in Jeremiah and Ezekiel. He
ruined Sidon, and some say he put Jeremiah to death.
He thought neither God nor man could dethrone him,
which yet was easily done by Amasis, and he himself was
strangled by the Egyptians.
APRIL, the fourth month of the year, according to the
common computation; but the second according to that
of the astronomers. It contains 30 days. The word is
derived from Aprilis, of aperio, I open, because the earth
in this month begins to open her bosom for the produc¬
tion of vegetables.
APRON, in Naval Architecture, is a piece of curved
timber fixed behind the lower part of the stern, imme¬
diately above the foremost end of the keel.
312
A P U
A Q U
Apron Apron Is also a name given to a platform or flooring of
II plank, raised at the entrance of a dock, against which the
Apuleius. dock-gates are shut.
Apron, in Gunnery, a piece of lead which caps or
covers the vent or touch-hole of a great gun.
APSIS, in ecclesiastical writers, denotes an inner part
in the ancient churches, wherein the clergy sat, and
where the altar was placed. It is supposed to have been
thus called because covered with an arch or vault of its
own, by the Greeks called a^ig, by the Latins absis.
Apsis, in this sense, amounts to the same with what is
otherwise called choir, concha, camera, and presbyterium ;
and stands opposed to the nave or body of the church.
Apsis is more particularly used for the bishop’s seat in
ancient churches. This was peculiarly called apsis gra-
data, because raised on steps above the ordinary stalls. It
was also denominated exedra, and in latter times tribune.
Apsis is-aJso used for a reliquary or case, wherein the
relics of saints were anciently kept. It took the name
apsis from its being round or arched at the top, or perhaps
from the place where it was kept. The apsis was com¬
monly placed on the altar; it was usually of wood, some¬
times also of gold and silver, with sculptures, &c.
Apsis, in Astronomy, a term used indifferently for either
of the two points of a planet’s orbit, where it is at the
greatest or least distance from the sun or earth ; and hence
the line connecting those points is called the line of the
apsides. The word is Greek, and derived from cemo, I con¬
nect. The apsis, at the greatest distance from the sun, is
called the aphelion, and at the greatest distance from the
earth the apogee; while that at the least distance from the
sun is termed the perihelion, and at the least distance
from the earth the perigee.
APT, an arrondissement in the department of Vaucluse
in France, extending over 500 square miles, or 380,000
acres. It is divided into four cantons, and those into fifty
communes, containing 52,553 inhabitants.
Apt, a city, chief of the arrondissement of the same
name in France, situated on the river Calavon. It has a
cathedral, and the inhabitants amount to 5374, who find
employment in making cotton and silk goods, in distille¬
ries, china manufactories, and especially in extracting es¬
sences from lavender, thyme, and other plants. It is in
long. 5. 17. 47. E. and lat. 43. 52. 29. N.
APTHANE, a title anciently given to the higher de¬
grees of nobility in Scotland. See Thane.
APTOTE, among grammarians, an indeclinable noun,
or one which has no variation of cases.
APULEIUS, Lucius, a Platonic philosopher, well
known by his performance entitled the Golden Ass. He
lived in the second century, under the Antonines, and
was born at Madaura, a Roman colony in Africa. He
studied first at Carthage, then at Athens, and afterwards
at Rome, where he learned the Latin tongue without the
help of a master. He was a man of a curious and inqui¬
sitive disposition, especially in religious matters. This
prompted him to take several journeys, and to enter into
several societies of religion. He spent his whole fortune
almost in travelling; so that at his return to Rome, when
he was about to dedicate himself to the service of Osiris,
he had not money enough to defray the expense attend¬
ing the ceremonies of the reception, and was obliged to
pawn his clothes to raise the necessary sum. He support¬
ed himself afterwards by pleading causes; and as he was
a great master of eloquence, and of a subtile genius, many
considerable causes were trusted to him. But he bene¬
fited himself more by marrying a rich widow named P«-
dentilla. This marriage, however, drew upon him a trouble¬
some law-suit. His wife’s relations, pretending he made
use of sorcery to gain her heart and money, accused him l(T&
of being a magician, before Claudius Maximus, proconsul F
of Africa. Apuleius found no great difficulty in mak¬
ing a successful defence. His Apology, which is still ex¬
tant, contains some very curious details. Apuleius was
indefatigable in his studies, and composed many works,
some in verse, and others in prose; but most of them have
been lost. He took great pleasure in declaiming, and was
heard generally with applause. The citizens of Carthage
erected a statue to him, and several other cities did him
the same honour. There have been upwards of forty edi¬
tions of his works; of which the first and rarest was pub¬
lished at Rome in 1469, the last and best at Leyden in
1786-1823, in 3 vols. 4to. This edition was begun hy
Oudendorp, and published after his death by Ruhnkenius
and Bosscha. His principal pieces, besides the celebrated
fiction of the Golden Ass, are his Apology, entitled Omliu
deMagia; fragments of speeches, entitled Florida; three
books of philosophy, entitled De HabitudineDoctrinanm et
NativitatePlatonis; and a curious treatise, DeDeo Socratk.
APYCNI Suoni, in Music, sounds distant one or more
octaves, and yet concord.
APYCNOS, in Music, is said of the diatonic genus, on
account of its having spacious intervals, in comparison of
the chromatic and enharmonic.
APYREXY, among physicians, denotes the intermis¬
sion of a fever.
APYROUS, a word applied to denote that property of
some bodies, by which they resist the most violent lire
without any sensible alteration. Apyrous bodies ought to
be distinguished from those which are refractory. Refrac¬
tory substances are those which cannot by violent heat be
fused, whatever other alteration they may sustain. But a
body, properly speaking, apyrous, can neither be fused by
heat, nor undergo any other change. Diamonds were
long thought to be possessed of this property; but ex¬
periments have shown that diamonds may be entirely dis¬
sipated or evaporated by heat, and are therefore not en¬
titled to be ranked among apyrous substances. Perhaps
there is no body in nature essentially and rigorously apy¬
rous. But it is sufficient that there be bodies apyrous re¬
latively to the degree of fire which art can produce, to
entitle them to that name.
AQUA, a term frequently met with in the writings of
physicians, chemists, &c. for certain medicines or men-
struums, in a liquid form, distinguished from each other
by peculiar epithets.
Aqua Exstincta, or Extinguished Water, is aqua fortis
into which some river water has been poured, in order to
qualify it, and render it less corrosive.
Aqua Fortis, a name given by artists to nitric acid of
a certain strength, from its dissolving power.
Aqua Marina, a name by which the jewellers call the
beryl, on account of its sea-green colour.
Aqua Eegia, a compound of nitric and muriatic acid, in
different proportions, according to the purpose for which
it is intended. It is usually made by dissolving in nitric
acid either sal ammoniac or common salt, both of which
are combinations of muriatic acid with alkali.
Aqua Secunda, aqua fortis diluted with much pure water.
It is employed in several arts to clear the surface of me¬
tals and certain stones.
Aqua Tofana, called also Aqua della Toffanina, or
Aqua della Tofa, from its supposed inventress,—Aqua del
petesino,1—Aquetta di Napoli, or simply Aquetta,—a poi-
1 Lanzoni Opera, vol. i. p. 69. Lausannae, 1738, 3 vols. 4to.
AQUA TOFANA.
31 i!
Ai i sonous liquor which was used to a very great extent at
T»t a- Naples and Rome during the latter half' of the 17th cen-
votary. Gmelin1 says that more people were destroyed
by it than by the plague, which had prevailed a short
time before it came into use; and Garelli, chief physician
to the emperor, wrote to Hoffmann that Tofania confessed
she had used it to poison more than 600 persons. This
he learnt from the emperor himself, to whom the whole
criminal process instituted against her was transmitted.2
It is to be regretted that Garelli, who had such an au¬
thentic source of information, has not given us some de¬
tails of the infamous Tofana or Tofania, as the little that
we know of her rests upon the authority of travellers, and
is evidently exaggerated, and sometimes irreconcilable
with established facts. She was a Sicilian by birth, and
resided first at Palermo, and then at Naples. When she
began to exercise her horrible profession, is nowhere
stated; but it will presently appear that it must have
been at a very early age, and before 1659. She was ex¬
tremely liberal of her preparation, chiefly, it is said, to
ladies tired of their husbands; and the better to conceal
the nature of her gift, it was put up in small flat phials,
inscribed Manna of St Nicholas of Bari, ornamented on
one side with an image of the saint, that it might pass
for a liquid said to drop from his tomb at Bari, which was
in great request on account of the medicinal virtues
ascribed to it. Nor is it ascertained how long she carried
on her murderous practices with impunity and undisco¬
vered. Labat3 says, that when he was at Civita Vecchia
in 1709, the viceroy of Naples, then Count Daun, made
the discovery. It was long before she was secured, as
she was extremely cautious, and often changed her abode
or retired into convents. At last she was betrayed, and,
although in a convent, was seized and carried to the Cas-
tel del Uovo, where she was examined. Cardinal Pigna-
telli, then archbishop of Naples, indignant at the viola¬
tion of a religious sanctuary, threatened to excommunicate
the whole city if she was not delivered up to him; and
the people were ready to rise. But the sagacious viceroy
| caused a report to be spread that she and her accom¬
plices had determined upon the same day to poison all
the springs in the city, the fruits brought to market, and
the public granaries. The manceuvre succeeded. The
credulous people were now clamorous for her punishment,
and saw with satisfaction the persons whom she accused
of having purchased her Aquetta taken from the churches
and monasteries. Some of inferior birth were executed
publicly, those of higher rank secretly in prison ; and the
whole city resounded with the praises of the viceroy,
vvhose energy had saved it from general destruction. A
kind of compromise was entered into with the cardinal;
in consequence of which, after being strangled, her body
was thrown at night into the court of the convent, by
way of testifying some respect for the rights of the
churcln But the reverend traveller must have either
been misinformed as to the actual execution of this Me¬
dea, or she must have been resuscitated; for Garelli ex-
piessly says that she was alive in prison at Naples when
>e wrote to Hoffmann, not long before 1718; and Keysler,
who visited Naples in 1730,4 likewise asserts that she was Aqua
then living in prison, and that few strangers left the city Tofana.
without going to see her. He describes her as a little
and very old woman.
The Roman ladies very quickly availed themselves of
Tofania’s discovery; for it was remarked in 1659, that
many husbands died when they became disagreeable to
their wives; and several of the clergy also gave informa¬
tion that, for some time past, various persons had con¬
fessed themselves guilty of poisoning. This led to the
detection of a society of young married women (who had
for their president an old woman of the name of Hiero-
nyma Spara, a pretended fortune-teller), as the perpetra¬
tors of these murders. On being put to the torture they
all confessed except Spara, who seemed to rely upon the
protection of powerful individuals whom she had formerly
served. But she was left to her fate, and was hanged
along with her assistant, one Gratiosa. Others were af¬
terwards hanged, or whipt and banished. Spara, who was
a Sicilian, had acquired her knowledge from Tofania at
Palermo.5
Pope Alexander VII., immediately on the discovery
and punishment of those who dealt in poison in his capi¬
tal, published an edict forbidding the distillation of aqua
fortis, or the purchase of any of its ingredients, without
the permission of the government; which Gmelin consi¬
ders as an artiflee to mislead the people as to the real
composition of the poison, or as originating in the absurd
nomenclature of the chemists of former times, who called
arsenic concrete aqua fortis. But the prudence of the
Pope was rendered fruitless; for we are informed by
Gayot di Pitaval {Causes Celthres, vol. i. p. 317, Am-
sterd. 1764), on what authority he does not state, that
Tofania’s fatal secret was disclosed by the indiscretion of
the judges at Naples, to whom she had made confession
of her crime. The whole city soon knew that she em¬
ployed in its composition a very common herb, and that
its preparation was otherwise easy; and in this way the
art of poisoning became very common in Naples, where,
Keysler says, it was still secretly practised when he vi¬
sited Italy; and Archenholz,6 who was there in 1780,
states, that Aqua Tofana was then in use, although its
composition was only known to a few; but Joseph Frank,
who was long professor in Pavia, and has written a work
on toxicology (Handbuch der Toxicologic, p. 168, Wien,
1803), regards this as an unfounded calumny, and asserts
that it no longer exists or is heard of.
Aqua Tofana is described as being as limpid as rock
water, and without taste, and hence it could be admi¬
nistered without exciting suspicion. The Abbe Gagliani
adds,7 that there was not a lady in Naples who had not
some of it lying openly on her toilet among her perfumes,
in a phial known only to herself.
It was generally believed that the effect of this poison
was certain death, and that it could be so tempered or
managed as to prove fatal in any determinate time, from
a few days to a year or upwards. Four or six drops were
reckoned a sufficient dose, and they were said to produce
no violent symptoms, no vomiting, or but very seldom;
s v ^ul<ceie der mincralischen Giftc, 1st edit. 8vo, Nurnberg, 1777, p- 132; 2d edit. 8vo, Erfurt, 1811, p. 243.
t ,V ^Gffinanni Med. Hat. Syst. P. ii. cap. ii. sect. 19. Opera Omnia, 6 vols. folio, Genevse, 1748, vol. i. p. 198.
4 fyaSeen Espaffne et en Italic, 8 tomes 8vo, Paris, 1730, vol. iv. p. 33.
s ri,r('ls through Germany, c|r. 4 vols. 4to, 2d edit. London, 1750, vol. ii. p. 368.
, 4>e Bret, Magazin zum Gehrauche der Staaten-kirchengeschichtc, iv. Frank. 1774, p. 131-141, as quoted in the curious chap-
• 0IV ecre! Poisons, in Beckmann's History of Inventions and Discoveries—a work which has been of great assistance to us in point-
Ing out authorities. B *
, Italicn, 5ter Theil, 8vo, Carlsruhe, 1737, p. 184.
Man .eV Un,S Chronologen, 12ter Band, p. 146—L'Espion Devalise. Feliciter Audax, London, 1782, p. 61; also Behrends, in Pyl’s
aa~injur gerichtliche Arzncikunde und mcdicinischc Polizey, book i. st. 3, 1784, p. 428-477-—Beckmann.
VOL. III. 9 R
314
AQUA TOFANA.
Aqua no pains, convulsions, inflammation, or fever 51 but only a
Tofana. feeling of indisposition, without any very definite symp-
toms, except sometimes inextinguishable thirst: the vic¬
tim, however, sunk into a languid state, and his weakness
increased daily. Disgust at all kinds of food, and weari¬
ness of life, succeeded: the nobler organs were then at¬
tacked, the lungs were wasted by suppuration, and death
closed the miserable scene. This termination was the
more certain, that the true cause of these symptoms was
not at first suspected, and the remedies commonly pre¬
scribed rather aggravated the evil. Indeed, even when
known, no treatment was of any avail, although a Dr
Branchaletti, according to Keysler, wrote a book on its
remedies, until it was discovered by accident that lemon-
juice, when very early administered in large doses, some¬
times proved effectual (Bertholinus), after which Keysler
tells us that the poison fell into some disrepute.
Various accounts of the composition of this detestable
liquor have been given. Abbe Gagliani, and more lately
Archenholz, state it to be a preparation of cantharides
and opium; but this is perfectly inconsistent both with
its appearance and effects. By no preparation can the
smell and taste of opium, if the quantity be sufficient to
produce any effect, be concealed; and the acrimony of
cantharides is equally connected with its activity. The
one of these drugs is highly stimulant, the other a seda¬
tive, and neither of them capable of remaining latent in
the system, or injuring the constitution. Erndtel,2 but
without any probability, has conjectured that the chief
ingredient was lead: Halle {Die dentchen Giftpjianzen,
Berlin, 1703) believes that it was prepared from the frothy
saliva gathered round the mouth of a person tortured to
death. Garelli, on the contrary, positively asserts it to
have been nothing but a solution of crystallized arsenic
in a large quantity of water, with the addition, for some
unknown reason, of a very innocent herb, the Antirrhinum
cymbalaria. The same account is given by Bertholinus,
Lobel {Der freymuthige Heilkunstler, Berlin, 1786), Plenk
(Toxicologia, p. 335), Haller,3 Molitor (Commerce Lit.
Noric. 1737, p. 132), and Mbhsen,4 * and is received by
the most judicious systematic writers, as Gmelin and
Hahnemann. ( Ueher die Arsenikvergiftung, p. 35. Leipzig,
1786, 8vo.) Wildberg,6 however, considers its compo¬
sition to be unknown.
From Italy this poison seems to have found its way to
Paris. In 1672 Godin de Sainte Croix, an adventurer,
who lived in a scandalous intimacy with the Marchioness
Brinvilliers, was suddenly killed by suffocation, as it is
said, in consequence of the falling off of a mask of glass,
which he wore to protect him from the fumes of certain
chemical operations about which he was employed. As
he had no known relations, his effects were examined by
a public officer, and among them was found a casket,
containing many packets of poisonous articles, sealed up
in a mysterious manner, together with a kind of last will,
directing the whole to be delivered to the marchioness,
and, in case of her having predeceased him, to be burnt
unopened. This led to the discovery of his having been
instructed in the art of preparing poison by an Italian,! AqW
called Exili, with whom he had become acquainted when 'oL
confined in the Bastile; and of his having furnished thep\
marchioness with the means of poisoning her father and
her two brothers, besides others on whom she tried the
effect of her preparations. One of these afterwards was
called from her by the name Eau de Brinvilliers. She
is also said to have employed a powder called Poudre de
Succession.6 La Chaussee, who had been valet to Sainte
Croix, was convicted of being accessory to these murders,
and was broken alive on the wheel. The marchioness
herself, who had escaped to Liege, was also seized; and
her execution, which took place on the 17th of July
1676, is described with revolting levity by Madame de
Sevigne in a letter to her daughter of that date.
The practice of poisoning, however, did not seem to
terminate with the death of this infamous woman; and a
particular court called Chambre des Poisons, or Chumbre
Ardente, was established in 1679, to endeavour to put an
end to it. In consequence of the investigations which took
place in it, many persons, some of the highest rank, espe¬
cially the Due de Luxembourg, were implicated. More
than 40 persons were at one time confined in the Bastile;
but it was ascertained that almost all of them had been
guilty of no crime, but were merely the dupes of a few
impostors, who pretended to raise spirits, foretell future
events, and to possess many secrets of a similar nature.
Two women, La Vigoreux and La Voisin, with the bro¬
ther of the former, and a priest called Le Sage,7 pretend-j
ed fortune-tellers, were convicted of being dealers in poi¬
son, and burnt alive on the 22d of February 1680; some
others were hanged, and others acquitted. This closed
the proceedings of this inquisitorial court, which has been
accused of being a political engine, contrived to serve the
purposes of Louvois and the Marchioness de Montespan.
Voltaire, however, admits that the crime of poisoning in¬
fected Paris from 1670 to 1680.
Concerning the effects of the Eau de Brinvilliers, Pi-
taval tells us (p. 271) that the marchioness’s father ex¬
perienced violent effects from the poison,—extraordinary
vomiting, insupportable pain at the stomach, and great
heat in the bowels. He died soon after his return from his
country-seat to Paris. The brothers and five other per¬
sons were all taken ill, and affected with vomiting, afterj
partaking of a tart at dinner. On their return from the
country to Paris, the brothers had the appearance of per¬
sons who had been long ill; and after suffering, the one
for two, and the other for three months, from nausea and
vomiting, they died extremely emaciated, and as it were
dried up, without fever, though experiencing a burning
sensation in the stomach. On opening the bodies, the
stomach and duodenum were black and tender, and the
liver gangrenous and burnt. Madame Sevigne relates
that the marchioness often poisoned her husband, that
she might marry Sainte Croix; but that the gallant, hav¬
ing no desire for a wife of her disposition, as often gave
the poor husband an antidote. She is also said to have
attempted to poison her sister, but did not succeed; ami
1 Bertholinus alone enumerates very violent fever as its first effect. See J. J. Wepferi Historia Cicutce Aqualiar, p. 37--
Lugd. Bat. 1.733, 8vo.
2 Dissert, de Veneno sahttem sistens, Lipsise, 1701, § 21.
3 Vorlesungen uber die gerichtliche Arzneikundc, 2ter Band, p. 190.
4 Beschreibung einer Bcrlinischen Medallien-Sammtung, 1. Th. p. 148.
6 Handbuch d'er gerichtlichen Arzcneywissenchaft, p. 224. Berlin, 1812, 8vo.
0 Heucher, Mithridates, sistens prccse.rvathmcm Principis a veneno. Vide ejus Opera, 4to, Lipsise, 1745, vol. 1. p. 421; also, J. G. Ar¬
nold pr. C. G. Stentzell De Vcnenis terminatis et extemporaneis, quae Galli les Poudres de Succession vacant. This powder was probably
an arsenical composition ; but it was supposed by Erndtel and Haller to be acetate of lead, and by Brendel {Institutiones Mcdicma
Lcgalis, Halse, 1768) to consist of lead and bismuth.
7 Voltaire, Siccle de Louis XIV. chap. xxvi.
A Q U
that she was in the habit of trying the effects of her poi-
iqUa sons on the poor, and even on the patients in the Hotel
AquL Dieu, under pretence of charitably supplying them with
biscuits. But Voltaire positively denies this horrible im¬
putation, and says that she never attempted the life of
her husband, who overlooked a connection of which he
was the cause. . , t ~ ,
The information concerning the nature ot the bau de
Brinvilliers, derived from the examination of Sainte Croix’s
famous casket, is not satisfactory. It contained poisons
enough to have killed a whole community ; besides opium,
lunar5caustic, antimony, and vitriol, more than 75 lbs. of
corrosive sublimate, and two bottles of a liquid like water,
with a sediment in one. The clear liquid was probably
his real poison; as none of the other substances could have
been given so as to produce death, without instantly being
detected by their abominable taste ; but what this liquid
was, we can now only conjecture ; for its examination, as
reported by Pitaval, shows that the physicians at that time
had not the slightest notion of the mode of detecting arsenic
even in substance, much less in solution; and accordingly,
although both the liquor and powder killed the animals to
which they were given, it is candidly admitted that the
poison of Sainte Croix surpassed the art and capacity of the
physicians, and that it baffled all their experiments to dis¬
cover its composition. We have, however, no doubt that
arsenic was the only active ingredient of all these pretend¬
ed secret poisons, as it is the only substance capable of
explaining all the credible circumstances related of them.
From the mode of administering them in small but repeat¬
ed and perhaps increased doses, there was some founda¬
tion for the belief that they could be given so as to kill in
any determinate time, while their failing in any instance
to produce death was easily accounted for by supposing
antidotes to have been administered. But although the
progress of knowledge has proved that there is no such
thing as such antidotes, it has on the other hand, by ren¬
dering the detection of poison easy and certain, put a stop
for ever to the trade of poisoner, and, what is perhaps of
equal importance, to the general alarm and cruel punish¬
ment of individuals, which have often resulted from natural
deaths being ascribed to poison. It is not because we
know less, but because we know a great deal more than
our forefathers, that the art of secret poisoning seems to
1 be lost. (x.)
AQUAMBOE, a large kingdom in the interior of the
Gold Coast of Africa, extending 20 miles along the banks
of the Rio Volta, which separates it from Aquapim, and
reaching 100 miles inland. About a century ago it was
considered the most powerful kingdom on all this coast,
and the king held all the neighbouring potentates as his
subjects or tributaries. His despotism gave rise to a
proverbial saying, that “ there are only two ranks of men
m Aquamboe, the royal family and slaves.” The natives
are haughty, turbulent, and warlike; and their territory,
though fertile, is indifferently cultivated. Like all the
countries in the interior from the Gold Coast, it is now
entirely subject to the preponderant power of the king of
Ashant.ee.
AQUAPENDENTE. See Fabricius.
AQUAPIM, a kingdom of considerable extent in the
interior of the Gold Coast of Africa, immediately behind
Acra, and having on the other side Aquamboe. This
country is said to vie in beauty and fertility with any in
the world. It is finely diversified with wooded hills and
highly cultivated valleys, the former having usually towns
and villages situated on their summits. The people are
obedient to their chiefs, mild and gentle ; they are chiefly
employed in agriculture, which they practise with con¬
siderable diligence.
A Q U 315
AQUARIANS, Christians in the primitive church who Aquarians
consecrated water in the euchai’ist instead of wine. This II
they did under pretence of abstinence and temperance, Aquatinta
or because they thought it universally unlawful to eat^^^^y
flesh or drink wine. Epiphanius calls them Ever utiles,
from their abstinence ; St Austin, Aquarians, from their
use of water ; and Theodoret, who says they sprang from
Tatian, Hydroporastatce, because they offered wjater in¬
stead of wine. Besides these, there was another sort of
Aquarians, who did not reject the use of wine as unlawful;
for they administered the eucharist in wine at evening
service; but in their morning assemblies they commonly
used water, lest the smell of wine should discover them to
the heathens.
AQUARIUS, the Water-bearer, in Astronomy, the
11th sign of the zodiac. It is marked thus, The
poets feign that Aquarius was Ganymede, whom Jupiter
ravished under the shape of an eagle, and carried away
into heaven to serve as a cup-bearer in the room of Hebe
and Vulcan ; whence the name. Others hold that the sign
was thus called because, when it appears in the horizon,
the weather usually proves rainy.
AQUATINTA Engraving, so called from its near re¬
semblance to water-colour drawings, is of modern inven¬
tion, and was much practised about 12 or 15 years ago,
since which period it has not been so much in fashion.
It is performed in a variety of ways; but the most approv¬
ed is by covering or immersing the copper-plate in a solu¬
tion of resinous matter, rendered so in rectified spirits of
wine, and by working or drawing the object which is wish¬
ed to be represented, upon the plate, with a prepared pig¬
ment, commonly called the bursting ground. These solu¬
tions and grounds are made of a variety of substances, de¬
scribed in recipes at the end of this article.
The work is generally commenced by etching, or tracing
the outline upon the plate with an etching needle or other
sharp instrument, which being done, and the etching
ground removed, the plate must be made particularly
clean and free from grease, with whitening and water.
The plate is then to be placed in a flat tin or earthen
vessel, in an inclined position, and the resinous solution
or ground (No. 1, &c.) poured quickly upon it from
the top to the bottom, so that the superfluous ground
may run off, and be preserved for after-use in a vessel
so placed as to receive it. Should the subject to be
engraved be a landscape, it will be advisable to allow
the ground upon the plate to dry in the inclined posi¬
tion, because the granulation of the shade or tint has
a tendency to be closer and finer in proportion as it is
nearer the top of the plate; and in this way the sky is
represented by the finest grain at the top, and the fore¬
ground by the coarsest at the bottom of the plate. Should
the subject require an equality of tint or grain, it will be
procured by reversing the inclined position of the plate
backwards and forwards as quickly as possible after the
ground has been poured on it. The spirit of wine will
very speedily evaporate, leaving the plate dry, with the
ground upon it ready for work ; but in order to render it
more secure, it may be held over a clear fire, with the
back of the plate next the coals until the resin of the
ground is a little heated, and so fixed to the plate more
completely. Care must, however, be taken, in this opera¬
tion, not to melt the resinous granulations so much as to
cause them to unite into solid masses.
The design is now to be drawn upon the plate with the
bursting ground (No. 10, &c.), exactly in the same manner
as any water-colour drawing is set about: every part where
a tint is required is to be covered over with the bursting
ground, and the lights alone left untouched with it.
When this composition is quite dry, take a broad camel*
316 A Q U
A Q U
Aquatinta hair pencil, such as is used for painting skies, and go over
engraving, the whole surface of the plate with the varnish (No. 13).
v-^~v"^^ The plate is now to be surrounded with a border of wax
(14), so as to retain the aqua fortis. When the varnish is
dry, as much clean water must be poured upon the copper
as can be contained within the border wax, and in about
15 minutes the bursting ground will burst open the varnish,
and leave the aquatinta ground ready for being bit in with
the diluted acid. The bursting away of the bursting
ground may be aided with the help of a clean camel-hair
pencil or goose-quill feather ; but if the composition be
properly made this will not be necessary. The plate may
now be said to be ready for the first tint being bit in Math
the aqua fortis, which must be allowed to remain upon it
until the shade is seen to be of a proper colour, when the
acid must be poured off, and the plate cleaned with water,
to prepare it for the second tint; which is to be accom¬
plished in the same manner as described for the first;
and thus the greatest softness of shade, and the utmost
sharpness of touch in the foreground or sky, may be at¬
tained. A pair of bellows may be used to dry the plate
more quickly between the bitings with the aqua fortis,
and so prevent the copper from becoming corroded by
the water. From the description above given, it will be
obvious that in some cases the bursting ground will not
be required, and that the lights alone will need to be stop¬
ped out with the varnish ;—such as in fleecy white clouds,
the high lights upon metallic substances, &c.; all which
practice will soon suggest to the artist.
Before we proceed to describe some other modes of per¬
forming this operation, we may remark, that when very
fine grounds are required, it is customary only to bite in
the lightest shades with the first granulation, and then to
clean the plate and lay on a second, or even a third and
fourth ground, at various stages of the wrork. But it must
be held in mind, that in proportion as the grounds are
multiplied, the granulations are subdivided, and their rich
grain lost; while at the same time the work is rendered
less serviceable, by its casting off a smaller number of
impressions.
Should the bursting ground not flow on the plate freely,
out of the camel-hair pencil, in consequence of the plate
being greasy, it may be washed with very weak aqua
fortis before commencing. If the weather should be very
cold, it is difficult to obtain a good ground; on which ac¬
count it will be advisable to heat the apartment with a
stove to a moderate summer heat.
Dust Grounds are prepared by covering the plate with
powders of various mixtures, and fixing them by holding
it over a clear fire; and the operation of biting in the sub¬
ject with the aqua fortis, and the painting of the objects
upon the plate, may be performed in the manner above
described, and either with or without the bursting grounds.
The powders may be applied to the surface of the copper
in a variety of ways. As good a mode as any is to cover
over the top of a small box with one or two layers of
muslin, and dust the powrder through these layers of mus¬
lin equally upon it. For this purpose the plate will re¬
quire to be a little greasy, that the powder may adhere
the more readily; and when the whole surface is covered,
give the plate a sharp stroke upon the back, that the su¬
perfluous particles may be disengaged.
Madame Prestel’s ground, celebrated for its fineness, is
produced in the following manner: The plate is placed with
its face upwards in a box, about six inches deep, covered
with a lid: at one end introduce through a circular hole
the small end of a hair-dresser’s powder machine, filled
with finely pulverized resin, and work it till the plate is
completely covered with the powder, which fix over a
clear fire, as already described.
Spirit Grounds.
No. 1. Resin Ground.—One quart of double rectified,
spirits of wine, and ten ounces of common resin: when
dissolved, a variety of granulations will be obtained by
adding spirits of wine to this solution.
No. 2. Burgundy pitch ground.—One quart of spirits ol
wine and ten ounces of Burgundy pitch : the coarseness
or fineness of this, as well as the former ground, is influ-
enced by the greater or less quantity of spirits in which
the pitch is dissolved.
No. 3. Mastic ground.—Four ounces of gum mastic to
one pint of spirits of wine: this, if made a month before
being used, will be found to be a good ground.
No. 4. Animi ground.—Eight ounces of gum aninii to
one quart of spirits of wine.
No. 5. Frankincense ground.—Twelve ounces of gum
frankincense to one quart of spirits of wine.
No. 6. Turpentine varnish ground.—One fourth of a pint
of turpentine varnish to three fourths spirits of wine makes
a curious granulated ground.
All these compositions may be mixed one with another,
or even two or three may be combined; and the results,
interesting in consequence of the variety of granulations
which will be produced, and, as mentioned before; the
coarseness and fineness, will vary in proportion to the quan¬
tity of spirits which are used.
Dust Grounds.
No. 7. Equal parts of asphaltum and fine transparent
resin, finely powdered separately, and afterwards com¬
pletely mixed together.
No. 8. Gum sandarach finely powdered.
No. 9. Transparent resin finely powdered. These]
powders may be so pulverized as to produce fineness or
coarseness of granulation.
Bursting Grounds.
No. 10. Half a pound of treacle, half an ounce of isin¬
glass, and eight ounces of gum arabic, in no more water
than will just dissolve them. This should be set by fora
week, shaking it up twice a day: when used, a little must
be' poured into a cup, and as much lamp black, burnt
cork, or terra de sienna, ground as finely as possible, added
to it as will give it both body and colour. Should it bei
too stiff to work, add a little water.
No. 11. Half a pound of treacle, four ounces of white1
sugarcandy, and one ounce of gum arabic, dissolved in a
little water, at least a week before using.
No. 12. Half a pound of West Indian white sugar, an
ounce and a half of isinglass, and one ounce of gum dra¬
gon, dissolved in as much malt liquor of any kind as will
make them liquid; set them on the fire until all are well
melted, and, when cool, the composition may be used im¬
mediately. These two last recipes may be coloured with
the same substances as No. 10.
No. 13. The varnish used for covering over these burst¬
ing grounds is common turpentine varnish, thinned down
with turpentine to the proper consistency required.
No. 14. Border-wrax is composed of equal parts of shoe¬
maker’s resin and bees-wax.
The preceding is the method for prints of one single
tint. But if different colours are to be expressed, there
will be required as many different plates, each plate hav¬
ing only the part etched upon it which is designed to be
charged with its proper colour ; unless (as may happen in
particular subjects) some of the colours are so distant
from each other as to allow the printer room to fill them
in with his rubber without blending them ; in which case
A Q U
, fWo or more different colours may be printed from the
le Plate at once. Where different plates are necessary,
a separate one, having a pin in each corner, must be pro-
ided as a sole or button to the aquatinta plates; and
Hiese a^ain must be exactly fitted, having each a small
hole in their corners for passing over the pms of the sole ;
the said pins serving the double purpose of retaining the
dates successively in their due position, and of directing
he printer in placing the paper exactly on each plate so
as not to shift; by which means each tint or colour will
be exactly received on its proper place. A landscape or
similar subject, however, may be printed off at once in the
different proper colours, by painting these upon the plate.
In this case the colours must be pretty thick in their con¬
sistence ; and the plate must be carefully wiped in the
usual way after the laying on of each tint, as well as receive
a general wipe upon its being charged with all the tints.
For more particular information upon this art, see the
third edition of Green’s Complete Aquatinta. Lond. 1810.
AQUEDUCT, a conduit or channel for the convey¬
ance of water. It is derived from aqua, water, and ductus,
a conduit. It is applied more particularly to those struc¬
tures of masonry which have been erected for the con¬
veyance of water across valleys, to which, however, w^e
would rather give the name of aqueduct bridges, extend-
ino- the term aqueduct to the whole conduit or channel
by5which the water is conveyed from one place to ano¬
ther. The conveyance of water for the supply of large
cities has in all ages formed a very important object of
public economy; and aqueducts of various kinds have
been in use for this purpose from the earliest times, the
remains of which have been examined by travellers in
different parts of the East. Pococke describes a work of
this kind erected by Solomon, for conveying water from
the pools and fountains near Bethlehem to Jerusalem.
“ The aqueduct,” he says, “ is built on a foundation of
stone; the water runs in round earthen pipes about 10
inches diameter, which are cased writh twro stones, hewn
out so as to fit them, and they are covered over with
rough stones well cemented together; and the whole is so
sunk into the ground on the side of the hills, that in many
places nothing is to be seen of it.” But it was in the
luxurious capital of Rome that the system of aqueducts
was brought to the greatest perfection, and carried to an
extent which has never been equalled even in modern
times, and has justly excited admiration both from the
number and magnificence of the works themselves, and the
prodigious quantities of water which by these means were
continually poured into the city. These aqueducts ex¬
tended, some of them 30, 40, and even 60 miles from
the city, in one continued covered channel of stone, car¬
ried by arcades over the widest and deepest valleys, and
by tunnels running in many parts for miles through moun¬
tains and through the solid rock. “ If we consider atten¬
tively,” says Pliny, “ the quantities of water brought into
the city for the use of the public, for baths, for fish-ponds,
for private houses, for artificial lakes, for gardens in the
neighbourhood of the city, and for villas ; if we look also
at the works which have been constructed for forming a
regular channel for the waters—arches raised up, moun¬
tains pierced with tunnels, and valleys filled up to a level;
it must be acknowledged that there is nothing in the whole
world more wonderful.”
For about 400 years after the building of the city the
Romans were contented with the waters of the Tiber, or
what was drawn from wells or from fountains in the city
and its neighbourhood. But the great increase of the
population rendering a more ample supply desirable, the
censor Appius Claudius was the first to introduce an aque*
duct to convey the waters of distant springs into the city.
A Q U
317
About thirty-nine years after this, M. Curius Dentatus Aqueduct,
brought in an additional supply from the neighbourhood'^-^V”'*-''
of Tibur. These examples were afterwards followed by
various other public men, as the wants of the city ren¬
dered new supplies necessary. Among these were Papirius,
Crassus, Marcius, Agrippa, and Augustus; and most of the
succeeding emperors, even Tiberius, Claudius, Caligula,
Nero, and Caracalla, esteemed it an honour to connect
their names with such great and useful works.
Frontinus, who was appointed curator of the aque¬
ducts by the emperor Nerva, has left the most ample ac¬
count of them. According to him, there were nine great
aqueducts by which the city was supplied. Five more
were added by Nerva, and the number was afterwards
augmented by succeeding emperors to tw'enty. Of these,
the most remarkable were the Aqua Appia; the Old and
New Anio; the Aqua Martia, which also conveyed the
Aqua Julia and the Aqua Tepula; the Aqua Virginia;
and the Aqua Claudia. The Aqua Appia was so named
from the censor Appius Claudius, by whom it w^as con¬
structed in the 442d year of Home. It commenced in a
field near the Via Prsenestina, between the 6th and 8th
mile-stones, made a circuit of 780 paces-to the left, and
then proceeding by a deep subterranean channel of more
than 11 miles, entered the city at the Appian Way by
the Porta Capena, and delivered the main body of its
waters into the Campus Martius. The Old and New Anio
were so called from their bringing into Rome the waters
of that river. The former began above the Tiber, at the
30th mile-stone, and consisted mostly of a winding chan¬
nel, carried through an extent of about 43 miles. The
latter, constructed under Nero, took a higher level, run¬
ning 7543 paces above ground, and then through a sub¬
terranean passage of 54,267 paces in length. The Aqua
Martia, which owed its formation to Quintus Martius,
rose from a spring distant 33 miles from Rome, made
a circuit of three "miles, and afterwards forming a vault
of 16 feet diameter, it ran 38 miles along a series of ar¬
cades at an elevation of 70 feet. It had openings perfo¬
rated at certain distances for discharging the collected
air, and at different places deep cisterns, in which the
water settled and deposited its sediment. On this account
it was remarkable for its clear green colour, and^ is cele¬
brated by Pliny for its coolness and salubrity. The Aqua
Julia and the Aqua Tepula were brought to Rome by
the same aqueduct as the Aqua Martia, but on higher
levels. The whole aqueduct above the arcades was di¬
vided into three stories or channels. In the uppermost
flowed the Aqua Julia, in the second the Aqua Tepula,_
and in the lowest the Aqua Martia. From the ruins of
this combined fabric, which still subsist, it appears to
have been a very superb structure. The Aqua Virginia,
was constructed by Agrippa, who laboured to improve and
beautify Rome, and who, according to Pliny, formed in
one year 70 pools, 105 fountains, and 130 reservoirs. It
commenced at a very copious spring, in the middle of a
marsh, at the distance of eight miles from the city, and
ran about 12 miles, passing through a tunnel of 800 paces
in length. The Aqua Claudia, begun by Nero and com¬
pleted by Claudius, took its rise 38 miles from Rome. It
formed a subterranean stream 36] miles in length, ran lOf
miles along the surface of the ground, was vaulted for the
space of three miles, and supported on arcades through
the extent of seven miles, being carried along as high a
level as to supply all the hills ot Rome. It was built of
hewn stone, and still continues to furnish the modern city
with water of the best quality, which has hence procured
it the name of Aqua Felice.
In all these aqueducts the channel for the waters was
carried with a regular declivity from the one end to the
318
AQUEDUCT.
Aqueduct other of the aqueduct, and such as was sufficient to carry
— ~ the water easily along. In some cases the declivity, had
the line been carried straight forward, would have been
too great; it was therefore made to take a circuitous
route, winding along the sides of the hills, and prolonging
the length of the channel so as to reduce the degree of
descent, and cause the water to run gently along. The
whole of the channel was regularly built of stone or brick,
and arched above to cover in the channel, excepting in
those places where it was cut out of the solid rock. Along
all the valleys and water-courses which lay in the way it
was elevated by a series of arches, all raised to the level
of the conduit, resting on massy pillars, and all built in
the most solid and substantial manner, with brick, and
often with hewn stone. The sketches of Roman aque¬
ducts in Plate XLVIIL, taken from Fabrettus, will give a
better idea than any description, of the manner in which
the work was executed. Sometimes there was only a
single arch, as in the two middle figures; sometimes, again,
where the conduit was to be elevated higher, as in the
right-hand figure, a double row of arches was raised, one
above the other, for greater strength and security. The
figure on the left hand shows two conduits or aque¬
ducts carried in different levels along the same building.
The upper one is the New Anio, the lower is the Aqua
Claudia. When we consider the labour and difficulties
attending the construction of such arches and arched
channels of masonry, the spirit and enterprise which
could have undertaken such works as are above enume¬
rated, undaunted by the expense, or any of the other ob¬
stacles which lay in the way, appear astonishing. In this
country, where bridges, canals, and other water-works
have been carried to a great extent and perfection, we
consider an aqueduct of six or eight arches a work of
no small extent and importance. What would we think,
then, of the aqueduct of the New Anio, extending 6^
miles in one continued series of arches, many of them
upwards of 100 feet high 1 If we allow a similar number
of arches in the length, we shall have in all more than
600; arid yet this is nothing compared with the aqueduct
of the Aqua Martia, extending 38 miles, and containing
in all nearly 7000 arches. Even an aqueduct bridge
of five or six miles in length appears incredible; and
yet how can we otherwise translate Frontinus, where he
states the lengths of all the aqueducts, and how much
was above or under ground, and how much was built in
arches ? Of the New Anio, for instance, he says its con¬
duit was 63 miles 700 paces in length. Of this 49 miles
200 paces consisted of a subterranean stream, and 9 miles
400 paces were above ground, of which last the higher
part consisted of “ substructionibus aut opere arcuato,”
in several places of great length; and nearer the city,
at the 7th mile-stone, consisted of “ substructione” 609
paces, and “ opere arcuato” 6 miles 491 paces; and he
adds, “ These arches are the highest of any, being raised
in some parts 109 feet.” The term substructio probably
means a conduit built by opening up the surface of the
ground and then covering over the building with earth,
as we do in such works at this day. But the term opere
arcuato can only refer to a continued series of arches, and
certainly conveys a vast idea of the extent and magnitude
of such works.
The total quantity of water delivered into Rome by
these aqueducts was altogether astonishing, and quite be¬
yond what we have any conception of now, for either
comfort or luxury. Strabo said truly, that whole rivers
flowed through the streets of Rome. According to Fron¬
tinus, the nine earlier aqueducts delivered daily 14'018
quinaria, which corresponds to nearly 28 millions of cubic
feet; and when all the aqueducts were in operation, the
quantity must have amounted to 50,000,000 cubic feet- K
which, reckoning the population of the city at that time at^
a million, would give 50 feet daily, or 7 hogsheads to each
individual. This is more than ten times the supply of
London, which is now reckoned to be quite profuse.
Of the modern aqueducts in Rome the principal are the
Aqua Felice, the Aqua Virginia, and the Aqua Paulina.
The first was constructed by Sixtus V. It commences
at Palaestrina, about twenty-two miles from the city, and
discharges itself at the Fontana di Termini. The Aqua
Paulina was repaired by Pope Paul V. in the year 1612.
It divides itself into two principal channels, one of which
supplies Mont Janiculum, and the other the Vatican and
its neighbourhood. It is conveyed from the district of
Bracciano, about twenty miles distant; and three of its
five streams are not inferior to small rivers. According
to the calculation of Prouy, these three aqueducts, with
some additional sources, deliver in twenty-four hours
5,305,000 cubic feet. This, among a population of 130,000,
gives about 40 cubic feet for each individual, which is
nearly equal in proportion to the supply of ancient Rome
in the period of its utmost splendour.
But the system of aqueducts was not confined to the
capital of Rome. It was gradually extended throughout
the provinces of that vast empire; and every city and con¬
siderable town had its conduits and aqueducts for sup¬
plying it with water, many of which still remain to attest
the magnificence with which these works were carried
on. In Plates XLVIII. and XLIX. we have given a view
of some of these. The first is the remains of one of the
principal aqueduct bridges in the aqueduct of Antioch.
It is a work of great magnitude and height, but a very
rude structure. The lower part consists almost entirely
of solid wall, and the upper part of a series of arches
with very massy pillars. It appears, however, to be a
Roman work; and there are remains of another aqueduct
on a lower level, and of an older date. The water to An¬
tioch was brought from a distance of four or five miles,
from a place called Battelma, w hich Pococke thinks was
the very spot where Daphne stood. Several springs, one
of which was so large as to turn several mills, were con¬
veyed in channels of hewm stone, and united in one main
stream, which was thence conveyed along the surface
of the ground in a similar channel. Across all the rivu¬
lets and valleys it was raised on arches or aqueduct
bridges, some of which are very lofty, and the principal
is the one exhibited in the plate, extending upwards
of 700 feet in length, and upwards of 200 feet high in
the deepest part. From the remains of the aqueduct in
the island of Mytilene, represented from Pococke in the
same plate, this appears to have been also a magnificent
work. It was built of gray marble rusticated. It is much
superior in point of skill to the aqueduct of Antioch, the
arches being carried in two ranges throughout the build¬
ing. It extended about 500 feet in length, and was
about 70 or 80 feet high at the deepest part.
The aqueduct or aqueduct bridge of Pyrgos, near Con¬
stantinople, forms a portion of the extensive hydraulic
works with which that capital was supplied with water
after it became the seat of empire. They are described
by Andreossy in his voyage to the Black Sea, and account
of the Thracian Bosphorus. It is a grand work, very re¬
markable both in design and execution, and affords a fair
specimen of the style of such structures among the Ro¬
mans in the middle ages. It consists of two branches, one
ol which only is seen in elevation in the plate; the other
stood nearly at right angles to this, and is seen partly
on the plan; it was hence called the Bended or Crooked
Aqueduct, to distinguish it from another termed the Long
Aqueduct, which was situated near the sources of the
A Q IT E
lt. waters. The branch seen in elevation extends 670 feet
X/[n length, and is 106 feet in height at the deepest part.
It is composed of three rows of arches, those in each low
increasing in width from the bottom to the top—an ar¬
rangement very properly introduced with the view of
saving materials without diminishing the strength of the
work.& The two upper rows consisted of arches of semi¬
circles, the lower of Gothic arches; and this circumstance
serves to fix the date of the structure, as these last were
not introduced until the 10th century. The breadth of
the building at the base was 21 feet, and it diminished
with a regular batter on each side to the top, where it
was only 11 feet. The base also was protected by strong
buttresses or counterforts, erected against each of the
pillars. . The other branch of the aqueduct was 300 feet
long, and consisted of 12 semicircular arches.
This aqueduct serves to convey to Constantinople the wa¬
ters of the valley of Belgrade, one of the principal sources
from which the city is supplied. These are situated on the
heights of Mount Haemus, the extremity of the Balkan
Mountains, which overhangs the Black Sea. The water
rises about 15 miles from the city, and between three and
four miles west of the village of Belgrade, in three sources,
which run in three deep and very confined valleys. These
unite a little below the village, and then are collected into
a large reservoir. After flowing a mile or two from this
reservoir, the waters are augmented by two other streams,
and conveyed by a channel of stone to the Crooked Aque¬
duct. From this they are conveyed to another, which is
the Long Aqueduct; and then, with various accessions,
into a third, termed the Aqueduct of Justinian. From this
they enter a vaulted conduit, which skirts the hills on the
left side of the valley, and crosses a broad valley two
miles below the Aqueduct of Justinian, by means of an
aqueduct with a double row of arcades of a very beauti¬
ful construction. The conduit then proceeds onward in
a circuitous route, till it reaches the reservoir of Egri
Kapan, situated just without and on the walls of the
city. From this they are conducted to the various quar¬
ters of the city, and also to the reservoir of St Sophia,
which supplies the seraglio of the grand signior. The
Long Aqueduct is more imposing by its extent than the
Crooked one, but is far inferior in the regularity of de¬
sign and disposition of the materials. It is evidently a
work of the Turks. It consists of two rows of arcades,
the lower being 48 in number, and the upper 50. The
whole length was about 2200 feet, and the height 80
feet. The Aqueduct of Justinian is a very excellent work,
and without doubt one of the finest monuments which
remain to us of the middle ages. It consists of two rows
of large arcades in the pointed style, with four arches in
each. Those of the lower story have 52 feet of span,
the upper ones 40 feet. The piers are supported by
strong buttresses, and at different heights they have little
arches passing through them, which relieve the deadness
of the solid pillar. The length of this aqueduct is 720
feet, and the height 109 feet. This aqueduct, though it
bears the name of Justinian, was probably erected in
the time of Constantine.
Besides the waters of Belgrade, Constantinople was sup¬
plied from several other principal sources, one of which took
its rise on the heights of the same mountains, three or
four miles east of Belgrade. This was conveyed in a simi¬
lar manner by an arched channel, elevated when it was
necessary on aqueduct bridges, till it reached the northern
parts of the city. It was in the course of this aqueduct
that was constructed the contrivance of the souterasi or
hydraulic obelisks described byAndreossy, and which has
excited some attention, as being an improvement on the
method of conducting water by aqueduct bridges. “ The
D u c T. 319
souterasi,” says Andreossy, “are masses of masonry, having Aqueduct,
generally the form of a truncated pyramid or an Egyptian
obelisk. To form a conduit with souterasi, we choose
sources of water, the level of which is several feet higher
than the reservoir by which it is to be distributed over
the city. We bring the water from its sources in sub¬
terranean canals, slightly declining until we come to the
borders of a valley or broken ground. We there raise
on each side a souterasi, to which we adapt vertically
leaden pipes of determinate diameters, placed parallel to
the two opposite sides of the building. These pipes are
disjoined at the upper part of the obelisk, which forms a
sort of basin, with which the pipes are connected. The
one permits the water to rise to the level from whence
it had descended; by the other, the water descends from
this level to the foot of the souterasi, where it enters
another canal under ground, which conducts it to a se¬
cond and to a third souterasi, where it rises and again
descends, as at the last station. Here a reservoir receives
it and distributes it in different directions by orifices of
which the discharge is known.” Again he says, “ it re¬
quires but little attention to perceive that this system of
conducting tubes is nothing but a series of syphons open
at their upper part, and communicating with each other.
The expense of a conduit by souterasi is estimated at
only one fifth of that of an aqueduct with arcades.” We
really cannot perceive any advantage in these pyramids,
further than as they serve the purpose of discharging the
air which collects in the pipes. For if the water is to be
conveyed in pipes across the valley, what other purpose
can these columns possibly serve ? They are in themselves
an evident obstruction, and the water would flow more
freely without any interruption of the kind. In regard to
the leaden pipes, again, they would have required, with so
little head pressure as is stated, to be used of very extra¬
ordinary dimensions to pass the same quantity of water
as was discharged along the arched conduits. There is
something, therefore, which would require explanation in
this account of Andreossy regarding these pyramids, or
else he has misunderstood the nature of them when he
says that they supply advantageously the place of the
aqueducts or arches. A train of pipes properly laid, and
of proper dimensions, might do this ; but what advantage
the pyramids possess further than to answer the purpose
of air-cocks, is not very apparent.
The other principal source from which Constantinople
is supplied, is from the high grounds six or eight miles
wrest of the town, from which it is conducted by conduits
and arches, in the same manner as the others. The sup¬
ply drawn from all these sources amounts, according to An¬
dreossy, to 400,000 cubic feet per day ; about two thirds
of a foot to each person of a population of 600,000. The
charge of the water-works at Constantinople belongs to
a body of 300 Turks and 100 Albanese Greeks, who form
almost an hereditary profession.
Of the aqueducts which still remain as relics of Roman
grandeur, the most remarkable are, the aqueduct of Metz;
the aqueduct of Nismes, or the Pont du Gard; and the
aqueduct of Segovia in Spain. “ The aqueducts of Rome,”
says Montfaucon, “ were without doubt wonderful on ac¬
count of their great length—arcades continued over the
space of 40 or 50 miles; their great number, with which
the Campagna of Rome was filled on every side: all this
surprises us. But it must be confessed that if, without
considering the total extent, we only look at any of the
parts w'hich remain round Rome, there is nothing that
approached the aqueducts of Metz, of Nismes, or of Se¬
govia.” The aqueduct of Metz is represented in Plate
XLIX. Nearly the half of it, it will be observed, has
been carried away; but there still remain a great num-
320
AQUEDUCT.
Aqueduct, bei* of arches, and enough to give an idea of the ex-
v-^'/^^'tent of the whole. It extended across the Moselle, a
very considerable river, and very broad in this place ; and
served to convey the delicious waters of the Gorse to the
city of Metz. These waters, according to Meuripe, in his
history of the bishops of Metz, printed in 1634, were so
abundant that they furnished water for floating the ves¬
sels every time that a naval fight was to be exhibited.
They were collected into a reservoir, and from thence con¬
ducted by subterraneous canals constructed of hewn stone,
and so spacious that a man could easily walk in them up¬
right. They then passed the Moselle by means of the
aqueduct, which was situated about six miles from Metz,
and from thence were conducted under ground in stone
channels, similar to the others, to the city, to the baths, to
the place of the sea-fight, and all over the city. Judging
from the drawing, this aqueduct seems to have been
nearly 1000 feet in length, the arches 50 feet high at the
deepest part, and 50 in number. They formed only one
series, the height not requiring a double row. They were
so well built and cemented together, that, excepting the
middle part, which the descent of ice down the river has
in the lapse of ages carried away, they have resisted, and
will continue to resist, the eftects of time and of the most
violent seasons.
The Pont du Gard was executed by the Romans in the
reign of Augustus, and was then merely an aqueduct for
bringing the waters of the fountain of Hure to Nismes.
It was composed of three rows of arches filling up the
valley between two mountains, between which rah the
river Gardon. The first row comprehended six arches, each
60 feet span, excepting one, which was the largest, and
was 75 feet span; the second row contained 12 arches
of the same span as the first; and the third had 36 little
arches, on the top of which was the channel for con¬
ducting the water. This bridge exhibits a decided im¬
provement and superiority over all the other Roman
aqueducts, in the lightness and striking boldness of its
design. The arches are wider, and the piers in proportion
lighter, than any other structure of the kind previously
constructed; and had the same principle been extended
so as to have formed only a single row from top to bottom,
it would have equalled in the skill and disposition of its
materials (circumstances in which the Roman works were
almost universally wanting) any of the more judicious and
elegant structures of modern times. About the year
1740, this bridge, being of no more use as an aqueduct,
was converted into a road-way, by widening it, or rather
building in a manner another bridge to the side of it,
having all the arches of the same span and dimensions.
The execution of the work was attended with consider¬
able difficulties, but these were all successfully overcome
by the French engineer Pitot.
The aqueduct of Segovia, according to Culmenares,
who travelled in Spain, and has written the history of
Segovia, may be compared with the most wonderful works
which antiquity has transmitted to us. There still re¬
main of it 159 arches, all built with large stones, and with¬
out any cement. There are two rows of arches, one above
the other, and the whole height of the edifice is 102 feet.
It runs quite across the town, and passes over the greater
part of the houses which lie in the hollow.
In modern times various aqueducts have been formed
after the manner of the Romans, particularly in France;
and the most remarkable are those which have been con¬
structed by Louis XIV., at vast expense, for conducting
water from Versailles to Marli. Of these the famous aque¬
duct bridge of Maintenon, which was erected for conveying
the waters of the river Eure to Versailles, is without doubt,
in point of magnitude and height, the most magnificent
In Plate XLIX, weAq^,
structure of the kind in the world,
have given a view of a portion of this work, on the same
scale as the other aqueducts here represented. Had the
whole been delineated on the same scale, it would have
extended to four times the breadth of the plate. It ex¬
tends about 4400 feet in length, being nearly seven
eighths of a milp, and upwards of 200 feet in height, and
contains 242 arcades, each divided into three rows, form¬
ing in all 726 arches about 50 feet span. Of the subter¬
ranean aqueducts in France the finest is that of Arcueil,
which serves to conduct water to that village. It is 44,300
feet in length, or upwards of eight miles, extending from
the valley of Arcueil to the castle at the gate of St
Jaques, all built of hewn stone. It is about six feet in
height, and has on each side a foot-path 18 inches wide;
it has a declivity of one foot in 1300. Another aqueduct
of this kind is that of Rocquancourt, part of the system
which brings water to Versailles; it is 11,760 feet in length,
or upwards of two miles, and a declivity in its whole course
of only three feet. In some parts of its course it was
necessary to make excavations 80 or 90 feet deep, which
rendered the execution very difficult.
But in modern times, at least within the last century,
the invention and improvement of the manufacture of
cast iron has completely changed the mode of conduct¬
ing water into cities, by the introduction of cast-iron
pipes instead of the stone conduits of former times.
These pipes can now be formed of almost any dimensions,
and united together into a continued series, so closely as
to prevent the escape of the water, even under a violent
pressure arising from the altitude of the fountain-head.
They enable us, therefore, to take advantage of and give
effect to that grand principle in hydrostatics, that the
fluid element tends continually to a level, even though it
be confined in the smallest or most complicated system of
pipes; so that however low it be carried in any valley, or
to whatever distance, still it will rise on the opposite side
to the original altitude of the fountain-head—a principle
which is most important indeed in such works, seeing
that by it we are not restricted, as the Romans were, al¬
most to a perfect level in the line of the conduit. We
have seen that, for the purpose of attaining this level or
very gentle declivity all along the conduit, they were un¬
der the necessity of raising it by arcades continued in one
unbroken series, frequently thirty or forty miles in extent;
and, in addition to this, often prolonging the length of the
track bya circuitous route, turning and winding for milesout
of its course, for the very purpose of increasing its length.
But the use of pipes enables us to dispense with these
long arcades all raised nearly to the same level with the
fountain-head; because the conduit may be varied in its
level to any extent, and still will rise at last to its ori¬
ginal altitude. The pipes, therefore, are merely laid all
along the surface of the ground, with a cover of two or
three feet of soil to place them beyond the reach of frost.
To prevent, hov/ever, the frequent or abrupt alternations
of rise and fall, any sudden inequalities in the ground are
equalised by cuttings and embankments, but not to any
thing like the extent that would be required to raise the
whole to a level. This, therefore, forms a capital improve¬
ment in the method of conducting water, and the great¬
est indeed which has ever been made in this important
branch of practical mechanics. That it was not intro¬
duced by the Romans, is not to be ascribed, as many have
done, to their ignorance of the hydrostatic principle, that
the fluid would rise to a level in the opposite branches of
the same train of pipes. Professor Leslie has shown that
they were well acquainted with this principle, and has more¬
over obtained from Italy a portion of a leaden pipe sup¬
posed to have been used in the baths of Caracalla, which
■ >1'
AQUEDUCT.
321
udui sets this matter at rest. But, from the low state of the
V“* arts at that period, they were unable to give effect to the
principle. They had not the means of fabricating pipes
of such a magnitude as would have been required for the
enormous quantities of water consumed in Rome, and at
the same time of strength sufficient to withstand the
pressure from the fountain-head. Lead was the only ma¬
terial that could be used by them for the purpose ; and
besides the enormous thickness that so weak a material
would have required, and the impracticability of their
forming them, and uniting them together endwise, they
had a decided aversion to lead, as tending to make the
water unwholesome by its poisonous impregnation. The
use of cast iron was quite unknown. There remained,
therefore, no resource but in the aqueducts, which, though
attended no doubt with vast expense, and requiring great
enterprise, as well as both skill and patience, were yet attain¬
able by these means, and formed when completed a sim¬
ple and very perfect mode of effecting the object. Hence
arose all those works above described which have since
excited such astonishment. Now, however, when the
manufacture of cast iron has been brought to such per¬
fection, and methods contrived for uniting perfectly toge¬
ther all the pipes into one connected train, this improved
system has been universally adopted.
•ksii The most complete and perfect works of the kind are
lyini!those some time ago undertaken for the supply of Edin-
Mtfbuqrji, which, by the contrivance and direction of Mr
Jardine, the company’s engineer, have been executed in
a style quite worthy of the city, as well as of the present
advanced state of science and the arts; offering, both in
the general design and in all the details, a model of pro¬
priety and skill in this species of hydraulic architecture.
The Crawley Spring, from which the new supply has been
derived, issues from the side of a rising ground on the
southern base of one of the Pentland Hills. It is scarce¬
ly seven miles distant from Edinburgh in a straight line,
but eight and three fourths in the line of the pipes,
these having been carried round a considerable way to
the eastward to avoid the Pentland ridge, the eastern ex¬
tremity of which lies in the direct line to the city. The
spring is elevated 564 feet above the level of the sea, and
360 above the level of Princes Street. There is there¬
fore ample height to carry it over the highest parts of the
town. The original issue of the spring was greatly aug¬
mented by a drain, which was carried for about half a mile
3bove the spring, up the valley in which it is situated.
I he soil of this valley, consisting of an immense bed of
gravel, in many parts 40 feet deep, constitutes a vast na¬
tural filter, through which the water, descending from the
ugh grounds on each side of the valleyj percolates in a
high degree of purity, and being all intercepted by the
Irain, is by it conducted, along with all the original dis-
’harge of the spring, into a reservoir or water-house, from
‘I'hich the pipes take their rise, and continue in one con-
mcted train all the way to the city. In the first three
Hues they vary from 18 to 20 inches diameter, and de¬
scend 65 feet in a pretty regular series. In the remain-
er of the track they are 15 inches diameter, and descend
-M) feet. The descent is not perfectly regular, being in
’(ime parts steeper than in others, according to the natu-
a declivity of the country. In one or two instances
i so they undulate slightly. Near Burdiehouse, four miles
aim the city, they ascend a little; and, after descending
apidly to Libberton Dams, they again ascend 20 or 30 feet
o t ie high ground on the south side of the Meadows,
icie are, however, no sudden inequalities,all such having
icon carefully avoided by levelling; for which purpose
onsiderable embankments and cuttings of the ground
ave “een undertaken without scruple; and as the line
vou. m. 1
approaches the city, it has been carried through a tun- Aqueduct,
nel 2160 feet in length under Heriot’s Green, about 70 or' ~
80 feet below the surface, and another under the Castlehill
740 feet through the solid rock, and 120 feet under the
reservoir. From this main line of aqueduct a branch
pipe leads off on the south side of the town to the Reser¬
voir at Heriot’s Green, near Heriot’s Hospital, which
aids the former source in supplying fully the southern dis¬
tricts ; a second leads off from the same place to the east¬
ward, and affords an additional supply to the south side of
the town, directly from the pipes ; and a third leads off to
the Reservoir on the Castlehill, and aids it in supplying
the rest of the old town. The main body of the water, how¬
ever, proceeds onwards to Princes Street, along Hanover
Street, and across Queen Street; and from thence branch
pipes are laid through all the other streets in the new
town, and from these again service pipes to each house
or floor of a house. Each pipe in this aqueduct is about
nine feet in length, the metal being about half an inch
thick.. After being cast, their soundness was proved by
a forcing pump applied to each separately, and with a
gage-valve loaded with a weight equivalent to a pressure
of 800 feet; and if under this they betrayed the smallest
flaw, they were rejected. They are all joined together
with what is termed spigot and faucet joint, the end of
the one being let several inches into a swelled part or
socket at the extremity of the other. This forms a
much more perfect joint than by flanches and bolts, as
it admits of a slight degree of expansion in the pipes
without opening the joining. After being entered, a
ring of hemp or rope-yarn is wrapped round the end of
the pipe, and beat into the socket of the other, and then
a mass of lead run in to fill up the opening, which the
yarn prevents from running into the pipe: the lead being
hard rammed, and stoved with a chisel, forms a joining
completely water-tight. Air-cocks are placed at inter¬
vals all along the pipes to let off the accumulated air,
which is done by the hand at regular intervals, perhaps
every three or four days. The supply of water now
conveyed by this aqueduct amounts to 180 or 200 cubic
feet per minute at an average. This is about five times
the quantity formerly delivered into the town by all the
different ponds and reservoirs from which it was then sup¬
plied, and which was besides often of a very impure and
unwholesome quality. The introduction of this spring
therefore gave, as may easily be conceived, wonderful
relief to the inhabitants, and is now found, along with
the former sources, amply sufficient for every purpose of
comfort or luxury. The Crawley aqueduct, however, is
capable of conveying double this quantity whenever the
wants of the city shall render necessary a new supply,
which it is in that case intended by the present company
to draw from another excellent and copious spring term¬
ed the Black Spring, situated on the north side of the
Pentland Hills. The whole expense incurred by the
Joint-Stock Water Company in bringing in the Crawley
water, including the expense of the great compensation
reservoir for supplying the deficiency to the mills on the
stream from which the Crawley was diverted, amounted
to about L. 145,000, and the company draw an assessment
on every consumer of five per cent, on the rental of his
premises, which is understood to yield L.6000 or L.7000
a year. They are allowed to divide to the amount of six
and a half per cent, on their capital, but not more.
The water from the Crawley Spring is naturally of the
finest quality; and issuing continually from a source deep¬
ly seated in the ground, and also at so great an altitude,
is always fresh and cool, even in the heat of summer, pro¬
vided it is not allowed to stagnate in our cisterns. In this
respect the supply of Edinburgh is far superior to that of
2 s
AQUEDUCT.
322
Aqueduct, most other towns of the same magnitude. In Glasgow,
for example, the supply is sufficiently ample; but being
derived all from the Clyde, it is liable to become Avarm
and unpleasant in summer. In Liverpool, Manchester, and
even in London, the supplies, though abundant, are liable
to the same defects. So that on the whole we have rea¬
son to congratulate ourselves that the elevated nature of
the country round our city affords sources for a supply so
copious, so pure, and capable of reaching so easily, and
without the aid of any machinery, the highest parts of
the town.
In all places such as the above, where there is a defi¬
ciency of level to carry the wrater naturally to the high¬
est parts of the town, there is no resource but in the em¬
ployment of machinery. A steam-engine or other agent
is applied to the working of pumps, which both draw the
water from the rivers or from wells, and then propel it
by force through a train of pipes to all the different parts
of the town, and elevate it by branches to the highest
parts that may be necessary; a plan which we believe
is now executing at Aberdeen, and also at Perth.
Aqueduct But though the system of pipes has thus superseded
bridges or t]ie use 0f stone channels all raised to a level in the con-
canals. veyance of water, there are still cases, such as those of
canals, where the water must be kept on a perfect level,
and. where, therefore, aqueduct bridges are still necessary
in conveying it over the valleys; and of these we have
long had examples in France, on the Languedoc canal. The
first aqueduct bridges for canals in this country were those
made by the Duke of Bridgewater, under the direction of
the celebrated Brindley, and which, being quite new here,
excited no small degree of astonishment. The first and
largest was the aqueduct at Barton Bridge for conveying the
canal across the Irwell, 39 feet above the surface of the wa¬
ter. It consisted of three arches, the middle one 63 feet
span, and admitting under it the largest barges navigating
the Irwell with sails set. It was commenced in September
1760 ; and in July of the following year the spectacle was
first presented in this country, of vessels floating and sail¬
ing across the course of the river, while others in the river
itself were passing under them. Since that period canal
aqueducts have become more common ; and many excel¬
lent examples are to be found both in England and Scotland.
Of these are the aqueducts over the river Lune, on the
Lancaster canal, designed by Rennie, a very excellent and
splendid work of five arches, each 72 feet span, and rising 65
feet above the level of the river; and the Kelvin aqueduct,
near Glasgow, which conveys the Forth and Clyde canal
over the valley of Kelvin, consisting of four arches, each 70
feet span, and rising 70 feet above the level of the river. In
Plate XLIX. we have given views of three other principal
aqueducts, viz. the aqueducts of Pont Cysylte, of Chirk,
and of Slateford near Edinburgh. Of these the Pont
Cysylte by Mr Telford is justly celebrated for its magni¬
tude, for the simplicity of the design, and the skilful dispo¬
sition of the parts, combining lightness with strength in a
degree seldom attempted. This aqueduct serves to convey
the waters of the Ellesmere canal across the Dee and the
vale of Llangollen, which it traverses. The channel for the
water is made of cast iron, supported on cast iron ribs or
arches, and these resting on pillars of stone. The iron
being much lighter than stone arches, this is one reason
why the pillars have been reduced apparently to such
slender dimensions. They are quite strong enough, how¬
ever, as experience has proved. The whole length of the
aqueduct is about 1000 feet, and consists of 19 arches,
each 45 feet span. The breadth of the pillars at the top
is 8 feet, and the height of the four middle ones is 115
feet to the springing. The pillars have a slight taper,
the breadth of the middle ones at the base being 15 feet.
The height from the surface of the water in the Dee to A.,
that in the canal was to be 126 feet eight inches. The^fv
channel for the water consists of cast iron plates, cast
with flanches, and these screwed together with bolts; they
are represented in the drawing, between the arched ribs
and the railing. The lines there show the joinings of the
different plates. In order to preserve as much water-way
as possible, the channel is made the full width of the
canal and towing path, and the latter projected over one
side, and supported inside by posts resting on the bottom
of the canal. The aqueduct of Chirk was designed by
the same able engineer, and serves also to convey across
a valley the waters of the same canal. This aqueduct
was the first in which any iron was employed. Hitherto
the channel for the waters had been constructed of stone,
or partly of stone and partly of clay puddle, which it was
generally found very difficult to keep water-tight for a
length of time. It was determined, therefore, by Mr
Telford to try the effect of cast iron, and to lay it at first
only in the bottom. The plates were accordingly laid di¬
rectly over the sprandril walls, which they served to bind
together, and united by flanches and screws. The sides
of the channel were built with stone facings and brick
hearting laid in water-lime mortar. This plan has suc¬
ceeded completely, and the quantity of masonry in the
aqueduct was thereby greatly reduced. The aqueduct
itself is 600 feet long, and 65 feet high above the river,
consisting of ten arches, each 42 feet span. The piers
are ten feet thick.
The aqueduct of Slateford serves for conveying the
waters of the Edinburgh and Glasgow Union Canal across
the valley of the Water of Leith at Slateford. It is an
elegant structure, and very similar in the plan to that of
Chirk, only that the water-channel is composed entirely,
the sides as well as the bottom, of cast iron, which is
moreover built in with masonry. It is about 500 feet in
length, and consists of eight arches, each 45 feet span;
and the height of the canal is about 70 feet above the
level of the river. On this canal another aqueduct of the
very same construction occurs in crossing the valley of the
Almond, and having several more arches. There are, in
different parts of the country, various other aqueducts,
which might be described ; but our limits preclude our en¬
larging upon them ; and it is the less necessary, as, except¬
ing the formation of the water-way, these structures dif¬
fer nothing in their design or the principle of their con¬
struction from ordinary bridges, particularly those that
are undertaken not so much with the view of crossing
rivers as of raising up the level of the road itself en¬
tirely out of the valley,—an object now become of great
importance, from the improvements which have taken
place within the last half-century on all our roads, and
the refined notions which have in consequence begun to
prevail as to the rates of travelling, and, what conduces
most essentially to this object, the levels of the road.
Formerly people were content to traverse slowly all the
inequalities of the country through which the road might
pass, descending into the valleys, and mounting the
steepest acclivities. Now, however, a road is thought
imperfect, and quite behind the standard of improvement,
unless every rise greater than 1 in 15 or 1 in 20 feet be
cut down. In crossing the valleys, therefore, it is not
enough now that we build a bridge in all respects sufficient
for crossing the stream itself; we must raise it nearly to
a level with the ground on each side of the valley; and
this circumstance gives rise to new and very extensive
works of this kind, which formerly never would have been
thought of. Of these we may just instance the splendid
bridge of one arch of 140 feet span, built over the Den
Burn at Aberdeen, to form a new access into that town;
A R A
mu also the beautiful bridge of Cartland Craigs, built by Mr
|l Telford, over the little stream of the Mouse, on the new
rat* road from Glasgow to Carlisle, consisting of three arches
’^'■^50 feet span, and elevated 130 feet above the bed of the
stream. More recently (for in this important depart¬
ment of our domestic economy, which regards the perfect¬
ing of the interior communications of the country, im¬
provements seem to be going on, not merely with rapidi¬
ty, but with an accelerated progression which it is quite
wonderful to contemplate) the introduction of railways
opens a new and still wider field for the skill and talents
of the engineer in the erection of such works. This new
and improved species of road, it is well known, must be
kept still more nearly on a level than any of the roads
of the ordinary construction. Considerable inequalities in
these may still be tolerated, but in the railroad they are
quite inadmissible, and would defeat the very object of the
improvement. (See Railway.) In this respect the rail¬
way is somewhat similar to the old Roman aqueducts, and,
where the country is low, must in like manner be elevated
on a series of arcades. These sort of bridges have received
the name of Viaducts ; and already we have an extensive
one on the Liverpool and Manchester railway, termed
the Sankey Viaduct, of nine arches ; and numerous others
will no doubt be speedily required. But for the prin¬
ciples and mode of construction of these works, as well as
of the aqueduct bridges, so far as the arch is concerned,
we refer to the articles Arch and Bridge ; and for fur¬
ther information on the subject of aqueducts, see Julius
Frontinus, De Aquceductibus Urbis Romce ; Raphaelis Fa-
bretti De Aquis et Aquceductibus Veteris Ronue Disser-
tatio; Famiani Nardini Roma Vetus, lib. viii. cap. iv.;
Plinii Hist Nat. lib. xxxvi. cap. xv.; Montfaucon, An¬
tiquity Expliquee, tome iv. tab. 128; Governor Pownall’s
Notes and Description of Antiquities in the Provincia
Romanaof Gaul; Belidor’s Architecture Hydraulique, con¬
taining a drawing of the aqueduct of Maintenon; also
Mem. Acad. Par.; Andreossy, Voyage d VEmbouchure
de la Mer Noire, ou Essai sur le Bosphore ; Philosophical
Transactions Abridged, vol. i.; and Link’s Travels in Por¬
tugal. (c.)
AQUILA, or Aquila and Antinous, the Eagle, in
Astronomy, a constellation of the northern hemisphere,
usually joined with Antinous. In Bode’s description of
the constellations Aquila contains 276 stars, four of which
are double, and three nebulous.
Aquila, a city of the kingdom of Naples, and chief of
the province Abruzzo Ulteriore Second. It is situated on
the Aterno, in the vale of Aquila and Pescara. It has no
less than 24 parish and 29 monastic churches, besides the
cathedral, though the population in 1818 amounted only
to 7525 persons. There are some manufactures of linen
A R A 323
and paper, and some trade in corn, cattle, saffron, and the Aquilicium
other products of the vicinity. Long. 14. 5. 47. E. Lat. II
42. 25. N. Arabia.
AQUILICIUM, or Aquiliciana, in Roman Antiquity,
sacrifices performed in times of excessive drought, to ob¬
tain rain of the gods.
AQUILUS, among the ancients, a dark or dusky co¬
lour approaching to black. Hence some of the heathen
gods were called dii aquili, q. d. nigri.
AQUIMINARIUM, in Antiquity, a kind of lustral ves¬
sels, wherein the Romans carried their holy water for ex¬
piation and other religious offices.
AQUINAS, St Thomas, styled the Angelical Doctor,
was of the ancient and noble family of the counts of Aqui¬
no, descended from the kings of Sicily and Arragon ; and
was born in the castle of Aquino, in the Terra di Lavora
in Italy, in the year 1224 or 1225. He entered into the
order of the Dominicans ; and, after having taught school
divinity in most of the universities of Italy, at last settled
at Naples, where he spent the rest of his life in study,
in reading lectures, and in acts of piety; and was so far
from views of ambition or profit, that he refused the arch¬
bishopric of that city, when it was offered him by Pope
Clement IV. He died in 1274, leaving an amazing num¬
ber of writings, which were printed at Venice in 17 vols.
folio, in the year 1490. He was canonized by Pope John
XXII. in the year 1323; and Pius V. who was of the
same order with him, gave him, in 1567, the title of the
Fifth Doctor of the church, and appointed his festival to
be kept with the same solemnity as those of the other
four doctors. His authority has always been great in the
schools of the Roman Catholics. Lord Herbert, in his life
of Henry VIIL, tells us that one of the principal reasons
which induced that king to write against Luther was, that
the latter had spoken contemptuously of Thomas Aquinas.
AQUINO, a town of Italy, in the kingdom of Naples, and
Terra di Lavora; a bishop’s see, but ruined by the empe¬
ror Conrade, and now consisting of about 35 houses. It
was the birthplace of the poet Juvenal, and of Thomas
Aquinas. Long. 14. 30. E. Lat. 41. 32. N.
ARA, or Ara Thuribuli, the altar of incense, in
Astronomy, a southern constellation, not visible in our ho¬
rizon. It consists, according to Bode, of 81 stars.
ARABESQUE, or Arabesk, something done after the
manner of the Arabians. Arabesque, Grotesque, and Mo¬
resque, are terms applied to paintings and ornaments
where there are no human or animal figures, but which
consist wholly of foliages, plants, stalks, &c. The words
take their rise from hence, that the Moors, Arabs, and
other Mahometans, use these kinds of ornaments; their
religion forbidding them to make any images or figures of
men or other animals.
ARABIA.
This extensive country, which is situated at the south¬
western extremity of Asia, has been famed in all ages for
freedom and independence; for the peculiar character
and manners of its rude tribes; and for the wild and in¬
teresting aspect of its interior deserts, contrasted with the
fertility of other tracts, of which the rare and precious
products have always formed the staple articles of the Ara¬
bian trade. It has been distinguished in history as the
fccene of great events, and especially of that wonderful
revolution in religion, under the influence of which the
Arabs, inflamed with the spirit of proselytism and of con-
‘inest, spread their victorious arms over the fairest por¬
tions of the earth, and brought about not merely the down¬
fall of empires, but a revolution of opinion and manners
which gradually extended over the greater portion of Af¬
rica, and over the eastern world from Constantinople to the
frontiers of China.
Arabia is a peninsula, stretching north-west and south- Boun-
east. It has the form of an irregular triangle, and is in-daries.
closed on three sides by the ocean. It is bounded on the
south-west by the Red Sea and the Isthmus of Suez ; on
the north-east by the Persian Gulf and the lower course
of the Euphrates; on the north-west by Syria, the Eu¬
phrates, and the intervening desert; and on the south-east
by the Indian Ocean. Its length from this ocean to the
frontiers of Syria is about 1430 miles, and its breadth
324
ARABIA.
Arabia.
Aspect of
the coun¬
try.
from the Isthmus of Suez to Bassora about 700. The
peninsula enlarges in breadth as it approaches the Indian
Ocean, the southern basis of the triangle; and from
the Straits of Babelmandib to the Persian Gulf its extent
cannot be less than 1000 miles. The division of this
country by the ancients was, according to the natural
qualities of the soil, into Arabia Petraea, or the Stony,
Arabia Deserta, and Arabia Felix. No very distinct
boundary was assigned to these divisions. Under Arabia
Petraea was included that barren and rocky tract in the
north-west of Arabia which is situated between the
northern shores of the Red Sea and the Mediterranean,
and which may have extended southwards nearly to
Mecca. Arabia Deserta was separated on the north by
the Euphrates from Mesopotamia; on the west it was
bounded by Syria, Judea, and Arabia Petrsea; on the
east and south it was separated from Chaldea and Arabia
Felix by ridges of mountains. Arabia Felix was bounded
on the north by Arabia Petraea and Arabia Deserta, on
the south by the Indian Ocean, and on the east and west
by the Persian Gulf and the Red Sea. The modern division
of the country is entirely different, and if possible more
indistinct. It does not appear that the eastern geogra¬
phers are either agreed as to the divisions of the coun¬
try, or as to the limits of those divisions. By some the
whole country is divided into two parts, namely, Yemen
and Hedjaz; •while others will have it divided into the
five great provinces of Yemen, Hedjaz, Nedjed, Tehama,
and Yemama. Others, again, adopt a different division,
into six or seven parts; and Hadramaut, Mahrah, Shejr,
Oman, and other subdivisions, have been raised to the
rank of independent provinces; while, according to a
different hypothesis, they are held to form a part of the
lower provinces of Yemen and Hedjaz. Niebuhr adopts
the division into six provinces ; but, along with other geo¬
graphers of eminence, he includes Arabia Petraea in the
Hedjaz, which is erroneous, and is inconsistent with the
more correct geography of modern travellers.1 Those
divisions of the country, which are purely arbitrary, are
noway essential to accuracy of description. The follow¬
ing, therefore, may be given as the modern divisions.
Arabia Petraea, the Hedjaz, Tehama, and Yemen, compre¬
hend the western portion of the peninsula, including
the range of mountains that extend from the Mediter¬
ranean along the coast of the Red Sea as far as the
Indian Ocean. The province of Yemen lies along the
coast of this ocean. To the east are the provinces of
Hadramaut and Oman, which last is at the entrance
of the Persian Gulf, and is washed by it; while on the
north-east the province of Lahsa or Hajar is on its west¬
ern shore. These provinces encircle the central deserts,
which are partly included in the extensive province of
Nedjed.
Arabia may be generally described as a vast collec¬
tion of rocky and precipitous mountains, encircled by a
border of low, barren, and sandy plains. On all the sides
on which it is washed by the Red Sea, the Indian Ocean,
and the Persian Gulf, it is bounded by these plains, which
extend from the sea-shore 100 or 200 miles into the in¬
terior as far as the hills; and towards the north the ex¬
tensive plain is formed by the vast deserts which extend
to Syria and over Arabia Petraea; while to the south,
as far as the mountains which overlook the Indian Ocean,
inii
the intervening country, judging from the imperfect ac- .s.
counts of tx-avellers, forms one extensive and continued'-iv
desert. The plains and mountainous districts differ wide¬
ly in their climate, soil, and productions.
The great characteristic of those vast tracts of desert
which frequently extend on a dead level for several hun¬
dred miles, is aridity, and its necessary consequence, bar¬
renness. They consist either of bare rocks or of hard
or loose sand, and are almost destitute of fresh water.
There is no eminence to arrest the clouds as they pass
along the plain, and whole years frequently pass away
without rain. The drought is consequently extreme;
vegetation withers under the fierce influence of a scorch¬
ing sun; and the burning sands, reflecting the solar rays,
occasion such intense heat as is not felt even in countries
that lie directly under the equator. There are no rivers,
the mountain torrents being speedily imbibed by the
sandy soil; and the scanty supplies afforded by deep wells
and springs, scattered at distant intervals, are the sole
dependence of the fainting traveller for refreshment, and
frequently for life. Without this resource these deserts
must have for ever remained impervious to man. The
aspect of desolation is sometimes relieved by verdant
spots, which appear like islands in the trackless ocean;
and some rare and hardy plants, such as the tamarind
and the acacia, which strike their roots into the clefts of
the rocks, find here a congenial soil, and flourish amid
the surrounding waste.
In the Arabian plains the thermometer is generallyCh
above 100° during the night, at 108° in the morning, andH
in the course of the day it rises to 110°, and sometimes
higher in the coolest and shadiest parts. All travellers who
have visited the coasts of the Red Sea appear to have
been oppressed by the extraordinary heat, and to have
considered the temperature of other tropical countries as
moderate in comparison. The sultriness of the nights is
another peculiar evil of the Arabian climate, and a pre¬
disposing cause of disease.2 For this peculiarity the
country is partly indebted to its position, hemmed in be¬
tween the continents of Asia and Africa, and effectually
protected by the latter from the influence of the south¬
west monsoon, which blows during the summer on the
coasts of India, and ushers in the periodical rains. Arabia
never experiences the refreshing influence of this wind.
It seems to blow exactly along its south-eastern shore, on
which baffling winds prevail, or a dead calm.3 During the
whole summer the heat in the lower plains on the coast is
so steady and equable that the atmosphere remains in a
state of repose. No change of temperature takes place to
set the winds in motion; and dead calms occur, and some¬
times continue for sixty days without interruption. When
the temperature begins to vary with the change of the sea¬
sons, and the winds resume their activity, the country is
visited by the simoom or the hot blast from the deserts,
under whose withering influence all nature seems to lan¬
guish and expire,—which has the quality of extracting
from whatever it touches every trace of moisture, and to
produce, when it is inhaled by men or animals, a painful
feeling, as of suffocation. But though its effects are pen-
nicious to health, they have been greatly exaggerated by
credulous or ill-informed travellers; and among others
Niebuhr, to whom we are indebted for much valuable
information respecting Arabia, ascribes to it the power ol
1 See Travels in Arabia, by J. Lewis Burckhardt. Preface of the Editor.
2 Fraser’s Narrative of a Journey into Khorassan, chap. i. Climate of Oman.
s It is mentioned by Fraser, in the account which he gives of a Voyage from Bombay to Muscat, in the Persian Gulf, that the mo¬
ment they doubled Cape Kassel Gate, a corruption of liaus-ul-Hud, literally land’s end, and entered the Persian Gulf under the lee
of the Arabian land, they were forsaken by the south-west monsoon, and encountered baffling winds or calms until they arrived a
Muscat, which is about 120 miles up the Gulf.
ARABIA.
; suffocating any living creature that is exposed to its in-
W^'fluence. Others imagine that it has poisonous qualities. It
appears, however, from the accounts of various travellers,
and among others of Mr Buckingham, that its effects are
produced solely by heat. When it is suddenly inhaled,
it may, in the same manner as a hot blast from an oven,
cause faintishness or sickness, and even swooning; but
this feeling is occasioned wholly by the heat and parching
dualities which it contracts in its passage across the
burning sands. The desert consists in many parts of
loose sand, interspersed with sharp and naked rocks; and
the effect of these violent winds is to raise up in clouds
this fine sand, and to set it afloat in the atmosphere in
such quantities that it is impossible to see to the distance
of a few yards. On such occasions, during the violence of
these sand storms, it is the practice of camels and other
animals to lie down by instinct, and bury their nostrils under
the sand, to avoid the influence of the wind. In this situa¬
tion the traveller generally lies down on the lee side of the
camel, and in a short time the sand is blown up to the level
of the animal, which has accordingly to rise and to lie down
on a new foundation, in order to avoid being entirely cover¬
ed. But in many cases, from weariness, faintness, or sleepi¬
ness, occasioned by the great heat, and often from a feel¬
ing of despair, both the man and the animal remain on
the ground, and in twenty minutes they are buried under
a load of sand, and perish miserably in those inhospitable
deserts. The approach of the simoom wind is indicated
by an unusual redness in the sky, which during the pre¬
valence of the wind seems to be all on fire.
But though a large proportion of Arabia consists of
arid and burning deserts, the country immediately be¬
hind the dry and sandy plains, which stretches back¬
wards from the sea-shore, rises into rocky and precipi¬
tous hills, with intervening valleys of remarkable fertility.
Those mountainous tracts, which send forth ridges into
the interior in various directions, enjoy a temperate cli¬
mate; and in some parts snow has been even known to
fall, though it does not lie on the ground. Near Sana,
about 200 miles north-east of Mocha, Niebuhr was in¬
formed that ice had been seen.1 All these interior and
highland districts are occasionally refreshed by copious
rains, though they do not lie within the range of the
monsoons, which in the peninsula of Hindostan usher in
the rainy season. Those rains occur at different times
of the year, according to the position of the mountains.
On the western declivity of the mountains of Yemen,
along the shore of the Red Sea, they commence in June
and terminate in September, which is the season of the
monsoons in India. This tract is also refreshed by a
spring rain, while on the eastern declivity of the same
mountains the season of the rains is between the middle
of November and the middle of February. In Hadra-
maut and Oman, along the shores of the Indian Ocean
and the Persian Gulf, the rainy season lasts from the mid¬
dle of February to the middle of April; and the interior
I ut-’sorts have their winter rains, which occasionally fail,
and leave the country a prey to severe drought. The
prevailing wind in summer is from the west. The simoom,
hy which name the Arabs distinguish every hot wind,
comes from the east. The south is reckoned favourable
to vegetation; while the influence of the north wind, whe¬
ther it be hot or cold, is always thought to be pernicious
to the health both of man and beast. It is occasionally so
sultry that it heats metals in the shade as if they were ex¬
posed to the sun. On the Persian Gulf the south-east
"md is common, and is accompanied with moisture, which,
when the heat is intense, occasions violent sweatings, and Arabia,
is even more injurious to health than the hot and dry blast
fiom the northern desert. No traveller has given any
accurate measurement of the height of the Arabian moun¬
tains ; but the decided change of climate which takes
place in these upland regions marks a considerable eleva¬
tion above the adjacent plains.
Among the Arabian highlands great diversities of soilSoil.
prevail; and the craggy precipitous form of the hills is
unfavourable to fertility. They afford neither sufficient
space nor soil for vegetable productions, and the earth is
continually washed away by the torrents. In many parts
the rocks are basaltic in their form, and so steep that the
road ascends by regular steps cut in the rock. These
mountainous tracts are in general well cultivated and
productive, especially the southern and mountainous pro¬
vinces of Yemen and Hadramaut. This was the celebrated
region of Arabia Felix, which, contrasted with the adja¬
cent deserts, might deserve that appellation, being a fertile
country, yielding the far-famed productions of balm and
frankincense, and many sweet-scented trees and shrubs,
of which the delicious fragrance, according to the descrip¬
tions of poets, was wafted by the winds over the surround¬
ing seas. The mountains of Hedjaz and Yemen, which run
along the eastern shore of the Red Sea, are precipitous and
often rocky; but water abounds in wells, springs, and rivu¬
lets. This entire tract of country is well peopled as far as
the mountains which overlook the Indian Ocean, and con¬
tains numerous villages of the Arab tribes. In all parts
where water is near, and can be artificially spread over
the ground, trees and inclosed fields are found; and among
the rugged and basaltic mountains extensive and well-
watered valleys, which to the south and the east are
covered with the herds and flocks of the Bedouin Arabs,
and to the north and west, towards the Red Sea, with in¬
dustrious cultivators, who have relinquished their vagrant
habits, and live in houses. In these valleys, which are fre¬
quently separated by intervals of barren rock, and the
passes or entrances into which, through the mountains, are
so narrow that they scarcely allow two camels to walk
abreast, the villages are embellished with gardens, palm-
groves, and date-trees, the fruit of which forms in many
districts the staple article of the agriculturist; and with
extensive plantations of coffee, which, when in flower,
exhale an exquisite perfume. In many parts of Yemeu
whole mountains of basaltic columns are seen, which are
rendered subservient to many useful purposes. Being
easily separated, and formed into steps, they facilitate the
ascent of the heights where it is difficult; and they sup¬
ply materials for walls to support the plantations of coffee-
trees on the steep declivities of the mountains.
The country between the mountains of the Hedjaz
and the Red Sea is part of that narrow belt of sand
which encircles Arabia. It is called Tehama, the appella¬
tion given to all the low plains on the coast, which are ge¬
nerally barren, having fewer fertile spots and more scanty
pasturage than the mountains, where rain is more com¬
mon.2 Of the regions which are washed by the Indian
Ocean and the Persian Gulf we have no full or accurate
information. We know, however, that they are skirted by
sandy plains similar to those on the western shore. The
country which overlooks the Persian Gulf at Mascat
has an extremely desolate appearance, consisting merely
of sands, and naked rocks blackened by the scorching
rays of the sun. It rises into mountains, which may be
seen from the sea, and probably attain an elevation of
from 1500 to 2000 feet.3 These mountainous tracts are
Niebuhr, vol. ii. chap. ii. sect. 28. 2 Burckhardt’s Travels in Arabia, vol. ii. Appendix, p. 377*
3 Fraser's Journey into Khorassan. Description of Mascat.
326
ARABIA.
Arabia, but little known; but it does not appear that they differ
-<^^-/in their aspect, produce, or the manners of the inha¬
bitants, from the corresponding tracts on the western
shore. The province of Hadramaut, which lies along the
shore of the Indian Ocean to the east of Yemen, was
described to Niebuhr by a native. It is bordered by a
sandy plain towards the ocean ; but the hilly country from
the coast, though in some places dry and desert, is inter¬
sected by well-watered vales. The hilly parts of Oman,
which is to the east of Hadramaut, along the lower shores
of the Persian Gulf, produce grain and fruits. The
mountainous tract of Hassa, or El Ahsa, to the south,
along the upper shores of the Persian Gulf, which is some¬
what better known, extends about two days’ journey in a
direction parallel with the sea coast, and is about 35 miles
broad. It is celebrated for its numerous wells, which en¬
able the Arab tribes to cultivate clover, with which they
rear a breed of excellent horses. This district contains
the populous and walled town of El Hassa, the residence
of some wealthy merchants, and one of the principal
strongholds of the Wahaby sect. Akyr, the sea-port of
El Hassa, is much frequented by Arab pirates. The ter¬
ritory contains, besides, about 20 villages, inhabited by the
Bedouin Arabs.
Arabia appears to be divided by the ridges which branch
outfrom these mountains through the interior, into thegreat
northern and southern deserts. The first extends from the
mountains eastward to the Euphrates, and northward to
the frontiers of Syria and Damascus, and is intersected by
the caravan routes to Syria and Egypt, along the western
range of mountains, and to Bagdad eastward across the
country from Mecca. The direct route to Syria, which is
the route of the pilgrim caravan, is over a rugged country,
through some very narrow defiles. Sometimes a few Be¬
douin merchants take camel-loads of coffee-beans by this
route to Damascus. But it is not much frequented, be¬
ing infested by strolling parties of the Arabs, who descend
from the western mountains and rob the passing traveller
in the plains. Seven days’ journey north of Medina is
the small district of Hedjer, watered by many wells and a
running stream, where are large encampments of the Be¬
douins. In a mountain which bounds this fertile plain on
the west are large caves or habitations cut out of the rock,
with sculptured figures of men and animals, and small
pillars, on both sides of the entrances. There is a con¬
tinued line of small towns or Arab settlements from Me¬
dina across the northern desert to the Euphrates, which
appear like islands in the wide waste by which they are
surrounded. These settlements are the abode of Be¬
douin cultivators, or of petty merchants, who supply
their wandering brethren in the desert with goods, which
they purchase in the Syrian and Arabian towns, and form
an intermediate class between the vagrant tribes and
the peasants. There is, besides the routes already men¬
tioned, a caravan route which passes northward to Syria
from the hilly and the central districts of the interior,
through the province of Djebel Shammar, more commonly
called El Djebel, which is a mountainous tract between
400 and 500 miles east-north-east of Medina. The route
through this district is in many parts over deep sand ; and
there is one stage of four days over a tract entirely desti¬
tute of water, which does not happen in any of the other
routes across the desert, these being often, by a long cir¬
cuit, brought near to the wells and springs. Here, as well
as in the province of Nedjed, palm-trees are cultivated by
means of water drawn up by camels from deep wells in
leathern buckets.
The northern is divided from the southern desert of
Arabia by the central province of Nedjed, which is east of
Medina about 200 miles. The name, in opposition to Teha¬
ma, or “ lowlands,” signifies high or elevated ground. This
province is an oblong tract extending between three or four
journeys from west to east, and twojourneysin breadth from
south to north. Of all the interior provinces of Arabia it is
the most fertile and populous, and is situated in the centre
of the country. It contains 26 small towns or villages; and
it produces corn, barley, fruits, and luxuriant pasturage,
which abounds even in the deserts after rain, and affords
subsistence to the w andering Arabs and their flocks, after
they have consumed the herbage and water of less fertile
districts. On its fine pastures is reared an excellent breed
of camels, which are exported not only to the western pro¬
vince of Hedjaz, but to Syria and Yemen. The breed of
horses is equally excellent, and so highly prized, that the
finest Arabian horses are denominated Nedjed horses. Ir¬
rigation is a great aid of Arabian agriculture, in this as in
all the other provinces ; and there are numerous wells of
great antiquity, and generally of the depth of from 25 to
30 fathoms. They are lined with stone, and are ascribed
by the inhabitants to a primeval race of giants. They are
mostly the property of individuals, who exact paymentfor
the supplies which they furnish. The greatest evil to
which this province is exposed is a failure of rain, which
occurs every three or four years, bringing along with it
scarcity and disease. Nedjed is occupied by Bedouin
Arabs who do not emigrate, and by settlers who often
travel as merchants to Damascus, Bagdad, Medina, Mecca,
and Yemen. The people generally have a true commer¬
cial spirit: they are wealthy, and have a better character
for honesty than most of the eastern traders. They are
all armed with matchlocks, and every family manufac¬
tures gunpowder for domestic use. In this remote dis¬
trict the Arab manners have never been corrupted byany
intercourse with strangers; for, excepting the pilgrim
caravan from Bagdad to Mecca, none ever visit the coun¬
try. Derayeh, east by south from Medina, is the capital.
It is situated in a valley, which is approached by a defile
so narrow as to afford access only to a single camel al
a time. It has always been a place of note. Before
irata
rA
the overthrow of the Wahabys it was the capital of the
state, and contributed to the Wahaby armies a quota ol
3000 soldiers armed with matchlocks. Aneyzy, 100 miles
to the north-wTest of Derayeh, contains 3000 houses: itis!
furnished with bazars, and is inhabited by respectable
Arab merchants.1
The central desert in Southern Arabia is perhaps one
of the most dreary regions on the face of the earth. It has
the province of Nedjed on the north, that of Hadramaut
on the south, and extends eastward from the western
ridge of mountains to the frontier of Oman, comprising a
space of 600 or 700 miles each way. It is called by the
Bedouins Roba el Khaly, “ the empty or deserted abode.’
This vast expanse of desolation is entirely destitute o:
wells, and the only supply of water is from the rains
During the absence of rain in summer the country a
one continued tract of burning sands, and is entirely
deserted. When these sands are refreshed by the win
ter rains they produce herbage, to which the pastora
tribes of Nedjed, Hedjaz, and Yemen resort with then
flocks. But the depths of this frightful wilderness havt
never been fathomed, and many parts, especially toward
the east, exhibit no trace of vegetation. One single sta
tion, the Wady Djebryn, through which passes the routi
from Nedjed to the southern province of Hadramaut, di
1 Burckhardt’s Travels in Arabia, vol. ii. Appendix.
ARABIA.
327
i ..
versjf5eS the solitary tract. It has wells and date-trees, but
from its noxious climate is uninhabited.
Arabia, from its diversified surface, contains within its
bounds the climates and the vegetable produce of different
countries. The mountainous tracts yield in great abun¬
dance wheat, barley, and an inferior species of grain called
durra; also the fruits of Europe in equal variety and perfec¬
tion, such as figs, apricots, peaches, apples, almonds, pome¬
granates, grapes of the very best quality, and excellent
dates, which in many parts are the chief food of the inhabit¬
ants, as well as an article of export. Many of the fine fruits
of India have been transported thither, and are now na¬
turalized. Such are the banana tree, the mangoustan, the
Indian palm, and the Indian fig-tree. Besides the Euro¬
pean grains it yields abundantly rice and maize. In the
highland provinces forests are sometimes seen, which
contain many trees little known, or differing extremely
from the same genera in northern countries. The tama¬
rind-tree refreshes and embellishes the country by its
agreeable shade and elegant form. The balm-tree is pe¬
culiar to Arabia, which is also the native country of the
coffee-tree, though, according to the Arabians, it comes
originally from Abyssinia. The balm-tree has not a beau¬
tiful appearance, and its qualities are not appreciated in
the southern province of Yemen, where its wood is burnt
for a perfume. In the Hedjaz the inhabitants collect the
balsam and bring it to Mecca: it is thence exported to
Turkey, where it is in high estimation. The tree from
which incense distils is found in part of Hadramaut, along
the shores of the Indian Ocean. Arabia has been in all
ages celebrated for sweet-scented shrubs and trees ; and
Burckhardt mentions, that one morning at sunrise, when
he was on his road from Tayf to Mecca, every tree and
shrub exhaled a delicious fragrance. There are various
species of the sensitive plant, of which the splendid flowers,
of a beautiful red, are formed into crowns for festive occa¬
sions. The sugar-cane and the indigo-shrub are found
in different provinces ; and the shrub from which senna is
produced is cultivated in all that part of the country which
lies opposite to Upper Egypt. The Arabians cultivate
garden vegetables, such as lettuce, carrots, radishes,
water-cresses, and a great variety of gourds, cucumbers,
pumpkins, and melons. The melon is in such variety and
abundance that, for a part of the year, it constitutes an
article of food. Many plants and herbs which have been
brought from India are now naturalized in the country ;
and there is abundance of indigenous plants, noted for
the beauty of their flowers and their fragrant smell.
The gardens at Tayf, among the mountains, 72 miles east
of Mecca, are renowned for roses of such exquisite beauty
and fragrance, that they are sent to all parts of the coun¬
try. The soil of the desert, though it is sandy, yet yields
a variety of herbs, which constitute the food of cattle;
and every district has a peculiar plant, which will grow
in no other part. Those herbs grow to the height of
three, and some of them of six feet; and when they are
withered by the sun they are eagerly devoured by the
camel.1
. ^le wild animals of Arabia, which are principally found
m the mountains, are the panther, sometimes mistaken for
the tiger, the ounce, the hyena, the wolf, the fox, a spe¬
cies of wild dog of a black colour, common in many coun¬
tries in the East, the wild cat, the jackal, the wild ox,
and monkeys in great numbers. In the sandy tracts is
found that curiously constructed animal the jerboa. The
wild boars are very numerous, but not in the heart of the
desert. Ihe Arabs who live at Tadmor in northern
Arabia are famous for their dexterity in killing them with Arabia,
the lance. The beautiful and timid gazelle is found alT^-v^
over the Arabian desert. On the eastern frontiers of
Syria there are several places allotted for the hunting of
these animals, which are taken by hundreds. There are
several sorts of lizards, and the land-tortoise is common,
being brought by the peasants in cart-loads to the markets
of many towns in the East. The domestic animals are the
horse, the ass, the camel, and the ox.
The Arabian horse has been justly renowned in all ages Horses,
of the world for all the finest qualities, namely, swiftness,
patience of fatigue, spirit, and docility of temper; and it is
from the Arabian breed that the European horses derive all
their most valuable properties. The best horses are found
in the greatest numbers in the luxuriant pastures of Meso¬
potamia, the banks of the Euphrates, and in the Syrian
plains. In Nedjed the horses are also of a very fine qua¬
lity, though they are not so numerous as in these coun¬
tries ; and they are still more scarce in the southern
provinces of Yemen, Oman, and Hadramaut, on the shores
of the Indian Ocean, owing to the great heat of the cli¬
mate ; nor are the mountainous regions of the Hedjaz
favourable to the rearing of this fine animal. There
are not, according to Burckhardt, more than 6000 horses
in the whole western country of Arabia, from the north¬
ern point of Akaba on the Red Sea to the southern coasts,
comprising the great chain of mountains and the west¬
ern plains. The provinces of Yemen, Hadramaut, and
Oman, are also supplied with horses from the pastures of
Nedjed.
In the wars and inroads of the desert, the Arab sol¬
dier, whether he is pursuing, or flying for his life over the
naked plain, wholly relies on the quality of his horse.
On this account they spare no pains in rearing their
horses, and in preserving the purity of the breed. The
birth of every noble foal is ascertained by the presence
of eye-witnesses, and a written certificate is made out
of its distinctive marks, with the names of its sire and
dam, which is wrapt in a small piece of leather covered
with wax-cloth, and is hung round the animal’s neck as
the standard and evidence of its value. The genealogical
table never ascends to the grand-dam, because every Arab
knows by tradition the purity of the whole breed; and
there are many horses and mares of which the noble de¬
scent is of such notoriety throughout the tribes, that no
written evidence of the fact is required. The Arabs reckon
five noble breeds of horses, whose lineal descent they as¬
sert to be from the five favourite mares of the prophet.
But as all the collateral branches claim the same illustrious
ancestry, there is an infinite variety of noble breeds in
the desert; and every mare which is particularly hand¬
some, and belonging to any of the five chief races, may
give rise to a new breed, the descendants of which bear
her original name. Those pastoral tribes, when a foal
is born, receive it in their arms, and so cherish it for
several hours, stretching its tender limbs, and caress¬
ing it as if it were a child; and when it is placed on the
ground, they watch its feeble steps, prognosticating its
future excellencies or defects. The colt is mounted af¬
ter its second year, after which it is fed upon barley,
which is the usual provender throughout Arabia, though
in Nedjed the horses are regularly fed on dates; and the
wealthy inhabitants give them flesh, raw as well as boiled,
and all the fragments of their own meals. In other re¬
spects they are hardily treated. They remain in the open
air during the whole year, with the saddle constantly on
their backs, and are not even taken under the shelter of the
1 Burckhai'dt’s Arabia, vol. ii. Appendix.
328
ARABIA.
Arabia, tent in the rainy season, or during the heat of the mid-day
sun; yet with all this treatment they are seldom ill. The
Arabs never clean or rub their horses ; but they are careful
to walk them about gently on their return from a ride. They
prefer mares for riding, on account of their more patient
endurance of fatigue, hunger, and thirst, than horses, and
because they are gentler and less vicious, and never neigh
when they are lying in ambush to surprise passengers.
According to Burckhardt, the finest race of Arabian blood
horses may be found in Syria; and of all the Syrian dis¬
tricts the breed in the Hauran is the best. But all the
horses of the noble breed are not equally distinguished.
Among these there are only a few, perhaps not above five
or six in a whole tribe, of the first-rate class in respect to
size, bone, beauty, and action. In the whole extent of
the Syrian deserts there are not, according to the estimate
of this traveller, more than 200, worth, even in the de¬
sert itself, about L.150 or L.200 each; and of these very
few, if any, have ever found their way to Europe, although
many horses of second and third-rate quality from Syria,
Barbary, and Egypt, have been imported into England,
and have passed for the pure Arabian breed. The price
of horses in Syria is from L.10 to L.120. An Arab mare
cannot be obtained under L.60: a celebrated mare will
often bring from L.200 to L.500. A mare is frequently
the joint stock of two, three, four, or any greater num¬
ber of proprietors; and when she has foaled, the colt
is sold, and the price is divided among the proprietors.
Burckhardt mentions a scheik who had a Nedjed mare, for
the half of whose belly, according to the phraseology of
the Arab market, he paid L.400. D’Arvieux mentions
an emir who “ had a mare that he would not part with
for 5000 crowns, because she had travelled three days
and three nights without drawing bit, and by that means
got him clear off from those that pursued him.” A simi¬
lar anecdote is told of a troop of Druses, who, having at¬
tacked an Arab encampment, were assailed by a superior
force, and all killed except one man, who fled, and was
pursued by some of the best mounted Bedouins. “ But
his mare, although fatigued, continued her speed for se¬
veral hours, and could not be overtaken. Before the pur¬
suers gave up the chase, they cried out to the fugitive,
promising him quarter and safe-conduct, and begging him
that he would allow them to kiss the forehead of his ex¬
cellent mare. Upon his refusal they desisted from pur¬
suing, and, blessing the generous creature, they exclaimed,
addressing her owner, “ Go and wash the feet of your
mare, and drink up the water •*’ a phrase by which the
Bedouins express their sense of the invaluable services
rendered by those fine animals.1 The Arabs treat the
mares which they keep for riding with invariable tender¬
ness. They never beat them, but make much of them,
reason with them, talk with them, and take all imaginable
care of them. They never spur them, except in cases of
peculiar urgency, when the generous animal flies over the
plains with so rapid a motion that the rider is apt to be
stunned. Many curious instances are given by travel¬
lers of the care and affection with which the Arabs treat
their horses. An affecting anecdote is related of an Arab,
who having sold the half of a mare renowned for beauty
and other fine qualities, for 1200 crowns, made frequent
journeys to inquire after her welfare. “ I have many a
time,” says D’Arvieux, “ had the pleasure to see him cry
with tenderness, whilst he was kissing and caressing her.
He would embrace her, would wipe her eyes with his
handkerchief, would rub her with his shirt-sleeves, would
give her a thousand blessings during whole hours that he
would be talking with her. ‘ My eyes,’ would he say to
her, ‘ my soul, my heart, must I be so unfortunate as to'J
have thee sold to so many masters, and not to keep thee
myself? I am poor, my Antelope; I have brought thee
up like a child; I never beat nor chid thee. God pre¬
serve thee, my dearest; thou art pretty, thou art sweet,
thou art lovely; God defend thee from the looks of the
envious!’ He then embraced her, kissed her eyes, and
went backwards, bidding her the most tender adieus.
Another Arab, who had sold his mare and put the money
in the bag, looked wistfully on the animal, and began to
weep, ‘ Shall it be possible,’ said he, ‘ that, after hav¬
ing bred thee up in my house with so much care, and had
so much service from thee, I should be delivering thee
up in slavery to the Franks for thy reward!’ on which
he threw down the money on the table, embraced and
kissed the mare, and took her back to his tent.”2
The camel is an invaluable animal in Arabia, being pecu-C |
liarly qualified, by its power of enduring thirst and fatigue,
for traversing its burning plains. The camels of the Ara¬
bian and Syrian deserts are of a smaller make than those
of Anatolia or Kurdistan and other northern countries,
and they have only one hump. They are used either for
the purposes of riding, or for carrying heavy burdens.
The smaller and more active camels, or dromedaries as
they are termed, or in Arabia which are used for ;
riding, are the same race as the heavier camels, which are
employed in carrying burdens, being merely distinguished
as a hunter is from a coach-horse. The common load of
an Arabian camel is from 400 to 500 pounds on a short
journey, and from 300 to 400 pounds when the distance
is greater. The Egyptian camel, which is equal in strength
to the Anatolian, will carry a load of three bales of coffee,
equal to 1500 pounds, from Cairo to the water-side, a
distance of three miles. The dromedary, or the riding
camel, is used in travelling, though in speed it is far sur¬
passed by the horse. Incredible stories are told of the won¬
derful expeditions performed by these animals. Burckhardt
w^as assured by a Bedouin that his grandfather made a
journey on a camel of 250 miles in one day; and he him¬
self mentions that, on a wager, a camel was engaged to
go in one day, between sunrise and sunset, a space of
125 miles; and actually travelled in 11 hours 115 miles,
when its strength failed. The rate of speed at which a
camel goes, even on a gallop, which is not his natural
pace, and cannot be maintained above half an hour, is
never more than 16 or 18 miles in the hour. In trotting,
12 miles an hour is the utmost limit of his speed, which
may be continued for several hours. But a camel will
carry his riders without interruption for several days
and nights, in an easy and gentle amble, the favourite |
pace, at the rate of about 5 or 5^ miles in the hour,
and will travel for five or six days 10 or 11 hours each
day. A sort of palanquin is fixed on the backs oi
these camels for women, in which they are concealed
from the public eye, and may stretch themselves at full
length. The capacity of bearing thirst varies consider¬
ably in the different races. The Arabian camel must be
watered on the evening of every fourth day. Some
animals, though they may go five days without drinking,
cannot be safely exposed to such a trial. The caravan
routes are never at a greater distance than three or
three and a half days’ journey from water; but the ca¬
ravans from Africa to Egypt travel, during the heat oi
summer, through deserts in which water is wanting, i°r
nine or ten days; and though many camels perish, the
greater number come safely to Egypt. The Turcomans
1 Burckhardt’s Notes on the Bedouins and Wahabys.
3 D’Arvieux, chap. xi.
ARABIA.
329
and Kurds purchase every year from 8000 to 10,000 ca¬
lomels in the Syrian deserts, of which the greater part are
brought originally from Nedjed. The price of a camel va¬
ries almost in every place. In Hedjaz a common riding
camel may be bought for 50 or 60 dollars, and for some
of the first quality 200 and even 300 dollars are sometimes
paid.
The wild ass is found in great numbers in the country
adjoining the district of Djof, to the west of Djebel Sham-
mar, between Tobeck, Sauan, and Hedrush, and to the
south of those places. It is hunted by the Arab tribes,
who eat its flesh, and sell its skin and hoofs to the pedlars
of Damascus and to the people of Hauran. Out of the
hoofs rings are made, which are worn by the peasants as
a charm against rheumatism. The domesticated ass in
Arabia, as in all the other countries of the East, is a strong,
active, and spirited creature, the rival of the horse in uti¬
lity, if not in beauty. It retains all the strength, swift¬
ness, and fire of the wild animal.1 Arabia is not famous
for horned cattle. The cow is used, however, in many
places, for drawing water from the wells, and other pur¬
poses. It is small, and of a stout, bony make, with short
stumps of horns, anti a hump on the back over the shoulder,
like the cows on the Nile and in Nubia.2 The northern
tribes of Arabia, namely, the Aenezes, and the Aid el
Shemal, possess abundance of goats and sheep. The goats
are mostly black, with long ears. The sheep have not
the fat tails of those that are found in some countries;
their ears are rather longer than those of the common
English breed. The Arabs use in their families the milk
of their flocks. They also make great quantities of but¬
ter, part of which they sell to the peasants and town’s
people.
Arabia produces a considerable variety of birds. In the
fertile provinces tame fowls abound, and all sorts of poultry.
The pintado inhabits the woods in such numbers that
children kill them with stones and collect them to be sold
in the towns. In the forests of Yemen pheasants abound;
also the wood-pigeon, and other varieties of the same spe¬
cies. In the plains is found the gray partridge, the com¬
mon lark, the wild goose, and a species of white crane
having the under part of the belly of a beautiful red.
Eagles, falcons, sparrow-hawks, and the Egyptian vulture,
are the Arabian birds of prey. The last clears the coun¬
try of all carrion, and also of field mice, which multiply
prodigiously in some provinces. There is another bird of
prey, of the thrush species, which is equally useful in pur¬
suing and destroying the swarms of locusts with which the
country is infested. There are various birds which are
little known, and which are supposed to be birds of pas¬
sage from India, distinguished by peculiar brilliancy of
plumage. There is one which has two large and beautiful
feathers, with which the Arabians adorn their caps; and
another which, for its rare beauty, is sold for a high price.
A beautiful lapwing is common on the shores of the Per¬
sian Gulf. The sandy tracts of the desert abound in os¬
triches : these are hunted by the Arabs for their feathers,
"hich form a valuable article of trade. The ostrich in¬
habits both the great southern and northern deserts,
i hey abound in the plain extending from Hauran towards
me central provinces of Djebel Shammar and Nedjed.
^ ome are seen in Hauran, and a few are taken almost
every year within two days’ journey of Damascus. They
generally breed in the winter, and the Arabs discovering
t ie nest, scare away the birds, when they resort to the
o lowing contrivance for destroying themA hole is dug
in the ground near the eggs, into which the Arab places Arabia,
a loaded gun, with a long burning match fastened to the'^-^v^-
lock. The ostriches resume their place generally both at
once on the eggs : in due time the gun is discharged, and
next morning the Arabs find one or both of the ostriches
laid dead beside the eggs. The feathers are sold at from
L.2. 6s. to L.2. 10s. per pound, and the finest at from one
to two shillings each. In places where there is water,
plovers and storks abound; and sea-fowls, feeding on fish,
are numerous on the coasts of the Red Sea, which is deep,
and copiously stored with their food. Here, and on the
isles along the shore, the pelican is to be found.
The heat of the climate favours the breed of serpents,
some of which only are dangerous, while others are per¬
fectly harmless. The only one that is truly formidable
is a small slender creature, with black and white spots,
whose bite is followed by instant death, and an extraordi¬
nary swelling of the body from the malignity of the poison.
Of the insects in Arabia, the most remarkable as well as
the most destructive is the locust, which flies in swarms
that, darken the air, and with a frightful and stunning
noise, such as is made by a water-fall. The fields are
entirely despoiled of their verdure by these insects. The
pulse and the date trees are also greatly injured; but the
corn, when it is nearly ripe, resists, by its hardness, their
attacks. Locusts are found in all parts of the Arabian
deserts. They come invariably from the East,—from the
waters of the Persian Gulf, according to the notions of the
rude Arabs. In the central province of Nedjed they not
only destroy the produce of the fields, but penetrate by
thousands into private dwellings, where they devour what¬
ever they can find, even to the leather of the water-ves¬
sels. In the peninsula of Sinai the inhabitants are driven
to despair by swarms of locusts, which consume the
fruits of the earth. All the Arab tribes, as well as the in¬
habitants of towns, are accustomed to eat this insect; and
at Medina and Tayf there are shops in which they are
sold by measure. After being salted, whole sacks are
filled with them. The destructive insect the white ant,
which preys upon victuals, clothes, furniture, and the
leaves of trees, is common. There is another ant, whose
bite is like that of the scorpion, although it is not danger¬
ous. The scolopendra affects those whom it attacks with
burning pains. It fixes its feet so firmly in the flesh that
it cannot be got out but by burning the part with a hot
iron. Other insects destroy reeds and stalks of corn, and
make their way into houses. There are many species of
crabs, some of them peculiar to the Red Sea, which are
excellent, and, but for the peculiar aversion of the Mus-,
sulmans to shell-fish, would afford a wholesome subsistence.
At Suez they form almost the sole food of the Copts.
Arabia has never been noted for its. minerals. It was Minerals,
supposed by the ancients, who had the most exaggerated
ideas of its wealth and produce, to abound in precious
stones, as well as gold and silver. Except it be the onyx,
which is found in Yemen, and the cornelian, it produces
no other stones of value. It does not contain anywhere
mines of gold or silver, nor is this precious ore ever wastn
ed down by the mountain streams. There are mines of
fossil salt among the mountains, which were formerly
worked, but are now neglected; and the iron of Yemen is
found to be of a coarse quality and brittle. In Oman are
very rich lead mines, the produce of which is largely ex¬
ported from the harbour of Mascat, in the Persian Gulf,
Burckhardt, whose posthumous work3 contains the most Arab
ample and satisfactory details of Arabian manners, gives a tribes.
, ^*efiahr, vol. ii. chap. iii. Burckhardt’s Notes on the Bedouins and Wahabys.
Burckhardt’s Travels in Arabia, p. 127.
VOL. in. • ...
2 X
Notes on the Bedouins and Wahabys.
330
ARABIA.
Arabia, particular classification of the Bedouin tribes. Those who
inhabit northern Arabia he distinguishes into two classes;
namely, the Aenezes, who migrate with the spring and
summer to the fertile parts of Syria, and return with the
winter to the desert; and others, who remain the whole
year in the vicinity of the cultivated tracts. The Aene¬
zes, reckoning their brethren in Nedjed, form one of the
most powerful associations of shepherds in the Arabian
deserts. They levy contributions on the Syrian villages,
as well as on the pilgrim caravan in its passage from the
desert to Mecca; and their numbers are estimated at
from 300,000 to 350,000, and their military force at 10,000
horsemen, and from 90,000 to 100,000 camel-riders.
There are numerous other tribes in northern Arabia,
scattered along the frontiers of Syria and the banks of
the Euphrates. They are not so migratory in their ha¬
bits as the Aenezes, with whom several of them carry
on the most deadly strife, while others pay a yearly
tribute to all the chief Aeneze tribes, and in some cases
to the pacha of Damascus. Many of them cultivate the
land though they dwell in tents; and those on the borders
of Syria carry their produce of milk, butter, and cheese
to the market of Aleppo. There are other tribes that
range over the country to the south, over the mountains
that run in a direction parallel to the Red Sea as far as
Medina and Mecca, or in the interior plains and moun¬
tains of Djebel Shammar, Kasym, and Nedjed. Some of
those tribes, as the Beni Shammar, can muster from 3000 to
4000 men, armed with matchlocks; others, such as Meteyr,
who occupy the fruitful pastures of Nedjed, 1200 horse, and
from 6000 to 8000 matchlocks. The country from Kasym
towards Medina and Mecca, and the coast southward
from Yembo to Djidda and Leith, for about 250 miles, is
inhabited by the Beni Harb, which, next to the Aenezes,
is the most powerful tribe in Arabia. They can muster
from 30,000 to 40,000 men, armed with matchlocks. The
Harbs are partly settlers and partly Bedouins. They may
be styled the masters of the Hedjaz, and were the last
tribe in those countries that yielded to the Wahaby arms.
They take a yearly tribute from the Egyptian and Syrian
caravans ; and they extend their predatory inroads against
the encampments of the Aenezes to the vicinity of Da¬
mascus. On the sea coast, where the territory is poor,
they derive a subsistence from fishing; and many of them
are sailors, and act as pilots between Yembo and Djidda.
But these tribes, from their intercourse with the inhabi¬
tants of towns, and their maritime habits, are regarded
with disdain by the genuine Arabs. To the east of Mec¬
ca and Tayf, in the fruitful pastures of the interior, resides
the brave and powerful tribe of Ateybe, the inveterate
enemies of the Beni Harb, who can muster a force of
10,000 matchlocks. In the neighbourhood of Mecca are
many well-known tribes, now reduced to about 250 or 300
matchlocks. The tribe of Koreish, so famous in the Ara¬
bian annals, who encamp near Mount Arafat, now amount
only to 300 matchlock-men. The tribe of Adouan, which
40 years ago mustered about 1000 matchlocks, and were
celebrated all over Arabia for their valour and hospitality,
are now reduced to 100 families. It is to this tribe that
the reigning sherifs of Mecca send their children to be
educated. In the mountainous region between Mecca
and Tayf reside the warlike tribes of the Hodheyl,
mustering 1000 matchlocks, famed as excellent marks¬
men, brave soldiers, and daring high-way robbers; the
Toweyrek, who muster 500 matchlocks, and have the
character of dexterous thieves; and the Thekyf, who
possess the garden country around Tayf, and the other
I Aril
s
equally fertile valleys on the eastern declivity of th
great Hedjaz chain of mountains. The wealth of thes
mountain tribes consists in flocks of sheep and goat
They suffered severely, especially the Hodheyl, in thei
obstinate but unavailing resistance to the Wahaby,
From Tayf southward, along the eastern face of the grea
chain of mountains to Sana, are several ancient an
powerful tribes, renowned in Arabian history. Som
are partly cultivators and partly Bedouins. The Ber
Kahtan and the Beni Sad are famous from the mos
remote antiquity. The former is exclusively pastora
abounding in camels above any other tribe of the desen
Some of these southern tribes can muster from 500 t
1500 matchlocks. They are brave and warlike, and the
extend from the mountains over the eastern and westeri
plains. The tribe of Asyr can assemble 15,000 men
armed with matchlocks. Of the various tribes scatter
ed over the mountains of Yemen and Hadramaut, am
the countries that are washed by the Persian Gulf, wi
have no detailed or accurate accounts. The tribes ii
the mountains are, however, in general employed in agri
culture; many of them live in tents, and descend ii
spring into the neighbouring plains for pasture to thei
flocks. The cultivators dispose of their produce, whicl
is abundant, in the towns on the coast.
Arabia has been celebrated from time immemorial a|
the seat of independence and of pastoral simplicity, ami
it is perhaps the only country in the world which, until
it was lately overrun by the troops of Mohammed Ali, wa
never profaned by foreign conquest. Mountains and de
serts, as is well observed by Sir John Malcolm,1 have beci
in all ages the sanctuaries of the brave and the free; am
thither the hardy Arabs, when pressed by powerful armies
have always fled to enjoy freedom and independence. Oi
the sea coasts and in the towns the Arab character ha
been corrupted by commerce and a free intercourse will
foreigners; but in those secure recesses the ancien
manners of the country are still to be found. The ge
nuine inhabitants of the desert unite the character o
shepherds and soldiers. They live in tents, and the;
subsist by maintaining flocks of sheep and camels, am
also cows and horses. The larger tribes are chiefly em
ployed in rearing camels, which they either sell to thei
neighbours, or employ in the carriage of goods or ii
military expeditions. The petty tribes maintain flocks o
sheep. They disdain the cultivation of the ground, asai
employment degrading to a pure Arab, and which theyac
cordingly leave to the inferior race of peasantry and slaves
These Bedouins live the usual vagrant life of shepherds
emigrating from one place to another with the change o
the seasons, in quest of pasturage, and transporting theii
dwellings along with them; so that a village arises ofter
in a situation where, an hour before, not a hut was to hi
seen. The genuine Arabs, who live constantly in the oper
air, acquire a remarkable acuteness in all their senses
Their powers of vision and of hearing improve by constan
exercise; and on the vast plains of the desert objects in
visible to a less practised eye are at once seen by them
Their sense of smelling is extremely acute ; and their dis
like to a town life is occasioned by the nauseous exhala
tions which are produced among such a dense collection o
people. The Arabs possess the same faculty of nicelj
distinguishing on the sand the footsteps of men and beast:
which the American Indians distinguish on the grass. T(
such perfection have they arrived in this art, that at
Arab will at once recognise the footstep of any one o
his own or of some neighbouring tribe; he will knou
ffie
Icii
1 History of Persia.
A R A
^rai. whether the person carried a load; whether he passed
pv^the same day, or a day or two before; whether, from a
certain irregularity in the steps, he was fatigued, had
come from a distance, and how far he has any chance of
overtaking him. He knows at once the footsteps of his
own camel—whether it was heavily loaded, or mounted
only by one or more persons. A keen Arab guide has
his eye constantly on the footsteps which he sees; and
Burckhardt mentions that he has seen a man discover and
trace the footsteps of his camel amid thousands of other
footsteps crossing the road in every direction, and, by an
inspection of the footsteps, tell the name of every person
who had passed there in the course of the morning.
Many secret robberies are brought to light by this power
of nice observation.' Instances have been known of stolen
camels found after a journey of six days ; and so long as
the traces of men or camels can be seen on the sand
by the practised Arab’s discriminating eye, robberies
are almost sure of detection. So thoroughly are the Be¬
douins inured to fatigue and the want of water, that they
will wander about five days without tasting it, and will at
last discover a pit of water by examining the soil and
plants in the environs. They ride on horses and camels, and
are continually armed with a lance, a sabre, and some¬
times a matchlock or a pistol. Some of them wear coats
of mail. All those wandering shepherds are addicted to
violence, and to the fierce habits of a military life. They
are either engaged in open war about their wells or pas¬
ture grounds, or in plundering excursions or secret robbe¬
ries, which they do not consider to be in any degree crimi¬
nal ; and no more flattering title can be conferred on an
Arabian youth than that of robber. The defenceless tra¬
veller, whom they descry from afar on the level plain, is
marked out for their prey. He is seized, stript of every
thing, and left naked in the desert. If he resists, and
more especially if he sheds the blood of a Bedouin, they
take his life. But the Arab plunders indiscriminately
strangers and neighbours, enemies and friends, provided
they are not actually in his own tent, where it is not
reckoned honourable to rob, though acts of this nature
daily occur, without drawing after them any lasting dis¬
grace. Associations are frequently formed for the plun¬
der of caravans, or of the cultivators who dwell in vil¬
lages, whose cattle they carry off, and sometimes, though
very rarely, their young women. In those cases they
proceed with a considerable force. Their chief object,
however, being still plunder, the great point of Arab
tactics is to surprise the enemy’s encampment, and to
carry off the cattle and the camels. They seldom en¬
gage in any sanguinary conflicts; for though the Arab,
in facing the enemies of his country, behaves like a
brave soldier, he is a mere poltroon in his plundering
expeditions; and the caravan travellers and peasants
frequently put to flight three times their own number
of those wandering robbers. In undertaking an expedi¬
tion for plunder at the distance of ten or twenty days’
journey, every horseman who is of the party chooses a
companion, who is mounted on a young and strong ca¬
mel, and who carries a provision of food and water. He
mounts behind this companion, that his mare may be
flesh and vigorous at the moment of attack. In approach-
mg the enemy’s camp, the horsemen advance, leaving
t icir followers and the camels behind, with instructions
to a\yait their arrival. The horsemen are sometimes all
(estroyed in the expedition; and they are at other times
separated from their followers who carry the provisions,
and either inevitably perish in the barren plain, or sub¬
mit to be stript and plundered by their enemies. In
ie most inveterate wars of the Arabs the women are in¬
variably respected; and neither men, women, nor slaves,
B I A. 33i
are taken prisoners. Night attacks are generally avoid- Arabia,
ed, lest during the confusion the women’s apartments
should be entered, which would produce a desperate re¬
sistance, and probably in the end a general massacre—an
extremity which the Arabs always try to avoid. The at¬
tack of a camp seldom occasions any great loss of lives, be¬
cause no opposition is offered to superior numbers ; and a
Bedouin, except in avenging blood, never puts to death an
unresisting foe. In flying from his enemy, an Arab may
save his life by throwing himself from his horse and asking
for mercy; but he saves it at the expense of his honour, and
loses his horse and all his clothes, while his enemy will
ever after triumph over him. The more spirited of the
Arabs defy their adversary, while he pursues them, call¬
ing out repeatedly, “ Howel, howel,” get down, get down,
and who, when his call is not obeyed, wounds or kills his
enemy with a thrust of his lance. Among some of the
Arab tribes it is the practice to steal unobserved on the
enemy’s encampment during the night, and knocking
down the principal tent-poles, to drive off the cattle amid
the confusion.
But the Arabs often undertake merely thieving expe¬
ditions, in which they steal from friend and foe. The
mode in which these are conducted affords some curi¬
ous details of manners. In such enterprises ten or
twelve persons usually engage, and clothe themselves
in rags, to make their ransom easier if they should
be taken. When they approach the camp which they
intend to rob, three of the most daring advance about
midnight, when its inmates, who seldom plant sentinels,
are buried in sleep. One of the thieves now endea¬
vours to excite the attention of the watch-dogs. -When
they attack him he flies, and draws them off to a great
distance, by which the camp is left unprotected. Another,
called el haramy, or the robber, advancing towards the
camels that are upon their knees before the tent, cuts the
strings that confine their legs, when they rise and walk,
as all unloaded camels do, without the least noise. One
of the she camels being then led out of the camp, all the
others follow. The third actor in the robbery watches
at the tent door with a long and heavy bludgeon, with
which he knocks down any of the inmates who may come
forth. It often happens that as many as fifty camels are
stolen in this manner, and driven away by forced march¬
es during the night to a safe distance. In many cases,
however, the robbers are surrounded and seized; and the
mode of treating these prisoners is extremely curious, and
is a proof how powerfully these fierce barbarians are influ¬
enced by prejudice and immemorial usage. It is an esta¬
blished custom among the Arabs, that if any person who
is in actual danger from another can touch a third per¬
son, or any inanimate thing which the other has in his
hands, or if he can touch him by spitting or throwing a
stone at him, and at the same time exclaims “ I am thy
protected,” he is bound to grant him the protection which
he requires. This law, however absurd and capricious,
seems naturally to arise out of scenes of violence, the evils
of which it is calculated to soften. A prisoner detected in
the act of plundering anxiously looks about for a pro¬
tector, while the inmates of the tent are. equally desirous
to deprive him of this privilege. The person who first
seizes him demands on what business he is come, accom¬
panying his question by blows on the head. “ I came to
rob—God has overthrown me,” is the common answer.
The captor (the rabat), binding the hands and feet of his
prisoner, and calling in the people of his tribe, addresses
him, saying, “ renounce;” and the robber, fearing a con¬
tinuation of the blows! answers, “ I renounce,” namely,
the benefit of any protector. But this renunciation being
only valid for a day, the prisoner is secured in a hole dug
332
ARABIA.
Arabia.
in the ground, about two feet deep, and large enough to
contain him. Here he is laid, his feet chained to the
earth, his hands tied, and his twisted hair fastened to two
stakes on both sides of his head. Some tent-poles are
then laid across this temporary grave, and corn-sacks and
other heavy articles heaped upon them; a small open¬
ing being only left, through which he may breathe. Thus
buried alive, the prisoner does not despair; and cus¬
toms that are established among the Arabs sometimes fa¬
vour his escape. If from his hole he can contrive to spit
into the face of a man or a child, or if he receive a mor¬
sel of bread from a child, he claims the privilege of being
protected. His mother or his sister sometimes contrive
to enter the camp in which he is confined, in the disguise
of a beggar. Approaching during the night the hole where
he lies confined, and throwing a thread of worsted over
his face, they guide it to his mouth, or fasten it to his
foot; and by this token he knows that help is at hand.
The woman winding off the thread, retires to some neigh¬
bouring tent, and awakening the owner, and placing the
thread on his breast, addresses him in these words:
“ Look on me by the love thou bearest to God and thy
own self—this is under thy protection.” The Arab com¬
prehends at once the object of this nocturnal visit, rises,
winds up the thread, and being thus guided to the tent of
the prisoner, awakens the captor, and showing the thread
still held by the prisoner, claims him as his “ protected.”
The right of freedom is at once allowed; the thongs
which tied his hair are cut, his fetters are taken off, and
he is entertained by the captor as his guest with all
the honours of Arab hospitality. A prisoner sometimes
remains for six months under this rigorous custody, al¬
ways concealing his real name, and giving himself out for
a poor beggar. He is generally discovered, however,
when he must pay as a ransom all his property in horses,
camels, sheep, tents, provisions, and baggage. In many
cases a sum is agreed upon for his ransom, and he goes
to his tribe to collect it, or find a surety for the payment.
If he cannot collect the necessary sum among his friends,
he is bound to go back to his prison; and he seldom
fails either to pay or to return. A father considers his
son to have acquired high honour in being detained as a
robber, and he willingly redeems him with his whole pro¬
perty, which he hopes to recover in some future expedi¬
tion.
Nobility of The Arabs are remarkable above all the nations of the
Arabia. earth for the spirit of clanship and for pride of family.
The scheiks, or the rulers and nobles who govern Ara¬
bia, glory in their ancestry, which they can trace with un¬
doubted accuracy to a long line of princes. Nobility of
birth, which cannot be communicated by the smile of
kings, is the true distinction of the Arabian aristocracy;
and no scheik would exchange his title for any distinc¬
tion depending on court favour. Those genuine nobles,
who dwell in tents, look with contempt on the dwell¬
ers in cities, as a race debased by foreign alliances,
which they hold in such contempt, that a scheik, if
he were forced from poverty to marry his daughter
to a citizen, would consider himself disgraced by the
match. Besides the scheiks there are the sherifs or
sejids, or, in the Mahometan countries to the north of
Arabia, the emirs. These are the descendants of Ma¬
homet, who hold the first rank among the great families
of Arabia, and who receive the double honour that is due
to splendid descent and superior sanctity. The title of
sherifs distinguishes them from the scheiks, the com¬
mon order of Arabian nobility. They are multiplied over
all Mahometan countries. Whole villages are peopled
with them, and they are frequently found in the lowest
state of misery. The sherifs of the Hedjaz, who were
once numerous, but are now reduced to a few families in i
Mecca, have never contaminated their pure blood bjAy?
strange alliances; and they are esteemed above all the
other descendants of the prophet. The presence of a
sherif commands universal respect. In a fray no arm
would violate his person ; his property requires no protec¬
tion ; the sanctity of his character supplies the place of
bolts and bars, and scares awmy the boldest thieves.
From these sherifs are chosen the rulers of Mecca and
its adjacent territories, extending for about 250 miles along
the coast, from Yembo on the north, to Haly or Gonfode
on the south. Before the country was conquered by
the Wahabys, and again by the Turkish troops under
Mohammed Ali, they possessed the power of sovereigns
within their dominions; and though they held their autho¬
rity ostensibly under the grand signior, being installed in
their office by an investiture of a pelisse from Constanti¬
nople, thus formally acknowledging themselves his ser¬
vants, and praying for him in the great mosque, they were
in reality elected by the powerful sherif families resident
at Mecca, and they ruled according to the constitutional
maxims of the desert, merely as Bedouin chiefs. The
Arab tribes looked upon them as one of their own scheiks,
the head of the family or clan ; and they followed them in
war under their own immediate chiefs, without receiving
pay. In this manner Ghaleb, the last sherif, was accom¬
panied in his wars against the Wahabys by 6000 or 8000
Bedouin Arabs. A system of well-regulated freedom was
not to be expected from the rude policy of wandering
shepherds, and the Arab chiefs accordingly own no re¬
straint on their authority. But the rigour of despotic
sway is softened by the influence of manners; and the
independent princes of Mecca, in the pride of sovereignty,
still acknowledge the ties which bind them to the simple
Bedouins of the desert. The sherif descendants of Ma¬
homet who reside at Mecca retain a singular practice
of sending every male child, eight days after it is born, to
the tents of some wandering tribe. Here he remains
till his 8th or 10th year, when he is able to mount a steed,
and sometimes till his 13th or 15th year. During all this
period he only pays one short visit to his father’s house,
in his sixth month, when his foster-mother returns with
him to her tribe. The boy is trained by those shepherds
in all warlike exercises: he shares in their hardships and
perils, is familiarized with their manners, and acquires their
pure language, and a lasting influence over them; while
his affections, awakened at an age when the mind is pe¬
culiarly susceptible, still attach him to the scenes of the
desert and the companions of his youth. The tent of a
Bedouin shepherd is in this manner the constitutional
school of an Arabian prince, in which he imbibes the
maxims by which he afterwards rules the state. Some
of the sherif boys become so fond of their foster-parents
that they can scarcely be reconciled to their lathers’
house; and they have been sometimes known, after being
settled at home, to escape to their friends in the desert.
“ The Bedouins,” says Burckhardt, “ in whose tent a sherif
had been educated, were ever after treated by him with the
same respect as his own parents or brethren: he called
them respectively father, mother, brother. Whenever
they came to Mecca they lodged at his house, and never
left it without receiving presents. He considered him¬
self during his life as belonging to the encampment in
which he had passed his early years;, he termed its in¬
habitants ‘ our people,’ or ‘ our family,’ took the kindest
interest in their various fortunes; and, when at leisure,
often paid them a visit during the spring months, and
sometimes accompanied them in their wanderings and
their wars.” Sherif Ghaleb, whose reign was terminated
by Mohammed Ali in 1815, was remarkably attentive to
k
ARABIA.
333
r
Aral. his Bedouin friends. They alighted at his house in Mecca
jrvi'iust as they alight at the tent of a scheik in any Arab en¬
campment of the desert; and when they departed, their
sacks were filled with provisions for the road. On their
arrival he used to rise from his seat and embrace them,
though they were in the same mean attire as the other
inhabitants of the desert. Many of the sherifs are also
married to Bedouin girls.
A sherif was generally succeeded by his relative,
whether son, brother, or cousin, who had the strongest
party, or the public voice in his favour ; but it was seldom
that an election took place without a violent contest, which
frequently ended in bloodshed and civil broils. These,
however, were carried on according to the laws of the
desert, and they were seldom of long duration. The hap¬
piness of the people under these sherifs always depends
on the personal character of the ruler. There are no tri¬
bunals to which the oppressed can fly for redress, and a
sherif may harass his subjects to any extent by his ex¬
tortions. He may imprison the refractory, and even put
them to death, without endangering his authority. Such
is the despotic character of all eastern governments.
In the Ottoman provinces the dignity of sherif is less re¬
spected, though even in Turkey they enjoy some substantial
privileges. In the towns where they reside, the sherif or
emir is subject, not to the pacha, but to a member of his
own family, who is denominated nakib or general of the
sherifs. Besides the scheiks and sherifs there is ano¬
ther branch of nobility at Mecca, who have an hereditary
right to certain employments at the mosque, and who
have a strong inducement to preserve an exact record of
their genealogy. These are certain families descended
from the tribe of Koreish, who hold the office of keeper of
the keys of Kaaba, which is the most important office about
the mosque, and was often an object of contention among
the ancient Arabian tribes; and others who are muftis,
or are employed in other capacities, and who, to preserve
their title to these envied privileges, can show a faithful
record of their ancestors for ten centuries back. There
were formerly 12 other illustrious families of the tribe of
Koreish, who are now reduced to three.1
Arabia is divided into numerous petty states, governed
by independent chiefs or scheiks, who are, strictly speak¬
ing, the heads of families; and the paternal government
thus supplies the model of the Arabian institutions. The
father is in all cases the natural ruler of his own family;
and though the tie be necessarily weakened as families
multiply, yet the relations of kindred and of blood are still
acknowledged, and all the descendants unite in paying re¬
spect and reverence to their common head. An assemblage
of families constitutes a tribe; and all the scheiks of the same
tribe acknowledge a common chief, who is called the schech
cs schcuch, or the scheik of scheiks, or the grand scheik or
prince, who rules over the whole. The dignity of the grand
scheik is hereditary in the family ; but it is so far elective
that he is chosen by the inferior scheiks, from the whole
members of the reigning family, without regard to seniority
or lineal succession : his only distinction is his qualification
for the office. The right of election, as well, as other pri¬
vileges which belong to the inferior scheiks, obliges the
grand scheik to treat them rather as. associates than as
subjects, and in some measure to share with them his so¬
vereign authority. If they are aggrieved by him, they
depose him, or emigrate with their cattle to other tribes;
and in this manner many powerful tribes have been weak¬
ened, while the number and the power of others have been
augmented.
iover
■lit.
The scheik has in fact no acknowledged or formal autho- Arabia,
rity over his tribe, flis commands would be treated with^^^v^-
contempt, and his advice only is received with the de¬
ference due to experience and talent. “ The prerogative of
the scheik,” says Burckhardt, “ consists in leading his
tribe against an enemy, in conducting negotiations for
peace or war, in fixing the spot for encampments, in en¬
tertaining strangers of note ; and even these privileges are
much limited. The scheik cannot declare war or conclude
peace without consulting the chief men of his tribe. If he
wish to break up the camp, he must previously ask the
opinions of his people concerning the security of the roads,
and the sufficiency of pasture and water in the districts to
which he directs his view. Thus he strikes his tent and
loads his camels without desiring any one to do so; but
when they know that the scheik is setting out, his Arabs
hasten to join him.” The Arabs are jealous of authority,
and their freedom borders on anarchy. The Bedouin ac¬
knowledges no master but the Lord of the universe ; and
the most powerful chief, by inflicting punishment on the
poorest man of his tribe, is exposed to the mortal vengeance
of himself or his relations. A scheik, in place of deriving a
yearly income from his tribe, is bound to show liberality,
especially in his treatment of strangers ; to maintain the
poor, and to divide among his friends whatever presents
he may receive. The only revenue possessed by the
northern chiefs is the tribute which they extort from the
Syrian villages, and from the pilgrim caravan to Mecca.
Among the numerous principalities in the south of Arabia,
the scheik or imam imposes a land tax and a poll tax, also
port and transit duties on all articles of merchandise, some
of which, as on coffee, are very heavy. These duties on
goods are not, as they have been sometimes considered,
a mere ransom from pillage, but a tax and an acknow¬
ledgement of the paramount authority of the prince.
Among so many petty sovereignties wars frequently arise,
from the ambition or jarring interests of the different
chiefs. The more powerful princes frequently oppress
their weaker neighbours ; and in the fertile districts of the
country extensive monarchies have arisen from conquest
or religious prejudices, on the ruin of the smaller states.
Of these are the dominions of the sherif of Mecca, of the
imams of Sana and Muscat, and of several princes in the
province of Hadramaut. In some cases these smaller
states have associated for their common defence; and,
from the disunion or hostility of its various tribes, the
country has been in all ages a scene of rapine and intes¬
tine wars. In later times the rise of the Wahaby power
crushed all the inferior chiefs, and on their ruins had
arisen a powerful empire, which was overthrown by the
Egyptian army of Mohammed Ati.
The Arabs, though they enjoy a rude independence, Adminis-
have made little progress in the arts and institutions oftration of
civil life. In administering justice, they resort to thejust-ice-
most barbarous expedients. The scheik has not the power
of enforcing obedience to any sentence if it is not agreed
to by the parties. The kady, so often mentioned by the
Arabian writers, is the only judge; and such of them as
still remain are famed for being expert in the laws and
customs of the nation, and for their integrity. The office
of kady continues in one family, but is not confined to any
individual, a choice being made of the fittest person in
the family by the other kadys of friendly tribes, as well
as by the people of his own tribe. The kady is paid by
the litigating parties ; but all the judges, especially those
in towns, are open to bribery, and justice is sold to the
highest bidder. In cases where the witnesses directly
1 Burckhardt’s Travels in Arabia, vol. ii. p. 127*
ARABIA.
334
Arabia, contradict each other, some superstitious ordeal is used
to discover the truth. A particular judge is appointed for
cases which must be decided by supernatural means. He
directs that a fire shall be kindled before him : “ he then,”
says Burckhardt, “ takes a long iron spoon, used by the
Arabs in roasting coffee, and having made it red-hot in
the fire, he takes it out, and licks with his tongue the
upper end of the spoon on both sides. He then replaces
it in the fire, and commands the accused person first to
wash his mouth with water, and next to lick it as he had
done. If the accused escape without injury to his tongue
he is supposed innocent; if he suffer from the hot iron
he loses his cause. The Arabs ascribed this wonderful
escape, not to the Almighty protector of innocence, but to
the devil.” In all cases of manslaughter or murder where
the fact is denied, this superstitious ordeal is appealed to,
and no other mode of trial admitted. Where the parties
refuse the decision of the judge, they resume their ori¬
ginal right of avenging their own quarrel; and a strife
of this nature once begun, and producing blood-shed,
leads to a long series of cruel retaliations.
Among the Arabs crimes of every description are pu¬
nished by fines; corporal punishments are entirely un¬
known ; and there are no prisons to circumscribe the free¬
dom of the desert. For every offence a fine is fixed in the
kady’s court, which is rigidly exacted: all insulting ex¬
pressions or acts of violence, from a slight blow to wound¬
ing and the effusion of blood, have their respective penal¬
ties. They adopt the following singular mode of ascer¬
taining the fine payable for killing a watch-dog: The dead
dog is held up by the tail, so that its mouth just touches
the ground; its length is then measured by means of a
stick, which is fixed in the earth, and the offender is ob¬
liged to pour out over the stick as much wheat as will
wholly cover it, which is then given to the owner of the
dog. The form observed by an Arab in summoning wit¬
nesses is by exclaiming, “ Bear thou witness, O 
or he may touch their arms with his hand, which is con¬
sidered as a summons to give testimony. Where a party
is accused of a crime, and there are no witnesses, the
matter is referred to his oath. The judicial oaths of
the Arabs have different degrees of sanctity; and for
certain oaths they have a superstitious veneration, which
induces them to tell the truth. One of the most com¬
mon oaths is for a party to take hold with one hand of
the middle tent-pole, and to swear “ by the life of this
tent and its owners.” The following oath is often taken be¬
fore the kady: A small piece of wood or some straw is
presented to him who has to swear, with these words,
“ Take the wood, and swear by God, and the life of him
who caused it to be green, and dried it up.” Another
oath, even more solemn, is the “ oath of the cross lines,”
where the accuser leads the person accused of theft or
any other crime to a distance from the camp, on account
of the magical nature of the oath; and with his crooked
knife drawing on the sand a large circle, with many cross
lines inside of it, and obliging the defendant to place his
right foot within the circle, he himself doing the same,
he addresses him in the following words, which the accus¬
ed is obliged to repeat: “ By God, and in God, and
through God, I swear I did not take it, and it is not in
my possession.”
A singular institution, that of the wady or guardian,
prevails among the Arab tribes. An Arab may in the
prime of life request a friend to act as guardian to his
children. If he accepts the trust, his friend presents him¬
self before him with a she-camel; and leading it over to
him, says, “ I constitute you guardian for my children,
and your children for my children, and your grandchil¬
dren for my grandchildren.” In this manner one family
is constituted the hereditary protectors of another family;!^
and thus this fierce and warlike community, the prey of! vj
continual dissension, is held together by its own peculiar
ties, domestic as well as political. To the weak, such as
minors, women, and old men, the system of guardianship
affords some security', however imperfect, against the op¬
pression of the strong.
The Arabs are naturally a jealous and haughty people. Fof ,|
They betray the quickest sensibility to an affront or in- Jj*
jury, and carry the principle of revenge to the great- >4
est excess. They consider the redress of their own
wrongs as equally a duty and a privilege; and there are
certain affronts and trifling violations of punctilio, which
can only be expiated by the blood of the offender. To
spit beside another is considered an insult which must
be avenged; and Niebuhr mentions the case of an Arab
who was so highly incensed at one of his neighbours for
accidentally spitting on his beard, that he was with great
difficulty appeased, although the offender humbly asked
pardon, and kissed his beard in token of submission. If
one scheik says to another with a Serious air, “ Thy
bonnet is dirty,” or “ The wrong side of thy turban is
out,” it is considered a mortal offence. Murder is the
deepest injury that can be committed; and the Arab
code regulates the revenge for blood by the nicest
rules. It is a universal maxim, that he who sheds blood
owes on that account blood to the family of the slain
person; and this debt may be required not only from
the actual murderer, but from all his relations. These
claims constitute the right of thdr, or of “ blood re¬
venge.” In the case of a slain parent, the fifth genera¬
tion of his lineal descendants inherit the sacred duty of
avenging his blood on a corresponding series of descen¬
dants on the other side; and this right is never lost by
prescription, but descends to the latest posterity. If the
death of the person killed is retaliated on one only of the
murderer’s family, the account is considered to be cleared,
though mutual hatred soon renews the quarrel. If two i
of the murderer’s family be killed by the relations of the
deceased, the former retaliates ; “ the interest and prin¬
cipal of the bloody debt,” says the great Roman histo¬
rian, “ are accumulated; the individuals of either family
lead a life of malice and suspicion; and fifty years may i
sometimes elapse before the account of vengeance be
finally settled.” But a murder may be compounded for
money. The nearest relations of the persons slain may
accept the price of blood, which varies among the different
tribes from 1000 piasters, or L.50, to 500 piasters. Among
the Aenezes the blood of one of the tribe is compensated
by 50 she-camels, one riding camel, a mare, a black
stone, a coat of mail, and a gun ; though it is seldom that
all these articles are required : that of a stranger by the
price paid in the stranger’s tribe. The matter being fi¬
nally settled, a she-camel is brought by the homicide to
the tent of his adversary, and there killed, the blood
being supposed to expiate that of the person slain. The
hostile parties feast upon this camel; and at parting, the
homicide flourishes a white handkerchief on his lance, as
an emblem of his purity from guilt. Some of the great
scheiks, however, account it shameful, and contrary to
the true spirit of the Arab law, to compound the price of
blood; and they invariably refuse to commute into a fine
the sacred duty of revenge. Niebuhr mentions that he
was visited by an Arabian of distinction at Loheia, who
was bound to avenge the murder of a relation, and who
told him that he was often haunted in his sleep by the
fear of meeting his enemy. In the course of the conti¬
nual wars in which the Arabs are involved, debts of blood
are frequently incurred. The blood of those who are kill¬
ed in the heat of battle is required at the hands of their
lira'n-
rents
i i
Dios;
liet,
A R A
enemies; and when any tribe violates the laws of war by
slaughtering their enemies as they lie wounded on the
field, the hostile tribe retaliate by killing double the num¬
ber of their enemies with the same circumstances of cruel¬
ty; and hence long and bloody animosities frequently
arise. . ....
The tent of the Arab is covered with pieces of stuff
made of goats’ hair stitched together, which afford a com¬
plete shelter against the heaviest rain. The tent is di¬
vided into two parts, one for the men, and the other for
the women, whose respective apartments are separated
by a white woollen carpet of Damascus manufacture,
drawn across the tent, and fastened to the three middle
parts. The men’s apartment is covered with a good Per¬
sian or Bagdad carpet; the women’s apartment is the
receptacle for all the rubbish of the tent, the cooking
utensils, the butter, and water-skins, &c. The height of
the tent is seven feet, its length from 25 to 30 feet, and
its breadth about 10 feet. The articles of the tent con¬
sist of saddles and camel furnishings; large bags for holding
water, made of tanned camel-skin ; goat-skins for holding
camel’s milk, wheat-sacks made of wool or goat-hair ; the
leather bucket for bringing up water from deep wells; a
large copper, the mortar, the hand-mill, wooden dishes,
the coffee-pot, the iron chain which fastens the horse’s
fore-feet while he pastures about the camp. They have no
chairs throughout the East, the universal practice being
to sit cross-legged. In the Arabian towns the houses
are built of stone, and have always terrace roofs. The
houses of the tribes on the banks of the Euphrates are
formed of the branches of the date-tree, and have a round
roof covered with rush mats.
The dress of the Arabs is a coarse cotton shirt, over
which the wealthy throw a long gown of silk or cotton
stuff. Most of them, however, only wear over their shirt
a thin, light, and white woollen mantle, or one of a coarser
or heavier kind, striped white and brown. The mantles
worn by the scheiks are’ interwoven with gold, and some¬
times may be worth L.10 sterling. Some of the most
considerable tribes, as the Aenezes, do not wear drawers,
which are reckoned shameful for a man ; and they usually
walk and ride barefooted, even the richest of them, al¬
though they greatly esteem yellow boots and red shoes.
They wear on their head a square kerchief of cotton: a
few rich scheiks wear shawls of Damascus or of Bagdad
manufacture. In winter they wear over the shirt a pe¬
lisse made of several sheep-skins stitched together. Many
wear these skins even in summer, as they are taught by
experience that thick clothing is a defence against the
sun’s rays. The Arab endures with wonderful constancy
the extremes both of heat and cold. In winter he sleeps
barefooted in an open tent, where the fire is not kept
up beyond midnight; and in summer on the burning sand,
under the intense rays of the sun. The dress of the wo¬
men consists of a wide cotton gown of a dark colour—
blue, brown, or black—and on their heads a kerchief. Sil¬
ver rings are much worn by the Aeneze women, both in
their ears and noses. They wear glass or silver bracelets,
of various colours, round their wrists and their ancles, and
silver chains about the neck. They go barefooted at all
seasons. 1 he women wear over their faces a dark-coloured
veil, which conceals the mouth and chin. Near Mecca
and layf, and beyond these places southward, both men
and women dress most commonly in leather. They both
wear a leather apron round their loins, the women a
arger one than the men, reaching down to their ancles,
ami adorned with many tassels. In summer the men
"ear no other clothing.
I he diet of the Arabs consists everywhere of flour
an ‘)uBer, variously made ready. Unleavened paste of
B I A. 335
flour and water, baked in ashes of camel’s dung, and mix- Arabia,
ed upv afterwards with a little butter, and thoroughly
kneaded, is served up in a bowl of wood and leather.
Flour and sour camel’s milk, made into a paste and boiled
(the ayesh), is the daily and universal dish of the Aenezes.
Bread baked in cakes is used at breakfast. Bread, butter,
and dates, are also mixed together into a paste. Btir-
gout, the common dish of the Syrian Arabs, is wheat boiled
with some leaves, and then dried in the sun; it is pre¬
served for a year, and served up with butter and oil. The
Arabs never indulge in luxuries, except on a festival, or
the arrival of some stranger; and the richest scheik would
think it a shame to order his wife to dress any rare dish
merely to please his palate. For a guest of distinction a
kid or lamb is prepared, and for one of less consideration
coffee or bread with melted butter. In Hedjaz, or the
hilly district of Arabia near the Red Sea, the usual dish
is Indian rice, mixed with lentils, and without any bread;
and in the districts where the date grows it forms the
chief sustenance of the inhabitants. In Nedjed, Hedjaz,
and Yemen, the Arabs use butter to excess. They fre¬
quently swallow a whole cupful of butter before breakr
fast, and all their food swims in butter. The constant
exercise and motion to which they are accustomed so
strengthens their powers of digestion, that they can en¬
dure without injury the extremes of excess and want.
They can live for months on the smallest allowance, or
devour at a sitting the flesh of half a lamb. Butter is
made from the milk of sheep and goats ; but never, except
in cases of necessity, from that of camels. Among many
of the Arab tribes it is considered shameful to sell any
butter, or among the Bedouins near Mecca to sell milk;
yet the Beni Koreish, one of the most noble of the Ara¬
bian tribes, freely supply the inhabitants of Mecca with
milk.
Hospitality, the virtue of rude nations, is practised Hospita-
among all the Arab tribes, and no violation of its duties
was ever known. When a stranger alights at the tent,
the host, or in his absence the wife or daughter, spreads
a carpet for him and prepares the hospitable meal. If
he remains any time his aid is expected in the domes¬
tic business of the tent, in fetching water, milking the
camel, or feeding the horse. But he may neglect these
duties and still remain, though he will be censured
for ingratitude; or he may go to another tent, where
he will receive a hearty welcome; and every third or
fourth day may change his residence, and be comfort¬
ably entertained during his stay, however long it may
be. The greatest insult that can be ofifered to an Arab,
is to tell him that he does not treat his guests well.
Among some tribes women never eat or drink coffee
in the presence of a man; and in this case some male
relation, in the absence of the host, does the duties of
hospitality. In the plain of Hauran, southward of Da¬
mascus, the wives and daughters of the Arabs may drink
coffee with the strangers upon their arrival; and in the
mountainous districts south of Mecca, towards Yemen,
women are allowed, in the absence of their husbands, to
entertain a guest, and to sit up with him.
The Arabs are not so dissolute in their morals as most Law of
of the nations in the East. They are generally content marriage,
with one wife: instances of conjugal infidelity are not
common, and public prostitution is not seen in their camps.
Yet they are far from being duly impressed with the sa¬
cred tie of marriage, which may be at any time dissolv¬
ed at the pleasure of the husband ; and this facility of
divorce relaxes morality, though, to some extent, the
manners correct the laws. A Bedouin, aware that a
divorce is always in his power, contracts a temporary
marriage of a few weeks; and it is not uncommon for a
336 A R A
Arabia, man, before he has attained the age of 40 or 45, to have
had 50 wives. The wife also, if she is ill used, may fly
for refuge to her father’s tent, whence she cannot be re¬
claimed by her husband. Yet among the Bedouins many
instances are found of conjugal fidelity and love. This rash
dissolution of the marriage union is frequently fatal to the
peace of one or of both parties. In 1815, Burckhardt men¬
tions that a Bedouin of the Syrian desert, who had di¬
vorced his wife, and who was present at her second mar¬
riage, shot himself in a fit of distraction, the moment he
saw the new husband enter the marriage chamber. The
Wahaby ruler Saoud exerted all his authority to prevent
the frequent divorces of the Arabs, by disgracing at court,
or otherwise punishing, any man who either divorced
his wife or used the expression Aley et talak, “ I shall
divorce,” which, according to the Arab law or custom, can¬
not be revoked. Polygamy is permitted, but is not com¬
mon, among the Arabs, owing chiefly to their poverty.
The richer scheiks, however, indulge in a plurality of wives.
The marriage ceremony among the Aenezes and most of
the Arab tribes is extremely simple. The lover generally
commences, through a common friend, a negotiation with
the father of the girl; and if she is pleased, the friend,
holding the father’s hand, says, “ You declare that you give
your daughter as wife to to which the father as¬
senting, the bridegroom comes on the marriage day with
a lamb in his arms to the tent of his betrothed, and by
cutting its throat before witnesses he completes the
marriage ceremony. After the usual rejoicings the bride¬
groom retires after sunset to a tent at a distance from
the camp, while the bride, in her maiden timidity, runs
from tent to tent, struggling, kicking, and even biting
those who attempt to conduct her to the bridegroom’s
chamber.
Riteofcir- The rite of circumcision is still practised among the
cumcision. Arabs, and is the occasion of a great festival. All the
boys are generally circumcised on the sanie day. Each
man of the encampment kills at least one sheep in honour
of his son, and the whole tribe feast on this abundant
cheer. The men exhibit equestrian exercises and warlike
evolutions; while the young women join in the national
airs, and sometimes removing their veils, allow their lovers
a hasty glance of their beauty as they pass. There are,
besides, the festivals of Ramadhan and of the sacrifice of
Arafat, where the same exercises are exhibited.
Mechani- The Arabs are no great proficients in arts or indus-
cal arts, li-their only artists being a few blacksmiths to shoe
teiature, tjie ]10rseSj aiul saddlers for the leather work. The arts
of tanning and weaving are practised, the first by the
men, the latter by the women. Of reading and writing
all the Bedouins throughout Arabia are equally ignorant.
The Wahaby chiefs were at pains to instruct them, and
sent teachers among the different tribes, but with little
effect. Nor have they made any progress in science or
literature. In the first, their knowledge is confined to the
names of the constellations and planets. Their literature
consists in romantic tales of love and war, in which they
delight; and the minstrel’s strain frequently beguiles the
evenings of an Arab encampment. Verses are recited or
sung, and the voice is accompanied by a species of guitar,
the only musical instrument which they possess. They
have national airs also for female singers, which are chant¬
ed in choruses of six, eight, or ten voices, at some dis¬
tance from the camp, in the solitude and silence of the
desert. Many of the Arabian poets can neither read
nor write, yet compose verses of exact measure, gram¬
matically correct, and neither destitute of sentiment
nor poetical beauty. Eloquence has from time imme¬
morial been considered a necessary qualification of an
Arab statesman: no scheik, however brave, can ever
B I A.
attain to influence among the Arabs without this talent
The language of Arabia is derived from the same original^
stock with the Hebrew, the Syriac, and the Chaldean
tongues. Each tribe has its own peculiar dialect, but, by
universal consent, the palm of elegance and purity has
been, and still continues to be, assigned to the idiom of
Mecca.
The preceding details exhibit in no very favourable J ai l
view the moral character of the Arabs; and the boasted
virtues of the desert, when they are calmly estimated,11 k
seem to resolve into the observance of certain rules
or prejudices, without which no community can exist,
however rude or lawless. The thieves and outcasts of
civilized society are linked together by certain ties of
good faith, without which all concert would be impossible
even for their own evil ends ; and the honour that prevails
among the Arabs seems not to be of a much higher quality.
They are, according to the accounts of all travellers,
immoderately fond of gain, which they do not scruple to
procure by the basest means. “ Lying, cheating, in¬
triguing, and other vices arising from this source, are as
prevalent in the desert as in any of' the market-towns of
Syria; and on the common occasions of buying and sell¬
ing, where his dakheil (oath) is not required, the word of
an Arab is not entitled to more credit than the oath of a
broker in the bazaar of Aleppo.” An Arab wall defend his
guest at the peril of his own life; he wall submit with re¬
signation to the most cruel reverses of fortune; and at
Mecca, during the pilgrimage, the true Bedouin of the
desert, unlike the other pilgrims, disdains to ask alms,
and alvrays lives by his own industry, however precarious
or humble. On the other hand, in pursuing the trade
of rapine, he seems to be degraded, by his thievish,
cruel, and treacherous habits, to the lowest rank of bar¬
barism. In their familiar conversation the Arabs are
free, sprightly, jocose, and decent. They are not re¬
served or silent, according to the report of some travel¬
lers, except perhaps in their journeys through the de¬
sert, where much speaking excites thirst, and parches the
mouth. In their tents they are indolent, all that they
do being to feed the horse, or milk the camels in the
evening. The herds and flocks are committed to the care
of a shepherd hired for the purpose; and the husband
goes out to hunt with his hawk, or to amuse himself
in any other mariner that pleases him ; while the wife
and daughters are engaged in the household cares, in
grinding the wheat with the hand-mill or pounding it in
the mortar, in kneading and baking the bread, making
butter, fetching water, working at the loom, or mending
the tent-covering. They are patterns of industry, yet
they are not allowed to eat with the men, and only par¬
take in their own apartments (the meharrem) of what
they leave. If a lamb is killed, they seldom taste, except
some of the worst parts, which the men are not able to
eat. This degradation of the women is common to the
Arabs with other Asiatic nations, and is a true feature of
oriental barbarism.
,The small-pox continues to make serious ravages amongl ^
the Bedouins, and to depopulate whole encampments.
Inoculation is resorted to with benefit, and the practice of
vaccination has extended over Syria. Obstructions and
indurations of the stomach, occasioned by the use of
camel’s milk, are common; but these complaints are alle¬
viated by the purging qualities of the brackish water of
the desert: also fevers, both intermittent and inflam¬
matory ; and the burning with a hot iron is here, as in
the former case, the approved cure. Ophthalmic disorders
are frequent, and leprosy, which is hereditary in families)
and cannot be eradicated. It consists of white spots, as
large as the hand, which appear on various parts of the
ARABIA.
IMS.
1)i ]j0(iy) without rising above the skin. If the white spots
z'7 appear on the cheek, the beard commonly falls off: the un¬
fortunate sufferer is held in universal disgrace. The tooth¬
ache is unknown among the Arabs, who have all the most
beautiful teeth.
The chief towns of Arabia are situated either on the
coast of the Red Sea, or in the range of mountains which
runs parallel to its shores. They are, Medina, with Yembo
its sea-port; farther south, between 200 and 300 miles,
Mecca, with Djidda, its sea-port; Tayf, east of Mecca;
still farther south among the mountains, Sada, Sanaa, and
on the coast of the Red Sea Gonfocle, Loheia, Hodeida, and
Mocha; Derayeh is in the interior, and Mascat on the
coast of the Persian Gulf. The population of the towns
consists chiefly of foreign traders, who follow the customs
of the place, but seldom imbibe the national spirit. Hence
they form an entirely different class from the Bedouin
Arabs. They have their faults without their virtues, are
dissolute in their manners, and addicted to the grossest
vices. The commerce and religion of Arabia concur to
bring together in the towns a mixed population from the
most remote parts of the world.
mmc,, Arabia has no manufactures, for a supply of which it
is therefore dependent on its foreign trade. From its
central position, however, and its contiguity to the shores
of the Red Sea, in former times the only navigable com¬
munication between Asia and Europe, it has always been
a great entrepot for the commodities of other countries.
In the ancient world it was the medium of intercourse
between India and Europe, and still continues to enjoy
a portion of this commerce.
The sea-port of Djidda, on the Red Sea, seems to be
the great emporium of the Arabian trade. Thither resort
the annual fleets from Calcutta, Surat, and Bombay, about
the beginning of May. They bring piece goods, Cash-
mere shawls, cocoa-nuts, rice, sugar, drugs of all sorts;
small articles of Indian manufacture, such as china-ware,
costly collections of which are often displayed by the rich
inhabitants; hardware, pipes, beads, wooden spoons, glass
beads, knives, rosaries, mirrors, cards, &c. These goods
are mostly disposed of for cash to Indian houses, the most
eminent of which are known to possess capital to the value
of L.150,000 or L.200,000 sterling, while several infe¬
rior houses have capitals of L.40,000 and L.50,000. The
Indian trade is carried on to a great extent, sales of en¬
tire ships’ cargoes being frequently made in the course of
half an hour, and the money paid down next day. From
every port of the Red Sea traders repair to Djidda during
this annual fair, and lay out all that they possess in the
purchase of Indian goods, which rise in price imme¬
diately after the departure of the fleet, and are always
sold to good account. From Djidda they are sent to Suez
and Cairo, whence they are dispersed over Egypt and the
shores of the Mediterranean. The returns from Egypt
are made either in dollars or sequins, or in produce or
goods, such as wheat, for which Arabia depends on Egypt;
tobacco, coffee, and butter, in the use of which articles
all. classes in Arabia indulge to excess; rice, biscuits,
onions, soap; Bedouin cloaks, which are not manufactured
*n Arabia; inferior Turkish carpets, an indispensable ar¬
ticle in the tent of every scheik; cotton quilts; linen for
shirts, and other articles of dress; red and yellow slippers,
used by the more opulent merchants, and by all the la¬
dies, of which there is not one maker in any of the Ara-
>ian towns; red caps, all kinds of cloth dresses, Cashmere
and muslin shawls; well-tinned copper vessels, a variety of
"Inch may be found in every Arabian kitchen; water¬
skins very neatly sewed, canvass, and cordage made of the Arabia,
date-tree. The Indian goods imported into Djidda are'-
sent into the interior by the caravans, one of which de¬
parts for Mecca every evening during the season of the
pilgrimage, and at other times twice a week, with goods
and provisions. To Medina goods are partly sent by sea
through Yembo, the sea-port, and partly by a caravan,
which sets out regularly once in forty or fifty days, ac¬
companied by a crowd of pilgrims on a visit to Mahomet’s
tomb.
Djidda is also the great entrepot of the coffee trade.
Ships laden with this article are constantly arriving from
Yemen. The cargoes are generally disposed of for dollars,
and are sent to Suez and Cairo for the supply of Egypt and
the Mediterranean countries. This trade has been rather
on the decline, Mocha coffee having been supplanted in
the markets of European Turkey, Asia Minor, and Syria,
by that produced in the West Indies. The importation of
West India coffee into Egypt is now, however, strictly pro¬
hibited by the pacha Mohammed Ali. From Bagdad and
Bosra Djidda receives large quantities of an inferior spe¬
cies of tobacco, called tombak; also a supply of tobacco-
pipes, on which the Arabs, being extremely curious, expend
large sums of money. From Abyssinia musk is brought by
the inhabitants in horns, and in return they receive Indian
glass beads, which are in great request all over Africa. Ships
arrive from Mascat in the Persian Gulf, and from Bassora.
with the produce of the adjacent countries, and slave-ves¬
sels from the coast of Mozambique. From the interior
supplies of corn are received, as well as a great variety of
fruits, especially the date, which for a part of the year is
the common food of the people in Arabia. It is made
into a sort of paste, and is exported to the East Indies
and to other countries, where it is sold to great profit
among the Mussulmans of Hindostan. The fine almonds
and raisins produced in the gardens of Tayf are also
taken in considerable quantities by the Indian fleet.1
Honey, which abounds in the mountainous parts, and of
the best quality, is exchanged by the Arabs for manufac¬
tures. The celebrated balm of Mecca, so difficult to be
obtained in a pure state, is another article of trade; and
in adding to that the milk and the wool yielded by the
flocks and herds, we sum up the whole surplus produce
which the Bedouins have to give in exchange for other
articles. Djidda is the great shipping port of the Red
Sea, to which belong 250 vessels; yet no vessels are
built here, the scarcity of timber being so great that a
ship can scarcely be repaired either here or at Yembo.
Suez, Hodeida, and Mocha, are the only harbours at
which ships are built, and the timber is transported from
Asia Minor, Yemen, or the African coast.
In Arabia, as in most other eastern countries where
property is not protected, capital is slowly accumulated,
and is in general far from abundant. The rate of profit
is consequently high, amounting to 30, 40, or even to 50
per cent. No money can be lent out at interest as in
Europe, it being contrary to the law of the Koran, and
no one besides having confidence in another. There is
no monied interest in Arabia. There are no stocks of any
description, or public funds, in which money can be in¬
vested ; and every capitalist is therefore engaged in trade,
from which he never can withdraw to live on his money as
in Europe. Credit is with difficulty obtained, and trade
is carried on by means of barter or by sales for cash.
Hence no Arabian merchant can contract debts which
he is unable to pay; and there are consequently no mer¬
cantile failures in Arabia as in Europe.
vol. ni.
1 See Niebuhr, sect. vi. chap. v.; Burckhardt’s Travels in Arabia, vol. i.
2 u
338
ARABIA.
Arabia. Mecca and Medina, besides being places of trade, are
the two holy cities, to the former of which a visit is en-
^^joined by the prophet on every pious Mahometan who can
o i ecca. aflpor(j j.]ie expense> A visit to the tomb of Mahomet at
Medina, though it is not strictly commanded, is still reck¬
oned a highly meritorious part of the same holy pilgrim¬
age. In obedience to this summons, which is heard
throughout the wide precincts of the Mahometan world,
crowds of devotees, to the number frequently of 70,000 or
80,000, ambitious of the honourable title of hadjy or pil¬
grim, arrive at Mecca during the fast of Ramadhan, from
the most remote quarters of the earth; from European
Turkey and Greece ; from the countries on the shores of
the Mediterranean, namely, Syria and Palestine on the
east, and the Barbary States on the south; from Timbuc-
too, Soudan, and the depths of Central Africa; from Per¬
sia ; from the regions of the Indus; and from Hindostan,
Malacca, and the Asiatic Isles. So vast and various an
assemblage of strangers collected into one city, from all the
different nations of the East, forms a most singular spec¬
tacle, and is a striking proof of the power and extensive
influence of the Mahometan faith. The crowds who re¬
sort thither consist of all classes of Mahometans. The
proud noble, the rich merchant, the bashaw, and the
prince in all the pomp of wealth and dignity, are mingled
in the religious ceremonial of the holy city with the com¬
mon crowd of poor pilgrims, the wretched and servile
Hindoo, or the poor but independent negro of Soudan,
who, as a mendicant or a labourer, makes his way for thou¬
sands of miles through unknown lands and hostile tribes.
In arriving at the holy city, it is the duty of the pilgrims,
before attending any worldly business, to visit the Beitul-
lah or temple, which at night is brilliantly lighted up with
lamps; to walk seven times round 'the kaaba or black
stone, said to be brought down from heaven by the angel
Gabriel, and to touch or to kiss it; to drink water, or wash
in the holy well of Zemzem, miraculously created for
Hagar and her son Ishmael; to proceed to Mount Arafat,
distant from Mecca about 20 miles, and to be present from
afternoon till sun-set at a sermon preached on that holy
spot; to sacrifice a sheep in the valley of Muna, or to
substitute, if the pilgrim be poor, a fowl at some future
period; and, after several other ceremonies, many of them,
such as throwing stones at the devil, sufficiently absurd,
to return to Mecca, and to revisit the kaaba and the om-
rah.1 The Mahometan religion is not of a gloomy or as¬
cetic cast, and the pilgrimage to Mecca is not undertaken
in this spirit. On the contrary, the visit of the pilgrims
to Mount Arafat, in which they are joined by almost the
whole inhabitants of Mecca and Djidda, resembles not so
much a religious ceremony as a holyday festival, in which
all ranks indulge in revelry and show. The common peo¬
ple assemble in their best suits, as if to enjoy a splendid
spectacle ; and the rich and luxurious vie with each other
in the splendid pageantry of their retinue and equipages.
The whole crowd of pilgrims—tribes and tongues from
all parts of the Mahometan empire, of the most various
costumes, manners, and aspect, with their accompanying
train of camels, dromedaries, and horses—press forward
on the appointed day to the plain of Arafat, and present
a scene so animated and impressive, and exhibiting such
a picturesque variety of nations in so small a space, that
it is certainly without a parallel in any other part of the
globe. Burckhardt is the only European traveller who
has ever been present at this great festival of the Ma¬
hometan faith ; and his details are extremely interesting
and curious. “ Of the half-naked hadjys,” he observes,
“ all dressed in the white ihram, some sat reading the
Koran upon their camels, some ejaculated loud prayers,
whilst others cursed their drivers, and quarrelled with
those near them who w'ere choking up the passage.” On
the plain of Arafat the mixed multitude encamp accord¬
ing to a certain order, each nation occupying its appoint¬
ed place ; and at night the fires which blaze throughout
the encampment, and the arched and brilliant clusters of
lamps which are lighted before the tents of distinguished
pilgrims, illuminate the plain, and give a peculiar bril-
liancy to the scene. In the pilgrimage of 1814 Moham¬
med Ali the pacha of Egypt, Solyman the pacha of Da¬
mascus, and the mother of Mohammed Ali, were the
most conspicuous for their rank and splendour. The latter
arrived from Cairo with a princely equipage, her baggage
being transported by 500 camels from the sea-coast of
Djidda to Mecca. “ Her tent,” says Burckhardt, “ was
in fact an encampment, consisting of a dozen tents of dif¬
ferent sizes, inhabited by her women ; the whole inclosed
by a wall of linen cloth 800 paces in circuit, the single
entrance to which was guarded by eunuchs in splendid
dresses. Around this inclosure wrere pitched the tents of
the men who formed her numerous suite. The beautiful
embroidery on the exterior of this linen palace, with the
various colours displayed in every part of it, constituted
an object which reminded me of some descriptions in the
Arabian Tales. Among the rich equipages of the other
hadjys or pilgrims, or of the Mecca people, none were so
conspicuous as that belonging to the family of Djeylany
the merchant, whose tents, pitched in a semicircle, rivalled
in beauty those of the two pachas, and far exceeded those
of Sherif Yahya.” On the following day the encampment
is again broken up, the tents are struck, every thing is
packed up, and the immense crowd, either on foot or
mounted on camels and horses, throng round the moun¬
tain of Arafat to hear the sermon, an essential part oi
the ceremony, which is preached in the afternoon. The
preacher, mounted on a finely caparisoned camel, ha¬
rangues the multitude, most of whom are deeply affected;
weeping and beating their breasts, and denouncing them¬
selves to be great sinners before the Lord ; while others
are fixed in silent adoration, with tears in their eyes. The
preacher reads his sermon from a book in Arabic. “ At
intervals,” Burekhardt adds, “ of every four or five mi¬
nutes, he paused and stretched forth his arms to implore
blessings from above ; wdiile the assembled multitudes
around and before him waved the skirts of their ihrams
over their heads, and rent the air with shouts of ‘ Lebeyk
Allah huma Lebeyk,’—Here we are at thy commands
O God 1” The natives of the towns and the Turkish
soldiers were in the mean time conversing and joking;
and, while the more fervent devotees were waving the
ihram, derided that ceremony by violent gesticulations in
imitation of them. The preacher, when the sun descends
behind the western mountains, concludes his discourse
and closes the book, when the whole multitude of pih
grims make their way over the plains at a quick pace
in the greatest tumult and disorder, with a clamour tha1
is quite astounding, and encamp, after a journey of tw(
hours, where another sermon is heard that lasts frou
daybreak till sunrise of the following day. They ther
move, on the 10th of Zul Hadjy, towards the valley o
Muna, 1500 paces in length, and inclosed on both sides
Uilii
1 In visiting Mecca it is the practice of the more strict devotees to assume the ihram, a garment consisting of two pieces °f line''
woollen, or cotton cloth, one of which is wrapped round the loins, and the other thrown over the neck and shoulders, leaving tn<
right arm uncovered, ’f he head remains totally uncovered. All other garments must be put off, even at night, when the ihram r
assumed. The use of this dress, whether in summer or in winter, is found extremely inconvenient and prejudicial to health.
A R A
ri by steep and barren cliffs of granite. Here they offer
^0the sacrifice of, a sheep; repair to the barber’s shop,
where their heads are shaved; throw at the devil 21
stones; and lay aside the ihram, their pilgrimage be¬
ing so far completed. A new scene now commences.
Almost all the pilgrims who visit the holy city have
goods to dispose of, from which they hope to defray the
expenses of the journey. The rich hadjys bring in the
caravans large stores of merchandise, which they barter
with the great merchants of Djidda who reside in Mecca,
for Indian goods; and the poorer pilgrims have all some
small stock of articles, the produce or manufacture of
their respective countries, which they also propose to sell
or exchange in this great resort of religion and of trade.
The influx of such a vast multitude of strangers, with
about 20,000 or 30,000 camels, gives a stimulus to several
branches of internal commerce. It creates a great addi¬
tional demand for provisions, for lodgings, and for other
articles of necessary use ; and, accordingly, every inhabi¬
tant of Mecca who can scrape together the smallest sum
lays it out during the pilgrimage in some adventure, how¬
ever inconsiderable. With pious objects other pursuits
are in this manner associated of a less spiritual nature;
and the pilgrimage to Mecca is in reality a great annual
fair, to which merchandise is brought from all parts of
the world. This fair continues in the valley of Muna
three days, from the 10th to the 12th of the month of
Zul Hadjy. A row of buildings, mostly in ruins, are oc¬
cupied by the Meccans or Bedouins for the purposes of
trade during these three days, while every inch of ground
not built upon is occupied by sheds or booths made of
mats, or by small tents, where provisions and merchan¬
dise of all kinds are exposed to sale. The great mer¬
chants who travel with the Syrian caravans exhibit sam¬
ples of the articles which they have brought for sale or to
exchange for Indian goods, while the poorer pilgrims are
crying their small adventures through the streets. After
the return to Mecca business is still prosecuted with
equal ardour by the pilgrim adventurers, and the town is
so crowded that the principal street is almost impassable.
The Syrian merchants hire shops, where they trade with
activity till the departure of the caravans for Syria and
Egypt, which takes place after a stay in the town of ten
days.
The inhabitants of Mecca derive their subsistence ei¬
ther from trade or from the service of the mosque, which
occupies a numerous body of individuals. These are
maintained by fixed salaries remitted from Constanti¬
nople, and they also share in the presents made by the
richer pilgrims to the temple. In the more fervent ages
ot Mahometanism the temple of Mecca drew its revenue
iron] the various towns and districts of the Turkish em-
pire, and large presents were received from the kings of
Hindostan and other eastern countries; but those re¬
venues have been discontinued, and the mosque is now
solely supported from the Turkish treasury. The sum
allotted for this purpose is distributed among its officers,
according to their rank or services. The name of every
servant of the mosque is inscribed in a register at Mecca,
of which a duplicate is sent annually to Constantinople,
where the name is also enrolled; and the whole sum is
made up in small packets amUsent to Mecca, each in¬
dorsed with the name of the individual for whom it is de¬
signed. Ihey are distributed by the kady of Mecca, in
i ie mosque, after the departure of the pilgrims, and they
amount from one piaster annually to 10, 20, and in a few
rases to 2000, equal to about L.50 sterling. The tickets
w ich entitle those persons to a pension are transferable,
ie transfer being signed by the kady and the sherif; and
1CT 01111 a species of stock, which is bought and sold in
B I A. 339
the money market of Mecca. By the extension of the Wa- Arabia,
haby power in Arabia the intercourse of the pilgrim cara-'—
vans with the holy city was interrupted, and the holders
of those tickets had not for eight years received any pay.
Their value was consequently lowered, though it has been
again somewhat raised since the overthrow of the Wahaby
power by Mohammed Ali, and the return of the caravans.
But some of the tickets were even after this sold at two
and a half years’ purchase, which evinces no great confi¬
dence in the stability of the Turkish conquests.
At Mecca guides are required to all the holy places which
it is incumbent on the pilgrims to visit. These form the
most idle and profligate class of persons in Mecca, and they
practise on the pilgrim every species of knavery. The
guide, or delyl as he is called, besieges his room from
sunrise to sunset; he obtrudes his advice; he sits down
with him to breakfast, dinner, and supper; he is always
asking him for money, always leading him into expense;
and if he act as interpreter in any mercantile concern, he
is sure to betray the poor ignorant Turk who trusts him.
The following description by Burckhardt, of his own
delyl or guide, may, he says, be taken as a general pic¬
ture of the lower classes of Mecca. “ He sat down,”
he observes, “ regularly at dinner with me, and often
brought a small basket, which he ordered my slave to fill
with biscuits, meat, vegetables, or fruit, and carried away
with him. Every third or fourth day he asked for money.
It is not you who give it,’ he said, ‘ it is God who sends
it to me.’ Finding there was no polite mode of getting
rid of him, I told him plainly that I no longer wanted his
services—language to which a guide is not accustomed.
After three days, however, he returned, as if nothing had
happened, and asked me for a dollar. ‘ God does not
move me to give you any thing,’ I replied; ‘ if he judged
it right he would soften my heart, and cause me to give
you my whole purse.’ ‘ Pull my beard,’ he exclaimed, ‘ if
God does not send you ten times more hereafter than
what I beg at present.’ ‘ Pull out every hair of mine,’ I
replied, ‘ if I give you one pera until I am convinced that
God will consider it a meritorious act.’ On hearing this
he jumped up and walked away, saying, £ We fly for re¬
fuge to God from the hearts of the proud and the hands
of the avaricious.’ ” At Cairo the following proverb is
used to repress an insolent beggar. “ Thou art like the
Mekkawy:” thou sayest, “ Give me, and I am thy mas¬
ter.”
From so great an annual concourse of opulent strangers
and traders, and from the presents and stipends of the
richer pilgrims to their guides and to the servants of the
temple, great wealth flows into Mecca, which should be
among the richest cities of the East. But, with the ex¬
ception of the first merchants, who seldom spend their
great gains though they live in splendour, their tables be¬
ing furnished every day with the rarest delicacies, the in¬
habitants of Mecca are dissolute and luxurious in their
habits. The departure of the pilgrims is succeeded by
the marriage and circumcision feasts, on which all that has
been gained during the last three or four months is fre¬
quently squandered away. The women give the most pro¬
fuse and magnificent entertainments, while the men waste
their means in the purchase of female Abyssinian slaves,
and in other indulgences still more vicious and degrading.
The utmost profligacy of manners prevails in all the
Arabian towns, as indeed in all Mahometan countries;
and the holy temple, the very sanctuary of the Maho¬
metan religion, is daily profaned by the grossest depravi¬
ties, to which no shame is attached. The young of all
classes are encouraged in those immoralities by the old;
and even parents connive at the disgrace of their children,
and profit by their iniquities. From such vices the en-
340
ARABIA.
Arabia.
History.
campments of the Bedouin Arabs are alone said to be
exempt.
Medina is also a holy city, containing the mosque, with
the tomb of the prophet, which is visited during the whole
year by crowds of pilgrims, though this pilgrimage is not,
like that to Mecca, a sacred duty. The tomb was the re¬
ceptacle of the pious offerings of the pilgrims, consisting
of precious jewels, ear-rings, bracelets, and other orna¬
ments; and it contained also several magnificent manu¬
scripts of the Koran. These were carried off by Saoud,
the Wahaby chief, when his armies entered Medina; and
part of the precious spoils were presented to Moham¬
med Ali, by Abdallah his son, when he was prisoner in
Egypt. The service of the mosque at Medina is provid¬
ed for in the same manner as that of the temple at Mecca;
its officers are more respectable and of higher rank, and
greater decorum is everywhere maintained.
Arabia has been peopled from the earliest times, but its
ancient history seems to have been lost or corrupted in
a long course of oral tradition. The narratives of the
Arabian historians are absurd and fabulous, resting on no
evidence ; nor have later writers succeeded in withdraw¬
ing the veil of oblivion from the history of those early
ages. The common notion among the Arabs is, that they
are descended from Joktan the son of Eber, as well as
from Ishmael the son of Abraham by Hagar; and the pos¬
terity of the former are denominated pure Arabs, while
those of the latter are called naturalized or insitious Arabs.
Joktan had thirteen, or, according to the Arabian traditions,
thirty-one sons, who, after the confusion of languages at Ba¬
bel, are said to have settled in the south-eastern parts of
Arabia, and to have gone afterwards to India, with the ex¬
ception of two, namely, Yarhab and Jorham, the former of
whom gave name to the country. Yarhab settled in Yemen,
while Jorham founded the kingdom of the Hedjaz, where his
posterity reigned. Ishmael being dismissed by Abraham,
retired to the wilderness of Paran, where he married an
Egyptian, by whom he had twelve children, who were the
heads of as many potent tribes of the Scenite or wild
Arabs. He afterwards, according to tradition, married the
daughter of Modad, the king of the Hedjaz, lineally de¬
scended from Jorham ; and is thus considered by the Ara¬
bians the father of the greater body of their nation.1 By
these tribes Arabia was ruled in ancient times, and a ge¬
nealogical list is preserved of a long line of kings in Yemen
and other provinces, of whom nothingfurther is known than
the names. The ancient tribes who inhabited Arabia main¬
tained flocks and herds. They were addicted to commerce
and rapine, and frequently by their inroads molested the
neighbouring states. They were invaded in their turn by
the Assyrians, the Egyptians, the Medes, and the Persians ;
but whatever ancient historians may relate concerning the
victories of Sesostris, it does not appear that either the
Assyrians, the Egyptians, or the Persians, ever obtained
any permanent footing in the country.
The Greek and Roman writers describe with accuracy the
general features of Arabia, the scarcity of water in the de¬
sert, the deep wells known only to the inhabitants, and the
pastoral and predatory habits of the people; and, in the
fertile districts, the rich produce of corn, wine, oil, honey,
frankincense, myrrh, and odoriferous gums. But this au¬
thentic information is mixed with fabulous tales and absurd
exaggerations. From the rare and precious produce with
which Arabia abounds, the most fanciful jdeas were form-4
ed of its vast wealth. It was said to possess abundant
mines of precious stones, and gold, which was found in
small pieces of the size of nuts, of the brightest colour
and polish. (Diodorus Siculus, Hist. lib. ii. sect. 48).
This favoured land was besides supposed to be enriched
by the peculiar nature of its commerce, its valued pro¬
ducts being sold to other nations, while their produce
was not required in return. The balance of trade was
thus always in its favour ; and, according to this hypo¬
thesis, a supply of gold and silver was perpetually flow¬
ing into it from all other countries.2 Cassia and cinna¬
mon are also erroneously mentioned as the products of
Arabia, probably because they came directly to the Ro¬
mans from that country, which has been in all ages the
great depot of Indian produce. The great lake, mentioned
by the ancient writers, and said to contain bitumen, and to
yield a large revenue, must be the Dead Sea, thus included
by the ancients within the limits of Arabia; or the existence
of this sea so near Arabia may have given rise to the re¬
port of another lake in the interior, which we know does
not exist. Pliny says that the inhabitants shave their
beards, with the exception of the upper lip—a custom
which, if it ever existed, has not been transmitted to the
modern Arabs, who hold the beard in peculiar honour;
and the story of their promiscuous cohabitation, related by
Strabo and Ptolemy, is entirely contradicted by all the
latest and most authentic accounts of Arabian manners.
In describing the zoology of Arabia, the anpient writers
give an accurate account of the camel and the dromedary;
but some of them assert that the country contains no
horses, for which in modern times it has been so famed;
and their description of the ostrich is altogether fabulous
and absurd. Pliny asserts that it exceeds the height of a
man on horseback ; Diodorus, that it is of the size of a new¬
born camel, that it throws stones with its feet at its pur¬
suers, and adds various other equally" unfounded details of
its habits and the manner of its death. Ptolemy was the
first writer who divided Arabia into three parts; namely,
Arabia Petrsea, Arabia Deserta, and Arabia Felix; which
division, agreeing with the natural features of the country,
is still recognised. Ptolemy, and also Pliny, give a long
list of towns, and of the various tribes which ranged over
the country. These have mostly disappeared; and the
situation of Petra, the chief fortress of Arabia Petraea, is
a subject of dispute among the learned. The nations who
inhabited this tract were the Ishmaelites, the Nabatheans,
the Cedrei or Kedareni, and the Hagareni, all which ap¬
pellations have in later times been lost in that of the
Saracens, so celebrated for several centuries all over the
East. Numerous towns are mentioned in Arabia Deserta,
of wdiich, being originally of little note, all knowledge is
now lost; and of the tribes of the JEsitse and the Agrau
we know nothing but the names. Arabia Felix was the
chief seat of population and of wealth. It included the
fine provinces of Yemen, Hedjaz, Tehama, Nedjed, and Yu-
mama. It was inhabited by many different tribes, such as
the Sabaei, who, from the account of Pliny, were a power¬
ful tribe, trading in frankincense, and extending from sea
to sea, either from the Red Sea to the Indian Ocean, or to
the Persian Gulf ;3 by the Minaei, Atramitae, Marinatae,
1 Universal History, vol. viii. chap. ix.
2 Plin. Historia Naturalis, lib. vi. cap. 32. “ In universum gentes ditissimse, ut apud quas maximae opes Romanorum Parthorumque
subsistant, vendentibus quae e mari aut silvis capiant, nihil invicem redimentibus.” Strabo (lib. xvi.) mentions that, they sold their
gums for precious stones and for gold; and that the invasion of Arabia under Augustus, by iElius Gallus, was prompted by the
desire of attaining the alliance of rich friends, or the conquest of rich enemies. If these ancient writers had been versed in the modern
doctrines of political economy, they would have known that the balance of trade could not have been permanently in favour of a coun¬
try which abounds in gold.
3 “ Sabaei Arabum propter thura clarissinai, ad utraque maria porrectis gentibus.” Plin. Historia Naturalis, lib. vi. cap 32.
'hi
VJ
ARABIA.
341
Catabani, Ascitse, Homeritae, Sapphoritae, Omani, Saraceni,
'j&ic. of whose history nothing is now known. The towns
of Yaman or Yemen were, Aden, the emporium Arabice of
Ptolemy, on the Indian Ocean ; and Musa, the modern
Mocha; both noted marts of trade, at which were exchang¬
ed the precious produce of the country (consisting of
myrrh, frankincense, perfumes, and pearls, of which there
was a noted fishery near some islands in the Red Sea), for
goods brought by the annual fleets from India. Those
o'oods appear to have been landed at Aden or Musa; to
have been carried northward in caravans to Leucocome,
or Portus Albus, in lat. 25° N.; then, according to Strabo,
to have been transported across the Red Sea to Myos
Hormos, near the modern Cosseir; and being carried on
camels to Coptos, in the Thebaid, a port on the Nile, to
have been thence floated down in boats to Alexandria.
Sanaa, the capital of Yemen, of great antiquity, is suppos¬
ed to be the Saphor of Ptolemy; and Mareb, the modern
Saba, which was a large, opulent, and strong city, is now
an inconsiderable village. On the Persian Gulf was
situated the port of Moscha, now the city of Mascat;
and Gerra or Khatif, which, Pliny and Strabo mention,
had turrets and houses formed of square masses of salt,
some of which are still to be seen in the country. In
the Hedjaz was Macoraba or Mecca, the seat of a very
ancient temple; and Yathrib or Lathrippa, the modern
Medina. Djidda, the port of Mecca, is seldom noticed by
the ancients ; and Yembo, the port of Medina, is the Jam-
bia of Ptolemy. The frequent incursions of the Arabs
into the neighbouring regions exposed them to retalia¬
tion from hostile armies ; but the aridity of the country
was found to be still its true defence. It was in vain
that the invader vanquished the Arabs in the field; they
fled from his pursuit on their horses and camels, and
quickly disappeared in the burning desert, whither no
army ever dared to follow them. The northern provinces
bordering on Syria were invaded by Antigonus, and af¬
terwards by Pompey, though they never succeeded in
acquiring possession of Petra, the great stronghold of the
country. But the most important expedition of the Ro¬
mans was that of iElius Gallus, in the reign of Augustus,
who, with a force of 10,000 troops, of whom 500 were
Jews, and 1000 Nabatheans, natives of the country7, land¬
ed at Leucocome, in latitude 25° N., about 70 miles
north-west from Medina, and in the following spring, his
troops having been till that time disabled by disease, he
advanced southward, crossed a desert of 30 days’ journey,
and in 50 days more arrived in a pleasant and fruitful
region, where he took by assault a city called Najran.
He continued his march southward for other 60 day7s ; and
being finally compelled to retreat by fatigue and disease,
he crossed the Red Sea, and, landing his troops at Myos
Hormos, on the Egyptian shore, brought back the poor
remains of his army to Alexandria, after an absence of
two years.1 The situation of the towns in his route being
entirely unknown, we cannot trace his course, though it
must have been in the direction of Medina and Mecca.
Ihe great historian of the Decline and Fall of Rome places
the march of JElius Gallus between Mareb or Mecca
and the sea.2 But this is a desert tract, in no respect
resembling the character given of the country into which
he penetrated, which may therefore probably be the ele¬
vated tract on the Hedjaz ridge of mountains, extend¬
ing north and south parallel with the Red Sea. Northern
Arabia was also invaded by the emperors Trajan and Se-
verus, but they effected no settlement in the country;
and though the cities of Bosra and Petra were at one time
reduced by a lieutenant of Trajan, yet the Romans never Arabia,
seem to have extended their power over Arabia Petraea.
On the decline of the empire Syria was invaded by the
Arabian freebooters, who sometimes drew on themselves
severe retaliation. The doubtful frontier of the respec¬
tive territories was thus a constant scene of hostility7, un¬
til the Arab tribes, inspired by the genius of Mahomet,
advanced to permanent conquests.
Arabia afforded an asylum to the Jews who were scat¬
tered abroad by the destruction of Jerusalem, and to the
Christian sectaries who were driven out of the Roman
empire by their orthodox brethren. The Christian exiles
introduced the Arian heresy among the Arabians, while
the Jews spread their peculiar doctrines, and acquiring
wealth by commerce, they built cities, enriched the coun¬
try, and had become powerful among the tribes of Ara¬
bia, when they were exterminated by the sword of Ma¬
homet.
Such are some of the early traditions and imperfect Mahomet,
sketches of Arabian history. We now approach a new era,
not only of greater certainty, but containing events of far
deeper interest, and of lasting importance. The rise and
progress of Mahomet, the prophet of the East, and the
rapid propagation of his faith, which has changed the moral
and political aspect of the eastern world, forms a most sin¬
gular chapter in the history of human affairs, of which we
shall now endeavour to present the most important details.
Mahomet was born in the 569th y7ear of the Christian
era. His lineal descent from Ishmael, the founder of the
Arabian nation, is a fable of his disciples. Historians are
agreed, however, that he sprung from the tribe of Ko-
reish, and the noble family of Hashem. In the 40th year
of his age he assumed the title of a prophet, and pro¬
claimed the religion of the Koran, and the destruction of
the ancient Arabian idolatry, namely, the worship of the
sun, moon, and stars. The resort to Mecca as a holy
place of pilgrimage was still continued, and he held in the
same veneration as before the ancient temple and the
square chapel of Kaaba, inclosing the black stone which
the Mahometans suppose to have descended from heaven,
round which the rude idolaters of Arabia walked seven
times with hasty steps, and then kissed the sacred relic.
The visit to the mountain of Arafat was also retained,
and all the other minute observances connected with the
pilgrimage already detailed. The temple of Mecca con¬
tained 360 idols of men and of animals. The rocks of the
desert were carved into the same figures, or into altars in
imitation of the black stone of the Kaaba ; and in earlier
times the Arabian altars were stained with human blood.
In opposition to these idolatries, Mahomet proclaimed the
unity of the Deity to be the basis of the new faith. He
declared “ that there is only one God, and that Mahomet
is the apostle of God.” For the adoration of saints, of
idols, or of any sensible object, he substituted public wor¬
ship by prayer, and a sermon in the mosque on the Friday
of every week, as well as private prayers and daily lus¬
trations ; and the annual fast of the month of Ramadhan
for 30 days, during which the Mussulman, from the rising
to the setting of the sun, rigidly abstains from food or
drink, from baths, perfumes, or any enjoyment that can
refresh the body. Alms-giving was enjoined, and the
use of wine was interdicted. The doctrines of toleration
were maintained and practised for a time ; but, with the
power, the inclination to persecute was soon displayed,
and the followers of the new faith were commanded to
pursue unbelievers with fire and sword, and to extirpate
the idolatrous nations of the earth. The first converts to
Dion Cassius, Hid. Rom. lib. liii. s.ct. 20.
Gibbon, vol. ix. chap. 50.
342 A R A
Arabia, the doctrines of Mahomet were his own family; his wife
Cadijah, her friend, his servant Zeid ; afterwards Ali, the
son of Abu Taleb, his uncle ; and in three years fourteen
other proselytes. Mahomet, by openly preaching to the
people, and upbraiding them with their idolatry, obsti¬
nacy, and perverseness, drew on himself their hostility;
and his life was threatened by the rival tribe of Koreish,
who had been long jealous of the pre-eminence of the Ha-
shemites, the hereditary guardians of the Kaaba and the
holy temple. The death of Abu Taleb, his uncle, left
him exposed to the malice of his enemies, who now re¬
solved to take his life by dispatching a person from
each tribe to bury a dagger in his breast; thus to divide
the guilt of blood, and by their union to baffle the ven¬
geance of the Hashemites. Mahomet, apprized of this
conspiracy, with his friend Abubekr escaped to the cave
of Thor, where he lay concealed for three days; and
finally to Medina, into -which city he made his public
entry sixteen days after his flight from Mecca, and was
hailed with the acclamations of the faithful people. From
this memorable event is dated the Mahometan era of
the Hegira or Flight, which coincides with the 16th July
A. d. 622. Assuming the office of pontiff and of king,
he was soon surrounded by a devoted band, who were
impatient to die as martyrs in his cause. His early ex¬
ploits were against the trading caravans between Syria
and Mecca; and his first battle, in which he defeated, at
Beder, Abu Sophian, his enemy, the leader of the unbe¬
lieving Koreish, was fought in defence of a rich caravan.
In the second battle, which he fought on Mount Ohud,
six miles to the north of Medina, the Koreish, to the num¬
ber of 3000, advancing in the form of a crescent, their
right led on by Khaled, a name afterwards so terrible to
the infidels, were broken by the fierce attack of Maho¬
met’s resolute band, who, rashly pursuing their advan¬
tage, while 50 archers posted in the rear as a reserve at
the same time quitted their ground to plunder, the Moslem
army was in its turn attacked and overthrown by Khaled.
, Mahomet, wounded in the face with a javelin, and having
two of his teeth shattered with a stone, while Khaled ex¬
claimed in the fury of his attack that he was slain, as were
seventy of his followers, and among them Hamza the pro¬
phet’s uncle, and Mosaab the standard-bearer, still succeed¬
ed, though with difficulty, in rallying his broken forces, and
in effecting a retreat. In the following year Abu Sophian,
with a combined army of Arabs and Jews, sat down be¬
fore Medina, when he was obliged to retreat after a siege
of twenty days. Mahomet, thus secure of his conquests,
rapidly subdued the surrounding tribes. The numerous
Jews who dwelt in Medina and the neighbourhood, re¬
jecting the proffered faith of the prophet, were either put
to the sword or made captives. The Khoreidhites were
extirpated after a resistance of twenty-five days ; and the
ancient and flourishing city of Chaibar, the seat of the
Jewish power, was reduced after a fierce resistance. Tor¬
ture was applied to the chief in the presence of Maho¬
met, to extort from him a discovery of his hidden trea¬
sures. The captives were massacred ; and, by the savage
vengeance of the conquerors, 700 prisoners were buried
alive.
But it was to Mecca, the holy city, that Mahomet’s long¬
ing eyes were directed; and, confident from recent con¬
quests, and still farther strengthened by the conversion of
Khaled and Amrou from active and formidable enemies to
zealous friends, he now aspired to the conquest of this last
remaining stronghold of the infidels in Arabia. He had con¬
cluded a truce for ten years with Abu Sophian, for the viola¬
tion of which a pretext was sought and easily found; and he
now advanced, at the head of 10,000 troops, to crown all his
former achievements by the conquest of Mecca. So secretly
B I A.
had he taken his measures, that the first warning of danger a
was his approach to the city gates. The intrepid Khaled1 *
routed a large body of the Koreish in the adjacent plain
and hotly pursuing the fugitives into the city, massacred
a number of the inhabitants, and so alarmed the surviv¬
ors that they were glad to capitulate, and to deprecate
the vengeance of the conqueror by a profession of the
new faith. Mahomet made his public entry into the holy a i
city at sunrise. He walked seven times round the Kaaba, 5
touching with his staff the black stone as he passed. He
destroyed the 360 idols of the temple, prohibited for ever
the idolatries of the Koreish, and ordained that no unbe¬
liever should henceforth profane the holy city by his pre¬
sence. The conquest of Mecca was followed by the sub¬
mission of other Arabian tribes. Some made resistance, but
were subdued; and in the end the whole peninsula yield¬
ed faith and obedience to the prophet’s creed and to his
victorious arms. Mahomet, thus crowned with victory, was
overtaken by a fever at Mecca, and expired a. d. 632, in
the 62d year of his age. His death exposed the new state
to the dangers of a disputed succession. The right to
the throne, on which subject Mahomet was silent when he
died, was respectively claimed by two powerful tribes,
namely, those who fled to Medina with the prophet, or
the fugitives, and those who aided him on his arrival, or the
auxiliaries. To terminate this dangerous dispute, Omar,
renouncing his own pretensions, held out his hand to
Abubekr as his future sovereign; and his authority was
recognised in all the provinces. The Hashemites, under
Ali their chief, though averse to the new monarch, ac¬
knowledged him after some time as commander of the
faithful. After a reign of two years he was succeededbyA i t.
Omar, who was assassinated in the 12th year of his reign,
and was succeeded by Othman ; and it was not till his
death that Ali ascended the throne. This contest for the
dignity of caliph has ever since divided the Mahome¬
tans into the two hostile parties of the Shiites or sectaries,
who reprobat^ as usurpers Abubekr, Omar, and Othman;
and the Sonmtes, who revere them along with Ali as the
legitimate successors of the prophet. This schism is the
source of the hatred which still exists between the Persians
and Turks.
Arabia, during the reign of these several princes, was
filled with distraction at home, while the most splendid
conquests were achieved abroad. To give a detail of
these events, which relate besides to other countries as
much as to Arabia, would exceed our limits. We may
therefore briefly observe, that during the short reign of
Abubekr, the Syrian territories of the Greek emperor
were overrun by the victorious Moslems under Abu Obei-
dah, and afterwards under Khaled, surnamed from his
valour and fanaticism the sword of God; that the Greek
armies were overthrown! in several decisive battles; and
that the rich and populous cities of the country, including
Bosra and Damascus, were stormed by the barbarian in¬
vaders. A new army, raised by the Greek emperor, the
last hope of the falling empire, was scattered before the
barbarian host in the decisive battle of Yarmuk. Pales¬
tine was now subdued, and Jerusalem, which was reputed
a holy city by its ferocious conquerors, and was visited
by the Caliph Omar. Flere he directed Amrou to invade
Egypt, which was rapidly overrun; and his other lieu¬
tenants to complete the conquest of Syria. His orders
were punctually obeyed, and Aleppo, Antioch, Tyre, Caesa¬
rea, and all the other cities and fortresses in the province,>. r5' |
were successively taken.
On the east the empire of the Arabs was rapidly ex¬
tended. “ They advanced,” says the eloquent historian
of the Decline and Fall of Rome, “ to the banks and
sources of the Euphrates and Tigris; the long-disputed
ARABIA.
343
.. |)nrr;er of Rome and Persia was for ever confounded ; the
walls of Edessa and Amida, of Dara and Nisibis, which
had resisted the arms and engines of Sapor or Nashir-
6:s7 van, were levelled in the dust.” The fate of Persia was
decided in the great battle of Cadesia. The victorious
Arabs poured like a flood over the country, and acquired
prodigious spoil; nor did they halt in their victorious ca¬
reer till they had reached the banks of the Oxus, and had
added to their empire Herat, Merou, Balk, Samarcand, and
other rich and trading cities in the East.
The short reign of Ali, from the year 655 to 661, was
disturbed by domestic dissension and the rival claims of
Moawiyah, the son of Abu Sophian, well known for his
tardy and reluctant obedience to the sword, as was alleged,
rather than to the doctrines of the prophet. The death
of Ali by an assassin was the signal for new contests.
Moawiyah reigned at Damascus, which was the new ca¬
pital of the caliphs of the house of Ommiyah, and was
succeeded by his son Yezid a. d. 680, whose title was
disputed by the surviving family of Ali, Hozein and Ab¬
dallah Ebn Zobeir, his two sons. They fled from Medina to
Mecca; and Hozein was proceeding to Cufa on assurances
of aid from the inhabitants, when he was surrounded and
barbarously murdered, with all his followers, by Obeidal-
lah the governor. Abdallah, the sole representative of
the house of Hashem, was now proclaimed caliph at Me¬
dina, from which city he expelled all the adherents and
dependents of the house of Ommiyah, to the number of
8000. Yezid dispatched a large force to their aid, by
which Medina was taken, after a vigorous defence, and
abandoned to pillage. Mecca, besieged by the army of
Yezid, was on the point of sharing the same fate, when
intelligence was received of Yezid’s death. His son,
, CM Moawiyah II., succeeded him, and, after a reign of six
weeks, died without naming a successor. Serious com¬
motions now ensued. Merwan, of the house of Ommi¬
yah, was proclaimed caliph at Damascus, while Abdallah
reigned at Mecca. The former was succeeded by his
son Abdalmalac, during whose reign the contest for the
throne was terminated by the death of Abdallah, who,
in a desperate sally from Mecca, where he was besieged
by the troops of the rival caliph, was overpowered and
slain. By his death the sovereignty was firmly established
in the line of the Ommiades, who reigned in Damascus
above 70 years.
But the title of this dynasty not being founded on any
clear principle of religion or oflaw, was never recognised
by the great body of the Moslems. They regarded with
veneration the lineal descendants of the prophet, who on
their part still cherished the hope of reigning over the
Moslem empire. Numerous partisans of the line of Abbas
were dispersed throughout the provinces, and secret plots
for their restoration were gradually matured into rebellion.
Ihe last caliph of the line of the Ommiades was met on
the field by a powerful army commanded by Abdallah,
the uncle of his rival; and after an irretrievable defeat
he escaped to Mosul, and finally to Egypt, where he was
defeated and slain, and the last remains of his party ex¬
tinguished. Amid the ruin and massacre of his family
by the conqueror, a royal youth, Abdalrahman, alone
escaped, and making his way into Spain, laid the founda¬
tion of a new dynasty of the Ommiades, who reigned in
Cordova with great splendour for 250 years, from the
Atlantic to the Pyrenees. In Egypt and Africa the
Fatimite caliphs, the progeny of Ali, were invested with Arabia,
royal authority; and the new line of the Abassides trans-v^“^^-
ferring the seat of government from Damascus to the
banks of the Euphrates, laid the foundation of Bagdad,
the seat of their empire, and of wealth, literature, and
science, for 500 years.
In the course of these various revolutions and splendid
conquests, Arabia, the original seat of the Mahometans,
had dwindled into an inconsiderable province of their vast
empire, and the rude inhabitant of the desert resumed his
solitary independence, heedless alike of distant victories
as of domestic changes. The Hedjaz, the mountainous dis¬
trict of Arabia, and the chief seat of its commerce and its
towns, was governed by the lieutenants of the caliphs,1 or
sherifs as they are called, who are chosen from the tribe
of the Koreish, and who have always acted as the resi¬
dent sovereigns of the country. But their power was un¬
known in the desert, where the scheiks still continued to
rule. In the disorders attending the decay of the Maho¬
metan power, Arabia was occasionally invaded by hostile
tribes; but it was chiefly the outskirts of the country
that were scathed by the flame of war, which never pe¬
netrated to the interior. It appears from the incidental
and scattered notices which we possess, that about the year
1173 Sultan Saladin subdued a king who reigned in Yemen,
and who had revolted against the authority of the caliphs
of the line of Abassides. Having reduced the country,
he committed the government to two deputies, who after¬
wards claiming independent power, were in their turn re¬
duced by the troops of Saladin. In 1517, when Selim I.
conquered Egypt, and extinguished the last surviving
representative of the second dynasty of the Abassides,
the sherif of Mecca brought to him the keys of the city ;
and the Arabian tribes professed their allegiance, and gave
hostages as a pledge of their fidelity. The country con¬
tinued under subjection for 50 years, when Muttahir,
sherif of the kingdom, impatient of the Turkish yoke,
attacked and routed the army of Murad Pacha, and
freed the country for a time from its oppressors. A power¬
ful army, commanded by the governor of Egypt, was dis¬
patched by Selim II. to Yemen; the Arabian force was
defeated and dispersed, and the authority of the sultan
was re-established in Yemen, and extended backwards to
the highlands. The country, thus reduced, was governed
as a Turkish province by pachas sent from Constantinople.
But in the interior the independent princes and scheiks
still retained their authority, and continued to harass the
Turks, and to drive them back to the coasts. They were
expelled from the province of Yemen about the middle of
the 17th century; and since this period until the invasion of
the country by Mohammed Ali they have only possessed a
precarious and nominal authority in the towns of Djidda
and Mecca.2
The rise of the sect of the Wahabys, and the rapid Wahabys.
extension of their dominion and doctrines, forms a most
important epoch in the more recent history of Arabia.
These sectaries were the reformers of religion in the
East. They were zealous followers of Mahomet, who
were scandalized by the departure of-'modern believers
from the simplicity of the faith; by their worship at
the tombs of saints; by the luxurious ostentation of
their dress; their remiss attendance at public prayers;
the immorality of their lives; the scandalous indecencies
which they practised in the holy temple of Mecca; and
' “ bepuis ce tems-la (de Mahomet) les Arabes de Piemen (Yemen), et de toutes autres provinces de 1’Arabie, sont toujours de-
lamaCS)SUUS ^0^L:'ssance ^es Khalifs, ou de Bagdet ou Egypte, tant que le Khalifat a dure'e.” (Herbelot, Bibliothtque Orientalc,
ye Guignes, Histoire dcs Huns, tome i. livre vii. Cantemir’s History of the Growth and Decay of the Othman Empire', Niebuhr,
Description de 1'Arabic. J
344
ARABIA.
Arabia, finally, in opposition to the strict prohibitions of the Ko-
ran, by their free use of tobacco and other intoxicating
drugs.1 Such were the chief articles of the new creed,
which, in the same manner as the faith itself, was propa¬
gated by fire and sword. Its founder was Mohammed-
Ebn-Abd-el Wahab, the son of a scheik in an obscure
village, born in the year 1691, whose history and success
for nearly a century seemed to presage the final triumph
of his doctrines and his arms. It is remarkable that
the only two great revolutions which have ever taken
place in Arabia have had their origin in religion. It
w'as in both cases for religion that the sword was os¬
tensibly drawn. The subjection or extinction of infidel
tribes was a step in the progress of the pious work;
and these objects being accomplished, the original de¬
sign, however spiritual in its nature, necessarily termi¬
nated in conquest and political dominion. The young
apostle of the new faith was trained in the strict prin¬
ciples of Mahometanism. He was sent to finish his
studies in the university of Bassora; and on his return
to his native village, commencing reformer of religion and
of manners, he was banished by the governor. He took
refuge in Derayeh, the capital of Nedjed, where he was
protected by the scheik Mohammed-Ebn-Saouhoud, a zeal¬
ous disciple, from political views, as was insinuated, of the
reformed faith. Here the new tenets were embraced by
crowds of proselytes, eager to draw their swords in the
cause of truth; and so well did the Wahaby chief Saoud
profit by their new-born zeal, that before his death in
1765 he had extended his faith and his dominion over
the whole province of Nedjed. His son Abd-el-Azyz en¬
larged by new conquests the power of the Wahabys. He
subdued and rendered tributary the surrounding tribes,
threatened the holy cities, and finally spread the terror
of his arms over all the northern parts of Arabia, from
Meccaand Medina to Damascus, Bagdad, and Bassora. Mo-
hammed-Ebn-Abd-el Wahab, the founder of the Wahaby
sect, died in 1787, at the advanced age of 95. But this
event noway damped the zeal of his followers. Their
expeditions were dreaded all along the banks of the Eu¬
phrates, and in the neighbourhood of Bassora, which they
invaded every year, committing great excesses, and mas¬
sacring the Arab settlers who were the subjects of the
Bagdad government. In 1797 the pacha of Bagdad un¬
dertook an expedition against Derayeh, the capital of the
Wahabys. He was repulsed by Saoud, the son of the
reigning chief, who continued his inroads into the Turk¬
ish territories on the Euphrates. In 1801 he stormed the
town of Imam Hosseyn, where, according to the intolerant
maxims of the new sect, 5000 persons were massacred.
Ghaleb, the sherif of Mecca, was alarmed by the con¬
quests of the Wahabys, and since the year 1792 had
been vainly contending against their rising power. In
1801 the sectaries invaded his dominions in great force.
In 1802 they stormed the town of Tayf, which they
gave up to a general massacre, in which neither men,
women, nor children were spared. In 1803 the holy
city, notwithstanding the brave resistance of Sherif Gha¬
leb, surrendered at discretion to the victorious Waha¬
bys. On entering it, the strictest discipline was pre¬
served by Saoud the chief, and not the slightest ex¬
cess was committed. The inhabitants were, however,
compelled to a more punctual attendance at prayers; to
conceal their silk dresses; all their finely ornamented Per¬
sian pipes were collected before Saoud’s house, and there
committed to the flames; and the sale of tobacco was for¬
bidden. Mecca was afterwards given up to the govern¬
ment of Sherif Ghaleb, on the usual condition of hig ^
conversion to the Wahaby faith. This conquest
followed by the reduction of the neighbouring tribes,
and in 1804 Medina surrendered to the Wallaby arms.
Here they rigorously enforced the duty of public worship;
the absent were punished; and a respectable woman, ac¬
cused of smoking the Persian pipe, was placed upon a
jack-ass, and paraded through the town with the pipe sus¬
pended round her neck. Saoud soon after visited Medina,
and carried away from the tomb of Mahomet all the valu-
able articles, namely, jewels and pearls, and Cufic manu¬
scripts of the Koran, which it contained; and ordered his
troops, according to the approved maxims of his sect, who
reprobate the worship of saints, to destroy the cupola over
the tomb; but it was so strong that with all their efforts
they could not deface this curious relic of antiquity.
The Hedjaz continued to enjoy tranquillity during the
years 1806, 1807, and 1808, under the divided rule of the
sherif of Mecca and of the Wahabys, the power of the
former gradually declining, while Saoud was acknowledg¬
ed as pontiff and king over the greater part of Arabia.
The Wahaby hordes extended their inroads southward into
the mountains of Yemen, whence they descended to the
coasts and plundered the towns of Loheia and Hodeida.
On the north they advanced into the Syrian desert, and
alarmed the Bedouins in the vicinity of Aleppo, as well
as the inhabitants of Damascus, who had begun to send
away their valuable property to the mountains of Libanus.
The Mesopotamian tribes near Bagdad were attacked and
pillaged ; and in 1810 Saoud, at the head of 20,000 troops,
stormed the Persian town of Kerbeleh, putting all the
male inhabitants to the sword.2 The regular intercourse
of the great pilgrim caravans from Syria, Egypt, Persia,
and Yemen, had been interrupted since the year 1803,
and the few scattered pilgrims that reached the holy
cities from the north and west generally came across the
Red Sea from Cosseir to Djidda.
The surrender of Mecca and Medina to the sectaries,
and the interruption of the pilgrimages, excited the shame
and indignation of all pious Mahometans. Mohammed
Ali, who in 1804 was appointed pacha of Egypt, re¬
ceived instructions from the Porte to undertake the re¬
conquest of the Holy Land. He accordingly determined
on the invasion of Arabia, and prepared an expedition,
which he committed to his son Tousoun Bey, and Ahmed
Aga his treasurer. The infantry, amounting to 2000
troops, landed at Yembo from Suez in October 1811, and
took the town after a slight resistance. In January 1812
Tousoun advanced against Medina ; but he was assailed
in the mountain passes, through which his route lay, by
a powerful army of Wahabys, and utterly routed, with
the loss of all his baggage and artillery. Being in the
course of the summer largely reinforced from Egypt,
he again advanced to Medina in November; and hav¬
ing sprung a mine and overthrown part of the wall, he
carried the town by assault, massacring about 1000 ol the
garrison in the streets. The remainder, to the number of
1500, retired to the castle, which they afterwards surrender¬
ed on condition of receiving a safe conduct for themselves
and baggage; in defiance of which they were, on quitting
the town, treacherously massacred by the Turkish troops.
Sherif Ghaleb, intimidated by the capture of Medina,
now intimated his desire of surrendering the holy city to
the Turkish commander. Mecca, with Djidda, its port,
was accordingly taken possession of in January 1813 with¬
out any opposition ; and in a fortnight the town of Ryb
which had been held by the Wahabys for sixteen years,
1 Felix Mengin, Histoire dc VEgyptc sous le Gouvernement de Mohammed Ali, tome i. p. 379.
2 Ibid, tome i. p. 3C0.
A 11 A
rahia surrendered after a feeble resistance.1 In 1813 Moham-
AH landed at Djidda ; and on his arrival at Mecca,
suspecting the hostile intrigues of Sherif Ghaleb with the
Arab tribes, he caused him to be arrested and sent under
a guard to Egypt. He was succeeded in the government
of Mecca by Yahya, also of the sherif family, the humble
tool of Mohammed Ali. In the mean time the Turkish
army, weakened by its losses, remained at Mecca and
Tayf; and, with the exception of an unsuccessful expe¬
dition against Toraba, the chief town of the southern
Wahabys, and the capture of Gonfode, a port seven days’
journey south of Djidda, which was soon after recaptured,
no enterprise of any importance had been undertaken
since the surrender of Mecca and Tayf. But Mohammed
Ali was not idle. He employed the time in reinforcing
his wasted army, in collecting magazines and stores, in
purchasing camels, and in strengthening his influence
among the Arab chiefs, many of whom he succeeded in
detaching from the Wahabys by the influence of presents
and money.
Saoud, the successful chief of the Wahabys, died at
Uedjed in 1814, and his son Abdallah, who succeeded
him, though he was brave, was inferior to his father in all
the qualities of a political chief. The pacha having com¬
pleted his preparations, now resolved to strike a decisive
blow. In January 1815 he began his march southward in
the direction of Toraba. The Wahabys, to the number
dF 25,000, occupied a strong position on the mountains
iear Byssel, from which, after some unsuccessful attempts
to dislodge them, he contrived, by a feigned retreat, to
Iraw them into the plain. Here their disorderly host
vas borne down by the' steady attack of the pacha’s dis-
iiplined force, and flying in confusion, they were cut down
without mercy by the Turkish cavalry. A reward of six
lollars being offered for the head of every Wahaby, 5000
>f these bloody trophies were in a few hours piled up
)efore the pacha’s tent. Of 300 prisoners who were taken,
>0 were, according to the cruel maxims of the East, impal-
id alive before the gates of Mecca, and the rest at other
)arts. Mohammed Ali hastened to px’ofit by his victory.
Ie arrived in four days before Toraba, which capitulated;
ind advancing southward, he encountered the wreck of
he Wahaby army in the mountains near the town of
leishe. Here, after a brave resistance under Tamy, their
liief, who was seen riding in front, animating the troops
>y his war songs, they gave way before the Turkish artil-
ery. lamy, who was betrayed into the hands of his ene-
nies by an Arab chief, and by his gallant bearing gained
he esteem of the whole army, was sent to Constantinople,
mere he was instantly beheaded. Another chief, Bakh-
oudj, was tortured to death in presence of the pacha,
he Turkish army continued the pursuit of the Wahabys,
nd subdued most of the southern tribes. Mohammed
. ! w?s. h^tent on carrying the war into Yemen, whose
jc i cities he hoped to plunder ; but the wasted state of
ie army forced him to an immediate retreat. He
■niself accordingly proceeded to Gonfode on the sea-
l»ore, and arrived at Mecca on the 21st of March, after
p absence ot 15 days. Of his army, consisting of 4000
i on brought back only 1500 ; and of 10,000 camels,
ny ™ survived the fatigues of the campaign.
g war against the northern Wahabys was prosecuted
! \TUr ^ ^ousoun Pacha, who had advanced east-
ai rom Medina to Khabara, about 300 miles into
B I A.
the interior of the country. Abdallah had fixed his head
quarters at Shenana, only five hours’ march from the Turk¬
ish army. Tousoun was here seriously embarrassed by
the want of supplies. His treasurer Ibrahim Aga,2 with
a detachment, had been some time before surrounded on
the road and cut to pieces, after a gallant resistance, and
his remaining troops were averse to a battle. From these
difficulties he was extricated by a peace, which Abdallah
weakly concluded with him, and by which he agreed to
renounce the possession of the holy cities, to be ranked
among the faithful subjects of the sultan, to pray for him
in the mosques, and to submit to his authority as his so¬
vereign. But this treaty, however disgraceful to the Wa¬
habys, was far from satisfying the views of Mohammed
Ali, who, with his usual contempt of all engagements, re¬
fused to ratify it; and conscious of his strength, would en¬
ter into no overtures from Abdallah, however humble, hav¬
ing determined either to reduce or to exterminate the
rebellious sectaries of Arabia of which he was the head.
Both parties accordingly prepared for war. In Septem¬
ber 1815 Ibrahim Pacha, son of Mohammed Ali, landed
at Yembo with 2000 Turkish troops, besides 2000 pea¬
sants pressed into his service at Siout on the Nile, amid
the outcries of their wives and children. Fie had
also a corps of 500 Moggrebins from Barbary. Flaving
spent some time at Medina in reducing the surround^
ing tribes, and visiting the holy sepulchre, he directed
all the troops which could be spared from the diffe¬
rent garrisons to march on Hanakye or Henakyeh, about
100 miles eastward of Medina, where, early in December,
his whole force was concentrated. Plere he remained till
the end of April 1817; and though his troops suffered
severely under fever and dysentery, the diseases of the
climate, he succeeded, by several bold and well-concerted
expeditions, in impressing on the Arab tribes the ter¬
ror of his arms. He extended his alliances among them,
and by his policy as well as by his arms he silent¬
ly prepared the ruin of the Wahaby state. In the con¬
duct of the war Ibrahim combined, with the cruelty of a
Turkish conqueror, undaunted courage and skill, a rare
perseverance under difficulties, and a fertility of resource
which seldom failed him. The discipline of his troops
secured his superiority in the field; and the Wahaby host,
avoiding the risk of a battle, relied on their fortresses,
the nakedness of the land, and the noxious climate.
The issue of the war was thus reduced to a mere arith¬
metical question of the number of men that would be re¬
quired to carry it on. These being provided, the con¬
quest of the country was certain, and Mohammed Ali was
too well versed in war not to see the advantages which he
possessed, and too deeply interested to grudge the neces¬
sary supplies. He was willing to pay the fair price of his
success. The army of Ibrahim, notwithstanding its losses,
was accordingly maintained at its full complement by re¬
cruits from Egypt; and he now hastened to complete the
conquest of the country by reducing its strongholds, and
especially Derayeh, its capital. He had gone to the vil¬
lage of Maouyeh, where he was joined by a powerful chief;
and having assembled all his forces, consisting of 4000 in¬
fantry and 1200 horse, besides his Arab auxiliaries, he ad¬
vanced in July to the fortress of Rass. In three several
assaults, conducted with desperate valour, but without
skill, the assailants were overwhelmed, and finally re¬
pulsed with severe loss, by the well-directed fire of the
1 3 ^otes 011 Bedouins and Wahabys, p. 356-7. Mengin, Histoire de VEgyptc.
tlie laat'ext°f Edinburgh, named Thomas Keith, a private in the 72d regiment of highlanders, and taken prisoner
of treasurer byTousoun Pacha!t0 Eg7pt‘ He became a “lu^Mman, and on account of his valour was promoted to the high
V0L. m. C ia*
2 x
346
A R A
garrison; and Ibrahim, after vainly contending for three
months and 17 days against the obstinate valour of the
inhabitants, and incurring a loss of 3400 men, was forced
to raise the siege of an ill-fortified place, which, with the
aid of engineers, he might have reduced in two days. But
this was the only disaster which befell the Turkish arms.
The sequel of the campaign was one continued course of
conquest. Khabra, Aneyzey and its castle, and Banney-
deh, successively fell after a slight resistance. At the
latter place the Turkish army remained for two months.
Having received large reinforcements, it commenced its
marchraccompanied by a train of 10,000 camels and other
beasts of burden, across frightful deserts of sand, and in
January 1818 encamped at Chakra, which was taken after
a siege of seven days. The town ofDorama was stormed
after a brave resistance, and abandoned to pillage and
the sword; and on the 22d of March Ibrahim directed his
victorious march to Derayeh, the capital, and last strong¬
hold of the Wahaby state. This place, which consists of
five small towns, each surrounded with a wall protected
by bastions at small distances, was now closely besieged
by the Turkish army, which, including infantry and ca¬
valry, amounted to 5500 troops. The siege was long and
obstinate, but the Turkish troops still maintained their
superiority. The different divisions of the town were
successively stormed; and the unfortunate Abdallah, thus
driven to his last retreat, was reduced to ask a suspension
of arms and a conference. His interview with Ibrahim
presented a touching spectacle of fallen dignity. He de¬
manded peace: the conqueror granted his request, but
added that he was not authorized to leave him at De-
rayeh}—the positive order of his father was that he
should repair to Egypt. Abdallah, after 24 hours of de¬
liberation, intimated his assent to the proposed terms,
and only conditioned for his life. Ibrahim would not an¬
swer for the decision either of his father or the sultan,
farther than that he thought them both too generous to
take his life. Abdallah, having bidden a last adieu to
his afflicted family, repaired to the tent of Ibrahim, from
which he set out on his journey across the desert, and
arrived at Cairo. He was sent to Constantinople, where,
notwithstanding the intercession of Mohammed Ali, he
was beheaded, along with his companions in misfortune,
A R A
in the square of St Sophia, after being exhibited in every ^
part of the city for three days. With the death of Ab- i
dallah terminated the dominion of the Wahabys, which, ( k
under a succession of vigorous and politic princes, had in ^ x
the course of a century been extended over the whole
peninsula of Arabia. But their empire, loosely held to-
gether by the tenure of recent conquest, was overthrown
by the first attack to which it was exposed. The chiefs
who yielded to the terror of the Wahaby arms deserted
on the first appearance of a hostile army; others were se-
duced by the influence of gold, which was liberally distri¬
buted ; and domestic dissension coming in aid of foreign
war, dissolved the union of the tribes, and completed the
ruin of the country. According to M. Mengin, whose
information is undoubted,1 Arabia had ample means of
defence, in the difficulties of the country, and in the
numbers, intrepidity, and discipline of its troops; and,
with an able leader, he expresses his strong and appa¬
rently just conviction, that the Turkish army, in place
of conquering the country, would have perished in its
burning deserts.
The ruin of the Wahabys is deeply to be regretted, as
it may throwback for several centuries the civilization of
Arabia. The Wahaby princes reformed the morals as well
as the religion of their country. Under the reign of Saoud
the administration of justice was rigid and impartial. The
crimes of rapine, thieving, and murder, so common among
the Arab tribes, were severely punished; an exact police
was established throughout the country; and caravans
and travellers were seen journeying on all the roads in
perfect security. The Turkish conquests will restore the
primitive barbarity of the Arabian manners, and anarchy
and crime will resume their wonted sway. But Arabia
contains within itself the seeds of independence. The dis¬
tance of Nedjed from Cairo, and the expense and difficulty
of sending supplies through the interior deserts, will ren¬
der it extremely difficult to maintain a Turkish force in
the heart of the country ; while the religious principles of
the tribes, tbeir warlike character and love of freedom,
animating them to new efforts, may yet enable them to
triumph over the foreign tyranny which oppresses them,
and to re-establish their freedom on a new and a more
secure basis. (Ev
ARABICI, a sect who sprung up in Arabia about the
year 207, whose distinguishing tenet was, that the soul
died with the body, and also arose again with it. Euse¬
bius (lib. vi. c. 38) relates that a council was called to
stop the progress of this rising sect; and that Origen as¬
sisted at it, and convinced them so thoroughly of their
error that they abjured it.
ARABISM, Arabismus, an idiom or manner of speak¬
ing peculiar to the Arabs or the Arabic language.
ARABIST, a person curious of and skilled in the
learning and language of the Arabians; such were Erpe-
nius and Golius. The surgeons of the 13th century are
called Arabists by Severinus.
ARACAN. See Arracan.
ARACHNE, in fabulous history, a young maid of Ly¬
dia, said to have been the inventress of spinning. She is
fabled to have been so skilful in this art as to challenge
Minerva at it, who tore her work, and struck her; which
disgrace driving her to despair, she hanged herself. Mi¬
nerva, from compassion, brought her to life, and transform¬
ed her into a spider, which still employs itself in spin¬
ning.
* M. Felix Mengin landed in Egypt with the French expedition under Buonaparte. He remained in Cairo for 20 years a ^
country was evacuated by his countrymen, where he collected much valuable information respecting the internal adminis
Egypt and the Wahabys. His account of this Mahometan sect is derived from the grandson of Ebn-Abdul-Wahab, its toun
347
ARACHNIDES,
rach-
ides-
From a?a.yjY!, a spider, and ados, resemblance, a class of
invertebrated animals, formerly regarded as true insects,
and as such classed by Linnaeus in his order Aptera, un¬
der the generic names of Phalangmm, Aranea, Acarus,
and Scorpio. The Arachnides were first formed into a dis¬
tinct class by M. Lamarck, whose arrangement of the
Linmean Aptera is admitted by Latreille to approach the
most nearly to the natural order.
The third primary division in the system of Cuvier,
that of the articulated animals (animalia articulata), con¬
tains four great classes, viz. Annelides, Crustacea,
Arachnides, and Insecta. We have already stated our
intention (see Animal Kingdom) to treat of the first of
these classes under the title of Helminthology, of the last
under Entomology, and of the two intermediate classes in
the order of their alphabetical occurrence. We shall
therefore now proceed with the history and classification
of Arachnides.
The naturalists who preceded Lamarck appear to have
confounded this class either with the true Insecta, or with
the crustaceous tribes, such as crabs and lobsters. It was
in the course of his public lectures (in 1800) that the last-
named, observer instituted for their reception a separate
class, under the title which they now bear.
Cuvier, in one of his earliest works ( Tableau Elementaire
de l'Hist. Nat. des Animaux, 1798), continued, with his
contemporaries, to class the Arachnides with insects, of
which he regarded them as forming the third principal
division, preceded only by the Crustacea and Myriapoda;
thus far departing from and improving the old Linnaean
system, by assigning them a higher place in his general
arrangement, but not yet admitting them to the honour of
a separate class.
Lamarck published the first edition of his Systeme des
Animaux sans Vertebres in the year 1801, and he there ex¬
plains the reasons which induced him to form the separa¬
tion previously advocated in his lectures.
M. Latreille did not admit the classic separation of the
Arachnides, either in his Histoire Naturelle de Crustaces et
des Insectes (1802-5), or in his later work, the Genera
Crustaceorum et Insectorum (1806-7), but merely placed
them at the head of the class of insects. In a subsequent
volume, however (Considerations Generales sur l’Ordre
Naturel des Crustaces, &c. 1810), he practically admits
the propriety of M. Lamarck’s views; and in it we find the
Arachnides forming a separate class, and constituted of
the same materials as those used by his predecessor. In
that portion of Baron Cuvier’s Keane Animal (vol. iii.
Jol7) of which M. Latreille is the author, we find the
same arrangement followed, with this exception, that in
the last-named work the Myriapoda and Chelopoda are
removed from the Arachnides and placed at the head
ot the class Insecta—a modification likewise adhered to
both in the Families Naturelles du Kegne Animal (1825),
and in the recent edition of the Kegne Animal itself (1829),
which contains the latest view of M. Latreille. By these,
m as far as concerns our general principles of arrangement,
we shall be chiefly guided in the course of this article;
hut we conceive it due to M. Lamarck to present our
readers, in the first place, with a short statement of his
opinions.1
He defines the Arachnides as follows: Oviparous ani¬
mals, at all times provided with articulated legs,—not sub¬
ject to metamorphoses, nor ever acquiring new kinds of
organs. Respiration tracheal or branchial: stigmatiform
openings for the entrance of the air. A rudimentary
heart and circulation in the greater proportion of species.
Copulationes plures per vitam in plurimis.2
It is known that no vertebrated animal provided with
feet has ever more than four; and that among such as are
invertebrated, those which in a state of complete deve¬
lopment are provided with feet, have never less than six.
Amongst invertebrated animals, insects have essentially
the smallest number of feet; for the various orders and
families of that class, when arrived at their final develop¬
ment, have never more than six. They are hence called
hexapods by some modern writers. It is otherwise, how¬
ever, with the Crustacea and Arachnides, the greater pro¬
portion of which have more than six feet. Certain species,
in their earliest state, have no more than that number;
but their other feet appear as they advance in age. A
few are hexapod, or six-footed, during the entire term of
their existence ; but in addition to those characters which
determine the class to which they belong, various other
relations connect them with their congeners, and show
that they are not genuine insects.
Among those articulated animals which possess no sys¬
tem of circulation, insects alone undergo genuine meta¬
morphoses ; and none of the Arachnides are subject to
such changes. Now, as all Arachnides are essentially dis¬
tinct from the Crustacea, and as they differ from insects
in the important characteristic just mentioned, it follows,
according to M. Lamarck, that they constitute an assem¬
blage of beings which ought not to be held in separation,
however diversified they may be in various points of their
organization.
The most remarkable circumstances in the structure of
Arachnides are the following : That while many of these
creatures are obviously provided with a circulating sys¬
tem, others present no vestige of that system; that the
former breathe by means of branchial cells, while the lat¬
ter respire through tracheae; and that certain tribes are
provided with antennae, and others are entirely destitute
of any such organs. These apparent non-conformities of
structure result from this, that throughout the extended
course of their class, the organization of the Arachnides
undergoes rapid and remarkable changes; and if in the
course of our observations we were to attend not only to
the differences of external or internal parts, but to the
progress of nature in the order of her productions, we
would sooner perceive the propriety of that succession or
change of organization even among animals really allied
to each other by the great majority of their relations; and
it would not have been deemed necessary to remove to
another class such of the Arachnides as were antennated,
because it would have been then more clearly perceived
how incompatible was such a change with the assignment
of their natural and appropriate place in the system.
See the Histoire Naturelle des Animaux sans Vertebres, ^ vols. 8vo. Paris, 1815—22.
’ “ Animalia ovipara, pedibus articulatis in omni tempore instructa, ad metamorphoses non subjecta, nec nova partium genera ac-
quirentia. Respiratio trachealis aut branchialis; orificiis pro aeris intromissione stigmatiformibus. Cor circulatioque in pluribus in-
choatis. Copulationes,” &c. ut supra.
348
ARACHNIDE8.
Arach-
nides.
The class of Arachnides, as established by Lamarck
in his Cours, contained five or six small families, which,
though each possessed of particular characters of dis¬
tinction, it would have been difficult to separate from their
common frame-work, without considerable inconvenience
to whatever other class one or more of such families might
have been removed. If, for example, the antennated
Arachnides should be classed among insects, we then de¬
stroy the most simple and satisfactory definition which
can be given of the last-named class, while we are forced
to assign to the animals with which we unite them a po¬
sition in the general series unsuitable to their real nature
and attributes. If we transport the tracheal Arachnides
to the class Insecta, in order to enable us to define the
latter class by the exclusive character of respiring by
tracheae, then insects can no longer be said to be uni¬
formly distinguished by the possession of antennae, and
the genus Phalangium, &c. would be separated from the
class which contains the spiders. For these reasons La¬
marck is of opinion that the division which contains his
Arachnides, whether antennated or non-antennated, ought
to be preserved in its integrity, if we wish to avoid the
impropriety of associating with insects other forms of
animal life which nature has distinguished by different
characters.1
A class may be constituted of natural materials, and
contained within suitable limits, and nevertheless present
among its various families animals of very different forms
and construction. During every period of its existence,
a butterfly presents an aspect very dissimilar to that of
a scarabaeus, yet both belong to the true Insecta. When
strong general affinities (analogies d’enSemble) prevail,
those special diversities of structure which are occasionally
observable are insufficient to authorize a separation of
classes. The genera Aranea, Phalangium, and Galeodes,
are very nearly related to each other, although the first
respire by obvious branchial cells, while the others enjoy
a tracheal respiration.
The non-antennated Arachnides are in general provided
with eight feet; and the Acarides and Pycnogonides con¬
duct naturally to the Phalangides, such as the genus pha¬
langium and others. Now, if these Acarides belong essen¬
tially to the Arachnides, can the parasitical genera, such
as Pediculus and Ricinus, which lead towards them so evi¬
dently, be regarded as belonging to another class ? The
transition is so gradual and prepared, that the Acarides,
provided for the most part with eight feet, like the other
non-antennated Arachnides, yet present us with many ge¬
nera (such as Astoma, Leptis, Caris) which have never
more than six. Lamarck maintains the necessity of pre¬
serving the class Arachnides according to the limits which
he has himself assigned to it, because its being so pre¬
served relieves the class of insects from species with
which that class has little or no connection. Without
citing the impossibility of assigning a suitable position
among insects to tribes like the Parasites, the Thysanoura,
and the Myriapoda, the strongest objection to the re¬
union of these animals with insects is, that it will alter
the general and truly natural characters assigned to the
latter, viz. that of presenting, after exclusion from the
egg, a particular state of larva, singularly varied accord¬
ing to the different orders in the forms and parts of the
animal, and that of finally exhibiting an imago or perfect
state very different from the larva, and distinguished by
six articulated legs, two reticulated eyes, and a pair of
antennae.
Arachnides, on the contrary, although in many instances
antennated, and, like all other living beings, undergoing
successive developments of parts from the period of their
birth, yet offer not the condition of a larva distinct from 11
that of the perfect state : they preserve, not of course the S v
dimensions, but the form and proportions of the parts
with which they were originally produced; and if a few
of them acquire additional parts in the course of their
development, these are not of a new kind, but merely su¬
pernumerary to such as previously existed; for example,
a pair of feet, or another segment to the abdomen. But
this kind of development is different from that called me¬
tamorphosis in insects. All of these acquire either a
new form, or parts of structure of a different kind from
those which they possessed when first produced from the
egg; and their state of larva, manifestly distinct from
that of the perfect insect, is never equivocal.
Thus the Arachnides of Lamarck, distinguished in a
general point of view from true insects by the want of
metamorphoses, yet breathing in air, are remarkable for
the singular gradations which their organization presents I
us when we compare the different families with each
other. In fact, these animals exhibit, in their totality,
different groups, which offer among themselves such great
dissimilarities of organization, as might almost furnish the
materials of as many classes; but such a proceeding
would injure the simplicity of systematic arrangement,
and would be unsuitable, in as far as these great divisions
might still be connected together by characters of general
application, the same, in truth, as those by which the
class of Arachnides is itself distinguished.
Although certain Arachnides possess organs adapted to
a circulating system, they do not on that account belong
to the crustaceous class. They are chiefly distinguished
from that class by their respiratory organs, which, whe¬
ther tracheal or branchial, are always placed in the inte¬
rior of the body, whilst in the Crustacea they are exter¬
nal. In the former, also, the opening which admits the
fluid to be respired is stigmatiform; but it is not so in
the latter.
Even the structure of the eyes affords an index to the
Arachnides. All true insects have two eyes, with plane
facettes, presenting the appearance of a very delicate net¬
work ; but in the Arachnides the eyes are smooth, whe¬
ther isolated, as among the greater number, or grouped
as in spiders, and form a small mass, of which the surface
is granular or sub-granular, and not in facettes. Arach¬
nides form a class superior to insects, because many of
them are more highly organized, and all of them are more
nearly allied to the Crustacea than genuine insects. It
does not follow from this that all the individuals of that
class are superior to the most perfect insects, or that they
have derived their existence, according to the French
phraseology, by transition from these last-named crea¬
tures, or by an advance or progression in the scale of or¬
ganization. For in the progress of animal life from the
lower to the higher groups, the Arachnides appear to
commence almost at the same epoch as the genuine in¬
sects, and present a dichotomous or double ramification,
corresponding in its level with that which bears the entire
class of insects. About that same point of the animal king¬
dom there seems in fact to be three distinct streams or
courses of life, immediately succeeding the Epizoana,
viz. that of the apterous insects ( Pulex), which leads suc¬
cessively to all the other forms of insect life; that of the
antennated parasitical Arachnides (Pediculus and Ricinus),
which leads to the Acarides and other non-antennated
Arachnides; and that of the wandering (vagabunda)
antennated Arachnides (Thysanoura and Myriapoda),from
which the crustaceous tribes may be said to spring.2
r
1 Anxmaux sans Vcrtebres, tome v. p. G.
2 Ibid, tome v. p. 10.
ARACHNIDES.
:h Thus, of those great divisions which appear to derive
;s. their origin almost from the same point in the scale, the
first is formed of an enormous series of animated beings,
characterized by the strongly contrasted aspects of larva
and perfect insect; and the others are true Arachnides,
and consequently present no such marked distinction be¬
tween the conditions of the young and old. In the most
perfect of the arachnidean class, such as spiders and scor¬
pions, Cuvier has demonstrated a muscular and dorsal
heart, subject to sensible systole and diastole; and on the
abdomen he discovered several stigmatic openings (from
two to eight), which lead to an equal number of particu¬
lar purse-shaped cavities, each of which contained a great
many small and very delicate laminae or plates. These
isolated cavities, and the plates with which they are fill¬
ed, are without doubt the respiratory organs of these
Arachnides. Cuvier regards them in the light of lungs;
while Lamarck himself is inclined to view them rather as
branchial cavities analogous to those observable in the
leech and earth-worm—the property of branchia being,
in the first place, the power of becoming habituated to
j the respiration of air (water being their usual medium),
whilst the true lung respires air alone ; and, in the second
place (and this character applies of course a fortiori to
lungs also), never to exist except in animals which are
possessed of a circulating system.1
finally, from the dorsal heart already mentioned two
large vessels derive their origin, and are then ramified
over the membrane of the respiratory cavities. Cuvier
regards these vessels as pulmonary, the one acting as an
artery, the other as a vein—and other vessels spring
from the same dorsal trunk, and distribute themselves to
various parts of the body. In these animals there is even
a liver, composed of four pair of glandular clusters, which
discharge their fluid at four different points of the intes¬
tine.
It is among the Arachnides that we find the first es¬
tablishment ol organs for the circulation of the animal
fiuids; and in the same class we perceive, as it were, the
termination of tracheal respiration by ramified tracheae,
with a view to the substitution of the branchial system,
wnicli, though in itself admitting of considerable varia¬
tion, is always characterized by its more local restriction.
Among the Arachnides also we find the commencement of
the principal of the conglomerated glands.
i lie respiratory sacks, which Cuvier pointed out in the
spiders and scorpions, were also detected by M. Latreille
in the genus Phryna, in such a manner as to connect, by
that dominating feature in their structure, the Arachnides
pcmpalpes and the Arachnides Jileuses of that author. Al-
t lough among the Phalangides the respiratory sacks have
not yet become perceptible, yet the aeriferous tracheae
rave changed their character, and no longer consist of
a double cord with a series of plexus, but are merely
blanched or ramified. The same order prevails among
no Acarides, and results mainly from the reduced num-
tr aiu altered position of the stigmata. Among the an-
' muted Arachnides, in which the stigmata are more nu-
am^ ln general lateral, the tracheal cords, like
c T f inse.ctfe’ !iav,e as many plexus as stigmata; and
Aiaclmides, in fact, approach the most nearly to the
*nsects. I bus tracheal respiration changes by
egrees its nature and mode of action, as the stigmata
inu ergo an alteration in regard to their number and posi-
mi., and, becoming more and more reduced and restrict-
tlV 1 !>!ep,areS ^le way> as 11 were, for branchial respira-
n> " iieh only shows itself effectively along with the
establishment of a circulating system. It results from
these considerations that, in spite of the difference of or¬
ganization observable in different families of Arachnides
these families are nevertheless related and united by
natural affinities, which it is impossible to mistake, and
would be improper to separate, and which appear to
place them at an almost equal distance from Insects and
Crustacea. In their aspect, however, they in general re¬
semble somewhat more nearly the latter class. For ex¬
ample, the cancerides or crabs represent in some respects,
by their short bodies, and heads confounded with the
thorax, the usual form of spiders; while the cray-fish and
Thalassinae (^Cancer anotnulus, Leach) recall the figure of
the scorpion.
The greater proportion of Arachnides dwell on the land,
a few inhabit the waters, and a certain number are parasiti¬
cal on the bodies of other animals, of which they suck the
juices. In general they are carnivorous, and live on blood,
or at least on animal substances; a very limited number
existing on vegetable matter. Many are furnished with
mandibles, which perform the functions of a trunk or
sucker; and others are provided with an isolated or sepa¬
rate trunk, frequently accompanied both by mandibles
and palpi. They are for the most part solitary animals,
of gloomy habits, and forbidding aspect; they court con-
caalment, and avoid exposure to strong light.- The bite
of many species is dangerous, in consequence of a poison¬
ous or irritating fluid frequently instilled into the wound.
The offensive organ in the scorpionides is placed at the
extremity of the abdomen.
The following is a tabular view of M. Lamarck’s system
of arrangement.
General Division of Arachnides.
Order I.—Antennated tracheal Arachnides. Head fur¬
nished with two antennae. Respiration effected by
means of double-corded plexiform trachea?.
Section I.— Crustaceans Arachnides. Two composite
eyes, of which the surface is granular or sub-granular.
They are sometimes called wandering Arachnides, to
distinguish them from such as are fixed or parasitical.
They are frequently of a scaly structure, and provided
. with mandibles fitted for incision and division. This
section consists of two families, viz. Thysanoura and
Myriapoda. The following are the genera of Thysa¬
noura : Smynthurus, Podura, Machilis, Lepisma. Those
of Myriapoda are, Scutigera, Lithobiiflt, Scolopendra,
. Polyxenus, Julus, Glomeris.
Section II.—Acarideous Arachnides. Two or four smooth
eyes. These animals are parasitical, and provided
either with a retractile sucker or with two mandibles
hooked for the purpose of adhesion. Their bodies are
never scaly. The genera are Pediculus and Ricinus.
Order II.—No7i-antennated tracheal Arachnides. No an¬
tennae. Tracheae for respiration branched, but not gan-
glionized. Two or four smooth eyes.
Section I.—Body either without apparent division, the
head, thorax, and abdomen, being united in one mass,
or composed of two divisions. This section is composed
of two families, viz. Acarides and Phalangides. The
former contains the following genera: Astoma, Lep-
tus, Caris, Ixodes, Argas, Uropoda, Smaris, Bdella,
Acarus, Cheyletus, Gamasus, Oribata, Erythraeus,
Trombidium, Hydrachna, Elais, Limnochares. The
349
Arach¬
nides.
1 Analyse des Travaux dcs Sciences de Vlnstitut pendant Vann'ee 1810.
350
' RACHNIDES.
Arach¬
nites.
genera of Phalangides are these—Trogulus, Siro, Pha-
langium.
Section II.—Body divided into three or four distinct seg¬
ments. This section is likewise composed of two families,
Pycnogonides and Pseudo-scorpiones. Of the first family
the genera are, Nymphum, Phoxichilus, Pycnogonum;
of the second, Galeodes, Chelifer.
Order III.—Non-antennated branchial Arachnides. No
antenna. Branchial cells or pouches for respiration.
From six to eight smooth eyes.
Section I.—Pedipalpi or Scorpionida. Palpi very large,
in the form of projecting arms, terminated by claws or
pincers. Abdomen distinctly ringed, and not furnished
with a spinning apparatus. Genera—Scorpio, Thelypho-
nus, Phrynus.
Section II.—Araneides or Spinning Arachnides. Palpi
simple, in the form of small feet; those of the male
bearing the sexual organs. Mandibles terminated by
a movable crotchet. Abdomen without rings, and
furnished at its termination with a web-making appara¬
tus, consisting of from four to six spinners. Genera—
Aranea, divided into numerous tribes or sub-genera;
Atypus, Mygale, Avicularia.
In his Considerations Generates, M. Latreille founds the
orders of the class Arachnides on two principal points as
the first basis. These animals are either masticators or
suckers. The jaws of the former are simple, and fitted
for cutting and triturating the substances on which they
feed; those of the latter, when they exist at all, serve
only to seize their prey, and are terminated by a movable
piece, either solitary and hooked, like a claw or crotchet,
or accompanied by a fixed projection like a small finger.
In the latter case the mandibles have the appearance of a
pair of pincers. The Arachnides of this division compress
with their pincers the small animals on which they prey,
and so force the alimentary juices to pass by degrees into
the oesophagus. The body of their prey having under¬
gone this operation, is thrown aside. In spiders the claw
of the mandible seems to execute an additional function.
It distils a poisonous liquid, analogous in its nature to that
which exudes from the mouth of the scolopendra, and
of the tail. The other Tetracera probably receive it in a
similar manner: at all events they are not provided with
distinct external stigmata, like the Arachnides of the suc¬
ceeding orders. We still find in this first division species
which inhabit the sea; but as soon as we enter the order
Acera (scorpions, spiders, &c.) we find none occurring in
that element.
The structure of suctorial Arachnides is reducible to
three principal forms or combinations of organs; Is?, Those
possessed of antennae, and of which the head is distinct
from the thorax—Parasita ; 2d, Those which are unpro¬
vided with antennae, each segment of the body furnished
with a pair of legs, and the head distinct—Pycnogonides;
3d, Those which are unprovided with antennae, but of
which the head and thorax are confounded as it were in a
single segment, which alone is provided with feet—Acera.
This last-mentioned order, according to Latreille, would
form the first, if the organs of the mouth alone were con¬
sidered, as these are more complicated than in any other
suctorial Arachnides. The Acera have two palpigerous
maxillae, and frequently a lip, with two strong mandibles.
The generality of the Pycnogonides have also mandibles,
which have been taken for palpi, and true palpi, which
have been erroneously regarded as antennae; but their
mouth consists of a tunnel or syphon of a single piece. It
is still more simple in the Parasites, being nothing more
than a very short projection, containing a small sucker, or
a cavity of which the sides are dilatable, and accompanied
by two crotchets.
In regard to the families of the Arachnides, the Tetra¬
cera offer two principal groups. Some dwell in salt or
fresh water, are usually fixed upon other animals, of which
they suck the blood, and have, with the exception of the
genus Bobyra, four very obvious and distinct antennae.
They constitute the first family, that of Others
are more terrestrial than aquatic. They wander from place
to place, love obscure and sombre situations, and live upon
putrid substances; their two intermediate antennae are
but slightly developed. They form the second family,
called Oniscides. According to Latreille, the structure of
the mouth in Scolopendra is so different from that of Julus,
that it is difficult to conceive the motive which influenced
Fabricius to unite these Arachnides into a single order,
that of Mitosata. In Julus, the maxillae and the lip are
4
the tail or sting of the scorpion. Moreover, all the mas-    7— -
ticating Arachnides are furnished with antennae, while the soldered together, forming one transverse plate, without
suctorial tribes, with the exception of two genera, Ricinus distinct palpi, or their place supplied by tubercles. Ihe
and Pulex, are unprovided with these organs. Thus the Scolopendrae have their maxillae separated, four projecting
primary divisions of this class by Latreille nearly corre¬
spond to Lamarck’s two orders, the Antennistes and Pal-
pistes.
M. Latreille then subdivides the masticating Arachnides
into three orders— Tetracera, Myriapoda, and Thysanoura.
The last alone present a thorax distinct from the abdo¬
men, and have no more than six feet. In the two first-
named orders the organs of movement amount at least
to the number of fourteen, disposed along the sides of the
body, each segment of which, with the exception at most
of the last three, carry one or two pair. The Tetracera
(genus Oniscus of Linnaeus) are distinguished by four an¬
tennae ; there are only two in the Myriapocla. The
Tetracera have besides several jaws, and are furnished with
plates or foliaceous appendages on the inferior surface of
the posterior extremity of their bodies. The number of
their feet is invariably fourteen. They are related in
several particulars to the Crustacea. De Geer observed,
that in Assellus and Idotea there is a kind of membranous
cavity, frequently filled with air, beneath the plates of the
tail; and similar parts are observable in the true crustace-
ous Squillae of Fabricius. In Oniscus the air penetrates
the body by openings, which are covered by the first folds
palpi, and the labia in the form of hooks, subservient to
the same uses as the mandibles of spiders. These consi¬
derations, and the figure of the antennae, have required
the establishment of two families, which compose Latreille s
order Myriapoda, viz. Chilognatha and Syngnatha. Pro*
ceeding upon the same principles, he divides the order
Thysanoura likewise into two families, the Lepismenee and
the Podurellce. The next orders, Parasita and Pycnogo-
nides, contain few genera, and do not admit of subdivision
into families. The last order, Acera, is composed of eight
families, viz. Scorpionides, Pedipalpi, Aranides, Phalangita,
Acaridiae, Riciniae, Hydrachnellae, and Microphthira.
Before commencing our systematic exposition of this
class, we shall lay before our readers the sentiments ol
Mr Kirby. “ I must next say something on the orders or
the Arachnida. Every one at first sight sees that spi¬
ders and scorpions are separated by characters so strongly
marked, that they look rather like animals belonging to
different classes, than to the same. These form the tvvo
primary orders of the Arachnida, and they appear to be
connected by two secondary or osculant ones,—on the one.
side by Galeodes, and on the other by Thelyphonus an
Phrynus. This class, although there is an appearance o
A R A C H N I D E S. 351
eight legs, is, strictly speaking, of a Hexapod type; for the
anterior pair, ordinarily regarded as legs, and performing
•their function, are really the analogues of the maxillary
palpi of perfect insects. This will be evident to you if
you examine any species of Galeodes. These animals, if we
look at them cursorily, we should regard as decapods ; but
when we trace the two anterior pairs of apparent legs to
their insertion, we find that both proceed from the head,
which in that genus is distinct from the trunk; while the
three last pairs, which alone are furnished with claws, are
planted, as legs usually are, in the latter part. The first
pair represent the ordinary palpi of Arachnida, are analo¬
gous to the labial ones of hexapods, and, as likewise in
Phrynus and Thelyphonus, are more robust than what are
usually taken for the first pair of legs ; but they differ in
being considerably longer, and, instead of terminating in
a chela, are furnished with a retractile sucker.1 The
second pair are more slender and shorter than the first.
They correspond precisely with what are deemed the first
pair of legs of Octopods and Arachnida, and are clearly
analogous to the maxillary palpi of insects. Whether the
base of the first pair of these palpi is in any respect ana-
1 logous to the labium of insects (as that of the second
seems to be to their maxillae), I am not prepared to assert;
it will therefore be most advisable to name these palpi an¬
terior posterior'; but as they evidently proceed from
the head in Galeodes, and in that genus are clearly analo¬
gous to those of the Phrynidea (which in their turn as
clearly represent those of the Aranidea), it follows, that
in ail they are organs of the part representing the head,
and therefore not in a primary sense Ugs, although in
a secondary, as M. Savigny2 has proved, they may be so
called.”3
The following are the secondary groups of the class
Arachnides, according to Mr Kirby’s exposition, in the
work last quoted.
1. Aranidea.—M‘Leay. (Aranea, L., Araneidce, Lat.)
The Aranidea or spiders seem resolvable into two
sub-orders—the Sedentaries and the Wanderers;
thus forming, perhaps, what Mr M‘Leay would de¬
nominate the normal groups of a circle of Arachnida.
Def.—Mandibles armed with a perforated claw. Head
and trunk coalite. Palpi pediform, anterior pair
without claws. Abdomen without segments or elon¬
gated tail. Spiracles two. Anus furnished with an
apparatus for spinning.
2. Scorpionidea.—M‘Leay. (Scorpio, L. Latr.)
Def.—Mandibles chelate. Head and trunk coalite. An¬
terior palpi chelate. Posterior palpi pediform. Pec-
tens two. Abdomen divided into segments, and ter^
minating in a jointed tail, armed at the end with a
sting. four pair.
3. Galeodea.
Def.—Head distinct. Eyes two. Mandibles chelate,
with dentated chelae. Palpi pediform, the anterior
pair thickest, with a retractile sucker. Trunk con¬
sisting of two principal segments, with a minute sup¬
plementary posterior one. Spiracles two, placed in
the trunk. Pseudo-pectens two. Abdomen divided
into segments. Anus unarmed, and without a spin¬
ning apparatus.
Arach-
Def.—Mandibles unguiculate. Anterior palpi chelate
or unguiculate, very robust. Posterior palpi pediform,
very long and slender. Abdomen divided into seg¬
ments. Spiracles two pairs. Anus terminating in a
mucro, and sometimes in a filiform jointed tail, with¬
out a sting at the end.4
In the Regne Animal (2d edition, 1829), Latreille in¬
cludes in the class Arachnides only those species which
correspond to the Arachnides palpistes of M. Lamarck.
By this arrangement he is of opinion they maybe classed
and defined in a more simple and rigorous manner. Accord¬
ing to his most matured views, then, the Arachnides, like
the Crustacea, are destitute of wings, and are not subject
to metamorphoses, but only to simple changes. Their
sexual organs are removed from the posterior extremity
of their bodies, and situated, with the exception of cer¬
tain males, at the base of the abdomen. They bear a re¬
semblance to insects in as far as the surface of their bo¬
dies present openings or transverse clefts named stigmata,
for the entrance of air, but in smaller number than in in¬
sects (eight at most, generally two), and placed only at
the inferior part of the abdomen. Their respiration is
farther carried on either by aerial branchia, performing
the office of lungs, inclosed in the cells of which the open¬
ings just mentioned are the entrance, or by means of ra¬
diated tracheae. The organs of vision consist of small sim¬
ple eyes, variously grouped when numerous. The head,
usually distinct from the thorax, presents, as analogous to
the antennae of insects, two articulated appendages, in the
form of small talons of two or more pieces, which have
been improperly compared to the mandibles of insects,
though moving in a different direction. They, however, co¬
operate in the action of the jaws, and arc represented in
those Arachnides of which the mouth is formed like a sy¬
phon or sucker by two pointed plates or lancets.5 A sort
of lip {labium, Fab.), or rather tongue, formed by a pecto¬
ral prolongation; two maxillae, formed by the radical part
of the first article of two small feet or palpi,6 or by a lobe
or appendage of that article; a beak-shaped projection,
named sternal tongue {langue sternale) by M. Savigny,
produced by the re-union of a very small chaperon, ter¬
minated by a minute triangular lip, and of a longitudinal
inferior keel, usually hairy :—these, and the parts called
mandibles, compose, under certain modifications, the gene¬
ral structure of the mouth in the class Arachnides. The
pharynx is placed in advance of a sternal projection, which
has been regarded as a lip; but when we> consider its po¬
sition behind the pharynx, and the absence of palpi, it is
probably rather analogous to a tongue (languette). The
feet, like those of insects, are generally terminated by two
crotchets, sometimes by three, and are all attached to the
thorax, which is almost always formed of a single articu¬
lation, for the most part intimately united to the abdo¬
men. The abdomen in the greater proportion of species
is soft, or but slightly protected.
When considered in relation to their nervous system,
the Arachnides are obviously distinguished both from the
Crustacea and Insects; for, with the exception of the scor¬
pions, the ganglia or swellings of the nervous cords never
exceed three in number.
The greater proportion of Arachnides feed on living in¬
sects, the bodies of which they seize or adhere to, and
4. Phrynidea.
^ Leon Dufour, SixNouv. Arach. Qc. Ann. Gen.des Sciences Physiq. iV. iii. 17, t. Ixix. f. 7* h-
’ Mem. sur tcs Anim. satis Vcrtebres. 3 Introduc. to Entom. vol. iv. p. 386. (1826.) * Ibid. p. 388.
s Chdictres or Antenne.pinccs of the French writers.
According to Latreille, these do not differ from feet properly so called, except in the tarsi, composed of only a single joint, and
usually terminated by a small crotchet; they almost entirely resemble the ordinary feet of the Crustacea.
352
ARACHNIDS S.
Arach-
nides.
suck their juices. Others are parasitical on the bodies of
vertebrated animals. A few, such as certain mites, feed
on cheese, and on flour and other vegetable productions.
In some of the species two of the feet are not developed
till the animals have changed their skin; and in general
it is not till after their fourth or fifth moult, or casting
of their exuviae, that the Arachnides attain to their com¬
pleted state.1
The following tabular view exhibits the classification
and relative position of the orders and genera of this exr
tensive class.
CLASS ARACHNIDES.
Order I.—Pulmonarije.
Family L—Araneides.
Sect. I.— Tetrapneumones.
Genus 1. Mygale.
2. Cteniza.
3. Atypus.
4. Erodion.
5. Dysdera.
6. Filistata.
Sect. II.—Dipneumones.
A.—Sedentariae.
Tribe 1.— Tubitelce.
Genus 7. Clotho.
8. Drassus.
9. Segestria.
10. Clubiona.
11. Aranea.
12. Argyroneta.
Tribe 2.—Incequitelce.
Genus 13. Scytodes.
14. Theridion.
15. Episinus.
16. Pholcus.
Tribe 3.— Orbitelcc.
Genus 17. Linyphia.
18. Uloborus.
19. Tetragnatha.
20. Epeira.
Tribe 4.—Laterigradai.
Genus 21. Micrommata.
22. Senelops.
23. Philodromus.
24. Thomisus.
B.—Erratics;.
Tribe 5.—Citigradce,
Genus 25. Oxyopus.
26. Ctenus.
27. Dolomedes.
28. Lycosa.
29. Myrmecia.
Tribe 6.—Saltigradce.
Genus 30. Tessarops. %
31. Palpimanus.
32. Eresus.
33. Salticus.
Family II.—Pedipalpi.
Tribe 1.— Tarentidce.
Genus 34. Phrynus.
35. Thelyphonus.
Tribe 2.—Scorpionides.
Genus 36. Buthus.
37. Scorpio.
Order II.—Tracheari^:.
Family I.—Pseudo-Scorpiones.
Genus 38. Galeodes.
39. Chelifer.
Family II.—Pycnogonides.
Genus 40. Pycnogonum.
41. Phoxichilus.
42. Nymphon.
43. Ammothea.
Family III.—Holetra.
Tribe 1.—Phalangita.
Genus 44. Phalangium.
45. Gonoleptes.
46. Siro.
47. Macrocheles.
48. Trogulus.
Tribe 2.—Acarides.
Genus 49. Trombidiura.
50. Erythraeus.
51. Gamasus.
52. Cheyletus.
53. Oribata.
54. Uropoda.
55. Acarus.
56. Bdella.
57. Smaridia.
58. Ixodes.
59. Argas.
60. Eylais.
61. Hydrachna.
62. Limnochares.
63. Caris.
64. Leptus.
65. Aclysia.
66. Astoma.
67. (5cypete.
We shall now proceed to the first subdivision of the
class into two great orders.
Order I.—Arachnides Pulmonarle.
Characterized by the possession of pulmonary sacks, a
heart with distinct vessels, and from six to eight simple
eyes. The sacks contain aerial branchia, which perform the
office of lungs, and are named pneumo-branchiabyLatreille.
They are placed under the abdomen, and are indicated
externally by stigmata or small transverse openings, of
which there are sometimes four on each side, sometimes
only four in all, or two on each side. The eyes vary in
number from six to eight,2 whereas in the subsequent or¬
der ( Trachearice) there are never more than four. The re¬
spiratory organ is formed of small plates. The heart is a
1 Latreille has observed, in conformity with the experience of Jurine fils, that the Argulus of Muller does not acquire the faculty
of generating till after the completion of the sixth moult. Caterpillars generally change their skins four times before they assume
the form of the chrysalis, which, with the final transformation to the perfect state, causes the number of moults to amount also to six.
‘ The genus Tessarops of M. Rafinesque is described as having only four eyes; but M. Latreille is of opinion that the lateral pair
had been overlooked.
ARACHNIDES.
h large vessel, which stretches along the back, and gives off
L' branches forwards and on either side.1 The feet are con-
stantly eight in number. The head is always confounded
with the thorax, and presents two pincers (mandibulce, of
authors, cheliceres or antenne-pinces of Latreille) terminat¬
ed by two finger-like projections, of which one is mov¬
able, or by a single hook or claw, always movable. The
mouth is composed of a lip {labium) ; of two palpi, which
sometimes assume the shape of arms or talons; of two or
four maxillm, formed, when there is only a pair, by the
radical article of the palpi, and when there are four, by
that same article and the corresponding portion of the first
pair of feet; and of a languette of one or two pieces. If
we were to assume as a basis the progressive diminution
in the number of the pulmonary sacks and stigmata, then
the scorpions which have eight, while the other Arach-
nides have only four or two, would form the leading ge¬
nus of the class, and the family of Pedipalpi would take
precedence of the Araneides or spinners; but these last-
named Arachnides are to a certain extent isolated, by rea¬
son of the sexual organs of the male, by the hook of their
frontal talons, by their pediculated abdomens, and the pe¬
culiarities of their spinning apparatus, as well as by their
natural habits; and the scorpions also appear to form a
more natural transition from the pulmonary Arachnides to
the family of the pseudo-scorpions, the first of the second
order.
Of all the Arachnides the Pulmonarice exhibit the great¬
est analogies to the crustaceous class, especially to the
genus Limulus and others of the paecilopodous order. The
pneumo-branchia and their stigmatiform openings may
frequently be detected externally by yellowish-white
markings, disposed in two longitudinal series. The first
two are placed immediately beneath the sexual organs, at
least in the females, at a small distance from the origin of
the abdomen, and on its second segment, when that part
is annular or divided into segments. Thus the second
segment in these Arachnides corresponds in its characters
to the first segment of the female Limulus. We may also
perceive in them the indications of conglomerated glands,
and even in certain species traces are observable of chili-
ferous vessels.
The claw of the mandibles in spiders, and the terminal
joint of the tail in scorpions, form a species of dart, perfo¬
rated by one or two openings, which give issue to a poi¬
sonous liquid secreted by special glands. This poison is
mortal to such small creatures as form the natural prey
of the Arachnides, and is even productive of dangerous
consequences to man and the larger animals. Its mode
of action on animals unprovided with a circulating sys¬
tem is not clearly understood, but the phenomena attend¬
ing it might reasonably be adduced in support of that
theory which advocates the agency of poison from the bite
of venomous reptiles as being carried on as much through
the medium of the nervous as the circulating fluid. The
almost instantaneous death of animals from the bite of
certain snakes has been regarded as a proof that the vas¬
cular system was not alone concerned; and the same sud¬
den effect produced upon those classes in which, as far
as we can perceive, no vascular system exists, demon¬
strates some other mode of action.
Notwithstanding the researches of Cuvier, Marcel de
353
Serres, Leon Dufour, Treviranus, and other observers, Arach-
our knowledge of the internal organization of several ge- mdes.
nera of Arachnides is extremely deficient. Hence it is
difficult to trace the boundaries of the orders in a manner
at once natural and precise. At the same time it has
been remarked, that the accurate observation of the eyes
and other external organs furnish characters which coin¬
cide with the distinctions deduced from internal structure,
as far as the latter has been ascertained.
Family I.—Araneides.
This extensive family corresponds to the genus Aranea
of Linnaeus, and contains all those species commonly call¬
ed spiders—the Arachnides fileuses of Latreille. The cha¬
racters are, two or four branchial pouches; from six to
eight simple eyes; last article of the mandibles {cheliceres)
in the form of a corneous claw, perforated at the extre¬
mity for the emission of poison, and folded upon the pre¬
ceding joint; abdomen usually soft, without divisions,
its extremity furnished with from four to six small teat¬
like appendages, pierced with numerous holes for the pas¬
sage of the silk or spinning materials ;2 feet palpi, without
pincers at the extremity, but terminated in the female by
small hooks, and in the male by the generative organs.
The maxillae are neyer more than two in number. The
languette consists of a single piece, always external, and
placed between the maxillae; its form more or less square,
sometimes triangular or semicircular. The thorax, usu¬
ally impressed with a form resembling the letter Y, indi¬
cating the space occupied by the head, is composed of a
single article. The legs, of which the forms are analo¬
gous, though the dimensions differ considerably, are com¬
posed of seven joints, of which the first two form the
haunch, the third the thigh, the fourth and fifth the leg,
and the remaining two the tarsi; the last is terminated
by a couple of hooks, which are usually toothed or pecti¬
nated, and in many species there is an additional tooth of
smaller size, but not pectinated. The intestinal canal is
straight: there is first a stomach composed of several
sacks; and towards the middle of the abdomen a second
dilatation occurs. According to Marcel de Serres the heart
is situated in the abdomen, and stretches throughout its
whole length ; there is a considerable swelling towards its
superior extremity, after which it assumes and retains the
cylindrical form. It is very muscular, and its pulsations
are strong and frequent. The pulmonary pouches, usu¬
ally two in number, are always situated on the lower sur¬
face of the abdomen, near its origin, and are covered by a
coriaceous skin, generally of a red colour; the stigmati¬
form opening proper to each pouch is placed towards its
base, on the inner side. These pouches are formed of a
white membrane, strong but flexible, which presents on its
interior, transverse, projecting, parallel, nearly semicircu¬
lar folds or plates, which constitute the respiratory organ.
The liver is proper to the abdomen, of which it occupies
the chief portion. It is composed of an infinity of minute
glands fixed to the intestinal canal, and filled with a pe¬
culiar liquid, thick, and of a brown colour. The interior
of the abdomen also contains the silk vessels, four in num¬
ber, long, cylindrical, folded, yellow. They open into a
common canid, situated at the origin of the spinners.
1 According to M. Marcel de Serres {Memoire sur le Vaisseau Dorsal des Insectes'), the blood in the araneides and scorpions pro¬
ceeds first to the respiratory organs, and from thence by special vessels to the various parts of the body. Latreille, however, seems
to think, from the relations which exist between these creatures and the crustaceous tribes, that such circulation may be effected ui
the contrary direction. See the lUgne Animal, tome iii. p. 212; and a memoir by Treviranus On the Internal Organization of Arach-
nitks. 1 vol. 4to, Nuremberg, 1812.
“ Some naturalists are of opinion that the two small spinners placed in the centre of the four exterior ones yield no silk.
VOL. III. iv 2 Y
354 ARACHNIDES.
Arach- The nervous system consists, Is#, of a cerebriform gang-
mdes. ]ionj placed towards the base of the thorax, quadrangular
in some, in others rounded—from it proceed whitish ner¬
vous threads to the mouth, eyes, and feet; 2dly, of two
nervous cords, derived from the above ganglion, which oc¬
cupy the median line of the body, and of ganglia which
distribute nervous filaments to the different organs, and
principally to the alimentary canal and the silk vessels.
M. Dufour did not ascertain the number and disposition
of these latter ganglia. According to Treviranus they do
not exceed two.
The dorsal and abdominal region of many spiders ex¬
hibit several small depressed points, which are produ¬
ced by the attachment of the filiform muscles which tra¬
verse the liver. These are likewise observable in the scor¬
pions.1
The silk vessels with which both sexes of many spe¬
cies fabricate those webs so remarkable at times for their
symmetrical form and exquisite delicacy of structure,
vary in shape and position according to the habits of the
species. The formation by these creatures of skilfully
wrought nets for the capture of their prey, is a fact of
such every-day occurrence and observation, that we cease
to regard it in its proper light, as one of the most admir¬
able and surprising instincts of animal life. According to
Reaumur, the silk undergoes its first elaboration in two
small reservoirs, shaped like a drop of glass placed
obliquely, one on each side, at the base of six other reser¬
voirs in the form of intestines, which lie side by side, and
folded six or seven times. The latter derive their origin
from a little below the commencement of the abdomen,
and proceed to the nipples by a slender thread. It is in
the last-named vessels that the silk acquires that greater
consistence and those other qualities which render it fit
for use. A certain degree of dryness or evaporation
seems necessary for the proper formation of the threads;
but when the atmosphere is in a favourable condition the
requisite change appears to take place almost instanta¬
neously.
Various opinions have been entertained regarding the
origin of those white, flaky, filamentous, silky substances
which are frequently found floating in the atmosphere
during the mornings of spring and autumn. They are
called fils de la vierge by the French, and Lamarck still
maintains the opinion that they are meteoric productions.
The results of chemical analysis, as well as of ordinary
observation, render it little less than certain that they are
produced by small spiders of the genera Epeira and Tho-
■misus. The innumerable threads which the sun-beams
occasionally bring to view over the entire surface of
ploughed fields are also formed by spiders of the genus
Lycosa. Latreille is of opinion that many of these crea¬
tures, before they are sufficiently provided with spinning
materials to form webs, content themselves by ejecting
simple longitudinal thrfeads. They are merely appren¬
tices to the weaving art.
The habits of spiders vary greatly. Some rest in the
centre of their webs, the outstretched cordage of which
warns them of the temporary entanglement of their prey,
on which they instantly rush, and devour after the inflic¬
tion of a mortal wound. Others seek the protection of
leaf or other natural harbour, and only appear in the more
open parts of their premises when lured by an expected
capture. Many spin comfortable tunnels, or horizontal
watch towers, as they may be called, in which they repose
till the vibration of their nets calls them into active ser¬
vice. An extensive tribe of erratic species (the vagabun-
dec) spin no webs at all, but trust to strength, activity
and cunning, for their daily, or, it may be, monthly fare-
for spiders, though voracious in times of abundance, are
capable of frequent and long-continued abstinence. The
webless species are often endowed with the faculty of
leaping, and after insidiously approaching their prey by
the most wary and almost imperceptible footsteps, they
spring upon it at once, and inflict the fatal wound. Se¬
veral kinds hunt down their insect food by speed of foot-
and a few are nocturnal, and surprise their defenceless
and unsuspecting victims during the darkness of the
night. According to Mr Sheppard, a large species, which
occurs among the fen ditches of Norfolk, actually con¬
structs a sort of raft of weeds, or floating island, on which
it allows itself to be wafted about, and from which it
seizes upon drowning insects; and another (Lyccsapiratica
of Walckenaer) gives chase to its prey over the surface
of the water.
Unwet they bathe their oily forms, and dwell
With feet repulsive on the dimpling well.
The passion of love, so powerful in its influence over
the most savage beasts, rules with a feeble and transitory
sway over the subjects of our present inquiry. The male
spider approaches the female with the greatest circum¬
spection, fearful lest the sexual feeling should not have
banished that thirst for blood which under ordinary cir¬
cumstances induces them to prey as readily on each other
as on winged insects. It therefore not unfrequently hap¬
pens, that if a small male approaches a large female,
whose feelings unfortunately tio not coincide with his
own, instead of being caressed he is eaten. According to
Audebert, the female of the domestic spider is capable of
producing successive generations without any renewal of
intercourse with the male. Fie also states that he kept
the same individuals in life for five or six years.
All female spiders, including even the erratic and web¬
less species, are provided with reservoirs of silky matter,
which, if not used in spinning, are at all events employed
in forming a protecting covering for the eggs. The most
casual observer of nature must have frequently remarked
the care with which the anxious mother carries about
and watches over her unhatched offspring; and the deli¬
cate colour of the silken bag which contains the eggs, and
the fine contrast which in some cases it presents to the
body of the parent, cannot have escaped observation. The
truth is, that spiders, though frequently of a repulsive
aspect, are as often distinguished not only by great beauty
of colour, but by extreme elegance of form and delicacy
of structure. We are prejudiced against the race ill ge¬
neral, because all those that dwell within doors are of a
dark and lurid hue, and from their haunts and habits have
become objects of aversion and disgust. Thomson has
well described,
L organe reproducteur du male est forme de deux verges qui s’ouvrent a I’extremite des palpes, et communiquent chacune avec
un testicule en forme de poire, qu’on observe dans le thorax. On voit souvent a cote des verges deux crochets, servant au male a
saisir ia temelle. L. organe reproducteur de ces derniers individus est place' dans i’abdomen. 11 est compose' de deux valves, situees
veis le milieu de sa partie infeneure, et pres de son origine; ^ leurs deux ouvertures correspondent les oviductus, dont les membranes,
en se ddyeloppant, torment les ovaires. Ces organes ne sont point composes de canaux cylindriques, et ne consistent qu’en une mem¬
brane generale, enveloppant tous les ceufs, et se divisant seulement vers sa base en deux parties qui se prolongent et constituent les
oviductus. On decouvre vers la base des valves un organe particulier, analogue a 1’oviscapre des femelles des insectes, coriace, ayant
a ngure d un cuilleron, plus large vers son origine qu’a 1’extre'mite', ou il est assez allonge, et iouissant d’une certaine mobility f
parait lournir la matiere soyeuse qui recouvre les ceufs ou leurs cocons.” (Diet. Class, d'llist. Nat. tome i. p. 509.)
ARACHNIDES.
rach Where gloomily retired,
■ ides. < The villain spider lives, cunning and fierce,
''3b Mixture abhorred ! amid a mangled heap
Of carcases, in e iger watch he sits,
O’er-lobking all his waving snares around.
Near the dire cell the dreadless wanderer oft
Passes,—as oft the ruffian shows his front;
The prey at length ensnared, he dreadful darts
With rapid glide along the leaning line ;
And fixing in the wretch his cruel fangs,
Strikes backward grimly pleased ; the flutt’ring wing,
And shriller sound, declare extreme distress,
And ask the helping hospitable hand.
But many of those which live in fields, woods, and gar¬
dens, are worthy of being admired for their beauty, no
less than for their singular instincts and remarkable modes
of life.
The external appearance varies considerably in the
same species, according to the age of the individual. The
younger they are, the less varied is their colouring. The
number and colour of the eggs differ according to the
species. There is seldom more than a single laying of
eggs in each year. In some species the eggs are free or
unattached in the cocoons which contain them, in others
they are fixed by agglutination. In the course of the
summer season they are usually hatched in from fifteen
to thirty days, according to the temperature. The eggs
of such as deposit in autumn (as Epeira diadema, a fine
species, which occurs in gardens, near the outskirts of
woods, and in moors and furzes) are, however, seldom
hatched till the commencement of the ensuing spring.
Some species of spider appear to possess the power of
reproducing lost or mutilated parts, after the manner of
the Crustacea. It is somewhere remarked, that in pro¬
portion to the simplicity of organic structure in an ani¬
mal, its body is more capable of repairing by reproduction
such portions as have been destroyed or deteriorated.
I his would induce the belief that frogs and lizards are
lower in the scale than insects, and that the latter, which
do not possess the reproductive power, are more highly
organized than spiders and other Arachnides. This, how¬
ever, is not the case; and we may therefore infer that the
principle itself is erroneous, or at least incapable of ge¬
neral application. The ascertainment of the fact, that
spiders were capable of effecting this repair of parts, is
due to the ingenious observations of MM. Vincent Amo-
reux and Amedee Lepelletier. It was also, however, ob¬
served by Sir Joseph Banks in this country, and commu¬
nicated by him to Dr Leach, by whom the circumstance
was recorded in the Supplement to the sixth or preceding
edition of this work.
As Sir Joseph was writing one evening in his study, a
neb-spinning spider, above the medium size, passed over
some papers on the table, holding a fly in its mouth.
Surprised to see a spider of this description walking about
" mi its prey, and struck with something peculiar in its
gait, he caught and placed it under a glass for examina¬
tion, when 1m perceived, that instead of eight legs, it had
on y three. 1 his mutilation accounted sufficiently for its
inability to spin a web; but the singular circumstance of
Us having changed its natural habits, and having become
a luntlng instead of a spinning spider, and his desire to
ascertain whether its limbs would be reproduced, induced
111 *’.oseph to prolong its captivity. On the following
morning the creature destroyed two flies by sucking out
uir juices, leaving the bodies entire. Two or three days
* erwards it devoured the body and head of a fly, leaving
g„{ and legs. After this time it sometimes
c ed and sometimes swallowed the flies.
Soon after its confinement it attempted to form a web
on the side of the vessel, but performed the operation
very slowly and awkwardly, owing to the want of the
proper number of legs. However,"in the course of about
a fortnight it had completed a small web, upon which it
generally sat, and no doubt regarded writh complacencj'.
A month after being caught it shed its skin, leaving the
slough on the web. After this change five new legs be¬
gan to appear, which for a short period were of little or
no use to it in walking. These new members, however,
extended themselves considerably in the course of three
days, and became about half as long as the old ones. The
web was now increased, and the spider continued immov¬
ably sitting on it in the day-time, unless drawn from it,
or attracted by a fly thrown to it as its usual provision.
Twenty-nine days afterwards it again cast its skin, leaving
the slough hanging in the web, opposite to a hollow cell
it had woven so as to prevent itself from being completely
seen. The legs were now larger than before the change
of the skin, and they continued to increase for several
days, but did not attain the size of the old legs. It was
then put into a small bowl as a more commodious and con¬
venient residence, w'here it spun a larger and more per¬
fect web. We are not acquainted with the result of any
further observations on the subject.
Various attempts have been made at different periods
to^ fabricate gloves and stockings from the silk of the
spider. Nearly a century ago, Bon of Languedoc suc¬
ceeded in making a pair of each of these articles from
this frail material: they were nearly as strong as those of
common silk, and of a fine gray colour. Reaumur was
appointed by the Royal Academy to report on the ad¬
vantages which might result from the regular prosecution
of a manufactory from spider-silk; but"his opinion w^as,
that the natural fierceness and voracity of spiders ren¬
dered them entirely unfit to be bred and brought up to¬
gether. From 4000 to 5000 were distributed in cells,
each containing from 50 to 200 individuals; but in a short
time only a few were left alive. He also stated, that the
web of the spider was not equal to that of the silk-worm,
either in strength or lustre. The cocoons of the latter
weigh from three to four grains, so that 2304 worms pro¬
duce a pound of silk. But the bags of a spider, when
cleaned of filth and dust, do not weigh above the third
part of a grain, so that the work of twelve spiders does
not exceed that of a single silk-worm, and to form a pound
of silk 27,648 spiders would be required; and as it is the
females alone that spin the bags, if they are kept in pairs
for the purpose of breeding, 55,296 individuals would be
necessary to the formation of every pound. Even this
calculation applies only to good spiders of the domestic
breed, for those found in gardens scarcely yield the twelfth
part of silk of the house species; therefore 280 would not
produce more than a single silk-worm, and 663,555 would
scarcely yield a pound of silk.1
Sir George Staunton, in his Embassy to China, states
that spiders’ webs are met with in the forests of Java of
so strong a texture as to require to be cut through with a
knife; and in the Philosophical Transactions (1668) we
are informed that the spiders of Bermudas suspend their
webs between trees seven or eight fathoms distant, and
that they are so strong as to entangle birds as large as
thrushes. “ The web of a house-spider,” observe Messrs
Kirby and Spence, “ will, with occasional repairs, serve for
a considerable period; but the nets of the geometric spi¬
ders are in favourable weather renewed, either wholly, or
at least their concentric circles, every twenty-four hours,
355
Arach¬
nides.
1 Mamin of the Academy, 1710.
356
ARACHNIDES.
Arach-
nides.
V—V-w'
even when not apparently injured. This difference in the
operations of the two species depends upon a very re¬
markable peculiarity in the conformation of their snares.
The threads of the house-spider’s web are all of the same
kind of silk, and flies are caught in them from their claws
becoming entangled in the fine meshes which form the
texture. On the other hand, the net of the garden spi¬
der is composed of two distinct kinds of silk; that of the
radii not adhesive, that of the circles extremely viscid.
The cause of this difference, which, when it is considered
that both sorts of silk proceed from the same instru¬
ment, is truly wonderful, may be readily perceived. If
you examine a newly formed net with a microscope, you
will find that the threads composing the outline and the
radii are simple, those of the circles closely studded with
minute dew-like globules, which from the elasticity of the
thread are easily separable from each other. That these
are in fact globules of viscid gum, is proved by their ad¬
hering to the finger, and retaining dust thrown upon the
net, while the unadhesive radii and exterior threads re¬
main unsoiled. It is these gummed threads alone which
retain the insects that fly into the net; and as they lose
their viscid properties by the action of the air, it is ne¬
cessary that they should be frequently renewed.”1
Dr Lister was of opinion that spiders possessed the
power of again withdrawing their webs within their bo¬
dies,—a fact which, with Degeer, we may reasonably
doubt, when we consider the immediate atmospheric
change which takes place in the nature of the thread after
it is once protruded. In fact, when a spider ascends on
the same cord by which it had previously dropped from a
height, a small ball or rounded web will be found adher¬
ing to it, composed of the coil which it has collected in
its re-ascent. The extreme tenuity of the component
or elementary threads of the spider’s web has been well
explained by Leeuwenhoeck. He states that the threads
of the minutest spiders, some of which are not equal in
bulk to a grain of sand, are so fine that four millions of
them would not exceed the thickness of a human hair.
Now we know that each spinner, of wrhich there are four,
is pierced by about a thousand holes, consequently that
every compound or ordinary thread is composed of 4000
still finer. Thus a spider’s thread, of the thickness of a
human hair, may in some instances be composed of not
fewer than sixteen thousand millions of single threads !
The bite of an ordinary spider occasions almost instant
death to most insects. The great species of South Ame¬
rica attack vertebrated animals, such as humming-birds
and young pigeons, and their bite is often attended with
dangerous consequences even to the human race. Spiders
are themselves preyed upon by birds; and a winged insect
of the genus Sphex pierces them with its sting, carries
them off, and buries them dead or alive in holes where its
eggs are deposited, the larvae produced from which after¬
wards feed upon the dead body of the spider. Most
species perish about the commencement of winter, al¬
though many others are known to exist for several years.
According to Sparmann, they form an article of food to the
Bosjiesmen of Southern Africa; and Labillardiere relates,
that the inhabitants of New Caledonia eat with avidity
great quantities of a spider nearly an inch long (A. edulis),
which they roast over the fire.2
The ascent of spiders into the air, and the extension
of their webs from tree to tree across an open space, or
even over a running stream, have frequently excited the
attention of naturalists. Dr Lister relates, that attending
minutely to a spider at work weaving its net, he observed 1
it suddenly desist, and, turning its nipples to the wind i!
dart out a thread with the violence of a water jet. This ^ v
thread, taken up by the wind, was carried to some fathoms’
length, still issuing from the body of the animal. Some
time after the spider leapt into the air, and the thread
mounted her up swiftly. He afterwards made the same
observation on about 30 other species of spiders, and
found the air filled with young and old sailing on their
threads, and probably seizing insects in their passage, as
he found legs and wings, and other manifest signs of
slaughter, on these threads, as well as on the webs below.
These observations were corroborated by Dr Hulse, who
made the like discovery about the same time. It is Dr
Lister’s opinion that this darting of threads was known
to Aristotle and Pliny (vide Hist. Anim. lib. ix. cap. 89; I
and Plin. lib. x. cap. 74), but he believes their sailing
was first observed by himself. On these sailing spiders
he further observes, that they will often dart, not a single
thread alone, but a whole sheaf at once, consisting of many
filaments, all of one length, but divided from each other,
and distinct; and the longer they become, the more they
spread, and appear like the numerous rays of a blazing
star. He observed, too, that some species seemed to use
their legs as oars, sometimes 'closing, and again spreading
them out, as occasion might require. When the air is still
it is highly probable they can direct their course, and per¬
haps mount or descend at pleasure. In rowing, he observ¬
ed they always take their flight backwards. These threads
mount to an almost incredible height, and may always be
observed in a fine clear day in autumn, when there is little
or no wind. In a letter to Mr Ray, he further states, that
“ I one day observing the air full of webs, forthwith mount¬
ed to the top of the highest steeple on the minster (at
York), and could there discern them exceedingly high
above me.”
If a spider is placed on the top of a pole surrounded by
water, it nevertheless effects its escape by means of a
silken line, which is ere long found to extend from the
pole to some other object on the outside of the pool. It
is evident that the spider possesses the power of permit¬
ting the material of which its threads are composed to
escape at pleasure ; but whether this is accomplished by a
projectile force, by electrical agency, or by the mechani¬
cal action of the external currents of the atmosphere, is
still a subject of dispute. The beautiful regularity with
which the radiated parts of the web are usually disposed
favours the idea expressed by a French writer, that the
animal possesses the power of shooting out its threads and
directing them at pleasure towards a determined point;
whilst the observations of Messrs Rennie and Blackwall
indicate the necessity of a current of air as a moving force.
It appears, from the experiments of the latter gentleman,
that when spiders are placed upon an insulated twig sur¬
rounded by water, and exposed to a current of air, however
slight, either naturally or artificially produced, they directly
turn the thorax towards the quarter from whence it came,
and elevating the abdomen, they emit from their spinners
a small portion of glutinous matter, which is instantly car¬
ried out in a line, consisting of four finer ones, with a ve¬
locity equal or nearly so to that of the air. They next
carefully ascertain whether their lines have become firm¬
ly attached to any object, by pulling at them with their
anterior pair of legs; if the result satisfies them, they glue
the nearer end to the twig, and then march across. “ Such
was invariably the result when spiders were placed where
1 Introduction to Entomology, vol. i. p. 414.
2 Voyage d la Recherche de la Perouse ; Introduction to Entomology, vol. i. p. 302.
ARACHNIDES.
357
1, tj,e air was liable to be sensibly agitated: I resolved there-
lides. fore to put a bell glass over them, and in this situation
'V they remained 17 days, evidently unable to produce a
single line by which they could quit the branch they
occupied, without encountering the water at its base;
though, on the removal of the glass, they regained their
liberty with as much celerity as in the instances already
re-corded.” {Linn. Trans, vol. xv.) Mr Blackwall affirms
with confidence, that in motionless air, spiders have not
the power of darting their threads even through the space
of half an inch. Mr Murray, Mr Bowman, Mr Mark
Watt, and others, maintain a contrary opinion.
Lastly, Mr Virey thinks it more probable that spiders
actually fly (by vibrating their feet) through the air,
than that they are acted upon either by electrical influ¬
ences or the agitation of the air. He does not assert that
they have wings.
The bodies of spiders decompose so rapidly after death,
that both their forms and colours are speedily altered
and effaced. It is therefore with great difficulty that
they are preserved as subjects of examination in mu¬
seums. Hence, perhaps, our comparative ignorance both
of their structure and habits.
Sect. I.—Tetrapneumones.
Two spiracles and two pulmonary sacks or pneumo-
branchia on each side.
This section is characterized by the position of the eyes,
which are always placed at the anterior extremity of the
thorax, and usually close to each other. The mandibles
{Miceres of Latreille) and feet are robustly formed. The
greater proportion of species have only four spinners.
They fabricate silken tubes, in which they dwell, and
these are placed sometimes in subterranean tunnels,
sometimes under stones, and sometimes beneath the bark
or among the leaves of trees.
The first division of the section corresponds to the
Theraphoses of Walckenaer, and contains the three fol¬
lowing genera, viz. Mygale, Atypus, and Erodion. These
are distinguished from the others by having four spinners
and eight eyes, and by the hooks of their mandibles be¬
ing bent underneath instead of inwards.
Genus Mygale, Walckenaer.—Palpi inserted at the su¬
perior extremity of the maxillae, in such a manner that
they appear to be composed of six articles, of which
the first, straight and elongated, with the inner angle
of its upper portion projecting, performs the function
of a jaw. The languette is small and nearly square.
The last joint of the palpi in the male is hutton-shaped,
and bears at its extremity the reproductive organs ; and
the two anterior legs in that sex are provided with two
strong spines or spurs at their inferior extremity.
This genus, as established by Walckenaer, is composed
of the bird-catching spiders {A. avicularia, Linn.), and the
Araignees mineuses of Olivier. It contains several species of
great size and singular habits. The foreign kinds are as
yet imperfectly characterized. The habits of a large spe¬
cies found in Martinique, where it is called Matontou, have
been well described by Moreau de Jonnes. It spins no
web, but lies concealed in holes and crevices of the vol¬
canic tufa, from which, however, it makes frequent ex¬
cursions in search of prey, which consists not only of in-
^eets, but of humming-birds and other species of the fea-
t icred race. It hunts chiefly during the night. It is
possessed of great muscular strength, and unwillingly
quits an object of which it may have become possessed,
hen induced to seize upon any hard and polished sub¬
stance, it leaves traces of a poisonous liquid, which, had Arach-
the substance been of a yielding nature, it would have in- nides.
jected into the wound. This liquid is lactescent, or of a
milky aspect, and very abundant in proportion to the size
of the animal. The female carries her eggs in a cocoon
of white silk, of a very close texture, which she holds by
means of her palpi, beneath the thorax. When attacked,
she drops her eggs to defend herself, and secures them
again when the combat has ceased. The young, when
first produced, are entirely white ; and the earliest change
which they experience is the appearance of a black spot
in the centre of the dorsal surface of the abdomen. From
eighteen hundred to two thousand young have been ob¬
served to proceed from a single silk bag ; but of these it
is probable that an immense proportion perish in infancy,
by the depredations both of birds and insects.
Several species of this genus inhabit Europe, and their
characters and economy are detailed by Olivier, Latreille,
the Abbe Sauvage, and other writers. Our restricted
limits prevent our describing more than a few, which we
shall select as well from the indigenous as exotic.
f Superior extremity of the mandibles unprovided with
a series of transverse spines or corneous points.
Tarsi furnished with a thick hairy brush, which
conceals the crotchets.
Sp. Avicularia.—Aranea Avicularia, Linn. The bird-
catching spider, Shaw. (See Plate L.)—Body nearly two
inches long, very hairy, especially in the young. Tho¬
rax depressed, large, oval, truncated posteriorly. Ge¬
neral colour black; the extremities of the palpi, the
feet, and inferior hairs of the mouth, reddish. Hooks
of the mandibles strong, conical, and very black. This
species is said to dwell in the clefts of trees, and in hol¬
lows among rocks and stones. According to Madame
Merian, it surprises small birds on their nests, and sucks
their blood with avidity. It forms a tube-shaped cell,
narrow at its posterior extremity, composed of a fine white
semi-transparent tissue, resembling muslin. The cocoon
of this species is like a large walnut in size and form.
Its native countries are Cayenne and Surinam. Other
nearly allied species also occur in those parts of South
America, as well as in Africa and the East Indies. Their
bite is dangerous, although the accounts given by Piso
and other authors is no doubt exaggerated. To this sec¬
tion may be referred the M. blondi (see Plate L.), can-
cerides, fasciata, atra, and brunnea of Latreille.
ff Superior extremity of the first piece of the mandibles
provided with corneous points like the teeth of a
rake. The tarsi are not so covered with hair as to
conceal the crotchets.
The species of this section inhabit dry and mountain¬
ous places, where they form tunnels or subterranean galle¬
ries, sometimes two feet in depth. At the entrance they
construct a door, moving upon a hinge, and formed of
silk and clay, undistinguishable from the surrounding soil.
There is what we may not improperly call a mat of silk
fastened to the inner surface of the door, on which the
animal frequently reposes, probably for the sake of guard¬
ing the entrance, and being at hand to secure its passing
prey. A fine silk tube, which is the proper dwelling,
clothes the interior of the gallery. M. Dufour is of opi¬
nion that the females alone excavate the tunnels.
Sp. Cccmentaria.—Araignee mineuse, Dorthes. In
Linn. Trans, ii. (See Plate L.)—The female of this spe¬
cies is about eight lines in length, of a reddish brown
colour, somewhat pale on the edges of the thorax. The
mandibles are blackish, and are each furnished near the
articulation of the crotchet with five points, of which the
innermost is the shortest. The abdomen is mouse-colour¬
ed, with darker spots. The first article of all the tarsi is
358
ARACHNID ES.
Arach- furnished with small spines, the crotchets of the last have
nid^- a spire at their base, and a double range of pointed teeth.
The spinners are but slightly projecting. The M. car-
minans of M. Latreille (2d edit, of the Nouv. Diet, dHist.
Nat.) is supposed to be the male of this species. He
differs in the greater length of his legs; in the crotchets of
the tarsi, of which the teeth are more numerous; in the
want of the spines, and the greater shortness of the spin¬
ners. His two anterior feet are terminated beneath by a
strong spine.
This species inhabits Spain, the southern parts of France,
and other shores of the Mediterranean. Its habits are
presumed to be nocturnal, as it is never seen abroad or at
work during the day.1 It forms its tunnel in strong earth,
free from stones, and on a sloping surface to avoid mois¬
ture. It resists the opening of its door with its utmost
strength, and continues struggling in the entrance till the
light has fairly entered, after which it retreats into the
earth. The door is beautifully formed, and suspended on
a hinge from above, so that it always shuts close of its own
accord. It preys upon beetles and other large and strong
insects. When its door is cut off or unhinged, it forms ano¬
ther in its place, which, according to Rossi, differs from
the first in not being movable. The Italian author does
not mention by what means its entrance and exit are then
accomplished; but Latreille has suggested that the experi¬
ment may have been tried just before the commencement
of winter, and that the second operculum was closed with
a view to exclude the rigours of that inclement season.
In the following genera of this division the palpi are
inserted upon an inferior dilatation of the external side of
the maxillae, and consist of only five articles. The lan-
guette, at first very small, as in the genus Atypus, after¬
wards becomes elongated and advanced between the jaws.
The last joint of the palpi in both sexes is lengthened and
antennated towards the extremity. The males are not
provided with a strong spur at the extremity of the two
anterior legs.
Genus Atypus, Latreille. Oletera, Walckenaer.—
Languette very small, and almost covered by the ex¬
ternal portion of the base of the maxillae. Eyes conti¬
guous, and grouped upon a tubercle.
Sp. Sulzeri, Latreille. Aranea Picea, Sulzer. (See
Plate L.)—General colour blackish. Length of the body
eight lines. Thorax nearly square, depressed posteriorly,
enlarged and broadly truncated in front. The mandibles
are strong, and their claw is furnished near the base with
a tooth-like projection. The last article of the palpi in
the male is pointed at the extremity.
This is the only species of the genus known in Europe.
It was first described by Sulzer as a Swiss species
(Geschichte der Lisecten. Plate L. fig. 2). It has since
been observed by several French entomologists at Sevres,
near Paris, and was discovered in this country by Dr
Leach, near Exeter. Its habits are curious and interest¬
ing. It constructs for its dwelling a silky scabbard, in¬
termingled with moss, eight or ten inches long. Its di¬
rection is at first horizontal over the surface of the ground,
and then perpendicular beneath the surface. The eggs
are deposited at the bottom, enveloped in a white web.
The animal itself is slow in its movements. It is most
frequently met with in the month of July. It appears to
have been described and figured by Roemer as the sub¬
terranean spider.
An American species, the Ahjpus rvfipes of M. Milbert,
of which the body is entirely black, and the feet rufous »
occurs in the neighbourhood of Philadelphia.
Genus Erodion, Latreille. Missulena, Walckenaer ^
This genus differs from the preceding in its straight
elongated languette, which projects between the jaws!
Its eyes are spread over the front of the thorax.
Sp. Occatorius, Latreille, Walckenaer. (Plate II. fig. 1 j
12).—Body black, about an inch in length. Brought
from New Holland by M. Lesueur.
The second division of this section exhibits the pro¬
longed languette of the Erodions, and the palpi composed
of five articulations; but the clawrs of the mandibles are
folded inwards instead of downwards. The spinners are
six in number ; and the first pair of legs, instead of the
fourth, are the longest. Some of these Arachnides have
only six eyes.
Genus Dysdera, Latr. Walck.—Eyes six, disposed in the
form of a horse-shoe, opening outwards. Mandibles
strong and projecting. Maxillae straight, and dilated
towards the insertion of the palpi.
Sp. Erythrina. (See Plate L.)—Mandibles and tho¬
rax sanguineous; colour of the legs lighter. Abdomen
soft and silky, and of a grayish yellow.
Inhabits the south of France and England, beneath
stones. It is rare in the latter country, but has been
taken near Plymouth, Exeter, and London. A variety of
this species has been described by Scopoli under the
name of Aranea hombergii.
Genus Filastata, Latr.— Eyes eight, placed on a small
elevation at the anterior extremity of the thorax. Man¬
dibles small; maxillae arched on their exterior side.
Of this genus the F. testacea of Walckenaer was dis¬
covered near Marseilles. The F. bicolor is described in
the Faun. Franc. Arach. vi. 1-3.
Sect. II.—Dipneumones.
A. Sedentarice.
The genera of this great division are possessed of only
a pair of pulmonary sacks, and corresponding stigmata.
The palpi, composed of five joints, are inserted on the
exterior side of the maxillae, near their base, generally in
a sinus. The languette is advanced between the maxilla?,
and is sometimes nearly square, sometimes triangular or
semicircular. The spinners are six in number. The last
article of the palpi in the males is more or less ovoid, and
usually contains the generative organs in an excavation.
The first four tribes of this section may be considered
as forming a large group, which we name Sedentarite.
They either spin webs for the capture of their prey, or
throw out isolated and irregular threads for the same
purpose. Their eyes are grouped across the front of the
thorax. Of these there are usually eight; four or two in
the centre, and two or three on each side. Sometimes
there are only six eyes.
The first three of these tribes, viz. Tubitelce, Incequi-
tel(c, and Orbitelce, are sometimes included under the more
general appellation of Rectigrade, from their straight¬
forward mode of progression, particularly as contrasted
with that of the fourth tribe or Laterigradce, which, like
many of the crustaceous class, can direct their steps in
different directions without turning the body. In these
tribes the relative length of the legs is variable. In many
the first and the last pair are the longest; in others the two
ftc'ul^ofS'g botM^ Highland dayf t0 ‘n the darl 11116 those of 6ats’ “oths> &c-> “d Probab^ “W ^
ARACHNIDES.
wt anterior pairs; while in some the third and fourth pair are
jides the most extended. The eyes, in their general dispo-
r'rr' sition, do not form a crescent, or the segment of a circle.
Tribe I.—TubiteljE.
Spinners cylindrical, close to each other, directed back¬
wards. The feet are robust; the first and last pair are
the longest.
Genus Clotho, Walckenaer. Uroctea, Dufour.—Man¬
dibles very small, capable of little extension, and with¬
out teeth. Crotchets small, body short, legs long, the
third and fourth pair rather longer than the preceding.
The eyes are disposed as in genus Mygale. The max¬
illa; have on their external side a slight dilatation at
the insertion of the palpi, and terminate in a point.
The languette is triangular. The superior or lateral
spinners are the longest; but the most peculiar cha¬
racter, according to M. Dufour, is the existence, in the
position of the intermediate spinners, of a pair of comb¬
shaped valves, which open or close at the will of the
animal.
Sp. 5-macidata.—Body about an inch in length, of a
chesnut-brown colour; the abdomen black, with five small
round yellowish spots, of which four are disposed trans¬
versely in pairs, and the fifth is single and posterior.
This species was found in Egypt by M. Savigny. It
occurs in Dalmatia, and near Montpellier; also in Cata¬
lonia, and other parts of Spain. Its manners have been
described by M. Dufour.
Genus Drassus, Walck.—Mandibles robust, project¬
ing, toothed. beneath. Maxillae obliquely truncated at
their extremity. The eyes are nearer the anterior edge
of the thorax, and the line formed by the four posterior
exceeds in length that formed by those on the anterior
line. The fourth and second pair of feet are obviously
longer than the others. The legs and first joints of
the tarsi are armed with sharp points.
The spiders of this genus live under stones, in the
clefts of walls, and among leaves. They form little
dwelling-places of white silk. The cocoons of some are
orbicular, flattened, and composed of two valves applied
one against another.
Sp. Relucens.—Small, cylindrical, with a yellow tho¬
rax, covered with a purple silky down. The abdomen is
thin, red, and green, with metallic reflections, and two
transverse lines of golden yellow, of which the anterior is
arched. One variety has also four additional golden spots.
1 he species is generally found running on the ground.
It is common in the environs of Paris, and is one" of the
most beautiful of the tribe.
Genus Segestria, Latr.—Eyes six, of which four are an¬
terior on a transverse line, and two posterior, placed on
eac r side behind the two lateral eyes of the preceding
Tie' c 'anSuette is elongated and almost square,
the first and second pair of feet are the longest, and
the third pair the shortest.
The species of this genus spin cylindrical elongated
'u is m the clefts of old walls, in which they lie concealed,
-itn their anterior pair of legs stretched forwards. Di-
rgent threads of glutinous silk border the external open-
.f". °.tlleir habitation, and form a net for the capture of
their insect prey.
JP- Senomlata.—Thorax blackish-brown. Abdomen
I a i°ngitudinal band of blackish spots,
hfhififr )rown’ obscurely banded. Inhabits rocks and
The four anterior eyes placed in a curved line, bending
backwards. I he first and last pair of legs the longest
I his genus inhabit the interior of our dwellings •'’also
the angles of old walls, on plants, hedges, &c. They
construct large webs, nearly horizontal, at the higher
part of which is a tube or tunnel, where the spider^lies
concealed.
359
Genus Argyroneta, Latr.—Maxillae inclined upon the
languette, of which the form is triangular. The four
central eyes form a quadrangle ; the lateral pair of each
extremity are grouped together, and placed on a small
eminence.
°ld buildings.
G unnprAl^ANEA’Latr\ Tegeneria, Walck.—The two
JI spinners conspicuously longer than the others.
Sp. Aqiiatica. Aranea Aquatica, Lin. Geoff.—Of a
blackish-brown colour, the abdomen deeper, surface silky,
the back with four impressed points. Lives in ditches and
slow-running waters, beneath the surface of which it spins
a beautifully constructed web. “ The habitation of ara-
vca aquatica, the other spider to which I alluded, is
chiefly remarkable for the element in which it is con¬
structed, and the materials that compose it. It is built
in the midst of water, and formed in fact of air ! Spiders
are usually terrestrial; but this is aquatic, or rather am¬
phibious : for though she resides in the midst of w^ater,
in which she swims with great celerity, sometimes on her
belly, but more frequently on her back, and is an admi¬
rable diver, she not unfrequently hunts on shore, and
having caught her prey, plunges with it to the bottom of
the water. Here it is she forms her singular and unique
abode. She would evidently have but a very uncomfort¬
able time were she constantly wet; but this she is saga¬
cious enough to avoid,_ and, by availing herself of some
well-known philosophical principles, she constructs for
herself an apartment, in which, like the mermaids and
sea-nymphs of fable, she resides in comfort and security.
I he following is the process:—First she spins loose
threads in various directions, attached to the leaves of
aquatic plants, which may be called the frame-work of
her chamber; and over them she spreads a transparent
varnish resembling liquid glass, which issues from the
Arach-
nides.
Sp. Domestica.—Of a livid ash colour. Thorax of the
male without spots. On that of the female there is on
each side a blackish band. Abdomen blackish, With a
longitudinal spotted band on the back.
This is the most frequent inhabitant of our houses, and
an object of more than common aversion. It sometimes
attains to a large size. According to Homberg, it is sub¬
ject, especially jn the kingdom of Naples, to a disease
which renders it more than usually hideous. Its body
becomes covered with scales, among which a number of
mites engender. Geoffroy was of opinion that a spider
was supplied only with a certain portion of spinning ma-
tenal; that if the web was intentionally destroyed, and an
individual frequently obliged to reconstruct its web, it be¬
came at last incapable of further exertion in that line, and
would probably perish for want of the usual means of sub¬
sistence.
Ihe spiders of this country are entirely harmless, from
their want of power to pierce the skin. But that they
are furnished with a poisonous liquid, which they instil
into the wound of their victims, cannot be doubted. Oli¬
vier, indeed, reports, that a farmer in one of the Isles
d’Hieres was bitten by a large spider while turning a
sheaf of wheat. The wound occasioned at first only a
slight inflammation, so trivial that it was for some time
neglected, till its increase created alarm. Gangrene and
death ensued. They may be taken internally with im¬
punity. “ J ai vue, says Latreille, “ le celebre astronome
Lalande avaler de suite quatre gros individus de cette
espece.” (H. domestique.')
360
ARACHNIDES.
Arach- middle of her spinners, and which is so elastic that it is
nides. capable of great expansion and contraction ; and if a hole be
made in it, it immediately closes again. Next she spreads
over her belly a pellicle of the same material, and ascends to
the surface. The precise mode in which she transfers a
bubble of air beneath this pellicle is not accurately known ;
but from an observation made by the ingenious author of
the little work from which this account is abstracted, he
concludes that she draws the air into her body by the
anus, which she presents to the surface of the pool, and
then pumps it out from an opening at the base of the
belly, between the pellicle and that part of the body, the
hairs of which keep it extended. Clothed with this aerial
mantle, which to the spectator seems formed of resplen¬
dent quicksilver, she plunges to the bottom, and, with as
much dexterity as a chemist transfers gas with a gas¬
holder, introduces her bubble of air beneath the roof pre¬
pared for its reception. This manoeuvre she repeats ten
or twelve times, until at length, in about a quarter of an
hour, she has transported as much air as suffices to ex¬
pand her apartment to its intended extent, and now finds
herself in possession of a little aerial edifice—I had
almost said an enchanted palace—affording her a com¬
modious and dry retreat in the very midst of the water.
Here she reposes unmoved by the storms that agitate
the surface of the pool, and devours her prey at ease and
in safety. Both sexes form these lodgings. At a parti¬
cular season of the year the male quits his apartment,
approaches that of the female, enters it, and enlarging it
by the bubble of air that he carries with him, it becomes
a common abode for the happy pair.1 The spider which
forms these singular habitations is one of the largest Eu¬
ropean species, and in some countries not uncommon in
stagnant pools.”2
Tribe II.—Ix^QuiTELiE.
External spinners conical, convergent, slightly project¬
ing, disposed en rosette. Legs slender, first and last pair
usually the longest. The maxillae are inclined on the
tongue, and are either narrow or present no sensible
enlargement at their superior extremity. The abdomen
is more voluminous, softer, and more highly coloured
than in the preceding tribe. Their webs constitute an
irregular net-work of various forms, the threads of which
cross each other in different directions. They bind their
prey with cords, which, though silken, secure them very
effectually. The species are short-lived, and tend their
eggs very carefully till the exclusion of the young.
Genus Scytodes, Latr.—Eyes six, disposed in pairs.
M. Dufour states that the crotchets of the tarsi are in¬
serted in a supplementary article.
Sp. Thoracica. (See Plate L.)—Pale reddish-white,
spotted with black. Thorax large, somewhat orbicular.
Abdomen not globose.
This species inhabits houses. It has been found near
Dover, but is otherwise scarcely known as a British spe¬
cies.
Genus Theridion, Walck.—Eyes eight in number, of
which four in the centre form a square, the two ante¬
rior being placed upon a small eminence, and a pair are
placed on each side upon a common elevation. The
thorax is almost triangular, or shaped like a heart re¬
versed.
Sp. Malmignatto. Aranea IS-guttata, Fab.—Lateral
eyes, separated from each other. Body black, with thir-
teen small round spots of a blood-red colour on the abdo.
men. This species inhabits Corsica, the inhabitants of
which island hold it in great dread, from the belief that
its bite is dangerous, if not mortal.
Another species, the Theridion benignum of Walck.
enaer, may from its name be presumed to possess ano¬
ther character. It lives in autumn among the clusters
of grapes, where it watches for its prey, and thus deters
many insects from injuring the fruit. The prejudice
against this genus probably arises from several of them
being of a dark colour, with red spots resembling drops of
blood upon their bodies.
U
Genus Episinus, Walck.—Eyes eight, near each other,
and placed upon a common elevation. The thorax nar¬
row and almost cylindrical.
Sp. Truncatus.—Thorax acute in front, rather longer
than broad, obscure brown above, reddish brown beneath.
Abdomen pyramidal, truncated behind, its anterior por¬
tion brown, third pair of legs whitish, the others brown.
Genus Pholcus, Walck.—Eyes eight, tuberculated, di¬
vided into three groups, of which there is one on each
side composed of three eyes disposed in a triangle, and
a third in the centre, somewhat advanced, composed of
two eyes on a transverse line.
Sp. Phalangioides, Walck. Araignee domestique a
longues pattes, Geoff.—Body long, narrow, pubescent, of
a livid or pale yellow colour. The abdomen is almost cy¬
lindrical, very soft, and spotted above with black. The
legs are very long and slender, with whitish rings at the
extremities of the thighs and tibiae.
This species is common in houses in the western parts
of England. Its body vibrates like that of some tipulse.
The female carries her eggs in an agglutinated mass be¬
tween her mandibles.
Tribe III.—Orbitelje.
In this tribe the exterior spinners and the legs re¬
semble those of the preceding, but the maxillae differ,
being straight, and sensibly broader at their extremity.
The first and second pair of legs are the longest. The
eyes are eight in number, of which four are placed quad-
rangularly in the centre, and a pair on each side. These
spiders differ from the Incequiteloe in the form of their
webs, which are composed of a regular net-work, formed
of concentric circles, crossed by straight lines or radii,
proceeding from the centre, where the animal lies, to the
circumference. Some conceal themselves in cavities, or
in chambers built by themselves, near the margins of
their webs, which are sometimes horizontal, sometimes
perpendicular. Their eyes are numerous, agglutinated,
and inclosed in a large cocoon.
Genus Linyphia, Latr.—Four central eyes, of which the
posterior pair are larger, and separated by a larger
space; the others are in pairs, one on each side, and
placed obliquely. The maxillae are enlarged at their
superior extremity.
This genus constructs among brooms and other hushes
a slender, open, horizontal net, from which various threads
proceed irregularly upwards to different points.
1 Memoire pour servir a commencer VHistoire des Araignees Aquatiques.
* Introduction to Entomology, by Kirby and Spence, vol. i. p. 4G9.
. I, Sp. Triangularis.—Pale red, inclining to yellow. Tho-
1 ides rax with a dark dorsal line, bifid in front. Abdomen oval,
IkT" inclining to globose, with spots and angulated bands of
brown and white. Inhabits the European hedges, and
constructs its webs on brooms and pine-trees.
Genus Uuoborus, Latr.—Four posterior eyes placed at
equal distances on a straight line, and the two la¬
teral eyes, of the first line nearer the anterior margin
of the thorax than the intermediate pair, so as to form
an arch bent backwards. The maxillae commence in
this genus to enlarge a little above their base, and
terminate in the form of a spatula. The tarsi of the
last three pair of legs are terminated by a single claw.
The first article of the two posterior pair have a range
of small hairs.
These spiders repose in the centre of their webs, with
their four anterior feet stretched forwards; the third pair
are extended laterally, and the posterior pair backwards.
Sp. Walckenarius, Latr.—Of a reddish-yellow colour,
covered by a silky down, forming on the upper part of
the abdomen two series of small bundles. Length about
five lines. The legs are marked with paler rings. Oc¬
curs near Bordeaux, and other southern departments of
France.
Genus Tetragnatha, Latr.—Eyes placed four and four
on two nearly parallel lines, and separated by almost
equal intervals. Maxillae long, narrow, enlarged only
at their superior extremity. Mandibles also very long,
especially in the males. Their web is vertical.
Sp. Extensa.—Abdomen oblong, golden green, with
the sides and two lower lines yellowish. Sits with its
legs extended on a vertical web. Inhabits moist places.
Genus Epeira, Walck.—A pair of eyes on each side,
almost contiguous; the other four forming a central
quadrangle. The maxillae dilated from their base.
With the exception of that of jG1. curcubitina, which is ho¬
rizontal, the webs of this genus are either vertical or in¬
clined. Some repose in the centre of their webs, with
their bodies reversed, or heads downwards; others con¬
struct a sheltering habitation, sometimes formed of leaves
spun together, sometimes like a silken tube, or of a more
open form like a bird’s nest, in the vicinity of their nets.
Some foreign species construct such powerful webs as to
arrest the flight of small birds, and even to incommode
the traveller while journeying through the forests. Many
of the species are remarkable for the beauty of their co¬
lours, their singular forms, and still more singular habits.
Between 60 and 70 species are described by M. Walck-
enaer in his Tableau des Araneides; and M. Leon Du-
four has greatly contributed to illustrate the history of
this extensive genus in the Annales des Sciences Phy-
s,pes of Brussels, and the Annales des Sciences Naturellcs
of Paris. We regret that the limits of our present un¬
dertaking do not admit of our entering into further de-
Sp. Diadema. (See Plate L.)—Reddish ; abdomen
g obose-oval, with an elevated angle on each side near the
ase, dorsal band darker, broad, triangular, dentated,
J'1 i a triple cross of yellowish-white spots, and four
impressed dots disposed in a quadrangle. Legs and palpi
spotted with black. fait
frpn^S i)ne °* t^ie ^arSest °f the British species. It
quen s the borders of woods, rocks, and gardens; also
k ).?r? an. °ther desert places. It varies considerably
for n111 8126 ant^ coJour* We are indebted to Treviranus
nrp-waCC°Uint °^ts anatonncal structure. The heart
sen s a character not observed in that of any other
VOL. Ttt. j
361
From its inferior and anterior part proceed two Arach-
muscles, which, at first united in one, diverge as they ap- nides.
proach the posterior portion of the abdomen. The heart v—
itself exhibits several branches, the two anterior of which
are sent to the branchia; and the function of these last-
named organs, according to Treviranus, is to absorb hu¬
midity from the atmosphere, and convey it to the circu¬
lating system. The true respiratory organs are discover¬
able in a species of stigmata placed in the thorax and
abdomen. These stigmata are not pierced, like those of
insects; but numerous vessels are seen distributed over
their surface.
The sceptre or diadem spider, as this species is fre¬
quently called, pairs about the end of summer, and depo¬
sits its eggs in autumn. The eggs are of a fine yellow,
inclosed in a cocoon of a close texture, but covered with
a looser substance of a yellowish hue. This spider forms
no nest, but shelters itself beneath a leaf or some other
natural covering. Its web is large and vertical. The
young are hatched in spring, and are at first yellow, with
a blackish spot on the upper part of the abdomen.
M. Vautier has described a singular species of this ge¬
nus, remarkable for the posterior enlargement of its ab¬
domen, which is terminated by a couple of arched and
elongated spines. (Annales des Sciences Naturelles, tome i.
p. 261.) It is named Epeira curvicauda. (See Plate L.)
Tribe IV.—LAXERiGRADiE.
The species which constitute this tribe are, like those
of the preceding, of sedentary habits ; but they differ in
their mode of progression, being able to walk sideways
and backwards, as well as straight forward like the others.
Hence the designation of the tribe. Their four anterior
feet are always longer than the others. In some the first
pair are longer than the second; in others they are near¬
ly equal. The mandibles are usually small, with their
crotchets transversely folded, as in the preceding tribes.
The eyes are always eight in number, frequently unequal,
and forming by their union a crescent, or the segment of
a circle. The maxillae in the generality of this species are
inclined upon the lip. The body is generally flattish, crab¬
shaped, with the abdomen large, rounded, and triangular.
The genera included in this division can scarcely be
said to spin webs,—they merely throw out a few isolated
threads. They are usually found on plants, tranquil and
stationary; sometimes concealed between two leaves, of
which they fasten the edges together. They watch their
eggs with great care till the young are hatched.
Genus Micrommata. Sparassus, Walck.—Maxillae
straight, parallel, rounded on their edges. Eyes dis¬
posed four and four, on two transverse lines, of which
the posterior is the longer, and arched backwards.
The second and first pair of feet are the longest. The
languette is semicircular.
Sp. Smaragdina.—Colour bright green, sides bordered
with yellow. Abdomen greenish-yellow, with a darker
green line upon the back.
This species places its cocoon in the centre of three or
four leaves fastened together and lined with silk.
Genus Senelops, Dufour.—Maxillae straight, or slight¬
ly inclined, without lateral sinus, pointed, and ob¬
liquely truncated on the internal side. Languette semi¬
circular. Six eyes in front, on a transverse line ; two
others behind, one on each side. The legs are long;
the first pair are the shortest.
Sp. Omalosoma.—Four lines in length, very flat, of a
reddish-gray colour, with cinereous spots, and the feet
ringed with black. The abdomen appears to present
2 z
ARACH NIDES.
species.
362
ARACHNIDES.
Arach- posteriorly the vestige of rings or segments, forming a
nides. sor^ 0p dentation along the sides.
This rare species was discovered by M. Dufour in the
kingdom of Yalentia. It inhabits rocks, and runs with
singular rapidity. It occurs both in Egypt and Syria.
Genus Philodromus, Walck.—Maxillae inclined upon
the languette, which is higher than broad. The eyes,
nearly equal in size, are disposed in the form of a cross
or semicircle. The mandibles are lengthened and
cylindrical.
Sp. Tigrina.—Thorax very broad, flattened, of a red¬
dish fawn-colour, brown laterally and posteriorly, white
.in front. The pentagonal abdomen variously coloured by
means of minute red, brown, and white hairs, by which
. it is covered. It is bordered with brown along the sides,
and is marked on the dorsal region with from four to six
impressed points. The belly is whitish. The legs are
long, slender, reddish, with brown spots.
This species is common on trees. When touched it
immediately either runs off with great rapidity, or sud-
.denly drops to the ground. Its cocoon, of a beautiful
white colour, incloses about one hundred unagglutinated
eggs. It places them in the clefts of trees, and guards
them with great care.
Genus Thomisus, Walck.—Mandibles shorter than in
the preceding genus, wedge-shaped. Four posterior
feet, shorter than the others. The sexes frequently
differ in their size and colours.
Sp. Citreus.—Colour citron-yellow. The abdomen
large, broader behind; the back with two red spots. In¬
habits flowers. The female is common in Britain; the
male more rare, of a smaller size, brown, banded with
.yellowish-green.
1). Erraticce.
The four preceding tribes are characterized by their
usually sedentary habits. The remainder of the Aran-
eides are of a more wandering disposition. This is in
proper accordance with their other capabilities; for, as
they cannot spin webs for the capture of their prey, they
are under the necessity of moving about from place to
place to extend the sphere of those exertions, the suc¬
cessful issue of which depends on agility as well as cun¬
ning. “ Such,” says Evelyn, “ I did frequently observe
at Rome, which, espying a fly at three or four yards dis¬
tance, upon the balcony where I stood, would not make
directly to her, but crawl under the rail, till, being arrived
■to the antipodes, it would steal up, seldom missing its
aim ; but if it chanced to want anything of being perfect¬
ly opposite, would, at first peep, immediately slide down
again,—till, taking better notice, it would come the next
time exactly upon the fly’s back; but if this happened
not to be within a competent leap, then would this insect
move so softly, as the very shadow of the gnomon seem-
■ed not to be more imperceptible, unless the fly moved;
and then would the spider move also in the same propor¬
tion, keeping that just time with her motion, as if the
same soul had animated both these little bodies; and
whether it were forwards, backwards, or to either side,
'without at all turning her body, like a well-managed
horse ; but if the capricious fly took wing and pitched
Upon another place behind our huntress, then would the
spider whirl its body so nimbly about, as nothing could
be imagined more swift; by which means she always kept
the head towards her prey, though, to appearance, as im¬
movable as if it had been a nail driven into the wood, till
by that indiscernible progress (being arrived within the u
sphere of her reach) she made a fatal leap swift as light-A
ning upon the fly, catching him in the pole, where she ^
never quitted hold till her belly was full, and then carried
the remainder home.”1
Though the species above alluded to, and others consti-
tuting the ensuing tribes, spin no webs, they are yet pro¬
vided with a sufficiency of the necessary material to en¬
able them to construct cocoons for their eggs, and also
to throw out an occasional thread to break their fall when
leaping on a vertical surface.
The eyes of the erratic spiders are always eight in
number, and are grouped rather along than across the
thorax, forming a curvilinear triangle, or a truncated or
quadrilateral oval. One or two pair of eyes are generally
much larger than the others. The thorax is large, and
the legs robust.
Tribe Y.—Citigradas.
In this tribe the legs are generally fitted for running.
The maxillae are alw-ays straight, and rounded at their
extremities. The eyes are grouped in a curvilinear tri¬
angle, or in an oval or oblong figure, of which the anterior
side is much narrower than the thorax taken in its great¬
est breadth. The thorax itself is ovoid, narrower in front,
and somewhat ridged or keel-shaped in its longitudinal
centre.
The females for the most part keep close to their co¬
coons, which they carry about them, either suspended at
their extremities, or applied between the chest and the
base of the abdomen. They watch over their young for
some time after they are hatched.
Genus Oxyopus, Latr. Sphasus, Walck.—Eyes ranged
two and two on four transverse lines, of which the two
at the extremes are the shortest; they describe a kind
of oval figure, truncated at each end. The languette
is elongated, narrow at the base, dilated and rounded at
the extremity. The first pair of legs is the longest;
the fourth and second are nearly equal; the third is the
shortest.
Sp. Variegatus.—Body hairy and gray, variegated with
red and white. Legs pale reddish, spotted with brown;
the tibial spines elongate. Inhabits France.
Sp. Lineatus. (See Plate L.) Abdomen elongated, yel¬
lowish, with lengthened black spots on the sides, and a
black longitudinal band beneath. This species forms its
web on low growing plants, but nestles among the leaves
of trees about the period of laying.
Genus Ctenus, Walck.—Eyes placed on three transverse
lines (2, 4, 2) forming a curvilinear triangle, reversed,
and truncated anteriorly. The languette is square and
almost isometric. The fourth pair of feet are the long¬
est ; the first pair are next in length; the third are the
shortest. , . .
This genus, according to Latreille, was established tor
the reception of a species found in Cayenne. Others,
possessed of the same generic characters, have been
found both in that colony and in Brazil, but their descrip¬
tions have not yet been made public.
Genus Dolomedes, Latr.—Eyes disposed on three trans
verse lines (4, 2, 2,) representing a quadrilateral hguie,
somewhat broader than long. The two posterior are
1 Evelyn’s Travels in Italy.
. I placed upon an eminence. The second pair of legs are
Mies equal to the first, if not somewhat longer; and the
f'C1 fourth pair are the longest of all. The languette is
square, and, like that of the preceding genus, is as
broad as high. • :
Of this genus, some have the two exterior eyes of the
anterior line larger than the pair comprised between them ;
and the form of the abdomen is oblong oval, with a termi¬
nal point. The females construct a silken nest, funnel-
shaped, or in the form of a bell, which they place in a
thicket, or among leaves near the summit of a tree. In
this they deposit their cocoons of eggs, of which they
are exceedingly careful. When they leave their retreats,
either to hunt for prey, or from any cause of alarm nearer
home, they never fail to carry their bundle of eggs along
with them. Clerk (Aranei suecica:) mentions his having
observed species of this genus spring with great activity
upon flying insects.
Other species of Dolomedes have the four anterior eyes
of equal size, and the abdomen oval, and rounded at the
extremity. These inhabit the margins of water, run over
the surface with agility, and even proceed a little beneath
the surface without being wetted. The females form coarse
irregular nets, suspended between the branches of plants,
and place their cocoons upon them.
Sp. Mirabilis. Aranea saccata, Linn.—Colour pale red¬
dish, covered with grayish down. Thorax heart-shaped,
anteriorly abruptly sloping; the anterior angles and dor¬
sal line whitish. Abdomen conical, suboval; darker on the
back. Inhabits the woods of Europe. The female carries
about her eggs inclosed in a dirty orange-coloured or
whitish bag.
Genus Lycosa, Latr.—Eyes disposed in a quadrilateral
figure, longer than broad, the posterior pair not placed
on an eminence. The first pair of feet are sensibly
longer than the second, but shorter than the fourth,
which are the longest of all. The maxillae are truncat¬
ed obliquely at their external extremity. The languette
is square, but rather longer than broad.
Ihe species of this genus run swiftly on the ground.
I hey live in holes, either previously formed by the acci¬
dents of nature, or hollowed out by themselves, and forti¬
fied along their interior walls by silken threads. Some
dwell in the cavities of walls, where they form silken tun¬
nels, covered externally by minute particles of earth and
sand. In these retreats they undergo the periodical re¬
newal of their skins; and also pass the winter, after having
previously closed up the outer orifice of their dwellings,
ihe females likewise deposit their eggs in these elongat¬
ed cells. Their cocoons are usually fixed to the. extre¬
mity of the abdomen, and when the mothers go abroad,
they have thus no difficulty in carrying their eggs along
with them. As soon as the young are hatched, they col¬
lect on the back of the female parent, and remain there
till they gain sufficient strength to shift for themselves.
Ihe species are exceedingly voracious, and defend the
possession of their domiciles with the greatest courage.
‘S/i. Tarentula. Aranea tarentula, Linn. (See Plate L.)
—Colour ashy brown above; thorax with a radiated line,
‘iiid margins griseous; abdomen marked anteriorly with
tngonal spots, posteriorly with arcuate transverse streaks
. j5 ack’ bordered with white ; beneath saffron-coloured,
w't i a transverse black band; thighs and tibia; beneath
nitous white, with two black spots.
, i|Pecies, an inhabitant of the south of Europe, is
e ce ebrated tarentula, of which so many extraordinary
ccounts have been given by travellers. It is scarcely
lecessary to observe that these are fabulous. Its bite was
K 0 Pr°fluce symptoms equally severe with those of
363
the most malignant fever, and of such a nature as to ad- Arach-
mit of being cured only by means of music. Some authors uides.
have even given a list of the tunes which are most effi-
cacious in restoring the tarentolati (for so the patients
were called) to health. The true tarentula occurs in the
south of Italy, especially near the town of Tarentum, from
which it has no doubt derived its name. It is the largest
of the European species.
A species of this genus exists in the south of France,
which bears a close resemblance to the Italian species, and
appears to have been confounded with it by Olivier. It is
the Lycosa Melanogaster of Latreille, and the Tarentula
Narbonensis of Walckenaer, and differs from the species
above described chiefly in being somewhat less, and in
having the abdomen black beneath, and the edges only of
a red colour.
Genus Myrmecia, Latr.—Eyes placed on three trans¬
verse lines; four in front, then two somewhat nearer
the centre than the outer eyes of the first line, and two
others behind the preceding pair. The mandibles are
strong. The maxillae are rounded and hairy at the
extremity. The tongue is almost square, somewhat
longer than broad. The feet are long, almost filiform,
the fourth and first pair being the longest. The thorax
appears as if divided into three portions, of which the
anterior is the largest, and of a square form; and the
others are hunched or knot-shaped. The abdomen is
much shorter than the thorax, and is covered from its
origin as far as the middle by a solid epidermis.
Sp. Rufa.—Length about six lines. Fulvous, shining,
nearly smooth, with the extremities of the palpi, the thighs,
the first article of the posterior feet, and the end of the
abdomen, blackish. Found near Rio Janeiro.
Tribe VI.—Saltigrad.*.
In this gi’oup the eyes are placed in a square figure, of
which the anterior line extends along the breadth of the
thorax. The thorax is demi-ovoid, or nearly square; flat,
or but slightly bulged above; as broad before as else¬
where, and sloping suddenly down the sides. The legs
are adapted both to running and leaping, and the thighs
of the anterior pair are generally remarkably large and
strong.
Several of the species construct amongleaves and stones
small oval sacks of silk, open at both ends, in which they
seek refuge during bad weather, and while changing their
skins. When any danger threatens these retreats they
appear on the outside, and after a moment’s reconnoitring
run off with great agility. The females form small tents,
which afterwards serve as cradles for their young, and
where the mother and her progeny dwell for some time
together. The males, in their battles with each other,
exhibit many singular manoeuvres.
The genus Tessarops of M. Rafinesque, and that of
Palpimanus established by M. Dufour, both belong to this
tribe. That first mentioned is said to have only four eyes.
The latter is very rare, and was discovered in Valentia.
We are not yet acquainted with the characters of either.
Genus Eresus, Walck.—Four eyes approached in a
small trapezium, near the centre of the anterior portion
of the thorax; and four others on its sides, forming a
larger square. The languette is pointed and triangular.
The tarsi are terminated by three crotchets.
Sp. Moniligerus.—Black; abdomen above cinnabar-
coloured, with four or six black dots, arranged in two
longitudinal lines ; joints of the legs whitish; hinder sides
of the thorax, the thighs, and the first joint of the four
hinder legs, pale cinnabar. This is the Aranea quadrigut-
ARACHNIDES.
364 A R A C H N I D E S.
Arach- tata of Rossi’s Fauna Etrusca. It inhabits France, Ger-
nides. many, and England.
Genus Salticus, Latr. Attus, Walck.—Four eyes on a
transverse line on the anterior portion of the thorax,
the two intermediate larger than the others; the re¬
maining eyes are placed two and two on each side of
the thorax; they thus form a kind of parabola or part
of a square, open posteriorly. The languette is very
obtuse, and truncated at the summit. The tarsi have
only two crotchets at their extremity. The mandibles
of many of the males are very large. The shape of the
thorax and the length and proportions of the legs vary
according to the species.
Sp. Scenicus. Aranea scenica, Linn.—Black, margin of
the thorax covered with white down ; abdomen short ovate,
covered above by a reddish white pubescence, with three
transverse arcuate lines, and the termination white; the
first band is basal and entire, the others acutely bent an¬
teriorly, and interrupted in the middle.
This species is called in Britain the hunting spider. It
occurs on walls and palings, and is a common species, of
considerable beauty. It loves exposure to light and heat,
and is frequently seen near windows in sunny weather.
Its movements are lively and amusing. When it sees a
fly or a gnat it moves towards it with a slow and gentle
motion, and then springs upon it with a single rapid
bound. It leaps upon its prey as securely down a perpen¬
dicular wall as on a horizontal surface, by means of a
thread which, previous to each of its bounds, it has the pre¬
caution to attach to the plane of its position. The palpi
of the female are whitish; her legs reddish-gray, with
darker spots. The mandibles of the male are very large.
Family II.—Pedipalpi.
Palpi very large, extended in the form of arms, and
terminated either by pincers or a claw. Mandibles with
two fingers, of which one is movable. Abdomen com¬
posed of distinct segments, without any terminal spinners.
Sexual organs at the base of the abdomen. Thorax con¬
sisting of a single piece, and presenting near its anterior
angles three or two eyes, approached or in groups, and
two other eyes close together in the centre of its anterior
or posterior margin. Four or eight pulmonary sacks.
Tribe I.—Tarentulje.
Our present division corresponds to the genus tarentula
of Fabricius. The abdomen is attached to the thorax by
a pedicle, or by a portion of the transverse diameter,
without comb-shaped plates at its inferior base, or sting
at its extremity. The stigmata are four in number,
placed near the base of the abdomen, and covered by a
plaque. The mandibles are terminated merely by a claw
or movable crotchet. The languette is elongated, nar¬
row, dart-shaped, concealed. Maxillae two, formed by the
first joint of the palpi. Eyes eight, of which three are
disposed in the form of a triangle near each anterior cor¬
ner, and two are placed upon a tubercle near the centre of
the anterior margin.
Naturalists have as yet acquired but a slight knowledge
of this tribe of Arachnides. They inhabit chiefly the
warmest countries of Asia and America.
Genus Phrynus, Olivier.—Palpi terminating in a claw.
Body flat, thorax broad, crescent-shaped. Abdomen
without a tail. The two anterior tarsi long, slender,
antenniform.
This genus was named Tarentula by Fabricius, but wre
prefer retaining the name previously bestowed by Olivier
not only on account of its possessing a prior claim, but
because the term Tarentula, as generally understood, ap¬
plies to a spider of the genus Lijcosa, the Aranea tarentula
of Linnaeus.
Sp. Lunatus. (See Plate L.)—The arms or foot-palpi
of this species are nearly three times the length of the
body. They are unfurnished with spines, except at the
extremity of the fourth article. This is the phalangium
lunatum of Pallas. Spicil. Zool. fasc. 9. tab. fig. 5, 6.
Sp. Reniformis. Phalangium reniforme, Linn. Herbst.
Tarentula reniformis, Fabr. (See Plate L.)—Arms very
spiny on their interior margins ; the third and fourth ar¬
ticulations elongated. The fifth articulation is furnished
with four spines. According to Mange this species is
much dreaded by the negroes of the Antilles.
Genus Thelyphonus, Latr.—Palpi shorter and thicker
than those of the preceding genus, terminated by pin¬
cers or double fingers. Body long, thorax oval, abdo¬
men furnished with a slender articulated prolongation
or tail. The anterior tarsi are short, with few articu¬
lations.
This genus appears to have been confounded by Gro-
novius with Scorpio, by Linnaeus with Phalangium, and by
Fabricius with Tarentula. It forms the passage in the na¬
tural progress of generic forms to the scorpion tribe.
Sp. Caudatus, Latr. Phalangium caudatum, Linn. (See
Plate L.)—Some confusion seems to exist in regard to
the exact or characteristic locality of this species. It is
now said to occur in Java. South America furnishes
another species, called by the inhabitants of Martinique
vinaigrier, on account of its extremely acid odour.
Tribe II.—Scorpionides.
Abdomen sessile, or united to the thorax by its entire
breadth, and furnished at its lower base with two mov¬
able comb-shaped plates, and terminated by a knotted
base, armed with a sting at its extremity. Stigmata
eight in number, four on each side along the belly. Man¬
dibles terminated by two fingers, of which the exterior is
movable.
The thorax of scorpions assumes the form of a length¬
ened square. There is a triangular appendage at the base
of each of the four anterior feet, which in combination
produce the appearance of a lip of four divisions; but of
these, according to the views of Latreille, the lateral pair
ought to be regarded as maxillae, and the two others as
forming the languette. The abdomen is composed of
twelve articulations, including those of the tail, which are
six in number. The first division of the abdomen is com¬
posed of twm parts, the anterior of which bears the sexual
organs, the posterior the comb-shaped appendages. These
last-named parts are composed of a principal portion, nar¬
row, lengthened, jointed, movable at its base, and fur¬
nished along its inferior side with a range of small, narrow,
elongated, parallel plates, hollowed interiorly, united to
the principal piece before mentioned, and somewhat re¬
sembling the teeth of a comb; their number seems to
vary according to the species, and probably even with the
age of the individual. The uses of these organs in the
economy of the animal have not yet been determined.
The four following segments of the abdomen have each a
pair of pulmonary sacks and stigmata. Immediately be¬
hind the sixth segment the abdomen becomes suddenly
narrow, and the six following knotty rings compose the
tail, terminated by an arched slender point, beneath the
extremity of whjch are two small holes, from which} td
ARACHNIDES.
365
rai the will of the animal, there flows a poisonous fluid, con-
ide tained in an interior reservoir. The tarsi resemble each
■V'*^ other, and are composed of three articulations, the last of
which is armed with a pair of crotchets. The four pos¬
terior legs have a common base, and the first article of
the haunches is as it were soldered; the posterior pair
are in part joined by their back part to the abdomen.
Two nervous cords, which derive their origin from the
brain or superior ganglion, unite at intervals and form
seven other ganglia, of which the last belongs to the
tail. In all other Arachnides, according to Latreille, the
number of these ganglia never exceeds three.
Eight stigmata mark the position of an equal number
of whitish purses, containing a great number of small de¬
licate plates, among which it is believed the air perme¬
ates. A muscular vessel prevails along the back, and
communicates by means of two other vessels with each of
these purses. The intestinal canal is straight and slen¬
der. The liver is composed of four pair of glandular
bunches, which discharge their fluid-into the intestines
at four points. The females are viviparous.
Scorpions occur in the warmer regions of Europe, Asia,
Africa, and America. Several of the larger exotic spe¬
cies are poisonous, but the bite of the European kinds
is rarely attended by fatal consequences, except to small
animals. Maupertuis tried various experiments upon
dogs and poultry with the scorpions of Languedoc. Only
one dog died. The others, as well as the poultry, though
repeatedly stung by exasperated scorpions, suffered no in¬
jury. Redi’s experiments on pigeons were followed by a
different result. They generally died in convulsions in
about five hours after the infliction of the wound. Some,
however, appeared to suffer no inconvenience from the
bite of these animals. This difference may be attributed
to the particular condition, or rather the quantity of the
poison contained in the vessels at the time of the trial.
The scorpions of Tuscany are so harmless that they are
handled by the peasants without any fear.
Scorpions generally inhabit sombre and shady places,
under stones, among old ruins, deserted dwelling-houses,
and even, though more rarely, such as are occupied by
man. They prey upon various kinds of insects, which
they sting with their envenomed tails. They are very
fond of the eggs of spiders and of insects. In running,
they usually carry their tails curved forwards over their
backs; and they possess the power of moving them in all
directions, either as offensive or defensive weapons. We
have already mentioned that they produce their young
alive. Iledi states the number of these to amount to
between 26 and 40, but some species are more prolific.
Maupertuis found from 27 to 65 in the bodies of those
which he examined. They were suspended or connected
hy a lengthened thread, and each was inclosed in a very
delicate membrane. The European kinds appear to pro¬
duce in August, and are afterwards observed to change
their skins. Some naturalists are of opinion that they
couple twice a year. The female carries her young for
several days upon her back, and watches over and defends
them for about a month.
In the preceding generalities we have given the princi¬
pal characters of the old genus scorpio. That genus has
een recently divided into two, in conformity with the
number of the eyes.
Genus Scorpio, Latr.—Eyes six.
Sp. Europceus.—Colour brown, varying in shade. Feet
am terminal joint of the tail of a paler yellowish brown.
aw s angular and heart-shaped. Pectens, or comb-shaped
appendages, each with nine teeth.
he characters given by Linnaeus to his S. Europaeus
do not accord with our observations on those found in Arach-
rrance and Italy. “ Cauda sub aculeo mucronata est.” nides.
An American species is furnished with a projecting point
beneath the sting, and the existence of that feature in the
Transatlantic species seems to have induced De Geer to
mistake the latter for the one described by Linnaeus as
inhabiting the southern countries of Europe.
Genus Buthus, Leach.—Eyes eight.
Sp. Occitanus. (See Plate L.)—Colour yellowish or red¬
dish. Tail rather longer than the body, with elevated
and delicately granulated lines. Each pecten furnished*
with 28 teeth or upwards. About two inches in length.
This is the species experimented on by Maupertuis.
He inclosed about 100 in one place, and after the lapse
of a few days he found only 14 survivors, which had killed
and eaten their companions. It occurs in France, Portu¬
gal, and Spain ; likewise in Barbary.
Sp. Afer. (See Plate L.)—Nearly half afoot long, and
of a blackish brown colour, with large heart-shaped claws,
chagrined on their surface, and slightly haired. A notch
in the anterior angle of the thorax. Number of teeth in
each comb, thirteen. Occurs both in Africa and India.
Sp. Americanus.—Body slender, elongated, yellowish,
with brown spots. Combs with twenty-eight teeth. Arms
long and thin; claws filiform. Tail three times the length
of the body. Sting with a point beneath. Inhabits Ame¬
rica.
The Scorpio dentatus of Herbst is allied to the preced¬
ing. It inhabits Sierra Leone.
Order II.—Tracheari^:.
The Tracheal Arachnides are distinguished by their
respiratory organs, which consist of radiated or branched
tracheae, receiving air only by two stigmatic openings.
They possess no (ascertained) circulating system, and
their eyes vary from two to four. Muller assigns six eyes
to the Hydrachna umbrata, but Latreille is of opinion that
some optical or other deception may have interfered
with the usual accuracy of the great Danish naturalist.
The respiration of the Pycnogorrides is unknown, no stig¬
mata having been observed in that family.
The Arachnides of this order are the smallest of their
class. Some species are almost microscopical. They are
naturally divided into two great divisions. Those which
belong to the first are more nearly allied to the preceding
order, the pulmonary Arachnides, in the form and struc¬
ture of their masticating organs; such as pertain to the
second have the parts of the mouth more simply construct¬
ed of certain parts, which, in union with the languette,
constitute a kind of trunk or sucker. But many of the
species are so minute, even in their general dimen¬
sions, that the examination of these organs, and the con¬
sequent classification of the species in accordance with a
cibarian system, are attended with considerable difficulty,
and, in the opinion of Latreille, ought not to be had re¬
course to, except in default of other more obvious cha¬
racteristics.
The long-legged spider (commonly so called), which is
a species of Phalangium, frequently met with in hay fields
and other places during the summer season, is a familiar
example of this order. So also are mites and other aca-
rideous species.
Family I.—Pseudo-Scorpiones.
Thorax articulated, the anterior segment the larger.
Abdomen distinct and annulated. Palpi large, in the
form of feet or claws. Both sexes with eight feet, having
two equal hooks at the end of the tarsi, the two anterior
366
ARACHNIDES.
Arach- sometimes excepted. Two mandibles (antenne-pinces or
nides. cheliceres of La treble) terminated by a couple of fingers;
and two maxillae formed by the first article of the palpi.
This family consists of two genera, the habits of which
are terrestrial; their bodies oval or oblong.
Genus Galeodes, Oliv. Solpuga, Lichtenstein.
Mandibles very large, with vertical, strongly toothed
fingers, of which one is superior, fixed, frequently fur¬
nished at its base with a slender pointed appendage; the
other movable. Palpi large, advanced, in the form of
feet or of antennae, terminated by a short button-shaped
article, vesicular and hookless. Anterior pair of feet re¬
sembling the -palpi; but smaller; they are also hookless.
Each of the other feet has the terminal joint of the tarsus
furnished with a pair of hooks. The posterior pair of feet
have five remarkable scaly excrescences placed upon
foot-stalks, and ranged along the inferior surface of their
first two articulations. The eyes, two in number, are very
close to each other, and are situated on an eminence of
the anterior portion of the first segment of the thorax,
which presents the appearance of a large head bearing
the anterior pair of feet, in addition to the masticating
organs.
According to M. Dufour the terminal article of the
palpi incloses a particular disc-shaped organ, of a whitish
colour and pearly lustre, not visible externally unless the
animal is irritated. The lip (labre) has the form of a small
beak, much compressed, recurved, pointed, and hairy.
The languette is small, keel-shaped, and terminates in two
divergent threads, each placed on a small articulation.
Latreille perceived a pretty large stigmatic opening on
each side of the body, between the first and second feet,
and another cleft at the base of the abdomen. The ab¬
domen is oval and composed of nine rings. We lately re¬
ceived two species of this genus from Persia.
Sp. Araneoides, Olivier. (See Plate LI.) Solpuga
Arachnoides, Herbst.—Colour pale yellowish-brown. In¬
habits Africa and the western countries of Asia.
Genus Chelifer, Geoff. Obisium, Illiger. — Palpi
elongated, furnished with didactile pincers at their
extremity. Eyes placed on the sides of the thorax.
Legs nearly equal in size, each terminated by a pair of
crotchets. Body flat. Thorax almost square.
These animals run swiftly, both backwards and for¬
wards. They carry their eggs about with them after the
manner of spiders. The elder Hermann is of opinion
that they spin webs. Such of the species as have the tho¬
rax divided or impressed by a transverse line form the
genus Chelifer of Dr Leach. Their eyes are two in num¬
ber. Others have the thorax undivided, and of these
the eyes amount to four. They form the genus Obisium
of the last-named author.
Sp. Fasciatus.—Plands oval. Segments of the abdo¬
men bordered with white. Lives beneath the bark of
willow and other trees. Sometimes occurs near London.
Leach, in Linn. Trans, xi.
Sp. Cancraides. (See Plate LI.)—This species mea¬
sures about a line and a half in length. The body and
legs are of a reddish brown. The palpi are about twice
the length of the body. It is a European species, inha¬
biting old books, herbariums, &c. and preys upon the
bodies of several destructive insects. It ought therefore
to be cherished in the live state by collectors.
Family II.—Pycnogonides. J
Trunk composed of four segments, occupying almost^1
the entire length of the body, terminated at each extre¬
mity by a tubular article, of which the anterior portion
sometimes simple, sometimes accompanied by mandibles
{antenne-pinces) and palpi, or by one or other of these or¬
gans, constitutes the mouth. Both sexes have eight feet
proper for running ; but the females are moreover provid¬
ed with two false feet, placed near the anterior pair, and
serving to carry the eggs.
The species of wLich this family is composed inhabit
the sea. They usually keep themselves concealed among
sea-weed along the shores, and feed upon small marine
animals. Their movements are slow. Their bodies are
generally linear, the legs very long, composed of from
eight to nine articles, and terminated by two unequal crot¬
chets, of which the smaller is cleft. The first articula¬
tion of the body, or that which represents the head and
mouth, forms an advanced, nearly cylindrical tube, pierc¬
ed at its extremity by a triangular opening. It also bears
the mandibles and palpi. The former are linear or cylin¬
drical, composed of two pieces, of which the last is pin-
cer-shaped, with the inferior or fixed claw shorter than the
other. The palpi are filiform, with a crotchet at the end,
and composed of from five to nine articles. Each of the
succeeding segments of the body, with the exception of
the last, serves as a point of attachment to a pair of legs;
and the segment which articulates with the mouth is pro¬
vided on its dorsal portion with a tubercle bearing the
eyes, and on its ventral portion (in the females) with a
small additional pair of feet on which the eggs are distri¬
buted. The terminal segment is small, cylindrical, and
pierced at its extremity. The stigmatic openings in the
bodies of this family have not yet been discovered.1
M. Savigny is of opinion that this family forms the na¬
tural transition from the class Arachnides to the crustace-
ous tribes, and great uncertainty still prevails in the minds
of naturalists regarding their true position in the system.
We place them in the position which they now occupy in
our present arrangement, in accordance with the views of
M. Latreille. M. Milne Edwards, who has studied these
animals in their native places, informed that celebrated
entomologist, that in the interior of the Pycnogonides
he observed caeca or lateral expansions of the intestinal
canal.
Genus Pycnogonum, Brunnich.—In this genus the man¬
dibles and palpi are wanting, and the length of the feet
scarcely exceeds that of the body, which is proportion¬
ally short and thick. The species are parasitical on
cetaceous animals.
Sp. Falamarum. (See Plate LI.) Phalangium Bala-
narum, Linn.—Inhabits the European Ocean. This spe¬
cies is frequently taken by the trawl-fishers in Plymouth
Sound. It has been found by M. d’Orbigny on the coasts
of France.
Genus Phoxichilus, Latr.—In this genus the palpi are
wanting, as in the preceding ; but we observe a pair of
mandibles, and a greater elongation of the legs.
To this genus belong Pgcnogonnm spinipes of the Fauna
Groenlandica, Phalangium hirsutum of Montagu {Linn.
Trans, ix.), Nymphon hirtum of Fabricius, &c.
Genus Nymfhon, Fab.—Resembles the preceding genus
1 Recent observations induce the belief that these creatures breathe through their skins,—a peculiar character, which, when satis¬
factorily established, may lead to their being erected into a separate order, intermediate in some respects between the Arachnides and
the apterous insects of the parasitical order. (See Rcgne Animal, tome iv. p. 277, note.)
ARACHNIDES.
367
jn the narrow and oblong form of its body, the length
E’ 0f hs legs, and the presence of mandibles; but in addi-
tion to these organs there are likewise a pair of palpi.
Sp. Gracile, Leach. (Zool. Misc. i. 45.)—Colour cine¬
reous; thighs cylindrical. Inhabits most parts of the Bri¬
tish seas. We are doubtful whether this species should
he considered as synonymous with the Nymphon grossipes
(Phalangium grossipes, Linn.) figured on Plate LI. The
term grossipes is certainly very inapplicable to either
kind.
Genus Ammothea, Leach.—Mandibles much shorter
than the rostrum, with equal joints, the fingers arcuate,
and meeting at their tips. Palpi nine jointed, the third
joint very long. Legs slender; coxae with the middle
joint longest; tibiae with the first joint rather the short¬
est ; tarsi with the first joint small; claws double, un¬
equal. Egg-bearing organs nine-jointed, inserted un¬
der the first legs, behind the rostrum.
Sp. CaroUnensis. (See Plate LI.)—Body entirely brown,
testaceous; back with three trigonate tubercles. (Zool.
Miscell. i. 34.) From South Carolina.
Family III.—Holetra.
The groups composing this family are characterized by
the union of the thorax and abdomen in a single mass,
beneath a common epidermis. The thorax is almost di¬
vided into two by a contraction; and the abdomen, in some
species, presents the appearance of rings, formed by the
folds of the epidermis. The anterior extremity of the
body frequently projects in the form of a beak or muzzle.
The generality are provided with eight feet; some have
only six.
Tribe I.—Phalangita, Latr.
Mandibles very conspicuous, terminated by didactylous
pincers. Palpi filiform, and composed of five articles, of
which the last is terminated by a small nail. Two dis¬
tinct eyes. Two maxillae formed by a prolongation of the
radical article of the palpi; and besides these there are
sometimes four other jaws, which, however, result merely
from a dilatation of the haunches of the first two pair of
legs. Body oval or rounded, and covered, at least on the
thorax, by a skin of a somewhat solid texture. The legs,
which are always eight in number, are long, and distinct¬
ly divided, like those of insects. Many are provided near
the origin of the two posterior legs with two stigmata,
one on either side, concealed by the haunches. The spe¬
cies of this tribe are for the most part of active habits.
I'he generative organs are placed internally beneath the
mouth.
Genus Phalangium, Linn. Fab.—Mandibles project¬
ing, much shorter than the head. Eyes placed upon a
common tubercle. The feet are long and slender, and
when separated from the body they for some time af¬
terwards exhibit signs of irritability. The females are
provided with a membranous oviduct, filiform, annu-
jated, and flexible. The tracheae are tubular.
I he species of this genus are of predacious habits,
they prey upon small insects, which they seize with their
nmndibles, pierce with their crotchets, and suck to death.
I hey are of pugnacious tempers. Though analogous to
spiders in their external forms, they cannot spin. They
are short-lived, as those hatched in the spring are all sup¬
posed to die in the autumn.
Sp. Cornutum, Linn, (the male). Opilio, ejusd. (the
emale)—Body oval, reddish or ash-coloured above, white
eneath. Palpi long. Two rows of small spines on the
tubercle which bears the eyes. Thighs with prickles.
Mandibles horny in the males. A blackish band with a Arach-
festooned border on the back of the female. nides.
Of certain species of this genus Mr Kirby has formed
his genus Gonoleptes. (See Linn. Trans, vol. xii. Plate
XXII. fig. 16.)
Genus Siro, Latr.—Mandibles projecting, almost as long
as the body. Eyes distant, each placed upon an iso¬
lated tubercle.
Sp. Rubens. (See Plate LI.)—Colour pale red; legs
paler. Dwells in moss at the roots of trees.
Genus Macrocheles, Latr.—Mandibles long and project-
ing. Eyes sessile, or none. Two anterior feet, very
long, and antenniform. The upper part of the body
forms a plaque or scale, without any distinct rings.
According to Latreille, the Acarus marginatus and tes-
tudinariu's of Hermann (fils) belong to this genus.
Genus Trogulus, Latr.—Anterior extremity of the
body advanced in the form of a hood or chaperon, and
receiving in an inferior cavity the mandibles and other
parts of the mouth. The body is very flat, and cover¬
ed by a strong skin.
Sp. Nepceformis.—Colour obscure ash-colour. Central
portion of the dorsal part of the abdomen, and the sides,
obsoletely subcarinated. External apex of the first joint
of the tarsi produced. Inhabits France and Germany,
lurking beneath stones.
Tribe II.—Acarides.
Sometimes furnished with mandibles composed of a sin¬
gle pincer, didactylous or with a simple claw, and con-
cealed in a sternal lip ; sometimes furnished with a sucker
formed of plates or laminae joined together. A few have
only a simple cavity for the mouth, without additional ap¬
pendages.
The species of this tribe (corresponding to the genus
Acarus of Linnaeus) are almost microscopical, and are uni¬
versally distributed. Some are erratic, and occur in a great
variety of situations, among stones, on trees, among flour,
cheese, and various other substances, whether animal or
vegetable; others are parasitical on the skins of living
creatures, which they sometimes greatly weaken by their
excessive multiplication. The disease called itch, if not
occasioned by, is at least in some way connected with, the
presence of minute species of this family. Dr Galet has
demonstrated that that disease may be communicated by
the transmission of mites from one (infected) individual
to another. Small mites have even been found in the
brain and in the eyes of the human race.
Many of the species, when first produced, have only
six feet. They are oviparous, and deposit a great num¬
ber of eggs.
Genus Trombidium, Fab.—Mandibles en griffe, or ter¬
minated by a movable claw. Palpi projecting, point¬
ed, with a movable appendage or finger at the ex¬
tremity. Two eyes, each placed at the end of a small
fixed pedicle. Body divided into two parts, of which
the first or anterior is very small, and bears, besides the
eyes and mouth, the first two pair of legs.
Sp. Holosericeum.—Of a blood-red colour. Abdomen
almost square, narrower behind, and notched. Back fur¬
nished with papillae, hairy at the base, and globular at
their extremities. Common in gardens during spring.
Sp. Tinctorum. (See Plate LI.)—This species is three
or four times larger than the preceding. It occurs in the
East Indies, and produces a fine dye.
368
ARACHNIDES.
Arach- Genus Erythr^eus, Latr.—Mandibles and palpi as in
nides. Trombidium, but the body is undivided, and the eyes
are not mounted on a pedicle.
Sp. Phalangioides.—Legs very long, the last joint
broad, compressed. Body obscure red, with a dorsal band
of orange yellow. Inhabits most European countries,
running on the ground with great rapidity.
Genus Gamasus, Latr.—Mandibles didactylous; palpi
projecting, distinct, filiform.
Some species of this genus have the upper surface of
the body clothed, in whole or in part, with a scaly skin,
while others are entirely soft.
Sp. Coleoptratorum.—Anterior pair of legs somewhat
longer than the others. Coriaceous parts of the back
fuscous.
Inhabits the excrements of horses and cattle, and is
frequently found adhering in great numbers to the bodies
of coleopterous insects of the genus Scarabseus, Hister, &c.
To this genus belongs the Acarus marginatus of Her¬
mann, which is sometimes found in the brain (corpus cal-
loswn) of the human race.
Genus Cheyletus, Latr.—Mandibles didactylous. Palpi
thick, arm-shaped, falcated at the extremities.
Sp. Eruditus. Acarus eruditus, Schrank.—Colour brown¬
ish. Inhabits books and museums.
Genus Oribata.—Mandibles didactylous. Palpi short
and concealed. Body covered by a coriaceous or scaly
skin, in the form of a shield or buckler. Legs long, or of
medium length.
The body in this genus is prolonged anteriorly in the
form of a muzzle. There is sometimes an indication of
a thorax. The ends of the tarsi are terminated by a
single crotchet in some, by two or three in others, with¬
out any vesicular ball or cushion. The species are found
beneath stones, among moss, and on trees. Their move¬
ments are slow.
Sp. Geniculata.—Of a brownish chesnut colour, shin¬
ing, hairy. Legs pale brown, thighs sub-clavate. Com¬
mon in Sweden, Germany, and England.
Genus Uropoda, Latr.—Mandibles pincer-shaped; palpi
not conspicuous. Body covered by a scaly skin, and ter¬
minated by a slender filament, by means of which the
species adhere to the bodies of coleopterous insects.
Sp. Vegetans. (See Plate LI.)—Brown, smooth, and
shining. Inhabits France and England, attaching itself
to the legs and other parts of insects by its pedunculated
anus.
Genus Acarus, Fab. Latr.—-Furnished like the preced¬
ing genera with didactylous mandibles, and very short
or concealed palpi; but the body is soft, and unfurnish¬
ed with a scaly crust. The tarsi are provided at their
extremity with a vesicular tuft. Many species live on
the substances used as aliments by the human race.
Sp. Siro. The cheese-mite. (See Plate LI.)—
Whitish, with two brown spots. Body ovate, the middle
coarctate, with long hairs. Legs of equal length. Inha¬
bits houses, feeding on flour and long-kept cheese.
Sp. Scabiei. (See Plate LI.)—A microscopical spe¬
cies, which inhabits the skin of man in a diseased state. It
appears, from the observations of Bonnani and others,
that this insect usually accompanies the disease called
the itch.
Genus Bdella, Latr.—Palpi elongated, bent, terminat¬
ed by hairs or bristles. Four eyes, posterior feet the i
longest. Sucker prolonged in the form of a conical or
awl-shaped beak. Found in moss, beneath stones, and'
under the bark of trees.
Sp. Rubra. La Bdelle rouge of Latreille. (See Plate LI.)
—Rostrum longer than the thorax. Colour coccineous
legs paler than the body. Dwells beneath stones. This
is the pince rouge of Geoffroy, and the Acarus longicornis
of Linnaeus. It is a minute insect, measuring scarcely
half a line in length.
Genus Smaridia, Latr.—Distinguished from the pre¬
ceding genus by the palpi, which are scarcely longer
than the sucker; straight, and without bristles at the
extremity. Eyes two. Anterior pair of legs longer
than the others.
Sp. Sambuci. Acarus Sambuci, Schrank.—Colour red,
the body slightly haired. Movements slow. Dwells
beneath the bark of trees, more especially that of the
elder, observed by Latreille in the south of France. This
genus is represented in Plate LI. by a figure of Smaridia
passerina.
Genus Ixodes.—Palpi inclosed in the sucker, along with
which they form a short projecting beak, truncated, with
a slight expansion at the end.
The animals of this genus occur among bushes and
underwood, from which they detach themselves to fasten
on dogs, sheep, cattle, and other quadrupeds, to which they
adhere with remarkable tenacity. Their eggs, of which
they lay a prodigious quantity, are, according to M. Cha-
brier, obtruded by the mouth.
Sp. Reduvius. Acarus reduvius, Linn. (See Plate LI.)—
The colour and appearance of this species vary according
to its state of repletion. The legs are black.
Genus Argas.—Palpi conical, composed of four articles,
not inclosed in the sucker.
Sp. Rejlexus. Acarus marginatus, Fab. (See Plate LI.)
—Pale yellowish, or flesh-coloured, with deeper anasto¬
mosing lines. Inhabits houses in France, sucking the blood
of doves.
A species of this genus found in Persia (the malleh de
mianeli) is considered to be extremely poisonous. It ap¬
pears, however, from the observations of M. Szovits, a na¬
turalist recently employed by the Russian government to
explore the Caucasus, that the bite of these bugs of Miana,
as they are sometimes called {Argas Persians of Fischer),
is in reality by no means dangerous.
The three following genera correspond to the genus
Hydrachna of Muller. Their habits are aquatic, and
their forms oval, or nearly globular, and of a soft consis¬
tence. The number of their eyes varies from two to four,
and even to six, according to Muller. They were usual¬
ly confounded with the mites till the time of the last-
named observer, who inferred that as they lived habitual¬
ly in a different element, they ought to form a separate
division. They resemble small spiders, and probably on
that account received the name of Hydrachna, which
signifies water-spider. Fabricius, who only employed in
the formation of his groups characters drawn from the
structure of the mouth, has united Hydrachna with Trom-
bidium. The observations of Latreille have led not only to
the distinct separation of these two genera, but to the sub¬
division of the genus Hydrachna into at least three dis¬
tinct groups of species, all of which may be readily distin¬
guished from the various kinds of mites (Acari) by their
ciliated or natatorial legs.
The minute beings now under consideration occur
ARACHNIDES.
racli abundantly in stagnant or slowly moving waters. The
r spring season is the most favourable for the observance of
their habits. They run through the water with great ra¬
pidity, with a continual movement of their legs. Their
dispositions are carnivorous, and their food consists of ani-
malcular species, of minute insects, small flies, and aquatic
larvae. Muller kept many Hydrachnae in vessels of water
full of animalcula infusoria, millions of which were eaten
in a few days, soon after which the Hydrachnae were found
in a state of great languor, and transparent from exhaus¬
tion. They speedily revived when a few drops of water
containing animalcules were mingled with that through
which they swam.
The males are usually much less than the females, and
the sexes frequently differ in colour. Only four or five
species were known before the time of Muller, to whose
persevering labours we owe the best elucidation which has
yet been given of their history.1
Latreille is of opinion that the structure of the masti¬
cating organs authorizes the establishment of the three
generic groups which follow.
Genus Eylais, Latr.—Mandibles terminated by a mov¬
able crotchet.
Sp. Extendens. Atax extendens, Fab. (See Plate LI.)—.
Body rounded, smooth, shining, immaculate, red. Hinder
legs straight. Inhabits stagnant waters.
Genus Hydrachna, Latr.—Mouth composed of plates
forming a projecting sucker. Palpi provided at their
extremity with a movable appendage.
Sp. Geographica. (See Plate LI.)—Black, marked with
coccineous spots. Inhabits gently flowing waters. A
beautiful species, not uncommon in several parts of Britain.
Sp. Cruenta. (See Plate LI.)—Distended, red; legs of
nearly equal length. This is the Trombidium globator of
Fabricius, and the mite aquatique ronde of De Geer.
the summer months on grasses and other plants, from
which it detaches itself, and fixing in the skin of the hu¬
man species,^occasions an insupportable itching. “ Acarus
Autumnalis,” says Dr Shaw, “ popularly known by the
name of the harvest bug, is also one of the most minute
of the genus, and is of a bright red colour, with the abdo¬
men bent on its hind part, with numerous white bristles.
This troublesome insect will make itself sufficiently known
to most people, during the months of July, August, and
September. It is easily distinguishable on the skin by its
bright red colour, and adheres so tenaciously when it has
once fixed itself, as to be scarcely separated without vio¬
lence; its motion when disengaged is pretty quick, though
by no means equal to that of some other acari. On
the part where it fixes it causes a tumour, generally about
the size of a pea, sometimes much larger, accompanied by
a severe itching. These insects abound on vegetables,
and are generally contracted by walking in gardens,
amongst long grass, or in corn fields.” ( General Zoology,
vol. vi. p. 464.)
According to Mr White of Selbourne, this minute crea¬
ture greatly abounds in the chalky districts of Hampshire.
He was assured that the warreners are much infested by
them, and are sometimes thrown into fever by their bites.
Another species is common on Phalangium opilio.
Genus Aclysia, Audouin.—Form like that of a bag¬
pipe. A syphon, without distinct palpi, placed beneath
the anterior extremity, which is narrow, curved, and
obtuse. The legs are very small.
The species of this genus are parasitical on the bodies
of water-beetles of the genus Dytiscus. The only one of
which we have any knowledge {A. dytisci) is described by
M. Victor Audouin, in the 1st vol. of the Mem. de la Soc.
d'Hist. Nat. de Paris. We found it on Dytiscus margina-
lis, in the vicinity of Edinburgh. A second species has
been recently discovered in Russia by Count Manheiren.
369
Arach-
nides.
Genus Limnochares, Latr.—Resembles Flydrachna in
its sucker-shaped mouth, but the palpi are simple.
Sp. Holosericea.—Body ovate, red, rugose, soft; eyes
black. This is the Acarus aquaticus of Linnaeus, and the
viite satinee aquatique of De Geer. Inhabits the waters of
Europe, and occurs frequently in ponds during the sum¬
mer months. It varies in colour from a bright red to a
grayish red. According to Fabricius, it deposits its eggs
on water scorpions (Neper).
The remaining genera are distinguished from all other
Arachnides by having only six legs. Their habits are
parasitical.
Genus Caris, Latr.—Sucker and palpi apparent. Body
rounded, very flat, and covered by a scaly skin.
'V* Vesp>ertiUonis.—Body fuscous. Found on bats.
Genus Leptus.—Sucker and palpi apparent. Body soft
and ovoid. r r ^
PI Autumnalis. Acarus Autumnalis, Shaw. (See
ate LI.) Colour red, very minute. Common during
1 See O. F. Muller’s
Genus Astoma, Latr.—Neither sucker nor palpi visible.
The mouth consists merely of a small opening, situated
in the breast. The body is soft, and oval; the legs
very short.
Sp. Parasitica. (See Plate LI.)—Body coccineous,
slightly contracted in the centre. This is the mite para¬
site of De Geer. It inhabits the bodies of flies and other
insects.
Genus Ocypete, Leach.—This genus, arranged by Dr
Leach in the same stirps as Trombidium, is placed by
Latreille at the end of his Hexapod Arachnides. It
differs from those with which it is conjoined by the pos¬
session of mandibles.
Sp. Rubra, Leach, Linn. Trans, xi.—Colour red,
back furnished with a few long hairs. The legs are cover¬
ed with many hairs of a rufous cinerescent colour. The
eyes are blackish brown. This curious little animal, which
is not larger than a grain of sand, is parasitical, and fre¬
quently occurs on the larger tipulae, adhering to their legs.
Dr Leach obtained no less than 16 specimens from one
insect. (t.)
1 vol. 4to, 1781.
vol. in.
3 A
A R iE
A R iE
Arach-
nides
II
Araeome¬
ter.
Acarus 
Aclysia......
Ammothea.
Aranea 
Argas 
Argyroneta
Astoma 
Atypus 
Bdella 
Buthus 
Caris 
Chelifer 
Cheyletus..
Clotho 
Ctenus 
Dolomedes.
Drassus 
Dysdera....
Epeira 
Episinus....
Eresus 
Erodion..
Ery thraeus.
ALPHABETICAL INDEX TO THE
GENERA OF ARACHNIDES.
Page
.368
.369
.367
.359
.368
.359
.369
.358
.368
.365
.369
,.366
,.368
,.359
,.362
..362
..359
..358
..361
..360
..363
..358
..368
Page
Eylais 369
Filistata 358
Galeodes 366
Gamasus 368
Hydrachna 369
Ixodes 368
Leptus 369
Limnochares 369
Linyphia 360
Lvcosa 363
Palpimanus..
Phalangium..
Philodromus.
Pholcus  
Phoxichilus..
Phrynus 
Pycnogonum,
Salticus 
Scorpio 
Scytodes 
Segestria 
Senelops 
Siro 
Smaridia 
Machrocheles.
Micrommata..
My gale 
Myrmecia 
Nymphon 
Ocypete 
Oribata 
Oxyopus 
,367 Tessarops....,
361 Tetragnatha.
357 Thelyphonus
.363 Theridion....
Thomisus....
.366 Trogulus 
Trombidium.
.369
.368 Uloborus 
.362 Uropoda 
v.
,363
.367
.362
.365
.360
.359
,361
,367
.368
.363
.361
.364
.360
.362
.367
.367
.361
.368
History.
Theory.
ARACHNOIDES, in Anatomy, an appellation given to
several membranes,—as the tunic of the crystalline hu¬
mour of the eye, the external lamina of the pia mater, and
one of the coverings of the spinal marrow.
ABACK. See Arrack.
ARAEOMETER (composed of aguiog, levis, tennis, and
[jjtrgov, measure), a measure of the comparative density and
rarity of bodies. The name does not occur in ancient
authors; hydroscopium and baryllium being the ancient
names of the instrument. This instrument v/as known in
the civilized part of the Roman empire about the year
400, as appears from the fifteenth epistle of Synesius, ad¬
dressed to Hypatia, daughter of Theon; and to Hypatia
some modem writers have erroneously ascribed its inven¬
tion. The instrument is also described in some verses
annexed to Priscian; and the principles on which its
operation is founded are to be seen in the treatise of Ar¬
chimedes on floating bodies (J)e Humido Insidentibus).
The term, as used by writers on natural philosophy, is
chiefly applied to instruments which are made to float, so
as to indicate the specific gravity of the liquids in which
they are placed: the pese liqueur and hydrometer, in com¬
mon use for measuring the specific gravity of vinous
spirits, are instruments of this kind.
A floating body displaces a portion of the liquid, the
weight of which is equal to its own weight: the liquid act¬
ing upwards with a force equal to this weight, and the
weight of the body acting downwards with the same force,
equilibrium take's place. If the body be afterwards
placed in a liquid of less density, the part of the body im¬
mersed will be greater than when the body was in the
more dense liquid, because it requires a greater volume of
this less dense liquid to equal the weight of the floating
body. The absolute weights of two bodies being the
same, their specific gravities are in the inverse ratio ot
their volumes — — when G is put for the specific
g V
gravity of the first body, g for that of the second; F for
the volume of the first, and v for the volume of the second.
On this principle the common hydrometer is constructed;^
the instrument described by Synesius is also of thiskind.t
In order that a small difference in the volume immersed9
may be sensible, the part which is intersected by the sur¬
face of the fluid is in the form of a very slender cylinder,
the great bulk of the instrument being always immersed
in the liquid. At the inferior part is a
small ball, containing mercury or small
lead shot, which serves as ballast, bring¬
ing the centre of gravity low, so that
the instrument may float erect, and
without much lateral oscillation. The
common hydrometers are made of glass,
and sometimes of brass, or tin or pew¬
ter, and some have been made of am¬
ber as objects of curiosity. When made
of glass, a scale, inscribed upon paper, is inserted 'j1
the cylindrical stalk: the division of the scale at wind
the surface of any liquid intersects the stalk, denotes tie
specific gravity of that liquid. The divisions of the sea d
should be formed by immersing the instrument in liqui
of known specific gravity, and marking a number corre
spending to that specific gravity opposite to each division.
The specific gravities of water and alcohol mjxe^'nAjr
rious proportions have been accurately ascertained by a
calf.
irtn-
t's.
rhol.
ARM
Gilpin, (See his Tables, and Dr Blagden’s paper in the
Philosophical Transactions.) On immersing the instru¬
ment in a mixture of known proportions of these two li¬
quids, the point at which the surface intersects the stalk
is to be marked with the number expressing the specific
gravity of the mixture taken from the table. Some hy¬
drometers, such as that constructed by the French che¬
mist Beaume, and which is much used in France under
the name of Areometre de Beaume, have the scale divided
into equal parts, so that the divisions do not correspond
as they ought to do with the numbers which express
specific gravities.
In the araeometer of Fahrenheit, the uncertainty aris¬
ing from the erroneous division of the scale is obviated, no
division being required. The form of the instrument is
the same as that just described, only at the top there
is a small cup, into which weights
are put, so as to bring the surface
of the denser liquid to a fixed mark
on the stalk: when the instrument is
placed in a liquid of less density, some
of the weights are taken out till the
mark again comes to the surface. Sup¬
pose the weight of the instrument and
of the weights in the cup together equal
to 1000, when sunk to the mark in
distilled water at a certain temperature; the instrument
is now taken out of the water and immersed in a liquid,
where 10 must be taken out of the cup in order to bring
the mark to the surface; the immersion in wrater indi¬
cates that a volume of water weighs 1000 ; the immersion
in the second liquid shows that an equal volume of this
liquid weighs 990; when the volumes of bodies are equal,
the specific gravities are directly as the absolute weights
— — consequently the specific gravity of the se¬
cond liquid is 990, that of water being 1000. To save
computation, it is convenrenlT'that the whole weight of
the apparatus, when in distilled water at a certain tempe¬
rature, should be represented by 1000; for this purpose
the instrument-maker divides the weight of the apparatus
into 1000 parts, and forms small weights consisting of one,
two, three, &c. of these 1000th parts, the relation of which
to the ounce or pound does not require to be known;
the weights thus formed are to be used with the instru¬
ment.
The araeometer of Nicholson is like that of Fahrenheit,
with the addition of an immersed cup, whereby it is ren¬
dered proper for ascertaining the specific gravity of solids.
Suppose that it requires 400 grains in
the exterior cup to sink the instrument
to the mark in distilled water, at 60
degrees of Fahrenheit’s thermometer;
1st, The body under examination is put
into the exterior cup, and weights (say
300 grains) are taken out till the mark
again stands at the surface ; this gives
the absolute weight of the body 300
grains. The body is then put
into the immersed cup S, taking care
to brush off any air-bubbles with a hair pencil, and in
order to bring the mark to the surface, a weight (say
100 grains) must be put into the exterior cup, that is,
the weight of a volume of water equal to the body is 100
grams. I he first part of the process gave the absolute
weight of the body 300 grains; and the volumes being equal,
the specific gravities are as the absolute weights ; conse¬
quently the specific gravity of the body is 300, that of water
emg 100. This araeometer may be used to find the specific
gravity of liquids : the process, in that case, is the same as
A R iE
171
Depar-
cieux’s.
that described above in speaking of the araeometer of Fah- Arseome-
renheit. The araeometer of Nicholson is useful to the mine- te1'-
ralogist for ascertaining the specific gravity of minerals,'
the specific gravity being a convenient character for dis¬
tinguishing one kind of mineral from another. It is some¬
times made of tinned iron, but wdiere more accuracy is
required, copper is the material employed. When put
together, it does not exceed a foot in length, and there¬
fore is suited to form a part of the travelling mineralogist’s
apparatus.
Some araeometers have been constructed with the ex¬
terior cup C placed underneath, and sup¬
ported by a stirrup, whose upper part is
fixed to the stalk of the araeometer, as
represented on the margin. This is done in
order to place the centre of gravity low,
that the araeometer may thereby float more
steadily. The araeometer floats in a cylin¬
drical vessel fitted to the size of the stirrup,
and this vessel is supported on a stand so
formed as not to interfere with the free
motion of the stirrup.
The araeometer of Deparcieux is like the
common hydrometer, only the ball is much
more voluminous. This renders it capable
of indicating the small difference which exists in the speci¬
fic gravity of the water of different springs, for which pur¬
pose Deparcieux proposed it. The dilatation of the large
glass bulb by heat has a considerable effect on the opera¬
tion of this instrument, and this dilatation being different in
different instruments, renders the results inaccurate. The
different araeometers above mentioned have the advantages
of being easily made and easily carried about; but where
the specific gravity of a body is required with the greatest
accuracy, recourse must be had to the hydrostatic balance,
which ought to be constructed with the utmost care by
the most skilful artist.
The following algebraic expressions may serve to eluci¬
date some of the properties of the araeometers hitherto
spoken of:
g is the specific gravity of water, which is 1000 ounces
when the ounce and foot are taken as unities, 1000 ounces
avoirdupois being the weight of a cubic foot of water.
z is the diameter of the wire-stalk of the araeometer.
nr is 3*1415, &c. the number expressing the periphery
of a circle whose diameter is 1.
^■zrz2 is the surface of a transverse section of the wire-
stalk.
v is the volume of the bulb or body of the araeometer.
w is the whole weight of the araeometer.
x is the length of the stalk that is plunged in the
water.
^xnrz2 is the volume of the immersed portion of the
stalk.
When the araeometer floats in equilibrio, it displaces
a volume of water equal to its own weight; therefore,
r , , o\ t w ^(.w — tJv)
w = ^ + iw>’and’^ = '■
no — gv is the difference between the quantity of water
displaced by the whole araeometer, and the quantity dis¬
placed by the bulb alone; w — gv, therefore, is the vo¬
lume of water displaced by the immersed portion of the
stalk. As the diameter of the stalk z is very small, the
cylinder of water w — gv, which has z for its diameter,
is likewise very small, and does not exceed a few grains
in weight; therefore a small variation in w (the weight
of the araeometer), or in g (the density of the liquid),
occasions a great variation in x (the length of the im¬
mersed part of the stalk). The value of x changes
rapidly, when z (the diameter of the stalk) is changed.
372
A II IQ
A R A
Araeome- because the value of x is divided by z2, which is the square
ter- of a very small quantity. *
When the araeometer is immersed in a liquid of
uTthVspe another specific gravity gl, then the equation is xl —
cifie gravi- t}ie value of a;1 from that of x, and
ty of h- g'nz2
quid. 2w(q o1)
there results x — xl = —. This is the diminution
gg*z
in the length of the immersed part of the stalk, which
takes place when the araeometer is transferred to a liquid
of a greater density. By this formula it is seen, that the
sensibility of the araeometer, that is, the length of the
portion of the stalk which emerges upon transferring the
araeometer to a denser liquid, is augmented, in the first
place by increasing w (the weight of water displaced by
the araeometer), that is, by increasing the volume of the
body of the araeometer; secondly, by diminishing z (the
diameter of the stalk), which is in the denominator of the
value of a; — xl; consequently, the faculty of the arae¬
ometer to show the different densities of liquids is in
w
general expressed by the fraction
With regard to the vertical mobility of the araeometer,
when put in motion by placing a small weight s in its ex-
. . , „ . , 4(w + s—gv)
tenor cup,substitute w + siovw; then,x1 = ——Zg^r* '
Take the difference between this and x — :
ZgKz1
this difference is x1 — x = 5; which shows that the
gvz2
length of the portion of the stalk that a small weight
causes to immerge is proportional to ■—> or in the direct
ratio of the small weight, and in the inverse ratio of the
square of the diameter of the stalk.
When the small weight, the density of the liquid, and
the length of that part of the stalk which is submerged
on adding the small weight, are known, then this equation
will give the diameter of the stalk in known quantities
   .
9*{x'-x)
When the weight of the whole araeometer is known in
ounces, &c., and the specific gravity of one of two liquids
(water, for instance) is known, the difference of specific
gravity between that liquid and another liquid may be
had in known quantities.
g is the specific gravity of water.
<7l is the specific gravity of the second liquid, which is
here supposed more dense.
w is the weight of the volume of water displaced by
the araeometer.
s is a small additional weight placed on the exterior
cup to keep the araeometer, when placed in the denser
liquid, at the same point of immersion as when it floated
in water.
w + s is the whole weight of the apparatus when float¬
ing in the denser liquid.
The equation gl = —9 is obtained by substi-
v -f- xxnz2 J
tuting gl for g, and w -f- s for w, in the equation g —
w i-i
^ i which was given above. Divide by <7 =:
w ii , O'1 w s
—y— g, and there results — = , which gives the
v + yX’itz2 g W 6
proportion of the density of the second liquid to the den¬
sity of water. By subtraction there results
9l—9
s
w
and gx
SO . • in«
g — that is, the difference between the ^
density of the second liquid and the density of water is^ -v
found by multiplying the small weight by 1000 ounces
and dividing this product by the number of ounces, &c'
which denote the weight of the araeometer uncharged.
Small bodies, whose specific gravities are known, serve}}
to indicate the specific gravity of a liquid in which theyorl,
just remain suspended. In this way beads of glass three '
or four tenths of an inch in diameter are employed, each
of which remains suspended in spirit of a certain specific
gravity. The density of each of these beads, or rather bub¬
bles, is regulated by the proportion between the quantity
of glass and the cavity which the glass incloses. A piece
of bees-wax, whose specific gravity, by the addition of
lead, is such that the body is just suspended in brine of a
known density, is used as an araeometer in some salt
works. The fresh egg of a common fowl is just sustained
by brine of a certain specific gravity, and is employed as
an araeometer.
The araeometer of Homberg consists of a phial with all
slender neck a-nd glass stopper, so made that it may be filledbe
with the same volume of different liquids. It is employed
in finding the specific gravity of liquids in the following
way : Is/, The phial is filled with distilled water, and then
weighed in a balance; 'idly, the phial is emptied, and
again filled with the liquid whose specific gravity is
sought, and weighed in a balance : the proportion of the
weight of the contents of the phial in the second process
to the weight of its contents in the first, is the specific
gravity required. The inconveniences which have pre¬
vented this method from being generally used are, the
difficulty of completely cleaning the phial from the liquid
which it previously contained ; the difficulty of filling the
phial exactly with the same volume of each liquid; and
the variation of the volume of the phial from changes of
temperature.
The pressure of the atmosphere supports columns ofPi
different fluids, wdiose height is inversely „ ar;
as the densities of the fluids. An araeome¬
ter has been constructed on this principle.
It is a curved tube, one leg of which has
its extremity immersed in water, and the
other in the spirit whose density is to be
tried. On rarefying the air in the tube,
by means of a pump fixed at the upper
part of the tube, the water ascends in one
leg, and the spirit in the other; the height
of the column of each liquid being mea¬
sured by a scale of equal parts applied to
each branch of the tube. This instrument
has never come into use, probably on ac¬
count of the difficulty of ascertaining with precision the
points at which the surfaces of the columns are termi¬
nated. (bb.)
ARAEOPAGUS. See Attica.
ARAEOSTYLE, in Architecture, a term used by Vitru¬
vius to signify the greatest interval which can be made
between columns.
AR/EOTICS, in Medicine, remedies which rarefy the
humours, and render them easy to be carried off by the
pores of the skin.
All AFAH, the ninth day of the last month of the Ara¬
bic year, named Dhoulhegiat, on which the pilgrims of
Mecca perform their devotions on a neighbouring moun¬
tain called Arafat.
ARAFAT, Mount, a celebrated mountain in Arabia)
held in high veneration by the Mahometans. A visit to
this mountain constitutes a necessary part of the religi"
ous pilgrimage to Mecca; which we have described at
w
A R A
1 eth under the article Arabia. The mountain consists
An? Jn{ a granite rock about 150 feet high, which is ascended
^ bv staircases, partly cut in the rock and partly composed
0f solid masonry. On the summit is a.chapel, which the
Mahometans believe to have been built by Adam. On
this hill also Adam is said to have met his wife Eve after
a long absence; and it is thence called Arafat or Grati-
tmlr ° The interior of the chapel was destroyed by the
Waliabys in 1807. . . . ..
ARAGON, or Arragon, a province, or, as it is usually
denominated by the inhabitants of the peninsula, a kingdom,
of Spain, and one of the component parts of that monarchy,
situated between 40. 17. and 4'A 51. N. lat. It is almost
surrounded by Old and New Castile, but to the south the
province of Valencia adjoins it and a small part of Cata¬
lonia. It is the most thinly peopled and the most extensive
of all the European dominions of the Spanish crown. Its
superficies is 1232 square leagues; and its population, ac¬
cording to the census of 1803, was 657,376 souls. It is
indeed contended that the numeration of that period was
incorrect; but the highest calculation, made by the Econo¬
mical Society of Saragossa, makes it amount to but a few
hundreds more than the census on which we rely. The
province is nearly divided into two equal parts by the
river Ebro, which are distinguished by the appellations of
trans-ibero and cis-ibero. Its surface is very irregular: the
north-east part towards Old Castile begins with the Sierra
de Moncayo, but from the foot of these mountains to the
Ebro the country is a continued level and fertile plain
in the centre. To the south the ground rises gradually
till it attains considerable elevation in the mountains near
Cuen9a, in which are the sources of the most considerable
rivers of Spain, some of which direct their courses to the
Mediterranean, while others force their way to the Atlantic.
The agricultural productions of the province necessarily
vary with the variations in the elevation and aspect of the
land. The greater part is appropriated to feeding flocks of
Merino sheep. The number of those belonging to the in¬
habitants of Aragon amounted to 2,050,000, and their wool
forms the most important of the productions of the pro¬
vince. Wheat is grown more than sufficient for its own
consumption, and it contributes to feed the neighbouring
province of Navarre. Its wine and oil are generally more
than its own demands require, and they are both of the best
quality which Spain produces; but having none but diffi¬
cult communication with any other country where these
valuable articles are wanted, the cultivation of them lan¬
guishes. Near the banks of the Ebro flax and hemp are
grown in more than sufficient quantities for the domestic
manufactures; and a supply of the latter is furnished to
some of the maritime towns of Biscay, where it is preferred
for cables to any other. The whole annual quantity of its
growth is 1000 tons. The supply of horses and cows is not
equal to the demands of the inhabitants, and the deficiency
is made up from the breed of the adjoining provinces. The
mountainous parts abound with excellent ship-timber, but
the badness of the roads prevents this branch of commerce
from being carried to any great extent.
The manufactures of the province are inconsiderable;
that of silk, which was formerly extensive, has been gra¬
dually on the decline for some years. Manufactories for
coarse cloths occupy the inhabitants of the town, or, as they
call it, the city, of Albarracin, and the large village of Ta-
razona; and some cloths of fine wool are made Jit Jaca,
and some baize in its vicinity. Some linen and sail-cloth
are also made, but the quantity of each is small. 1 here
are iron manufactories on the mountains, where the abund¬
ance of trees calculated for making charcoal have intro¬
duced forges; but the badness of the roads checks their
extension.
A R A 373
Aragon is not deficient in mineral riches, though the x\ragon.
labour applied to them, as to most other objects in Spain,
is in a very languid state. Near the Pyrenees, besides
mines of iron, there are three mines of lead and one of
copper, and, what is unique in Spain, a mine of cobalt.
Besides these there is a mine of alum near Alcaniz, which
is very productive.
Though the soil is generally very dry, and the greater
part of the province suffers from the want of water, yet
the largest rivers of Spain, the Tagus, the Guadiana, and
the Xucar, have their sources within it, and by their early
streams water the valleys, whilst, as before noticed, the
Ebro runs through its centre. At two leagues N. N, E.
of Albarracin is the extraordinary fountain called Celia,
at an elevation of 3700 feet above the level of the sea.
From this fountain the river Xiloca issues, and running
through a beautiful country of 30 miles in extent, filled
with inclosures, orchards, gardens, and vineyards, joins its
waters, near Calatayud, to the more copious stream of the
Xalon, which descends from Old Castile; and these unit¬
ed, lose their names by being emptied into the Ebro. Be¬
tween the stream of the Xiloca and the mountains which
separate Aragon from Molina, is a very extensive lake
called Gallo-canta, which covers about 6000 acres of land ;
and at a little distance from the lake are the ruins of the
ancient city Bilbilis, which has derived celebrity from
being the native place of the Roman poet Martial. The
Ebro receives the tributary streams of the Gallego and
the Guerva just as it reaches the walls of Saragossa; and
soon after the Martin joins it near the populous town of
Caspe. In this vicinity are abundant coal-mines, which
supply the inhabitants and the manufactories with that
valuable fuel. In Aragon trans-ibero the river Cinca,
issuing from the Pyrenees, passes the town of Ainsa, the
former residence of the ancient kings of Aragon ; and, in¬
creased by the streams of the Esera, the Vero, and the
Alcanadre, in its passage to the Ebro, fertilizes the lands
near the city of Huesca. In this place is a university
and two colleges, the former of which is a building of
great antiquity and considerable magnificence; and it is
surrounded by the ruins of very ancient fortifications.
After receiving, besides the streams noticed, several copi¬
ous rivulets, whose short courses have scarcely received
any names, the Ebro enters the province of Catalonia,
and at length falls into the Mediterranean Sea near Tolosa.
The capital of Aragon is Saragossa, or, as the Spaniards
spell it, Zaragosa, a city of more than 50,000 inhabi¬
tants ; the description of which, with its memorable resist¬
ance to the French invaders, will be treated of under the
article Saragossa. The other considerable cities and
towns are Teruel, Daroca, Calatayud, Borja, Tarazona, Al¬
caniz, Caspe, Barbastro, Monzon, Huesca, and Jaca. At
the most southern part of the province a district called
Cinco-villas is remarkably fruitful. The whole extent of
17,000 acres derives its fertility principally from an arti¬
ficial canal, cut for the purpose of irrigation, called the
royal canal of Tauste, by means of which the whole of the
land may be flooded at pleasure.
The name of this kingdom was derived from the small
but precipitous torrent Aragon, which rises in the Py¬
renean Mountains, and, running from north to south,
forms part of the waters of the Ebro.
A great portion of the Pyrenees is in the province of
Aragon. They run from east to west, presenting towards
Spain the convex part of a kind of spherical segment,
losing their height gradually towards each extremity.
The highest point of this range of mountains, called by the
French Mont Perdu, and by the Spaniards Las Tres So-
rores, is visible from the city of Saragossa. According
to the actual measurement of the naturalist Ramond, who
374
A R A
A R A
Arahum reached its summit in 1802, it is 11,430 feet above the
II. level of the sea. Its top is constantly covered with snow,
the permanent limits of which, on the same authority, are
stated at 7750 feet of elevation. Before the measure¬
ment of Ramond, the point called Canigu was supposed
to be the highest peak of this range, but it was thereby
ascertained to be but 10,050 feet high.
The regular passages from Spain into France are none
of them through any of the ridges within the province of
Aragon. One of them is in Biscay, one in Navarre, and
one in Catalonia; but on an accurate survey by the
French engineers, it appeared there were upwards of
eighty practicable passages, of which twenty-eight would
allow of cavalry, and seven of artillery and wheel-carriages.
None of these had been ever examined by the Spanish
government, though it was more than suspected that a
very considerable contraband traffic had been conducted
through these passes, in spite of the vigilance of the of¬
ficers of revenue in both kingdoms.
The history of Aragon before its union with Castile by
the marriage of Ferdinand and Isabella, when it was
merged in the kingdom of Spain, will be found in the ge¬
neral history of that country. Viage de Ponz; Geografia
de Don Isidore de Antillon ; Historia de la Economia Po-
lilica de Aragon, por Don Ignacio de Asso. (g.)
ARAHUM, or Harahum, in ancient writers, denotes
a place consecrated or set apart for holy purposes. Hence
the phrase in araho jurare, or conjurare, to make oath
in the church; because, by the Ripuarian laws, all oaths
were to be taken in the church on the relics of the
saints.
ARAL, a great lake lying a little to the eastward of
the Caspian Sea. Its length from north to south is said
to be near 150 miles, and its breadth from east to west
about 70. The shore on the west side is high and rocky,
and destitute of good water; yet there are abundance of
wild horses, asses, antelopes, and wolves ; as also a fierce
creature called SLjolbart, which the Tartars say is of such a
prodigious strength as to carry off a horse. Several great
rivers, which were supposed to run into the Caspian Sea,
are now known to fall into this lake, particularly the Sihun
or Sirr, and the Ghihun or Amo, so often mentioned by
the oriental historians. This lake, like the Caspian Sea,
has no visible outlet. Its water is also very salt, and for
that reason is conveyed by the neighbouring inhabitants
by small narrow canals into sandy pits, where the heat of
the sun, by exhaling the water, leaves them a sufficient
quantity of salt.
ARAMONT, a town of Languedoc in France, seated
on the river Rhone. Long. 4. 52. E. Lat. 43. 54. N.
ARANDA de Duero, a town of Spain, in Old Castile,
in the province of Burgos, on the right bank of the river
Duero. It contains 3300 inhabitants. Long. 3. 9. 24. W.
Lat. 41. 40. 12. N.
ARANJUEZ, a town of Spain, about 20 miles from
Madrid. It is situated on the banks of the Tagus, a little
below the junction of the rivers Xarama, Manzanares,
and Tajuna with that stream. The town is small, but
well built, and the principal street, the Calle Reyna, is
one of the most beautiful in Spain. Near this town is
one of the royal residences. The palace has been built
and ornamented with most profuse expense by several
successive monarchs. The expenditure on this place is
estimated to have amounted to more than L.500,000
sterling between the years 1763 and 1776. The gardens
were much improved by Wall, the extravagant minister
of the grandfather of the present king. Having the ad¬
vantage of the Tagus and several tributary rivulets, their
waters have been employed in forming fountains and
cascades among the various beautiful retreats which the
woods afford. The buildings are both spacious and mag.
nificent; and the apartments are, or rather, before the
French plunderers visited it, were, adorned with some
exquisite paintings from the pencil of Titian and of
Mengs. When this place was first appropriated as a royal
residence, Charles III. was principally induced to occupy
it for the sake of the game which abounds, to the pur-
suit of which he was excessively addicted. The injury
done to the occupiers of the land in the vicinity of Aran-
juez by the parties of the royal establishment was such
that the compensations which the king made to them for
the damages sustained amounted in some years to the
enormous sum of L.70,000 sterling. The town contains,
when the court is at Aranjuez, about 10,000 inhabitants’
Lat. 40. 1. 54. N.
ARARAT, a lofty mountain of Armenia, which rises
from the adjacent plain to the height of 9500 feet. It
has two peaks covered with perpetual snow, which,
viewed from the north, are seen to be separated by a
deep glen in the body of the mountain. From the slope
of this deep cleft the lesser head rises in a perfectly co¬
nical shape. The larger peak is of the same form, only
more rounded at the top; and the north-west face of the
mountain is broken and abrupt, and opens half-way down
into a stupendous rocky chasm of great depth, and pecu¬
liarly black. Many travellers have attempted to scale
the summit of this tremendous mountain. But the dis¬
tance between the commencement of the perpetual snow
line and the summit, and the long-continued cold to which
the traveller would consequently be exposed, baffled fora
long time all such hazardous attempts. Lately, however,
a German traveller, accompanied by a companion, accom¬
plished this daring feat, and attained the snowy summit,
on which no human foot had ever trod before. The moun¬
tain is held in peculiar veneration by the Armenian Chris¬
tians, from the belief that Noah’s ark after the flood rest¬
ed on its summits. It is evidently of volcanic origin; but
Dr Reinegg’s assertion, that an eruption occurred in 1783,
is totally devoid of foundation. This fact was ascertain¬
ed by Sir R. K, Porter from the priests of a neighbour¬
ing monastery, where an account was kept of the appear¬
ances exhibited by the monastery for several centuries
back.
ARASSI, a maritime, populous, and trading town of
Italy, in the territory of Genoa. Long. 7. 20. E. Lat. 44.
3. N.
ARATEIA, in Antiquity, a yearly festival celebrated
at Sicyon, on the birth-day of Aratus, wherein divers ho¬
nours were paid by a priest consecrated to this service,
who for distinction’s sake wore a riband bespangled with
white and purple spots.
AR A1 US, general of the Achaeans, conquered Nicocles,
tyrant of Sicyon. Two years after he surprised Acrcco-
rinthus, and drove out the king of Macedonia: he deli¬
vered Argos from its tyrants, and was poisoned by Philip II.
king of Macedonia, whom he had newly restored. He
was about 62 when he died, the second year of the 141st
Olympiad. He was interred at Sicyon, and received the
greatest honours from his countrymen.
Aratus, a Greek poet, born at Soli, or Solae, a town
in Cilicia, which afterwards changed its name, and was
called Pompeiopolis in honour of Pompey the Great. He
flourished about the 124th, or, according to some, the
126th Olympiad, in the reign of Ptolemy Philadelphus,
king of Egypt. He discovered in his youth a remarkable
poignancy of wit, and capacity for improvement; and
having received his education under Dionysius Hera-
cleotes, a Stoic philosopher, he espoused the principles
of that sect. Aratus was physician to Antigonus Gonatus,
the son of Demetrius Poliorcetes, king of Macedon. His
ratj
V
ARB
poem entitled Phcenomcna describes the nature and mo¬
ll lion of the fixed stars, and shows the particular influences
fbe.r 0f the heavenly bodies, with their various dispositions and
^ relations. He wrote this poem in Greek verse. It was
translated into Latin by Cicero, who tells us, in his first
book De Oratore, that the verses of Aratus are very
noble. This piece was translated by others as well as
Cicero, there being a translation by Germanicus Caesar,
and another into elegant verse by Festus Avienus. An
edition of the Phcenomena was published by Grotius, at
Leyden, in quarto, in 1600, in Greek and Latin, with the
fragments of Cicero’s version, and the translations of Ger-
manicus and Avienus; all which the editor has illustrated
with curious notes. A valuable edition of the Phceno¬
mena was published at Oxford, by Fell, in 1672, in 8vo;
but the most complete is that of Buhle, published at
Leipsic in 1801, in 2 vols. 8vo. There are several other
works ascribed to Aratus. Suidas mentions the follow¬
ing:—Hymns to Pan; Astrology and Astrothesy; a com¬
position of Antidotes; an E-r/^ur/xoi/ on Theopropus; an
Hferwa on Antigonus; an Epigram on Phila, the daugh¬
ter of Antipater and wife of Antigonus; an Epicedium
of Cleombrotus ; a Correction of the Odyssey; and some
Epistles in prose. Virgil, in his Georgies, has imitated
or translated many passages from this author; and St
Paul has quoted a passage of Aratus. It is in his speech
to the Athenians (Acts xvii. 28), wherein he tells them
that some of their own po'ets have said, Tou yag xa/ ymg
MlMi, For we are also his offspring. These words are
the beginning of the fifth line of the Phaenomena.
ARAUCANIA, a district of Chili, in South America,
lying between 37° and 39° of south latitude. The Arau-
canians had a certain tincture of civilization, which was
united with a high and unconquerable spirit of indepen¬
dence. They warred with the Spaniards for more than a
century, and though often vanquished in the field, never
would submit to them. Their government, according to
Molina, was a sort of federal republic; and they had a
nobility, and held national councils annually". The num¬
ber of fighting men in the four districts which composed
Araucania was about 7000 or 8000. They still enjoy
their independence. See America.
ARAUSIO, Civitas Arausiensis or Arausicorum, or
Colonia Secundanorum ; so called, because the veterans
of the second legion were there settled; now Orange,
in the west of Provence, on an arm of the rivulet Egue.
An ancient amphitheatre is still to be seen here. Long. 4.
46. E. Lat. 44. 10. N.
ARAW, a town of Switzerland, in Argow, seated on
the river Aar. It is handsome, large, and remarkable for
its church, its fountain, and the fertility of the soil. Long.
8. 0. E. Lat. 47. 25. N.
ARBACES governed Media under Sardanapalus. See¬
ing him spinning among a company of his women, he
stirred up his people to revolt, and dethroned Sardanapa¬
lus, who thereupon burnt himself in his palace. Arbaces
being crowned, began the monarchy of the Medes, which
lasted 317 years under nine kings, till Astyages was ex¬
pelled by Cyrus. Arbaces reigned 22 years, and died
a. M. 3206.
ARBALEST, or Cross-bow. See Cross-bow.
. ARBE, anciently Area, an island and city of Illyria,
in the gulf of Quarnaro. Of this island, which has been
hut slightly noticed by geographers, there is a full account
in the Abbe Fortis’s Account of Dalmatia. The appear¬
ance of the island is exceedingly pleasant. On the east
it has a very high mountain, at the foot of which the
rest of the island is extended to the westward, and di¬
vided into beautiful and fruitful plains interspersed with
‘ttle hills fit to bear the richest products. At the ex-
ARB 375
tremity that looks to the north a delightful promontory, Arbela
called Loparo, stretches into the sea: it is crowned with II
little hills, which almost quite inclose a fine cultivated Arbour,
plain. Near this promontory are the two small islands of'^^^
S. Gregorio and Goli. The city of Arbe stands on a rising
ground between two harbours, which form a peninsula.
ARBELA, now Irbil, a city of Assyria, lying in
long. 44. 5. E. lat. 35. 15. N. It is famous for the
last and decisive battle fought in its neighbourhood be¬
tween Alexander the Great and Darius Codomannus.
This battle was fought 331 years before Christ, and de¬
termined the fate of the Persian empire. Arrian re¬
lates, that Darius’s army consisted of a million of foot
and 40,000 horse; according to Diodorus, there were
200,000 horse and 800,000 foot; Plutarch relates that
the horse and foot together made up a million ; and Justin
gives us exactly half Diodorus’s number. The Macedo¬
nian army, according to Arrian, consisted of 40,000 foot
and 7000 horse. “ With the loss of 500 men,” says Dr
Gillies, “ Alexander destroyed 40,000 of the barbarians,
who never thenceforth assembled in sufficient numbers to
dispute his dominion in the East. The invaluable pro¬
vinces of Babylonia, Susiana, and Persis, with their* re¬
spective capitals of Babylon, Susa, and Persepolis, formed
the prize of his skill and valour. The gold and silver
found in those cities amounted to thirty millions sterling;
the jewels and other precious spoil belonging to Darius
sufficed, according to Plutarch, to load 20,000 mules and
5000 camels.” (Gillies’s History of Greece.)
ARBERG, a town of Switzerland, in the canton of
Bern, with a handsome castle, where the bailiff resides.
It is seated on the river Aar, in a kind of island. Long. 7.
15. E. Lat. 47. 0. N.
ARBITER, .in the Civil Law, implies a judge nomi¬
nated by the magistrate, or chosen voluntarily by the two
contending parties, in order to decide their differences.
The civilians make a difference between arbiter and arbi¬
trator though both found their power on the compromise
of the parties ; the former being obliged to judge accord¬
ing to the customs of the law, whereas the latter is at
liberty to use his own discretion, and accommodate the
differences in the manner that appears to him most just
and equitable.
ARBITRARY, that which is left to the choice or arbi¬
tration of men, or not fixed by any positive law or in¬
junction.
Arbitrary Punishment, in Law, denotes such punish¬
ments as are by statute left to the discretion of the judge.
It is a general rule in arbitrary punishments, that the judge
cannot inflict death. Flence all punishments that are not
capital have acquired the name of arbitrary punishments,
even although they be expressly pointed out by statute.
ARBOIS, a small populous town of France, in the de¬
partment of Jura, formerly Franche Compte, famous for
its wines. Long. 5. 40. E. Lat. 46. 55. N.
ARBON, one of the eight circles into which the can¬
ton of Thurgaw is divided.
Arbon, a town of Switzerland, chief of the circle of
the same name. It contains 170 houses and 900 inhabi¬
tants, about equally catholics and reformed protestants,
who use the only church alternately, and divide the ma¬
gistracy between them equally. It has a considerable
trade in linen goods. It is on the lake of Constance.
Long. 9. 25. E. Lat. 42. 27. N.
ARBOUR, in Gardening, a kind of shady bower, for¬
merly in great esteem. Arbours are generally made of
lattice work, either of wood or iron; and covered with
elms, limes, and hornbeams; or with creepers, as honey¬
suckles, jessamines, or passion-flowers; either of which will
answer the purpose very well, if rightly managed.
376 ARB
ARB
Arbroath ARBROATH. See Aberbrothick.
II ARBURG, a town of Switzerland, in the canton of
Arbuthnot. Bernj on t]le rjver Aar. It is small, but very strong, be-
ing seated on a rock, and defended by a good fortress cut
out of the rock. Long. 7. 55. E. Lat. 47. 10. N.
ARBUSTUM implies a number or multitude of trees
planted for the fruit’s sake. The word was more pecu¬
liarly applied to a place planted with trees for fastening
vines to, which are hence called by Columella Arbustiva.
Arbustum is sometimes also used to denote an orchard,
or field wherein trees are planted at such distance that
there is room for ploughing and growing corn between.
ARBUTHNOT, Alexander, principal of the univer¬
sity of Aberdeen in the reign of James VI. of Scotland,
was born in the year 1538. He studied first at Aberdeen,
and was afterwards sent over to France, where, under the
famous Cujacius, he applied himself to the study of the
civil law. In the year 1563 he returned to Scotland and
took orders. Whether he was ordained by a bishop or by
presbyters is a matter of uncertainty. In 1568 he was
appointed minister of Arbuthnot and Logie Buchan ; and
in the following year Mr Alexander Anderson being de¬
prived, our author was made principal of the King’s Col¬
lege at Aberdeen in his room. In the general assembly
which met at Edinburgh in the years 1573 and 1577 he
was chosen moderator, and to the end of his life was an
active supporter of the reformed religion. He died in
1583, in the 45th year of his age, and was buried in the
College church of Aberdeen. It was by him that Bu¬
chanan’s History of Scotland, published in 1582, was
edited. The only production of his own is his Orationes de
Origine et Dignitate Juris, printed at Edinburgh in 1572,
4to. His contemporary Thomas Maitland wrote a copy of
Latin verses on the publication of this book: they are
printed in the Delit. Poet. Scot. The same collection
contains an elegant epitaph on him, written by Andrew
Melvil.
Arbuthnot, John, M. D. the son of an episcopaLcler-
gyman in Scotland, was born soon after the Restoration,
at Arbuthnot near Montrose. After acquiring a compe¬
tent knowledge of the elementary parts of education, he
was sent to the college of Aberdeen, where the buddings
of those great qualities and those sallies of wit, which
contributed so much to his future greatness, soon made
their appearance. Having there gone through a course
of academical studies, and obtained the degree of doctor
of physic, he went to London in order to reap the fruits
both of his natural and acquired abilities. He then be¬
gan to display his talents in teaching mathematics, in
which he was very expert. An Examination of Hr
Woodward's Account of the Deluge, &c. in 1697, first
made him known to the learned world. This performance
was received with great applause ; and in 1700 a treatise
On the Usefulness of Mathematical Learning still increased
his reputation. A very interesting paper On the Regu¬
larity of the Births of both Sexes, demonstrating from au¬
thentic proofs the universal similarity which is observed
by nature in this circumstance, and drawing from these
Several political and moral inferences, which he presented
to the Royal Society, procured his election in 1704 into
that body. Meanw hile, in his own proper profession, he
was acquiring considerable eminence, and was appointed,
on account of his great medical knowledge, physician ex¬
traordinary to Prince George of Denmark, and shortly
afterwards one of the physicians in ordinary to Queen
Anne. He was admitted in 1710 a fellow of the college.
He formed about this period a very intimate acquaintance,
which lasted with unabating tenderness and affection du¬
ring the rest of his life, with these great literary men,
Pope, Gay, and Swift. In 1714 he engaged in an exten¬
sive design of making a satire upon all the abuses ofArt
science in every branch, in co-operation with Pope and^>
Swift, which was to be written under the form of the his-
tory of a fictitious character, and in the grave ironical
style. The plan was never finished, but the Memoirs of
Martinus Scriblerus, published in Pope’s works, form a part,
of which much is the performance of Dr Arbuthnot. It
is very probable that the whole of the first book is of his
composition, in which the great profoundness of know,
ledge that is discerned, and the good-natured pleasantry
with which the satire is directed, has gained it the cha¬
racter of one of the most original, learned, and interest-
ing pieces in the English language. Those parts which
relate to anatomy, the manners and customs of antiquity,
and logic, are particularly his performance. On the death
of Queen Anne he made a visit to Paris, in order to drive
away the melancholy which attended him on account of
that circumstance, which was a severe stroke to him, and
destructive not only to his personal, but also to his poli¬
tical views. Returning from thence, as his medical ser¬
vices were no longer required at St James’s, he retired
from it, and followed at large the practice of his profes¬
sion ; yet he did not thence give up his literary pursuits,
but pursued them with great ardour, although long inter¬
vals took place between the times of his publications. A
work entitled Tables of Ancient Coins, Weights, and Mea¬
sures, explained and exemplified in several dissertations,
appeared in 1727, in a 4to volume, which is the chief of
his serious performances. Although there are several in¬
accuracies in it which could hardly be avoided in so in¬
tricate a subject, it is a work of great merit, and has ever
since been considered as the standard authority. A trea¬
tise 07i the Nature and Choice of Aliments, which was
published in 1732, and another published in 1733, On the
Effects of Air on Human Bodies, finish the list of his
sterling works. Both these were well received by the fa¬
culty, and continue to be still esteemed, and are occa¬
sionally read and quoted. Respecting his humorous
works, which were the productions of his leisure hours,
they are so confounded with those of his contemporaries,
that it is not easy to distinguish them. But a piece
which, independent of any other, would raise him to the
character of the first humorous writer in the English lan¬
guage, entitled the History of John Bull, is confidently
ascribed to him. This is conducted with great wit and
humour, and all the circumstances and characters are
most admirably adapted. Among his several avowed
ironical pieces are, A Treatise concerning the Altercation
or Scolding of the Ancients, and the Art of Political Ly-
ing.
In the year 1751 there were published two small vo¬
lumes, entitled The Miscellaneous Works of Dr Arbuthnot;
but the greater part of what they contain is denied by
his son to be of his composition. As it was customary
for him, when any comical occurrence took place, which
struck his fancy, to write concerning it in a large folio
which lay in his parlour, it is very probable that many
slight and imperfect essays, which had gone out ol his
remembrance, might get abroad into the world. Through
all his pieces of this kind there runs a vein of good-na¬
tured pleasantry ; and this tends to confirm the character
given of him by Swift, to a lady who desired to know his
opinion concerning Dr Arbuthnot, “ He has more wit
than we all have, and his humanity is equal to his wit.
Although his writings are free from that gall and rancour
too common among party writers, yet they cannot be sai
to be altogether free from a party spirit; and in one in¬
stance he cannot be excused for allowing his personal
dislike to overrule his humanity, viz. in the Memoran¬
dums of the six days preceding the death of a late Kiy
ARC
Reverend (meaning Bishop Burnet). The indignation of
[ |j a virtuous man towards an infamous character is sufficient
!prc; to justify his severity in Ids bitter Epitaph on Colonel
\ fcm ^ Chartres, and tins severity was probably aggravated by
^U^'party spirit. Although he had no proper poetical talent,
yet he made an effort to try his genius in that kind of
composition. A piece published in Dodsley’s collection
is valuable for its philosophical sentiment. It is entitled
rNB0I 2EATTON, Know thyself. He was also skilled
in music; and Sir J. Hawkins mentions an anthem and a
burlesque song which are ascribed to him.
In these occupations he passed his days, amid all the
pleasures that can render domestic life happy, in the af¬
fection and estimation of his friends, beloved and esteem¬
ed by all his literary associates, who have each taken
great pains to celebrate their mutual friendship. Swift,
in one of his poems, sincerely laments that he is
Far from his kind Arbuthnot’s aid,
Who knows his art, but not his trade.
Pope has dedicated to him an epistle called a Prologue
to the Satires. He was full of humility and resignation
in all the dispensations of Providence. Of his two sons,
he witnessed the'death of one; and the other, with some
daughters, survived him. At length, from an inveterate
asthma, he fell into a dropsical disorder; and, in order to
try the effect of a change of air, he repaired to Hamp¬
stead, but without the least gleam of hope respecting a
recovery, as he assured his friends Pope and Swift. Re¬
turning to his house in London, he died February 27,
1734-5.
ARC, Joan of, generally called the Maid of Orleans,
one of the most famed heroines in the annals of history,
was born about the beginning of the 15th century, at
Domremy, near Vaucouleurs, in Lorrain, where her father,
a peasant, named James d’Arc, resided. When she was
able in the least degree to earn a sustenance for herself,
her parents, wdio were but poor, put her to service at a
small inn, where she performed several offices more pro¬
perly belonging to the other sex, such as riding the horses
to water without a saddle, and attending them in the
fields, and many other similar services, which greatly dis¬
played her masculine habit of body. At the time when
Charles VII. was reduced to a very low condition, and
the greatest part of his country had been overrun by the
bnglish, Joan, probably then at the age of 27 or 28, ima¬
gined that she saw several visions, and that in one of
these she was commanded by St Michael to go imme¬
diately to the relief of Orleans, at that time closely be¬
sieged by the English army, and then to procure the con¬
secration of the king at Rheims. In February 1429 her
parents took her to the governor of Vaucouleurs, named
audricourt, who at first held her pretended inspiration
to be no more than an idle tale, and treated it with the
cornempt such a thing would have deserved; but at last,
in uced by her entreaties, he sent her to Chinon, where
ie ing then was, in order that she might be introduced
° inn. Charles, whether it proceeded from earnest or
not, in order to sound her, determined to present her to
a company of his nobles, where no mark of dignity tended
o istinguish him from them ; and it is asserted that she
mme lately recognised him, and informed him of secrets
o]llc, *iad endeavoured to conceal from every person,
ic o dly engaged to accomplish the two objects of her
ission, and required that they should arm her with a
onsecrated sword, which lay in the church of St Catha-
ao 0 Ierhois; and although she had never seen it, she
m ate.y described every particular concerning it. The
dene ^ ln.wuch she acted inspired many with confi-
t0 e’ .an .certain doctors of the church were appointed
v0rr 1Ut0 nature °f inspiration, and matrons
ARC
to give proofs of her virginity. The report which they
gave was very favourable; but being next put into the
hands of the parliament, they treated her as frantic, and
demanded that she should show them a miracle. She
answered, that although she had not any at that time to
present, she would soon accomplish one at Orleans. At
length being fully armed and mounted, she was sent to
Orleans along with the army destined for its relief. By dis¬
playing a consecrated banner, she soon cleansed the camp
of intemperance, and animated the soldiers by her exem-
plaiy enthusiasm. Entering Orleans, she introduced a con¬
voy ; and boldly attacking the English in their forts, she
routed them with great slaughter, and struck them with
such a panic that they were even obliged to raise the sie°-e
with great precipitation. The dignity of a superior mind
and a brave heroism reigned through all her actions. Va¬
rious other successes followed in a short time, and the dis¬
mayed English everywhere fled before the hand of a con¬
quering enemy, whom they had but lately contemned. Joan
now thinking it proper to perform her other promise of
crowning the king at Rheims, proceeded with him through
the kingdom, in order to receive submission of the towns
as he marched, which he did without any opposition. Ar-
living at Rheims, the keys of the city were delivered to
him; and, entering the town, he was anointed with the
holy oil of Clovis, and crowned, Joan standing by his side
in full armour, and displaying her consecrated banner.
Charles, filled with gratitude for her important services,
ennobled her family, and conferred upon it the title of
the Sys, with a. conformable estate in hand. The two
objects of her mission being now accomplished, Joan pre-
paied to retire into the country; but Dunois, the general,
being sensible of her importance on account of her pre¬
tended inspiration, endeavoured to persuade her to re¬
main in arms until the English should be fully driven from
the countiy; which by his persuasions he effected. Ad¬
vised by him, she cast herself into Compeigne, then close¬
ly besieged by the English and the duke of Burgundy.
Having there made a sally upon the enemy, she drove
them from their entrenchments ; but being basely desert¬
ed by her followers, she was taken prisoner. Upon her
capture, the English enjoyed a malignant gratification,
and resolved to show her no mercy on account of the
change she had occasioned in their affairs. The duke of
Bedford, the regent, having ransomed her from the cap-
tors, appointed a criminal prosecution against her, upon
the charges of employing sorcery and magic, and of being
impious. He was joined in the accusation by the clergy,
and by the university of Paris. She was carried in irons
before an ecclesiastical commission at Rouen, where seve¬
ral capricious interrogatories were put to her during a
trial of about four months, to which she answered with
steadiness and gravity. Among several other questions,
she was interrogated why she had assisted at the corona¬
tion of Charles with her standard in her hand. She
boldly replied, “ Because the person who shared in the
danger had a right to share in the glory.” Her defence
was not so strong concerning her pretended inspiration
and visions, which were the most dangerous points of the
attack. She appealed to the pope upon being accused on
these grounds of impiety and heresy, but her appeal was
not allowed. At length she was condemned of being a
blasphemer and sorceress, and accordingly delivered over
to the power of the civil magistrate. A view of the dread¬
ful punishment that awaited her at last overpowered her
resolution, and she endeavoured to escape it, by making
a disavowal of her pretended revelations, and a full re¬
nunciation of her errors. Her sentence was then changed
into perpetual imprisonment; but this punishment did
not assuage the fury of her barbarous enemies. They
3 B
377
Arc,
Joan of.
378 ARC ARC
Arc, craftily laid a man’s dress in her chamber; and she, in- as to excite the emotions of the public, seems to be the A e
Joan of duced by the sight of an apparel in which she had gained most probable supposition. l hat the appearance of the
il so much honour, put it on; and upon being discovered, Maid of Orleans tended to give a decisive turn to the 1 ■
. ^K_^, her enemies condemned her to the stake, interpreting the contest between the English and the French, has never w
1 action into a relapse of heresy. She suffered her punish- in the least been questioned.
ment in June 1431, at the market-place of Rouen, with ARCADE, in Architecture, is used to denote any open*
great firmness; and even the English themselves beheld ing in the wall of a building formed by an arch,
the scene with tears. Her death will tor ever cast an in- ARCESILACS, a celebrated Oieek philosopher, about
delible stigma on the character of her cruel prosecutors. 300 years before the Christian era, was born at Pitane, in
Charles did nothing towards avenging her cause, but ten Eolis. He founded the second academy, called the se-
years afterwards contented himself with procuring the cond or middle school. He was a man of great erudi-
restoration of her memory by the pope, and a reversion tion, and had many disciples. The middle school laid it
of the process. She was styled in that act a “ martyr to down as a principle, that we could know nothing, nor even
her religion, her country, and her king. In their enthu- assure ouiselves of the certainty of this position; from
siastic admiration, her countrymen were not so slow in whence they inferred, that we should affirm nothing, but
honouring her memory. Many marvellous stories were always suspend our judgment. They advanced, that a
related by them concerning her death. Some supposed philosopher was able to dispute upon every subject, and
that she was not actually dead, and continually expected bring conviction with him, even upon contrary sides of
that, as formerly, she would come, and at their head lead the same question; for there are always reasons of equal
them on to victory. A consistent and uniform judgment force both in the affirmative and negative of every argu-
respecting the actions and address of this personage can- ment. According to this doctrine, neither our senses nor
not be made by posterity. That she gave herself up to even our reason are to have any credit; and, therefore, in
the influence of a heated fancy, and that she was confi- common affairs, we are to conform ouifselves to received
dent in the idea of her divine inspiration, and that this opinions. Arcesilaus was succeeded by his disc ple La-
notion was so improved by certain favourites of Charles cydes.
ARCH.
Arch de- 1. Arch, in building, is an artful disposition and adjust-
fined. ment of several stones or bricks, generally in a bow-like
form, by which their weight produces a mutual pressure
and abutment; so that they not only support each other,
and perform the office of an entire lintel, but may be ex¬
tended to any width, and made to carry the most enor¬
mous weights.
History of 2. In those mild climates which seem to have been the
architec- first inhabited parts of this globe, mankind stood more in
ture con- nee(J 0f shade from the sun than of shelter from the in¬
arches Wltl1 clemency th0 weather. A very small addition to the
arcnes’ shade of the woods served them for a dwelling. Sticks
laid across from tree to tree, and covered with brushwood
and leaves, formed the first houses in those delightful
regions. As population and the arts improved, these
huts were gradually refined into commodious dwellings.
The materials were the same, but more artfully put to¬
gether. At last agriculture led the inhabitants out of the
woods into the open country. The connection between
the inhabitant and the soil became now more constant
and more interesting. The wish to preserve this connec¬
tion was natural, and fixed establishments followed of
course. Durable buildings were more desirable than
those temporary and perishable cottages—stone was sub¬
stituted for timber.
But as these improved habitations were gradual refine¬
ments on the primitive hut, traces of its construction re¬
mained, even when the choice of more durable materials
made it in some measure inconvenient. Thus it happen¬
ed, that while a plain building, intended for accommoda¬
tion only, consisted of walls, pierced with the necessary
doors and windows, an ornamented building had, super-
added to these essentials, columns, with the whole appa¬
ratus of entablature borrowed from the wooden building,
of which they had been essential parts, gradually render¬
ed more suitable to the purposes of accommodation and
elegance.
3. This view of ornamental architecture will go far to
account for some of the more general differences of na¬
tional style which may be observed in different parts of
the world. The Greeks borrowed many of their arts from
their Asiatic neighbours, who had cultivated them long
before. It is highly probable that architecture travelled
from Persia into Greece. In the ruins of Shushan, Per-
sepolis, or Tchelminar, are to be seen the first models of
every thing that distinguishes the Grecian architectures.
There is no doubt, we suppose, among the learned, as to
the great priority of these monuments to any thing that
remains in Greece ; especially if we take into account the
tombs on the mountains, which have every appearance of
greater antiquity than the remains of Persepolis. In those
tombs we see the whole ordonnance of column and entab¬
lature, just as they began to deviate from their first and
necessary forms in the wooden buildings. We have the
architrave, frieze, and cornice; the far-projecting mu-
tules of the Tuscan and Doric orders; the modillions no
less distinct; the rudiments of the Ionic capital; the Co¬
rinthian capital in perfection, pointing out the very origin
of this ornament, viz. a number of long, graceful leaves
tied round the head of the column with a fillet (a custom
which we know to have been common in their temples
and banqueting rooms). Where the distance between
the columns is great, so that each had to support a weight
too great for one tree, we see the columns clustered or
fluted, &c. In short, we see every thing of the Grecian
architecture but the sloped roof or pediment—a thing not
wanted in a country where it hardly ever rains.
4. The ancient Egyptian architecture seems to be a re¬
finement on the hut built of clay, or unburnt bricks, mixed
with straw—every thing is massive, clumsy, and timid—
small intercolumniations, and hardly any projections.
5. The Arabian architecture seems a refinement on the
tent. A mosque is like a little camp, consisting of a num¬
ber of little bell tents, stuck close together round a great
one. A caravansery is a court surrounded by a row o
such tents, each having its own dome. The Greek churc
of St Sophia at Constantinople has imitated this in some
degree; and the copies from it, which have been mu ti-
plied in Russia as the sacred form for a Christian churc
have added to the original model of clustered tents m t e
A R
, strictest manner. We are sometimes disposed to think
t|iat the painted glass (a fashion brought from the East)
was an imitation of the painted hangings of the Arabs.
6. The Chinese architecture is an evident imitation of
a wooden building. Sir George Staunton says, that the
singular form of their roofs is a professed imitation of the
cover of a square tent.
In the stone buildings of the Greeks, the roofs were imi¬
tations of the wooden ones; hence the lintels, flying cor¬
nices, ceilings in compartments, &c.
7. The pediment of the Greeks seems to have suggested
the greatest improvement in the art of building. In erect¬
ing their small houses, they could hardly fail to observe
occasionally, that when two rafters were laid together
from the opposite walls, they would, by leaning on each
other, give mutual support, as in Plate LII. fig. 1. Nor is
it unlikely that such a situation of stones as is represented
in fig. 2 would not unfrequently occur by accident to ma¬
sons. This could hardly fail of exciting a little attention
and reflection. It was a pretty obvious reflection, that
the stones A and C, by overhanging, leaned against the
intermediate stone B, and gave it some support, and that
B cannot get down without thrusting aside A and C, or
the piers which support them. This was an approach to
the theory of an arch ; and if this be combined with the
observation of fig. 1, we get the disposition represented in
fig. 3, having a perpendicular joint in the middle, and the
principle of the arch is completed. Observe that this is
quite different from the principle of the arrangement in
fig. 2. In that figure the stones act as wedges, and one
cannot get down without thrusting the rest aside. The
same principle obtains in fig. 4, consisting of five arch¬
stones ; but in fig. 3 the stones B and C support each other
by their mutual pressure (independent of their own
weight), arising from the tendency of each lateral pair to
fall outwards from the pier. This is the principle of the
arch, and would support the key-stone of fig. 4, although
each of its joints were perpendicular, by reason of the
great friction arising from the horizontal thrust exerted
by the adjoining stones.
This was a most important discovery in the art of build¬
ing; for now a building of any width may be roofed with
stone.
8. We are disposed to give the Greeks the merit of this
discovery; for we observe arches in the most ancient
buildings of Greece, such as the temple of the sun at
Athens, and of Apollo at Didymos—not indeed as roofs
to any apartment, nor as parts of the ornamental design,
but concealed in the walls, covering drains or other neces¬
sary openings; and we have not found any real arches in
any monuments of ancient Persia or Egypt. Sir John
Chardin speaks of numerous and extensive subterranean
passages at Tchelminar, built of the most exquisite ma-
sonry, the joints so exact, and the stones so beautifully
dressed, that they look like one continued piece of polish¬
ed marble; but he nowhere says that they are arched—a
circumstance which we think he would not have omitted:
no arched door or window is to be seen. Indeed one of
the tombs is said to be arch-roofed, but it is all of one
solid rock. No trace of an arch is to be seen in the ruins
of ancient Egypt; even a wide room is covered with a
single block of stone. In the pyramids, indeed, there are
two galleries whose roofs consist of many pieces; but
their construction puts it beyond doubt that the builder
did not know what an arch was ; for it is covered in the
manner represented in fig. 5, where every projecting piece
is more than balanced behind, so that the whole awkward
mass could have stood on two pillars. The Greeks, there-
ore, seem entitled to the honour of the invention. The
arched dome, however, seems to have arisen in Etruria,
379
and originated in all probability from the employment of Arch,
the augurs, whose business it was to observe the flight of
birds. Their stations for this purpose were tetnpla,, so
called a templando, on the summits of hills. To shel¬
ter such a person from the weather, and at the same time
allow him a full prospect of the country around him, no
building was so proper as a dome set on columns; which
accordingly is the figure of a temple in the most ancient
monuments of that country. We do not recollect a build¬
ing of this kind in Greece except that called the Lanthorn
of Demosthenes, which is of very late date; whereas they
abounded in Italy. In the later monuments and coins of
Italy or of Rome we commonly find the Etruscan dome
and the Grecian temple combined; and the famous Pan¬
theon was of this form, even in its most ancient state.
9. It does not appear that the arch was considered as a
part of the ornamental architecture of the Greeks during
the time of their independency. It is even doubtful whe¬
ther it was employed in roofing their temples. In none
of the ancient buildings where the roof is gone can there
be seen any rubbish of the vault or mark of the spring of
the arch. It is not unfrequent, however, after the Roman
conquests, and may be seen in Athens, Delos, Palmyra,
Balbeck, and other places. It is very frequent in the
magnificent buildings of Rome ; such as the Coliseum, the
baths of Diocletian, and the triumphal arches, where its
form is evidently made the object of attention. But its
chief employment was in bridges and aqueducts; and it
is in these works that its immense utility is the most con¬
spicuous : for by this happy contrivance a canal or a road
may be carried across any stream, where it would be al¬
most impossible to erect piers sufficiently near to each
other for carrying lintels. Arches have been executed
130 feet wide, and their execution demonstrates that they
may be made four times as wide.
10. As such stupendous arches are the greatest per¬
formances of the masonic art, so they are the most diffi¬
cult and delicate. When we reflect on the immense
quantity of materials thus suspended in the air, and com¬
pare this with the small cohesion which the firmest ce¬
ment can give to a building, we shall be convinced that it
is not by the force of the cement that they are kept to¬
gether ; they stand fast only in consequence of the proper
balance of all their parts. Therefore, in order to erect
them with a well-founded confidence of their durability,
this balance should be well understood and judiciously
employed. We doubt not but that this was understood
in some degree by the engineers of antiquity; but they
have left us none of their knowledge. They must have
had a great deal of mechanical knowledge before they
could erect the magnificent and beautiful buildings whose
ruins still enchant the world; but they kept it among
themselves. We know that the Dionysiacs of Ionia were
a great corporation of architects and engineers, who un¬
dertook and even monopolized the building of temples,
stadiums, and theatres, precisely as the fraternity of ma¬
sons in the middle ages monopolized the building of ca¬
thedrals and conventual churches. Indeed the Dionysiacs
resembled the mystical fraternity now called free-masons
in many important particulars. They allowed no strangers
to interfere in their employment; they recognised each
other by signs and tokens; they professed certain myste¬
rious doctrines, under the tuition and tutelage of Bac¬
chus, to whom they built a magnificent temple at Teos,
where they celebrated his mysteries as solemn festivals ;
and they called all other men profane because not admit¬
ted to these mysteries. But their chief mysteries and
most important secrets seem to be their mechanical and
mathematical sciences, or all that, academical knowledge
which forms the regular education of a civil engineer.
C H.
A R
We know that the temples of the gods and the theatres
required an immense apparatus of machinery for the ce¬
lebration of some of their mysteries; and that the Diony¬
siacs contracted for those jobs, even at far distant places,
where they had not the privilege of building the edifice
which was to contain them. This is the most likely way
of explaining the very small quantity of mechanical know¬
ledge that is to be met with in the writings of the an¬
cients. Even Vitruvius does not appear to have been of
the fraternity, and speaks of the Greek architects in terms
of respect next to veneration. The Collegium Murario-
rum, or incorporation of masons at Rome, does not seem
to have shared the secrets of the Dionysiacs.
11. The art of building arches has been most assidu¬
ously cultivated by the associated builders of the middle
ages of the Christian church, both Saracens and Christians,
and they seem to have indulged in it with fondness: they
multiplied and combined arches without end, placing them
in every possible situation.
12. Having studied this branch of the art of building
with so much attention, they were able to erect the most
magnificent buildings with materials which a Greek or
Roman architect could have made little or no use of.
There is infinitely more scientific skill displayed in a
Gothic cathedral than in all the buildings of Greece and
Rome. Indeed these last exhibit very little knowledge
of the mutual balance of arches, and are full of gross
blunders in this respect; nor could they have resisted the
shock of time so long, had they not been almost solid
masses of stone, with no more cavity than was indispensa¬
bly necessary.
13. Anthemius and Isidorus, whom the Emperor Justi¬
nian had selected as the most eminent architects of Greece,
for building the celebrated church of St Sophia at Con¬
stantinople, seem to have known very little of this matter.
Anthemius had boasted to Justinian that he would outdo
the magnificence of the Roman Pantheon, for he would
hang a greater dome than it aloft in the air. Accord¬
ingly he attempted to raise it on the heads of four piers,
distant from each other about 115 feet, and about the same
height. He had probably seen the magnificent vault¬
ings of the temple of Mars the Avenger, and the temple
of Peace at Rome, the thrusts of which are withstood by
two masses of solid wall, which join the side walls of the
temple at right angles, and extend sidewise to a great dis¬
tance. It was evident that the walls of the temple could
not yield to the pressure of the vaulting without pushing
these immense buttresses along their foundations. He
therefore placed four buttresses to aid his piers. They
are almost solid masses of stone, extending at least ninety
feet from the piers to the north and to the south, form¬
ing as it were the side walls of the cross. They elfectu-
ally secured them from the thrusts of the two great arches
of the nave which support the dome; but there was no
such provision against the push of the great north and
south arches. Anthemius trusted for this to the half
dome which covered the semicircular east end of the
church, and occupied the wdiole eastern arch of the great
dome. But when the dome was finished, and had stood
a few months, it pushed the two eastern piers with their
buttresses from the perpendicular, making them lean to
the eastward, and the dome and half dome fell in. Isido¬
rus, who succeeded to the charge on the death of Anthe¬
mius, strengthened the piers on the east side by filling
up some hollows, and again raised the dome. But things
gave way befox-e it was closed; and while they were build¬
ing in one part, it was falling in in another. The pillars
and walls of the eastern semicircular end were much shat¬
tered by this time. ■ Isidorus seeing that they could give
no resistance to the push which was so evidently direct-
C H.
ed that way, erected some clumsy buttresses on the east /
wall of the square which surrounded the whole Greeks
cross, and was roofed in with it, forming a sort of cloister ^
round the whole. These buttresses, spanning over this
cloister, leaned against the piers of the dome, and thus
opposed the thrusts of the great north and south arches
The dome was now turned for the third time, and many
contrivances were adopted for making it extremely light.
It was made offensively flat, and, except the ribs, was
roofed with pumice stone ; but, notwithstanding these pre¬
cautions, the arches settled so as to alarm the architect's
and they made all sure by filling up the whole from top to
bottom with arcades in three stories. The lowest arcade
was very lofty, supported by four noble marble columns,
and thus preserved in some measure the church in the
form of a Greek cross. The story above formed a gallery
for the women, and had six columns in front, so that
they did not bear fair on those below. The third story
was a dead wall filling up the arch, and pierced with three
rows of small, ill-shaped windows. In this unworkman¬
like shape it has stood till now, and is the oldest church
in the world; but it is an ugly mis-shapen mass, more re¬
sembling an overgrown potter’s kiln, surrounded withfur-
ixaces pierced and patched, than a magnificent temple.
We have been thus particular in our account of it, because
this history of the building shows that the ancient archi¬
tects had acquired no distinct notions of the action of
arches. Almost any mason of our time would know,
that as the south arch would push the pier to the east¬
ward, while the east arch pushed it to the southward, the
buttress which was to withstand these thrusts must not
be placed on the south side of the piei’, but on the south¬
east side, or that there must be an eastern as well as a
southern buttress.
14. No such blunders are to be seen in a Gothic cathe¬
dral. Some of them appear, to a careless spectator, to
be very massive and clumsy; but when judiciously ex¬
amined, they will be found very bold and light, being
pierced in every direction by arcades; and the walls are
divided into cells like a honeycomb, so that they are very
stiff1, while they are very light.
15. About the middle, or rather towards the end, ofDrl <?'*
last century, when the Newtonian mathematics openedP™ 0
the road to true mechanical science, the construction ofar£1
arches engrossed the attention of the fii’st mathematicians.
The first hint of a principle that we have met with is Dr
Hooke’s assertion, that the figure into which a chain or
rope, perfectly flexible, will ari’ange itself when suspended
from two hooks, is, when inverted, the proper form for an
arch composed of stones of uniform weight. This he af¬
firmed on the principle, that the figure which a flexible
festoon of heavy bodies assumes, when suspended from
two points, is, when inverted, the proper form of an arch
of the same bodies, touching each other in the same
points ; because the force with which they mutually press
on each other in this last case are equal and opposite to
the forces with which they pull at each other in the case
of suspension.
This pi’inciple is strictly just, and may be extended to
every case which can be proposed. We recollect seeing
it proposed in veiy general terms in 1759, when plans
were forming for Blackfriars Bridge in London; and since
it is perhaps equal in practical utility to the most elaborate
investigations of the mathematicians, our readers will not
be displeased with a more particular account of it in this
place. ,
16. Let ABC (fig. 6) be a parcel of magnets offiny^P
size and shape, and let us suppose that they adhere with
great force by any points of contact. They will compose
such a flexible festoon as we have been speaking ot »
A R
I suspended from the points A and C. If this figure be in-
rLj verted, preserving the same points of contact, they will
^ remain in equilibrio. It will indeed be that kind of equi¬
librium which will admit of no disturbance, and which
may be called a tottering equilibrium. If the form be al¬
tered in the smallest degree, by varying the points of con¬
tact (which indeed are points in the figure of equilibration),
the magnets will no more recover their former position
than a needle, which we had made to stand on its point,
will regain its perpendicular position after it has been
disturbed.
But if we suppose planes de, fg, hi, Ac. drawn through
the points of mutual contact a, b, c, each bisecting the angle
formed by the lines that unite the adjoining contacts (Jtg,
for example, bisecting the angle formed by ab,b c), and if
we suppose that the pieces are changed for others of the
same weights, but having flat sides, which meet in the
planes de, fg, hi, &c., it is evident that we shall have an
arch of equilibration, and that the arch will have some sta¬
bility, or will bear a little change of form without tumbling
down: for it is plain that the equilibrium of the original
festoon obtained only in the points a, b, c, of contact,
where the pressures were perpendicular to the touching
surfaces; therefore, if the curve a, b, c, still passes through
the touching surfaces perpendicularly, the conditions that
are required for equilibrium still obtain. The case is
quite similar to that of the stability of a body resting on
a horizontal plane. If the perpendicular through the
centre of gravity falls within the base of the body, it will
not only stand, but it will require some force to push it
over. In the original festoon, if a small weight be added
in any part, it will change the form of the curve of equi¬
libration a little, by changing the points of mutual con¬
tact. This new curve will gradually separate from the
former curve as it recedes from A or C. In like manner,
when the festoon is set up as an arch, if a small weight be
laid on any part of it, it will bring the whole to the
ground, because the shifting of the points of contact will
be just the contrary to what it should be to suit the new
curve of equilibration ; but if the same weight be laid on
the same part of the arch now constructed with flat joints,
it will be sustained if the new curve of equilibration still
passes through the touching surfaces.
17. These conclusions, which are very obviously de-
ducible from the principle of the festoon, show us, without
any further discussion, that the longer the joints are, the
greater will be the stability of the arch, or that it will re¬
quire a greater force to break it down. Therefore it is of
the greatest importance to have the arch-stones as long as
economy will permit; and this was the great use of the
ribs and other apparent ornaments in the Gothic architec¬
ture. dhe great projections of those ribs augmented their
stiffness, and enabled them to support the unadorned com¬
partments of the roof, composed of very small stones, sel¬
dom above six inches thick. Many old bridges are still
lemaining, which are strengthened in the same way by
Having thus explained, in a very familiar manner, the
stability of an arch, we proceed to give the same popular
Iac('t'unt °f the general application of the principle.
jjj1' j Suppose it be required to ascertain the form of an
arch which sjiall have the span AB (fig. 7), and the height
. ’ an<l which shall have a road-way of the dimensions
tUb a,bove it. Let the figure ACUEB be inverted, so
as to form a figure A c de 13. Let a chain of uniform
nckness be suspended from the points A and B, and let
1 e of such a length that its lower point will hang at, or
[ather a little below, fi corresponding to F. Divide AB
ui o a number of equal parts, in the points 1, 2, 3, &c.
an c raw vertical lines, cutting the chain in the corre-
C H.
381
spending points 1, 2, 3, Ac. Now take pieces of another Arch,
chain, and hang them on at the points 1, 2, 3, Ac. of the
chain A/B. This will alter the form of the curve. Cut
or trim these pieces of chain, till their lower ends all co¬
incide with the inverted road-way cde. The greater
lengths that are hung on in the vicinity of A and B will
pull down these points of the chain, and cause the middle
point / (which is less loaded) to rise a little, and will
bring it near to its proper height.
It is plain that this process will produce an arch of per¬
fect equilibration ; but some further considerations are ne¬
cessary for making it exactly suit our purpose. It is an
arch of equilibration for a bridge that is so loaded that
the weight of the arch-stones is to the weight of the mat¬
ter with which the haunches and crown are loaded, as the
weight of the chain Ay B is to the sum of the weights of
all the little bits of chain very nearly. But this propor¬
tion is not known beforehand; we must therefore proceed
in the following manner:—Adapt to the curve produced
in this way a thickness of the arch-stones as great as are
thought sufficient to insure stability; then compute the
weight of the arch-stones, and the weight of the gravel or
rubbish with which the haunches are to be filled up to the
road-way. If the proportion of these two weights be the
same with the proportion of the weights of chain, we may
rest satisfied with the curve now found; but if different,
we can easily calculate how much must be added equally
to or taken from each appended bit of chain, in order to
make the two proportions equal. Having altered the ap¬
pended pieces accordingly, we shall get a new curve,
which may perhaps require a very small trimming of the
bits of chain to make them fit the road-way. This curve
will be very near to the curve wanted.
We have practised this method for an arch of 60 feet
span and 21 feet high, the arch-stones of which were only
two feet nine inches long. It was to be loaded with gra¬
vel and shivers. We made a previous computation, on the
supposition that the arch was to be nearly elliptical. The
distance between the points 1, 2, 3, Ac. were adjusted, so
as to determine the proportion of the weights of chain
agreeable to the supposition. The curve differed consi¬
derably from an ellipse, making a considerable angle with
the verticals at the spring of the arch. The real propor¬
tion of the weights of chain, when all was trimmed so as
to suit the road-way, was considerably different from what
was expected. It was adjusted. The adjustment made
very little change in the curve. It would not have changed
it two inches in any part of the real arch. When the pro¬
cess was completed, we constructed the curve mathema¬
tically. It did not differ sensibly from this mechanical
construction. This was very agreeable information; for
it showed us that the first curve, formed by about two
hours’ labour, on a supposition considerably different from
the truth, would have been sufficiently exact for the pur¬
pose, being in no place three inches from the accurate
curve, and therefore far within the joints of the intended
arch-stones. Therefore this process, which any intelli¬
gent mason, though ignorant of mathematical science,
may go through with little trouble, will give a very pro¬
per form for an arch subject to any conditions.
19. The chief defect of the curve found in this way is
a want of elegance, because it does not spring at right
angles to the horizontal line; but this is the case with all
curves of equilibration, as we shall see by and by. It is
not material; for, in the very neighbourhood of the piers,
we may give it any form we please, because the masonry
is solid in that place; nay, we apprehend that a deviation
from the curve of equilibration is proper. The construc¬
tion of that curve supposes that the pressure on every
part of the arch is vertical; but gravel, earth, and rub-
382
ARC H.
Arch, bish, exert somewhat of a hydrostatical pressure laterally
in the act of settling, and retain it afterwards. This will
require some more curvature at the haunches of an arch
to balance it; but what this lateral pressure may be, can¬
not be deduced with confidence from any experiments that
we have seen. We are inclined to think, that if, instead
of dividing the horizontal line AB in the points 1, 2, 3,
&c. we divide the chain itself into equal parts, the curve
will approach nearer to the proper form.
Theory 20. After this familiar statement of the general principle,
founded on ;t js now time to consider the theory founded on it more
this prin- in This theory aims at such an adjustment of the
cip e' position of the arch-stones to the load on every part of the
arch, that all shall remain in equilibrio, although the joints
be perfectly polished and without any cement. The whole
may be reduced to two problems. The first is to deter¬
mine the vertical pressure or load on every point of a line
of a given form, which will put that line in equilibrio.
The second is to determine the form of a curve which
shall be in equilibrio when loaded in its different points,
according to any given law.
The whole theory is deducible from one principle, which
will be found fully developed in the article Roof. It is this:
when an assemblage of beams or other pieces of solid
matter AB, BC, CD, DE, fig. 8, freely movable about its
angles as so many joints, is retained in equilibrium by the
joint effect of the pressures produced by the weight of its
parts, the thrust at any angle, if estimated in a horizon¬
tal direction, is the same throughout, and may be repre¬
sented by any horizontal line BT; and that if a vertical
line QS be drawn through T, the thrust exerted at any
angle D by the piece CD, in its own direction, will then
be represented by BR, drawn parallel to CD ; and in like
manner, that the thrust in the direction ED is represent¬
ed by BS, &c.; and, lastly, that the vertical thrust or
loads at each angle B, C, D, by which all these other
pressures are excited, are represented by the portions
QC, CR, RS, of the vertical intercepted by those lines ;
that is, all these pressures are to the uniform horizontal
thrust as the lines which represent them are to BT. The
horizontal thrust, therefore, is a very proper unit, with
which we may compare all the others. Its magnitude is
easily deduced from the same proposition ; for QS is the
sum of all the vertical pressures of the angles, and there¬
fore represents the weight of the whole assemblage.
Therefore as QS is to BT, so is the weight of the whole to
the horizontal thrust.
21. To accommodate this theory to the construction of
a curvilinear arch vault, let us first suppose the vault to be
polygonal, composed of the chords of the elementary
arches. Let AYE (fig. 12) be a curvilinear arch, of which
Y is the vertex, and VX the vertical axis, which we shall
consider as the axis or abscissa of the curve, while any
horizontal line, such as HK, is an ordinate to the curve.
About any point C of the curve, as a centre, describe a
circle BED, cutting the curve in B and D. Draw the
equal chords CB, CD. Draw also the horizontal line CF,
cutting the circle in F. Describe a circle BCDQ passing
through B, C, D. Its centre O will be in a line COQ,
which bisects the angle BCD; and C c, which touches
this circle in C, will bisect the angle bC d, formed by the
equal chords BC, CD. Draw CLP perpendicular to cb,
and DP perpendicular to CD, meeting CL in P. Through
L draw the tangent GLM, meeting CD in G, and the
vertical line CM in M. Draw the tangent Fa, cutting
the chords BC, CD, in b and d, and the tangent to the
circle BCDQ in c. Lastly, draw d N parallel to be.
From what will be demonstrated in the article Roof,
it appears that if BC, CD be two pieces of an equilibrat¬
ed heavy polygon, and if CF represent the horizontal
thrust in every angle of the polygon, C c? and C i will ^
severally represent the thrusts exerted by the pieces DC, Vm /
BC, and that bd, or CN, will represent the weight lying
on the angle BCD, by which those thrusts are balanced.
In the mean time the reader may, without that article,
understand the nature of the equilibrium in the following
manner. Produce c? C to o, so that C o may be equal to
C d. Draw bn to the vertical parallel to d C, and join no.
It is evident that bnoC is a parallelogram, and that
n C (=bd) = CN. Now the thrust or support of the
piece BC is exerted in the direction C b, while that of
DC is exerted in the direction C o. These two thrusts
are equivalent to the thrust in the diagonal C n; and it
is with this compound thrust that the load or vertical
pressure CN is in immediate equilibrium.
22. Because £>CL, NCF are right angles, and FCL is
common to both, the angles &CF and MCL are equal;
therefore the right-angled triangles 6CF and MCL are
similar. And since CF is equal to CL, C6 is equal to CM.
It is evident that the triangles GCM and c?CN are simi¬
lar. Therefore CG : Ce? — CM : CN = C 6 : C N. There¬
fore we have CN = ^—2^—. But because CDP and
CG
CLG are right angles, and therefore equal, and the angle
GCP is common to the two triangles GCL, PCD, and CD
is equal to CL, we have CG equal to CP; therefore CN
— ^ Also, since CDP is a right angle, DP
meets the diameter in Q, the opposite point of the circum¬
ference, and the angle DQC is equal to DCc or cCi (be¬
cause Z>Ce? is bisected by the tangent), that is, to PCQ
(because the right angles 6CP, cCO are equal, and cDP
is common). Therefore PQ is equal to PC ; and if P0
be drawn perpendicular to CQ, it will bisect it, and 0 is
the centre of the circle BCDQB.
Now let the points B and D continually approach to C
(by diminishing the radius of the small circle), and ulti¬
mately coincide with it. It is evident that the circle
BCDQ is ultimately the equicurve circle, and that PC
ultimately coincides with OC, the radius of curvature.
Also C6 X Cc? becomes ultimately Cc2. Therefore CN,
the vertical load on any point of a curve of equilibration,
. _ Cc2 
18 Rad. Curv. ’
It is further evident that CF is to Cc as radius to the
secant of the elevation of the tangent above the horizon.
Therefore we have the load on any point of the curve al-
Sec.2 Elev.
ways proportional to
This load on every elementary arch of the wall is com¬
monly a quantity of solid matter incumbent on that ele¬
ment of the curve, and pressing it vertically ; and it may
be conceived as made up of a number of heavy linos
standing vertically on it. Thus, if the element Ee of the
curve were lying horizontally, a little parallelogram REer
standing perpendicularly on it would represent its load.
But as this element Ee has a sloping position, it is plain
that, in order to have the same quantity of heavy mattci
pressing it vertically, the height of the parallelogram mus
be increased till it meets in eg, the line Rs drawn paralle
to the tangent EG. It is evident that the angle RE? *5
equal to the angle AEG. Therefore we have ER : E?
= Rad.: Sec. Elev.
If therefore the arch is kept in equilibrio by the ver ,-
cal pressure of a wall, we must have the height of t m
Sec.3 Elev.
wall above any point proportional to (jur^‘
23. Carol. 1. If OS be drawn perpendicular to the Co,
ARC H.
383
Therefore the height of wall is
CO2
cs2xcs’
or to
, vertical CS, CS will be half the vertical chord of the
- — equicurve circle. The angle OCS is equal to cCF, that is,
' to the angle of elevation. Therefore 1 : Sec. Elev. = CS :
CO
CO, and the secant of elevation may be expressed by
• u u C°3
and its cube by -g-gj
, CO3 t CO2
proportional to CS3 X c0’ or to CS3’
Sec.2 of Elev.
Vert. Chord of Curve *
Carol. 2. If we make the arch VC = r, the abscissa
VH = x, the ordinate HC = y, the radius osculi CO = r,
and the i vertical chord CS = s, the height of wall press-
r/23 (]zi
ing on any point is proportional to ; or to or
r/L±^d Therefore, when the equation of the curve is
sdy1
given, and the height of wall on any one point of it is also
given, we can determine it for any other point; for the
equation of the curve will always give us the relation of
dz, dx, dy, and the value of r or s. This may be illus¬
trated by an example or two. For this purpose it will
generally be most convenient to assume the height above
the vertex V for the unit of computation. The thickness
of the arch at the crown is commonly determined by other
circumstances. At the vertex the tangent to the arch is
horizontal, and therefore the cube of the secant is unity
or 1. Call the height of wall at the crown H, and let the
radius of curvature in that point be R, and its half-chord
R (it being then coincident with the radius), and the height
1 d
on any other point h ; we have -rr : —y-, = H : h, and
J it rdy^
4 = HxSx K
dy 3
, TT dz2
h =: H X -t-5 X —.
ay2 s
stra 2i. Ex. 1. Suppose the arch to be a segment of a circle,
as in fig. 10, where AE is the diameter, and O the centre.
In this arch the curvature is the same throughout, or —
r
R
The other formula gives
d z^
—a, or = II X Cube Sec.
dy*
— I. Therefore h — II X
Elev.
This gives a very simple calculus. To the logarithm
ol II add thrice the logarithm of the secant of elevation,
ihe sum is the logarithm of h.
It gives also a very simple construction. Draw the
vertical CS, cutting the horizontal diameter in S. Draw
SI, cutting the radius OC perpendicularly in T. Draw
the horizontal line Tz, cutting the vertical in z. Join zO.
Rake Cm = \v, and draw ux parallel to zO: Cc must be
made = Cx. The demonstration is evident.
It is very easy to see that if CV is an arch of 60°, and
, v '8 lyth of VO, the points v and c will be on a level;
lor the secant of CV is twice CO, and therefore Cc is
tight times Vr, which is fth of VH.
Ihe dotted line vycf is drawn according to this calcu-
us or construction, it falls considerably below the hori¬
zontal line in the neighbourhood of c ; and then, passing
v.e[y obliquely through c, it rises rapidly to an immeasur-
a ) e height, because the vertical line through A is its
asymptote; Ibis must evidently be the case with every
line^6 sPr*n£s right angles with a horizontal
It is plain that if vY be greater, all the other ordinates
of the curve vgcf, resting on the circumference AVE, Arch,
will be greater in the same proportion, and the curve will
cut the horizontal line drawn through v in some point
nearer to v than c is. Hence it appears that a circular
arch cannot be put in equilibrio by building on it up to a
horizontal line, whatever be its span, or whatever be the
thickness at the crown. We have seen that when this
thickness is only j^th of the radius, an arch of 120 de¬
grees will be too much loaded at the flanks. This thick¬
ness is much too small for a bridge, being only orj-th of
the span CM, whereas it should have been almost double
of this, to bear the inequalities of weight that may occa¬
sionally be on it. When the crown is made still thinner,
the outline is still more depressed before it rises again.
There is therefore a certain span, with a corresponding
thickness at the crown, which will deviate least of all from
a horizontal line. This is an arch of about 45 degrees,
the thickness at the crown being about one fourth of the
span, which is extravagantly great. It appears in general,
therefore, that the circle is not a curve suited to the pur¬
poses of a bridge or an arcade, which requires an outline
nearly horizontal.
Ex. 2. Let the curve be a parabola AVE (fig. 14), of
which V is the vertex, and DG the directrix. Draw the
diameters DCF, GVN, the tangents CK, VP, and the or¬
dinates VF and CN. It is well known that GV is to DC
as VP2 to CK2, or as CN2 to CK2. Also 2 GV is the ra¬
dius of the osculating circle at V, and 2 DC is one half of
the vertical chord of the osculating circle at C.
Therefore CN2 : CK2 (or dy2 : dz2) = R : s; and s
= R. But Cc, or h = II X Therefore h = ll
dy1 dy2s
r/-2R dz2W
X rr H X = H. Therefore Cc = ^V.
, „ dz- dzJlt
y
It follows from this investigation, that the back or ex-
trados of a parabolic arch of equilibration must be paral¬
lel to the arch or soffit itself; or that the thickness of the
arch, estimated in a vertical direction, must be equal
throughout; or that the extrados is the same parabola
with the soffit or intrados.
We have selected these two examples merely for the
simplicity and perspicuity of the solutions, which have
been effected by means of elementary geometry only, in¬
stead of employing the analytical value of the radius of
cfe3
the osculatory circle, viz. — jr =—jh-, which would
dyalx — dxazy
have involved us at last in the doctrine of second fluxions.
We have also preferred simplicity to elegance in the in¬
vestigation, because we wish to instruct the practical en¬
gineer who may not be a proficient in the higher mathe¬
matics.
25. The converse of the problem, namely, to find theTofimlthe
form of the arch when the figure of the back of it is given, form of an
is the most usual question of the two, at least in cases arch when
which are most important and most difficult. Of tl1686?
perhaps, bridges are the chief. Here the necessity of a-^ „jvei^
road-way, of easy and regular ascent, confines us to an
outline nearly horizontal, to which the curve of the arch
must be adapted. This is the most difficult problem of
the two ; and we doubt whether it can be solved without
employing infinite approximating series instead of accu¬
rate values.
Let ave (fig. 9) be the intended outline or extrados of
the arch AVE, and let v Cl be the common axis of both
curves. From c and C, the corresponding points, draw
the ordinates ch, CH. Let the thickness vY at the top
be a, the abscissa vh be = u, and VH = x, and let the
equal ordinates ch, CH, be y, and the arch VC be z.
384
ARCH.
Arch.
dzP
Then, by the general theorem, eC = - being the
radius of curvature. This, by the common rules, is
dz* 0 . dyd2x — dxd:2y
— -t—s This gives us ct = — 7-5 ,
dycPx — dxd2y dy3
or _ x ^ y x C ; where C is a constant quan-
dy3
tity, found by taking the real value of cC in V, the vertex
of the curve. But it is evident that it is also = a + x—u.
Therefore a x
dyd2x — dxdhy
df
xc=£
dy
X
PI. LTII.
iig. 6.
fluxion of -7-.
dy
If we now substitute the true value of u (which is
given because the extrados is supposed to be of a known
form), expressed in terms of y, the resulting equation will
contain nothing but x and y, with their first and second
fluxions, and known quantities. From this equation the
relation of x and y must be found by such methods as
seem best adapted to the equation of the extrados.
Fortunately the process is more simple and easy in the
most common and useful case than we should expect from
this general rule; we mean the case where the extrados
is a straight line, especially when this is horizontal. In
this case u is equal to 0.
Ex. To find the form of the balanced arch AYE, hav¬
ing the horizontal line cv for its extrados.
Keeping the same notation, we have u—o, and therefore
r dr
a x — —r- X fluxion of -j^.
dy dy
flw (ln[*
Assume dy = —then — —v, and -j- x fluxion of
. v dy dy
tte _ that is, « -j- # = Therefore adx
dy dx
dx
-j- xdx ~ Cvdv; and by taking the fluents, we have
o ^,0 1 ,2 ax -!r- x? „
2 ax x? ~ Cv2 ; and v z= ^—. Consequent-
ly, dy
VCdx
C
dx\
fbeing —V Taking the flu-
V2 ax + x?\ v J
ent of this, we have 2/ = */ C xL(2o! + 2ai
+ 2 ¥ ax + x?). But at the vertex, where x — o,
we have y — */C X L (2 a). The corrected fluent is
therefore y C X L
a x V' 2 a x + x2
It only remains to find the constant quantity C. This
we readily obtain by selecting some point of the extrados
where the values of x and y are given by particular cir¬
cumstances of the case. Thus, when the span 2 s and
height h of the arch are given, we have
s= </ C X L
a + /< + v/ 2 a h + h2
quently y' C =
)>
and conse-
Therefore
i/a 4- A y' 2 a A 4"A2^
v a '
^a x -{• V 2 ax x?'
the general value of y ■= s x -
a 4~ A 4" ¥ 2 a A 4~ A2
a 4- A 4- y'(2«A 4~ A2)
a x V 2 a x -{■ d2
26. As an example of the use of this formula, we sub¬
join a table calculated by Dr Hutton of Woolwich, for an
arch, the span of which is 100 feet, and the height 40
which are nearly the dimensions of the middle arch of ^'
Blackfriars Bridge in London.
The figure for this proposition is exactly drawn accord¬
ing to these dimensions, that the reader may judge of it
as an object of sight. It is by no means deficient in
gracefulness, and is abundantly roomy for the passage of
craft; so that no objection can be offered against its be¬
ing adapted on account of its mechanical excellency.
The reader will perhaps be surprised that we have Dei of
made no mention of the celebrated Catenarean curve,e.
which is commonly said to be the best form for an arch;nar
but a little reflection will convince him, that although™'
it is the only form for an arch consisting of stones of equal
weight, and touching each other only in single points, it
cannot suit an arch which must be filled up in the
haunches, in order to form a road-way. He will be more
surprised to hear, after this, that there is a certain thick¬
ness at the crown, which will put the Catenarea in equi-
librio, even with a horizontal road-way; but this thick¬
ness is so great as to make it unfit for a bridge, being such
that the pressure at the vertex is equal to the horizontal
thrust. This would have been about 37 feet in the
middle arch of Blackfriars Bridge. The only situation,
therefore, in which the Catenarean form would be proper,
is an arcade carrying a height of dead wall; but in this
situation it would be very ungraceful. Without troubling
the reader with the investigation, it is sufficient to inform
him, that in a Catenarean arch of equilibration the abscissa
VH is to the abscissa v A in the constant ratio of the ho¬
rizontal thrust to its excess above the pressure on the
vertex
27. Thus much will serve, we hope, to give the reader a
clear notion of this celebrated theory of the equilibrium
of arches, one of the most delicate and important appli¬
cations of mathematical science. Volumes have been
written on the subject, and it still occupies the attention
of mechanicians. But we beg leave to say, with great
deference to the eminent persons who have prosecuted
this theory, that their speculations have been of little
service, and are little attended to by the practitioner.
Nay, we may add, that Sir Christopher Vfren, perhaps
the most accomplished architect that Europe has seen,
seems to have thought it of little value; for, among the
fragments which have been preserved of his studies, there
are to be seen some imperfect dissertations on this very
subject, in which he takes no notice of this theory, and
considers the balance of arches in quite another way-
These are collected by the author of the account of Sir
Christopher Wren’s family. This man’s great sagacity,
ARCH.
building-, and still more his
ird and his great experience in building,     
experience in the repairs of old and crazy fabrics, had
shown him many things very inconsistent with this theory,
which appears so specious and safe. The general facts
which occur in the failure of old arches are highly in¬
structive, and deserve the most careful attention of the
engineer; for it is in this state that their defects, and the
process of nature in their destruction, are most distinctly
seen. We venture to affirm, that a very great majority
of these facts are irreconcilable to the theory. The way
in which circular arches commonly fail, is by the sinking
of the crown and the rising of the flanks. It will be found
by calculation, that in most of the cases it ought to have
been just the contrary. But the clearest proof is, that
arches very rarely fail where their load differs most
remarkably from that which this theory allows. Semi¬
circular arches have stood the power of ages, as may
be seen in the bridges of ancient Rome, and in the nu¬
merous arcades which the ancient inhabitants have
erected. Now,' all arches which spring perpendicularly
from the horizontal line require, by this theory, a load of
infinite height; and even to a considerable distance from
the springing of the arch, the load necessary for the theo¬
retical equilibrium is many times greater than what is
ever laid on those parts; yet a failure in the immediate
neighbourhood of the spring of an arch is a most rare phe¬
nomenon, if it ever wqs observed. Here is a most re¬
markable deviation from the theory; for, as is already ob¬
served, the load is frequently not the fourth part of what
the theory requires.
28. Many other facts might be adduced which show
great deviation from the legitimate results of the theory.
We hope to be excused, therefore, by the mathemati¬
cians for doubting of the justness of this theory. We do
not think it erroneous, but defective, leaving out circum¬
stances which we apprehend to be of great importance;
and we imagine that the defects of the theory have arisen
Irom the very anxiety of the mechanicians to make it per¬
fect. I he arch-stones are supposed to be perfectly smooth
or polished, and not to be connected by any cement, and
therefore to sustain each other merely by the equilibrium
of their vertical pressure. The theory insures this equi¬
librium, and this only, leaving unnoticed any other causes
of mutual action.
Hie authors who have written on the subject say ex¬
pressly that an arch which thus sustains itself must be
stionger than another which would not; because when,
in imagination, we suppose both to acquire connection by
cement, the first preserves the influence of this connec¬
tion unimpaired; whereas in the other, part of the cohe¬
sion is wasted in counteracting the tendency of some
parts to break off from the rest by their want of equili¬
brium. fins is a very specious argument, and would be
just, if the forces which are mutually exerted between
ic parts of the arch in its settled state were merely ver-
ical pressures, or, where different, were inconsiderable in
conipauson with those which are really attended to in the
construction.
But this is by no means the case. The forms which
in uses for which arches are erected oblige us to adopt,
ik t ie loads laid on the different points of the arch, fre-
qucn y deviate considerably from what are necessary for
■10 equi ibrium of vertical pressures. The varying load
ti * bj'Kige, when a great waggon passes along it, some-
tlv.r •ars i1 ,very sensible proportion to the weight of
o , |!>01,nt ai’eh on which it rests. It is even very
tlu> ^ i" ^le Pressures which are occasioned by
re til C1^ lt. ^le stuff employed for filling up the flanks
wlnVl, ‘-C 111 a vert‘cal direction, and in the proportion
vol *1 SUPPosec^ ^ e are pretty certain that this is not
the case with sand, gravel, fat mould, and many substan¬
ces m very general use for this purpose. When this is
the case, the pressures sustained by the different parts of
the arch are often very inconsistent with the theory ; a
part of the arch is overloaded and tends to fall in, but is
prevented by the cement. This part of the arch, there¬
fore, acts on the remoter parts by the intervention of the
parts between, employing those intermediate parts as a
kind of levers to break the arch in a remote part, just as
a lintel would be broken. We apprehend that a mathema¬
tician would be puzzled how to explain the stability of an
arch cut out of a solid and uniform mass of rock. His
theory considers the mutual thrusts of the arch-stones as
in the direction of the tangents to the arch. Why so ?
Because he supposes that all his polished joints are per¬
pendicular to those tangents. But in the present case he
has no existing joints ; and there seems to be nothing to
direct his imagination in the assumption of joints, which,
however, are absolutely necessary for employing his theo¬
ry, because, without a supposition of this kind, there seems
no conceiving any mutual abutment of the arch-stones.
Ask a common but intelligent mason, what notion he
forms of such an arch ? We apprehend that he will con¬
sider it as no arch, but as a lintel, which may be broken
like a wooden lintel, and which resists entirely by its
cohesion. lie will not readily conceive that, by cutting
the under side of a stone lintel into an arched form, and
thus taking away more than half of its substance, he has
changed its nature of a lintel, or given if any additional
strength. Nor would there be any change made in the
way in which such a mass of stone would resist being
broken down, if nothing were done but forming the under
side into an arch. If the lintel be so laid on the piers
that it can be broken without its parts pushing the piers
aside (which will be the case if it lies on the piers with
horizontal joints), it will break like any other lintel; but
if the joints are directed downwards, and converging to a
point within the arch, the broken stone (suppose it broken
at the crown by an overload in that part) cannot be press¬
ed down without forcing the piers outwards. Now, in
this mode of acting, the mind cannot trace any thing of'
the statical equilibrium that we have proceeded on in the
foregoing theory. The two parts of the broken lintel seem
to push the piers aside in the same manner that two raft¬
ers push outwards the walls ofh.a house when their feet
are not held together by a tie-beam. If the piers cannot
be pushed aside (as when the arch abuts on two solid
rocks), nothing can press down the crown which does not
crush the stone.
This conclusion will be strictly true if the arch is of
such a form that a straight line drawn from the crown to
the pier lies wholly within the solid masonry. Thus, if the
vault consist of two straight stones, as in Plate LII. fig. 1,
or if it consist of several stones, as in Plate LIII. fig. 7, dis¬
posed in two straight lines, no weight laid on the crown can
destroy it in any other way than by crushing it to powder.
29. But when straight lines cannot be drawn from the
overloaded part to the firm abutments through the solid
masonry, and when the cohesion of the parts is not able
to withstand the transverse strains, we must call the
principles of equilibrium to our aid; and, in order to em¬
ploy them with safety, we must consider how they are
modified by the excitement of the cohering forces.
I he cohesion of the stones with each other by cement
or otherwise has in almost every situation a bad effect.
It enables an overload at the crown to break the arch
near the haunches, causing those parts to rise, and then
to spread outwards, just as a. Mansarde or Kirb roof would
do if the truss-beam which connects the heads of the
lower rafters were sawn through. This can be prevented
3 c
385
Arch.
386
ARC H.
Arch, only by loading that part more than is requisite for equi-
librium. It would be prudent to do this to a certain de¬
gree, because it is by this cohesion that the crown always
becomes the weakest part of the arch, and suffers more
by any occasional load.
We expect that it will be said in answer to all this,
that the cohesion given by the strongest cement that we
can employ, nay the cohesion of the stone itself, is a mere
nothing in comparison with the enormous thrusts that are
in a state of continual exertion in the different parts of an
arch. This is very true; but there is another force which
produces the same effect, and which increases nearly in
the proportion that those thrusts increase, because it
arises from them. This is the friction of the stones on
each other. In dry freestone this friction considerably
exceeds one half of the mutual pressure. The reflecting
reader will see that this produces the same effect, in the
case under consideration, that cohesion would do; for
while the arch is in the act of failing, the mutual pressure
of the arch-stones is acting with full force, and thus pro¬
duces a friction more than adequate to all the effects we
have been speaking of.
Process of 30. When these circumstances are considered, we ima-
the break- gine that it will appear that an arch, when exposed .to a
ing of an great overload on the crown (or indeed on any part), di-
arcvides of itself into a number of parts, each of which con¬
tains as many arch-stones as can be pierced (so to speak)
by one straight line, and that it may then be considered
as nearly in the same situation with a polygonal arch of
long stones abutting on each other like so many beams
in a Norman roof, but without their braces and ties. It
tends to break at all those angles; and it is not suffi¬
ciently resisted there, because the materials with which
the flanks are filled up have so little cohesion, that the
angle feels no load except what is immediately above
it; whereas it should be immediately loaded with all
the weight which is diffused over the adjoining side
of the polygon. This will be the case, even though
the curvilinear arch be perfectly equilibrated. We re¬
collect some circumstances in the failure of a consider¬
able arch, which may be worth mentioning. It had been
built of an exceedingly soft and friable stone, and the
arch-stones were too short. About a fortnight before it
fell, chips were observed to be dropping off from the joints
of the arch-stones, about ten feet on each side of the mid¬
dle, and also from another place on one side of the arch,
about twenty feet from its middle. The masons in the
neighbourhood prognosticated its speedy downfall, and
saicl that it would separate in those places where the chips
were breaking off. At length it fell; but it first split in
the middle, and about fifteen or sixteen feet on each side,
and also at the very springing of the arch. Immediately
before the fall a shivering or crackling noise was heard,
and a great many chips dropped down from the middle,
between the two places from whence they had dropped a
fortnight before. The joints opened above at those new
places above two inches, and in the middle of the arch the
joints opened below, and in about five minutes after this
the whole came down. Even this movement was plainly
distinguishable into two parts. The crown sunk a little,
and the haunches rose very sensibly, and in this state it
hung for about half a minute. The arch-stones of the
crown were hanging by their upper corners : when these
splintered off, the whole fell down.
We apprehend that the procedure of nature was some¬
what in this manner. Straight lines can be drawn within
the arch-stones from A (Plate LIII. fig. 8) to B and D, and
from these points to C and E. Each of the portions ED,
DA, AB, BC, resist as if they were of one stone, composing
a polygonal vault ED ABC. When this is overloaded at A,
A can descend in no other way than by pushing the an- i
gles B and D outwards, causing the portions BC, DE, t0 ^
turn round C and E. This motion must raise the points
B and D, and cause the arch-stones to press on each other
at their inner joints b and d. This produced the copious
splintering at those joints immediately preceding the total
downfall. The splintering which happened a fortnight
before arose from this circumstance, that the lines AB
and AD, along which the pressure of the overload was
propagated, were tangents to the soffit of the arch in the
points F, H, and G, and therefore the strain lay all on those
corners of the arch-stones, and splintered a little from off
them till the whole took a firmer bed. The subsequent
phenomena are evident consequences of this distribution
and modification of pressure, and can hardly be explained
in any other way, at least not on the theoretical principles
already set forth ; for in this bridge the loads at B and D
were very considerably greater than what the equilibrium
required; and we think that the first observed splintering
at H, F, and G, was most instructive, showing that there
was an extraordinary pressure at the. inner joints in those
places, which cannot be explained by the usual theory.
Not satisfied with this single observation after this way
of explaining it occurred to us, and not being able to find
any similar fact on record, the writer of this article got
some small models of arches executed in chalk, and sub¬
jected them to many trials, in hopes of collecting some
general laws of the internal workings of arches which
finally produce their downfall. He had the pleasure of
observing the above-mentioned circumstances take place
very regularly and uniformly when he overloaded the
models at A. The arch always broke at some place B
considerably beyond another point F, where the first chip¬
ping had been observed. This is a method of trial that
deserves the attention both of the speculatist and the
practitioner.
If these reflections are any thing like a just account of
the procedure of nature in the failure of an arch, it is
evident that the ingenious mathematical theory of equili¬
brated arches is of little value to the engineer. We ven¬
tured to say as much already, and we rested a good deal
on the authority of Sir Christopher Wren. He was a
good mathematician, and delighted in the application of
this science to the arts. He was a celebrated architect,
and his reports on the various works committed to his
charge show that he was in the continued habit of mak¬
ing this application. Several specimens remain of his
own methods of applying them. The roof of the theatre
of Oxford, the roof of the cupola of St Paul’s, and in par¬
ticular the mould on which he turned the inner dome of
that cathedral, are proofs of his having studied this theory
most attentively. He flourished at the very time that it
occupied the attention of the greatest mechanicians of
Europe ; but there is nothing to be found among his pa¬
pers which shows that he had paid much regard to it.
On the contrary, when he has occasion to deliver his
opinion for the instruction of others, and to explain to the
dean and chapter of Westminster his operations in repair¬
ing that collegiate church, this great architect considers
an arch just as a sensible and sagacious mason would do,
and very much in the way that we have just now been
treating it. (See Account of the Family of Wren, p. Soo.j
Supported therefore by such authority, we would recom¬
mend this way of considering an arch to the study o
the mathematician; and we would desire the experien¬
ced mason to think of the most efficacious methods for re¬
sisting this tendency of arches to rise in the flanks, f n‘
fortunately there seems to be no precise principle to pom
out the place where this tendency is most remarkable.
31. We are therefore highly pleased with the ingeniou
. contrivance of Mr Mylne, the architect of Blackfriars
Bridge in London, by which he determines this point with
precision, by making it impossible for the overloaded arch
to spring in any other place. Having thus confined the
failure to a particular spot, he with equal art opposes a
resistance which he believes to be sufficient; and the
present condition of that noble bridge, which does not in
any place show the smallest change of shape, proves that
he was not mistaken. Looking on this work as the first,
or at least the second, specimen of masonic ingenuity that
is to be seen in the world, we imagine that our readers
will be pleased with a particular account of its most re¬
markable circumstances.
jpstjj. The span k a (fig. 1) of the middle arch is 100 feet,
in of and its height OV is 40, and the thickness KV of the
lickf>rscrown js gjx feet seven inches. Its form is nearly ellip-
fical; the part AYZ being an arch of a circle whose
’' centre is C, and radius 56 feet, and the two lateral por¬
tions A A B and Z a E being arches described with a ra¬
dius of 35 feet nearly. The thickness of the pier a b
is 19 feet. The thickness of the arch increases from the
crown V to Y, where it is eight or nine feet. All the
arch-stones have their joints directed to the centres of
their curvature. The joints are all joggled, having a cu¬
bic foot of hard stone let half-way into each. By this
contrivance the joints cannot slide, nor can any weight
laid on the crown ever break the arch in that part if the
piers do not yield; for a straight line from the middle of
KV to the middle of the joint YI is contained within the
solid masonry, and does not even come near the inner
joints of the arch-stones ; therefore the whole resists like
one stone, and can be only broken by crushing it. The
joint at Z is very nearly perpendicular to a line ZF drawn
to the outer edge of the foundation of the pier. By this
it was intended to take off all tendency of the pressure
on the joint dZ to overset the pier ; for if we suppose,
according to the theory of equilibration, that this pres¬
sure is necessarily exerted perpendicularly to the joint,
its direction passes through the fulcrum at F, round which
it is thought that the pier must turn in the act of over¬
setting. This precaution was adopted in order to make
the arch quite independent of the adjoining arches; so
that although any of them should fall, this arch should
run no risk.
Still farther to secure the independence of the arch,
the following construction was practised to unite it into
one mass, which should rise all together. All below the
line a 6 is built of large blocks of Portland stone, dove¬
tailed with sound oak. Four places in each course are
interrupted by equal blocks of a hard stone called Kentish
rag, sunk half-way in each course. These act as joggles,
breaking the courses, and preventing them from sliding
laterally.
The portion a Y of the arch is joggled like' the upper
part. The interior part is filled up with large blocks of
Kentish rag, forming a kind of coursed rubble-work, the
courses tending to the centres of the arch. The under
corner ot each arch-stone projects over the one below it.
by this form it takes fast hold of the rubble-work behind
!t. Above this rubble there is constructed the inverted
arch I e G ot Portland stone.1 This arch shares the pres¬
sure of the two adjoining arches, along with the arch¬
stones in \ a and in G b. Thus all tend together to com¬
press and keep down the rubble-work in the heart of this
part of the pier. This is a very useful precaution; for it
often happens, that when the centres of the arches are Arch,
struck before the piers are built up to their intended
heights, the thrust of the arches squeezes the rubble-
work horizontally, after the mortar has set, but before it
has dried and acquired its utmost hardness. Its bond is
broken by this motion, and it is squeezed up, and never
acquires its former firmness. This is effectually prevented
by the pressure exerted by the back of the inverted arch.
Above this counter-arch is another mass of coursed
rubble, and all is covered by a horizontal course of large
blocks of Portland stone, abutting against the back of the
arch-stone ZI and its corresponding one in the adjoining
arch. This course connects the feet of the two arches,
preserves the rubble-work from too great compression,
and protects it from soaking wrater. This last circum¬
stance is important; for if the water which falls on the
road-way is not carried off in pipes, it soaks through the
gravel or other rubbish, rests on the mortar, and keeps it
continually wet and soft. It cannot escape through the
joints of good masonry, and therefore fills up this part
like a funnel.
Supposing the adjoining arch fallen, and all tumbled off
that is not withheld by its situation, there will still re¬
main in the pier a mass of about 3500 tons. The weight
of the portion VY is about 2000 tons. The directions of
the thrusts VY and YF are such, that it would require a
load of 4500 tons on VY to overturn the pier round F.
This exceeds VY by 2500 tons—a weight incomparably
greater than any that can ever be laid on it.
Such is the ingenious construction of Mr Mylne. It
evidently proceeds on the principles recommended above—
principles which had occurred to his experience and sa¬
gacious mind during the course of his extensive practice.
We have seen attempts by other engineers to withstand
the horizontal thrusts of the arch by means of counter¬
arches inserted in the same manner as here, but extend¬
ing much farther over the main arch; but they did not
appear to be well calculated for producing this effect.
A counter-arch springing from any point between Y and
V has no tendency to hinder that point from rising by the
sinking of the crown; and such a counter-arch will not
resist the precisely horizontal thrust so well as the straight
course of Mr Mylne.
32. The great incorporation of architects who built the Origin of
cathedrals of Europe departed entirely from the styles of the Gothic
ancient Greece and Rome, and introduced another, inarches.
which arcades made the principal part. Not finding in
every place quarries from which blocks could be raised in
abundance of sufficient size for forming the far-projecting
cornices of the Greek orders, they relinquished those
proportions, and adopted a style of ornament which re¬
quired no such projections ; and having substituted arches
for the horizontal architrave or lintel, they were now able
to erect buildings of vast extent with spacious openings,
and all this with very small pieces of stone. The form
which had been adopted for a Christian temple occasioned
many intersections of vaultings, and multiplied the arches
exceedingly. Constant practice gave opportunities of
giving every possible variety of these intersections, and
taught the art of bafancing arch against arch in every
variety of situation. An art so multifarious, and so much
out of the road of ordinary thought, could not but become
an object of fond study to the architects most eminent for
ingenuity and invention. Becoming thus the dupes of
v ^ 6 !cnow from g°od authority that the counter-arch here spoken of, although originally intended, was never executed, because it
us not thought necessary. The notion was, however, excellent, and it has, we believe, been actually executed in the Strand Bridge.
e rat ler ^ink the joggling was also abandoned, and, as far as we can judge, was not likely to be of any use. (a0
r
388
Arch.
ARC H.
their own ingenuity, they were fond of displaying it even
when not necessary. At last arches became their princi¬
pal ornament, and a wall or ceiling was not thought dress¬
ed out as it should be till filled full of mock arches, cross¬
ing and abutting on each other in every direction. In this
process in their ceilings they found that the projecting
mouldings, which we now call the Gothic tracery, form¬
ed the chief supports of the roofs. Ihe plane surfaces
included between those ribs were commonly vaulted with
very small stones, seldom exceeding six or eight inches
in thickness. This tracery, therefore, was not a random
ornament. Every rib had a position and direction that
was not only proper, but even necessary. Habituated to
this scientific arrangement of the mouldings, they did not
deviate from it when they ornamented a smooth surface
with mock arches ; and in none of the highly ornamented
ancient buildings will we find any false positions.
33. This is by no means the case in many of the modern
imitations of Gothic architecture, even by our best archi¬
tects. Ignorant of the directing principle, or not attend¬
ing to it, in their stucco-work they please the unskilled
eye with pretty radiated figures; but in these we fre¬
quently see such abutments of mouldings as would infal¬
libly break the arches, if these mouldings vrere really
performing their ancient office, and supporting a vaulting
of considerable extent. Nay, this began even before the
Gothic style was finally abandoned. Several instances
are to be found in the highly enriched vaultings of New
College and Christ Church in Oxford, in St George’s
Chapel at Windsor, and Henry VII.’s Chapel in West¬
minster.
We call the middle ages rude and barbarous; but
there was surely much knowledge in those who could
execute such magnificent and difficult works. The work¬
ing drafts which were necessary for such varieties of
oblique intersections must have required considerable
skill, and would at present occupy many very expensive
volumes of Masons Jewels, Carpenters Manuals, and the
like. All this knowledge was kept a profound secret by
the corporation, and on its breaking up we had all to learn
35. There is another species of arch which must not be
overlooked, namely, the Dome or Cupola, with all its
varieties, which include even the pyramidal steeple or ho;
spire.
1)(..
Cu
34. There is no appearance, however, that those archi¬
tects had studied the theory of equilibrated arches. They
had adopted an arch which was very strong, and permit¬
ted considerable irregularities of pressure—we mean the
pointed arch. The very deep mouldings writh which it
was ornamented made the arch-stones very long in pro¬
portion to the span of the arch. But they had studied
the mutual thrust of arches on each other with great care ;
and they contrived to make every invention for this pur¬
pose become an ornament, so that the eye required it as
a necessary part of the building. Thus we frequently
see small buildings having buttresses at the sides. These
are necessary in a large vaulted building, for withstand¬
ing the outward thrust of the vaulting ; but they are use¬
less wffien we have a flat ceiling within. Pinnacles on
the heads of the buttresses are now considered as orna¬
ments, but originally they were put there to increase the
weight of the buttress : even the great tower in the centre
of a cathedral, which now constitutes its greatest orna¬
ment, is a load almost indispensably necessary, for ena¬
bling the four principal columns to withstand the com¬
bined thrust of the aisles, of the nave, and transepts. In
short, the more closely Ave examine the ornaments of this
architecture, the more shall we perceive that they are
essential parts, or derived from them by imitation; and
the more we consider the whole style of it, the more
clearly do we see that it is all deduced from the relish
for arcades, indulged in the extreme, and pushed to the
lirhit of possibility of execution.
It is evident that the erection of a dome is also a scien¬
tific art, proceeding on the principles of equilibration,
and that these principles admit and require the same or
similar modifications, in consequence of the cohesion and
friction of the materials. At first sight, too, a dome ap¬
pears a more difficult piece of work than a plain arch;
but when we observe potters’ kilns, and glasshouse domes,
and cones of vast extent, erected by ordinary bricklayers,
and with materials vastly inferior in size to what can be
employed in common arches of equal extent, we must
conclude that the circumstance of curvature in the ho¬
rizontal direction, or the abutment of a circular base,
gives some assistance to the artist. Of this we have com¬
pletedemonstration in the case of the cone. We know
that a vaulting in the form of a pent roof could not be
executed to any considerable extent, and would be ex¬
tremely hazardous, even in the smallest dimensions; while
a cone of the greatest magnitude can be raised with very
small stones, provided only that we prevent the bottom
from flying out, by a hoop, or any similar contrivance.
36. When we think a little of the matter, we see plain¬
ly, that if the horizontal section be perfectly round, and
the joints be all directed to the axis, they all equally en¬
deavour to slide inwards, while no reason can be offered
why any individual stone should prevail. They are all
wedges, and operate only as wedges. When we consider
any single course, therefore, we see that it cannot fall in,
even though it may be part of a curve which cannot stand
as a common arch ; nay, we see that a dome maybe con¬
structed having the convexity of the curve, by the revo¬
lution of which it is formed, turned towards the axis, so
that the outline is concave. WTe shall afterwards find
that this is a stronger dome by far than if the convexity
were outwards, as in a common arch. We see also that
a cone may be loaded on the top with the greatest
weight, without the smallest danger of forcing it down,
so long as the bottom course is firmly kept from bursting
outwards. The stone lanthorn on the top of St Paul’s
cathedral in London weighs several hundred tons, and
is carried by a brick cone of 18 inches thick, with per¬
fect safety, as long as the bottom course is prevented
from bursting outwards. The reason is evident: The
pressure on the top is propagated along the cone in the
direction of the slant side; and, so far from having any
tendency to break it in any part, it tends rather to pre¬
vent its being broken by any irregular pressure from fo¬
reign causes.
37. For the same reasons the octagonal pyramids, which Pr
form the spires of Gothic architecture, are abundantly® ^
firm, although very thin. The sides of the spire of Sails-jj,
bury cathedral are not eight inches thick after the octa¬
gon is fully formed. It is proper, however, to direct the
joints to the axis of the pyramid, and to make the cours¬
ing joints perpendicular to the slant side, because the
projecting mouldings which run along the angles are the
abutments on which the whole panel depends. A con¬
siderable. art is necessary for supporting those panels of
sides of the octagon which spring from the angles of the
square tower. This is done by beginning a very narrow
pointed arch on the square tower at a great distance be¬
low the top ; so that the legs of the arch being very long,
a straight line may be drawn from the top of the keystone
of the arch through the whole arch-stones of the legs-
By this disposition the thrusts arising from the weight o
these four panels are made to meet on the massive ma¬
sonry in the middle of the sides of the tower, at a grea
ARCH.
389
ch distance below the springing of the spire. This part, be-
V*’ in" loaded with the great mass of perpendicular wall, is
fuHy able to withstand the horizontal thrust from the legs
of those arches. In many spires these thrusts are still
farther resisted by iron bars which cross the tower, and
are hooked into pieces of brass firmly bedded in the ma-
| i sonry of the sides.
38. There is much nice balancing of this kind to be
observed in the highly ornamented open spires; such as
those of Brussels, Mecklin, Antwerp, &c. We have not
many of this sort in Britain. In those of great magni¬
tude, the judicious eye will discover, that parts, which a
common spectator would consider as mere ornaments, are
necessary for completing the balance of the whole. Tall
pinnacles, nay even pillars carrying entablatures and pin¬
nacles, are to be seen standing on the middle of the slen¬
der leg of an arch. On examination we find that this is
necessary, to prevent the arch from springing upwards in
that place by the pressure at the crown. The steeple of
the cathedral of Mecklin was the most elaborate piece of
architecture in this taste in the world, and was really a
wonder; but it was not calculated to withstand a bom¬
bardment, which destroyed it in 1578.
Such frequent examples of irregular and whimsical
buildings of this kind show that great liberties may be
taken with the principle of equilibration without risk, if
we take care to secure the base from being thrust out¬
wards. This may always be done by hoops, which can
be concealed in the masonry; whereas in common arches
these ties would be visible, and would offend the eye.
39. It is now time to attend to the principle of equi¬
librium as it operates in a simple circular dome, and to
determine the thickness of the vaulting when the curve
is given, or the curve when the thickness is given. There¬
fore, let BAA (Plate LIII. fig. 2) be the curve which pro¬
duces the dome by revolving round the vertical axis AD.
We shall suppose this curve to be drawn through the
middle of all the arch-stones, and that the coursing or hori¬
zontal joints are everywhere perpendicular to the curve.
We shall suppose (as is always the case) that the thickness
KL, HI, &c. of the arch-stones is very small in comparison
with the dimensions of the arch. If we consider any por¬
tion HA A of the dome, it is plain that it presses on the
course, of which HL is an arch-stone, in a direction b C
perpendicular to the joint HI, or in the direction of £he
next superior element j3b of the curve. As we proceed
downwards, course after course, we see plainly that this
direction must change, because the weight of each course
is superadded to that of the portion above it, to complete
the pressure on the course below. Through B draw the
vertical line BCG, meeting [3 b, produced in C. We may
take A C to express the pressure of all that is above it, pro¬
pagated in this direction to the joint KL. We may also
suppose the weight of the course HL united in A, and
acting on the vertical. Let it be represented by A F. If
we form the parallelogram A FGC, the diagonal A G will
I reP>'esent the direction and intensity of the whole pressure
on the joint KL. Thus it appears that this pressure is
continually changing its direction, and that the line, which
"ill always coincide with it, must be a curve concave
downward. It this be precisely the curve of the dome,
'twill be an equilibrated vaulting; but so far from being
the strongest form, it is the weakest, and it is the limit
to an infinity of others, which are all stronger than it.
us will appear evident, if we suppose that A G does not
coincide with the curve AA B, but passes without it. As
we suppose the arch-stones to be exceedingly thin from
lns‘de t0 0l'tside, it is plain that this dome cannot stand,
an that the weight of the upper part will press it down,
spring the vaulting outwards at the joint KL. But
let us suppose, on the other hand, that A G falls within Arch,
the curvilinear element,A B. This evidently tends to push
the arch-stone inward towards the axis, and would cause
it to slide in, since the joints are supposed perfectly
smooth and slipping. But since this takes place equally
in every stone of this course, they must all abut on each
other in the vertical joints, squeezing them firmly toge¬
ther. Therefore, resolving the thrust A G into two, one
of which is perpendicular to the joint KL, and the other
parallel to it, we see that this last thrust is withstood by
the vertical joints all around, and there remains only the
thrust in the direction of the curve. Such a dome must
therefore be firmer than an equilibrated dome, and can¬
not be so easily broken by overloading the upper part.
When the curve is concave upwards, as in the lower part
of the figure, the line A C always falls below A B, and the
point C below B. When the curve is concave downwards,
as in the upper part of the figure, b' C passes above, or with¬
out A B. 1 he curvature may be so abrupt, that even A' G'
shall pass without A' B', and the point G' is above B'. It is
also evident that the force which thus binds the stones of a
horizontal course together, by pushing them towards the
axis, will be greater in flat domes than in those that are
more convex; that it will be still greater in a cone, and
greater still in a curve whose convexity is turned inwards;
for in this last case the line AG will deviate most remarkably
from the curve. Such a dome will stand (having polished
joints) if the curve springs from the base with any eleva¬
tion, however small; nay, since the friction of two pieces
of stone is not less than half of their mutual pressure,
such a dome will stand although the tangent to the curve
at the bottom should be horizontal, provided that the ho¬
rizontal thrust be double the weight of the dome, which
may easily be the case if it dp not rise high.
40. Thus we see that the stability of a dome depends Stability of
on very different principles from that of a common arch,3 dome de-
and is in general much greater. It differs also in another Pen(is °n
very important circumstance, viz. that it may be open in
the middle ; for the uppermost course, by tending equally from that
in every part to slide in toward the axis, presses all to-ofaeom-
gether in the vertical joints, and acts on the next coursemon arch,
like the keystone of a common arch. Therefore an arch
of equilibration, which is the weakest of all, may be open
in the middle, and carry at top another building, such as
a lanthorn, if its weight do not exceed that of the circular
segment of the dome that is omitted. A greater load than
this would indeed break the dome, by causing it to spring
up in some of the lower courses; but this load may be in¬
creased if the curve is flatter than the curve of equilibra¬
tion : and any load whatever, which will not crush the
Stones to powder, may be set on a truncate cone, or on a
dome formed by a curve that is convex toward the axis;
provided always that the foundation be effectually prevent¬
ed from flying out, either by a hoop, or by a sufficient mass
of solid pier on which it is set.
41. We have mentioned the many failures which hap¬
pened to the dome of St Sophia in Constantinople. We
imagine that the thrust of the great dome, bending the
eastern arch outwards as soon as the pier began to yield,
destroyed the half-dome which was leaning on it, and
thus almost in an instant took away the eastern abutment.
We think that this might have been prevented without
any change in the injudicious plan, if the dome had been
hooped with iron, as was practised by Michael Angelo in
the vastly more ponderous dome of St Peter’s at liome,
and by Sir Christopher Wren in the cone and the inner
dome of St Paul’s at London. The weight of the latter
considerably exceeds 3000 tons, and they occasion a hori¬
zontal thrust which is nearly half this quantity, the eleva¬
tion of the cone being about GO0. This being distributed
390
Arch.
ARCH.
round the circumference, occasions a strain on the hoop the friction of the joints and the cohesion of the cement.
7 i ^ ^ ^ t i An equilibrium, accompanied by some firm stability, pro-'
2x22
An equilibrium, accompanied Dy some tirm stability, pro- 'sljl i
of the thrust, or nearly 238 tons. A square inch duced by the mutual pressure of the vertical joints, may '
• n I* ! -11   Cl* a. „ . hvVdot? 4- dlfi A fPr
of the worst iron, if well forged, will carry 24 tons with be eXpreSSed by the formula ^
perfect safety ; therefore a hoop of 7 inches broad and 1^ J hyVda? -\-dy'2
inch thick will completely secure this circle from bursting j Vdx2 4- dafi <Px dt
outwards. It is, however, much more completely secur- by A = -r- -f——> where t is some variable
ed; for, besides a hoop at the base of very nearly these ,/ y^da? + dy2 x
dimensions, there are hoops in different courses of the positive quantity, which increases when ai increases. This
cone, which bind it into one mass, and cause it to press
on the piers in a direction exactly vertical. The only
thrusts which the piers sustain are those from the arches
of the body of the church and the transepts. These are
most judiciously directed to the entering angles of the
building, and are there resisted with insuperable force
dx 1 t
positive quantity, which increases when x increases,
last equation will also express the equilibrated dome, if*
• ^ M ■
be a constant quantity, because in tins case — is = 0.
Since a firm stability requires that
hydx da? + df
J hy Vda? + df
by the whole lengths of the walls, and by four solid masses shall be greater than d?x, and CG must be greater than
of masonry in the corners. Whoever considers with at- CB ; hence we learn that figures of too great curva-
tention and judgment the plan of this cathedral, will see ture, whose sides descend too rapidly, are improper. Also,
that the thrusts of these arches, and of the dome, are in- ,, hydx Jdo? + <hi
conroarablv better balanced than in St Peter’s church at since stabihty reqmres that we have JU^^L
comparably better
Rome. But to return from this sort of digression.  
Theory of 42. We have seen that if b G, the thrust compounded of greater than J hy Vda? + dy2, we learn that the upper
the curves the thrust b C, exerted by all the courses above HILK, part 0f tbe dome must not be made very heavy. This,
proper for an(j tjie porce £ or tbe weight of that course, be every- by diminishing the proportion of JF to iC, diminishes the
omes’ where coincident with b B, the element of the curve, we angie C6G, and may set the point G above B, which will
shall have an equilibrated dome: if it falls within it, we infallibly spring the dome in that place. We see here
have a dome which will bear a greater load ; and if it falls a]so? tbat the algebraic analysis expresses that peculiarity
without it, the dome will break at the joint. We must 0f dome-vaulting, viz. that the weight of the upper part
endeavour to get analytical expressions of these conditions. may even be suppressed.
Therefore draw the ordinates b d b", BDB", C d C". Let jLy da? + dy2 _d?x , dt
the tangents at b and b'r meet the axis in M, and make
MO, MP, each equal to be, and complete the parallelogram
The
fluent of the equation^.—^^ +-
MONP, and draw 00 perpendicular to the axis, and pro- jg most easiiy found: it is Ly*by Vda? + daf = Lc?a; +
duce 6F, cutting the ordinates in E and e.1 It is plain where L is the hyperbolic logarithm of the quantity
that MN is to MO as the weight of the arch HAS to the ’ -- ... —. - J
thrust b C which it exerts on the joint KL (this thrust
being propagated through the course HILK); and that
MQ, or its equal b e, or d d, may represent the weight of
the half HA.
Let AD be called #, and DB be called ?/. Then be—dx,
and eC z=.dy (because 6 C is in the direction of the ele¬
ment j3 b). It is also plain that if we make dy constant,
BC is the second fluxion of x, or BC = d?x, and be and
5E may be considered as equal, and taken indiscriminate¬
ly for dx. We have also 6 C = Vda? + dy2. Let h be the
depth or thickness HI of the arch-stones.
annexed to it. If we consider dy as constant, and cor¬
rect the fluent so as to make it nothing at the vertex, it
may be expressed thus, L f by Vdx2 -j- dy2 L a — L&
_ fhy *y da? + dy2 _ T <k
— L + L This gives us L ^
Then hV da? -j- dy2
will represent the trapezium HL; and since the circum¬
ference of each course increases in the proportion of the
radius ?/, hyVdx2dyi2 will express the whole course.
. , „ fbyV da? + d,y2 _ dx
and therefore    — t-r>
a dy
This last equation will easily give us the depth of
vaulting, or thickness h of the arch, when the curve is
. hy *Jdx2 + daf __ dtdx +
given. For its fluxion is  ^ ~ dy '
adtdx + atdrx , which jg ap expressed in known
and h =
ydy V da? + dy
If/'be taken to represent the sum or aggregate of the quan- quantities; for we may put in place of t any power
.<< . . V c  t -Hi ° v . 2 ^ f   a thp pwnress
tities annexed to it, the formula will be analogous to the function of x or of y, and thus convert the express
  ° •- . . v1' -n i_- 1:—aii sorts ot
fluent of a fluxion, and J' byVda? + dy2 will represent the into another, which will be applicable to
whole mass, and also the weight of the vaulting, down curves
to the joint HI. Therefore we have this proportion,
f hyVda? -j- dy2 : hyVda?-\-dy2 •.= be -. bY, — b e \ CG,
— bd*. CG, = dx: CG. Therefore CG = hydxVd** + ^
d?x . dt
Instead of the second member + -, we might em-
J'hyV da? -|- dy2
If the curvature of the dome be precisely such as puts
it in equilibrium, but without any mutual pressure in the
vertical joints, this value of CG must be equal to CB or
to d?x, the point G coinciding with B. This condition
will be expressed by the equation ^X’
d2x
or, more conveniently, by
hyV da? -f- dy2
ploy , where p is some number greater than unity.
This will evidently give a dome having stabihty, because
the original formula will then be greater
than (Fx. This wii. give/t = ^
these forms has its advantages when applied to particular
acPx
— U^. But this cases. Each of them also gives h -
j'hyVd3?-\-dif dx .
form gives only a tottering equilibrium, independent of when the curvature is such as is in precise equilibnuin
The letters e and d are wanting in the plate; e ought to be at the intersection of 5 E and C c", and d at that of AD and C d •
ARCH.
i lastly, if /< be constant, that is, if the vaulting be of
y-*- uniform thickness, we obtain the form of the curve, be¬
cause then the relation of d2x to dx and to dy is given.
The chief use of this analysis is to discover what
curves are improper for domes, or what portions of given
curves may be employed with safety. Domes are gene¬
rally built for ornament, and we see that there is great
room for indulging our fancy in the choice. All curves
which are concave outwards will give domes of great firm¬
ness : they are also beautiful. The Gothic dome, whose
outline is an undulated curve, may be made abundantly
firm, especially if the upper part be convex and the lower
concave outwards.
The chief difficulty in the case of this analysis arises
from the necessity of expressing the weight of the incum¬
bent part, or fhy •</dx3- dy1. This requires the mea¬
surement of the conoidal surface, which, in most cases,
can be had only by approximation by means of infinite
series. We cannot expect that the generality of prac¬
tical builders are familiar with this branch of mathematics,
and therefore will not engage in it here; but content
ourselves with giving such instances as can be understood
by such as have that moderate mathematical knowledge
which every man should possess who takes the name of
engineer.
The surface of any circular portion of a sphere is very
easily had, being equal to the circle described with a ra¬
dius equal to the chord of half the arch. This radius is
evidently — 'd dx2 + dy-.
In order to discover what portion of a hemisphere may
be employed (for it is evident that we cannot employ the
whole) when the thickness of the vaulting is uniform, we
391
Arch.
may recur
to the equation or formula tydxVdoc- + dy
dx?
-fhyddx?+dy2. Let a be the radius of the hemi¬
sphere. We have dx— ,and d?x — Sub-
Vd2—y2 («2—F)|
stituting these values in the formula, we obtain the equa-
txonifV a2—1J2 —■J'-^===. We easily obtain the fluent of
the second member rr d?—aWa?—y\ and—«V7—,]- + ,/ J.
Therefore, if the radius of the sphere be 1, the half
breadth of the dome must not exceed V—1*+ ^/|-, or
b'TSG, and the height will be ‘618. The arch from the
vertex is about 51° 49'. Much more of the hemisphere
cannot stand, even though aided by the cement, and by
the friction of the coursing joints. This last circumstance,
by giving connection to the upper parts, causes the whole
to press more vertically on the course below, and thus
diminishes the outward thrust; but it at the same time
diminishes the mutual abutment of the vertical joints,
'' Inch is a great cause of firmness in the vaulting. A
tiothic dome, of which the upper part is a portion of a
sphere not exceeding 45° from the vertex, and the lower
part is concave outwards, will be very strong, and not un¬
graceful.
eter ^ut ^le public taste has long rejected this form, and
ome S.eems rat;ber to select more elevated domes than this por¬
tion of a sphere, because a dome, when seen from a small
■stance, always appears flatter than it really is. The
1 ume ol St Peter’s is nearly an ellipsoid externally, of
'' lc 1 ^le longer axis is perpendicular to the horizon. It
* very ingeniously constructed. It springs from the base
perpendicularly, and is very thick in this part. After
“sing about 50 feet, the vaulting separates into two thin
Va tm8s> which gradually separate from each other.
These two shells are connected together by thin parti¬
tions, which are very artificially dovetailed in both, and
thus form a covering which is extremely stiff, while it is
very light. Its great stiffness was necessary for enabling
the crown of the dome to carry the elegant stone lanthorn
with safety. It is a wonderful performance and has not
its equal in the world ; but it is an enormous load in com¬
parison with the dome of St Paul’s, and this even inde¬
pendent of the difference of size. If they were of equal
dimensions, it would be at least five times as heavy, and
is not so firm by its gravity; but as it is connected in
every part by iron bars (lodged in the solid masonry, and
well secured from the weather by having lead melted all
around them), it bids fair to last for ages if the founda¬
tions do not fail.
If a circle be described round a centre, placed any¬
where in the transverse axis AC (Plate LII. fig. 11) of an
ellipse, so as to touch the ellipse in the extremities B, b
of an ordinate, it will touch it internally, and the circular
arch B a 6 will be wholly within the elliptical arch BAA
Therefore, if an elliptical and a spherical vaulting spring
from the same base, at the same angle with the horizon,
the spherical vaulting will be within the elliptical, will be
flatter and lighter, and therefore the weight of the next
course below will bear a greater proportion to the thrust
in the direction of the curve; therefore the spherical
vaulting will have more stability. On the contrary, and
for similar reasons, an oblate elliptical vaulting is prefer¬
able to a spherical vaulting springing with the same in¬
clination to the horizon. (Fig. 13.)
44. Persfiaded that what has been said on the subject Dimen-
convinces the reader that a vaulting perfectly equilibrated sions of
throughout is by no means the best form, provided that £he best
the base is secured from separating, we think it unneces-^™0* a
sary to give the investigation of that form, which has a °me*
considerable intricacy, and shall content ourselves with
merely giving its dimensions. The thickness is supposed
uniform. The numbers in the first' column of the table
express the portion of the axis counted from the vertex,
and those of the second column are the lengths of the
ordinates.
AD
0,4
3,4
11.4
26,6
52.4
91.4
146,8
223.4
326,6
465.4
DB
100
200
300
400
500
600
700
800
900
1000
AD
610,4
744
904
1100
1336
1522
1738
1984
2270
2602
DB
1080
1140
1200
1260
1320
1360
1400
1440
1480
1520
AD
2990
3442
3972
4432
4952
5336
5756
6214
6714
7260
DB
1560
1600
1640
1670
1700
1720
1740
1760
1780
1800
The curve delineated in fig. 15 is formed according to
these dimensions, and appears destitute of gracefulness,
because its curvature changes abruptly at a little distance
from the vertex, so that it has some appearance of being
made up of different curves pieced together. But if the
middle be occupied by a lanthorn of equal or of smaller
weight, this defect will cease, and the whole will be ele¬
gant, nearly resembling the exterior dome of St Paul’s in
London.
45. It is not a small advantage of dome-vaulting, thatitAdvan-
is lighter than any that can cover the same area. If, *:ages
moreover, it be spherical, it will admit considerable varie-^0”!^.-
ties of figure by combining different spheres. Thus, a
dome may begin from its base as a portion of a large
hemisphere, and may be broken off at any horizontal
392
Arch.
Effects of
cement
and fric¬
tion in
dome¬
vaulting.
The iron
bridge at
Sunder¬
land de¬
scribed.
ARCH.
course, and then a similar or a greater portion of a small¬
er sphere may spring from this course as a base. It also
bears being intersected by cylindrical vaultings in every
direction, and the intersections are exact circles, and al¬
ways have a pleasing effect. It also springs most grace¬
fully from the heads of small piers, or from the corners
of rooms of any polygonal shape; and the arches formed
by its intersections with the walls are always circular and
graceful, forming very handsome spandrels in every posi¬
tion. For these reasons Sir Christopher Wren employed
it in all his vaultings, and he has exhibited many beauti¬
ful varieties in the transepts and the aisles of St Paul’s,
which are highly worthy of the observation of architects.
Nothing can be more graceful than the vaultings at the
ends of the north and south transepts, especially as fur¬
nished off in the fine inside view published by Gwynn and
Wale.
46. The connection of the parts arising from cement and
from friction has a great effect on dome-vaulting. In the
same way as in common arches and cylindrical vaulting, it
enables an overload on one place to break the dome in a
distant place. But the resistance to this effect is much
greater in dome-vaulting, because it operates all round
the overloaded part. Hence it happens that domes are
much less shattered by partial violence, such as the fall¬
ing of a bomb or the like. Large holes may be broken in
them without much affecting the rest; but, on the other
hand, it greatly diminishes the strength which should be
derived from the mutual pressure in the vertical joints.
Friction prevents the sliding in of the arch-stones, which
produces this mutual pressure in the vertical joints, except
in the very highest courses, and even there it greatly di¬
minishes it. These causes make a great change in the
form which gives the greatest strength ; and as their laws
of action are as yet but very imperfectly understood, it is
perhaps impossible, in the present state of our knowledge,
to determine this form with tolerable precision. We see
plainly, however, that it allows a greater deviation from
the best form than the other kind of vaulting, and domes
may be made to rise perpendicular to the horizon at the
base, although of no great thickness; a thing which must
not be attempted in a plain arch. The immense addition
of strength which may be derived from hooping largely
compensates for all defects; and there are hardly any
bounds to the extent to which a very thin dome-vaulting
may be carried when it is hooped or framed in the direc¬
tion of the horizontal courses. The roof of the Halle du
Bled at Paris is but a foot thick, and its diameter is more
than 200, yet it appears to have abundant strength. It
is, on the whole, a noble specimen of architecture.
47. We must not conclude this article without taking
notice of that magnificent and elegant arch erected in
cast iron at Wearmouth, near Sunderland, in the county
of Durham. The inventor and architect was Rowland
Burdon, Esq.
This arch (of which a view is given at the article Bridge)
is a segment of a circle whose diameter is about 444 feet.
The span or chord of the arch is 236 feet, and its versed
sine or spring is 34 feet. It springs at the elevation of
60 feet from the surface of the river at low water, so that
vessels of 200 or perhaps 300 tons burden may pass under
it in the middle of the stream, and even 50 feet on each
side of it.
The sweep of the arch consists of a series of frames of
cast iron, which abut on each other, in the same manner
as the voussoirs of a stone arch. One of these frames or
blocks (as we shall call them in future) is represented in
Plate LIII. fig. 3, as seen in front. It is cast in one piece,
and consists of three pieces or arms BC, BC, BC, the middle
one of which is two feet long, the upper being somewhat
more, and the lower somewhat less, because their extrerai-
ties are bounded by the radius drawn from the centre of the
arch. These arms are four inches square, and are con¬
nected by other pieces KL, of such length that the whole
length of the block is five feet in the direction of the
radius. Each arm has a flat groove on each side, which
is expressed by the darker shading, three inches broad
and three fourths of an inch deep. A section of this
block, through the middle of KL, is represented by the
light-shaded part BBB, in which the grooves are more
distinctly perceived. These grooves are intended for re¬
ceiving flat bars of malleable iron, which are employed for
connecting the different blocks with each other. Fig. 4
represents two blocks united in this manner. For this
purpose each arm has two square bolt-holes. The ends
of the arms being nicely trimmed off, so that the three
ends abut equally close on the ends of the next block; and
the bars of hammered iron being also nicely fitted to their
grooves, so as to fill them completely, and have their bolt¬
holes exactly corresponding to those in the blocks; they
are put together in such a manner that the joints or meet¬
ings of the malleable bars may fall on the middle between
the bolt-holes in the arms. Flat-headed bolts of wrought
iron are then put through, and keys or forelocks are driven
through the bolt-tails, and thus all is firmly wedged to¬
gether, binding each arm between two bars of wrought
iron. These bars are of such length as to connect seve¬
ral blocks.
In this manner a series of about 125 blocks are joined
together, so as to form the precise curve that is intended.
This series may be called a rib, and it stands in a vertical
plane. The arch consists of six of these ribs, distant from
each other five feet. These ribs are connected together
so as to form an arch of 32 feet in breadth, in the follow¬
ing manner.
Fig. 5 represents one of the bridles or cross pieces
which connect the different ribs, as it appears when view¬
ed from below. It is a hollow pipe of cast iron four
inches in diameter, and has at each end two projecting
shoulders, pierced with a bolt-hole near their extremities,
so that the distance between the bolt-holes in the shoul¬
ders of one end is equal to the distance between the holes
in the arms of the blocks, or the holes in the wrought iron
bars. In the middle of the upper and of the under side of
each end may be observed a square prominence, more
lightly shaded than the rest. These projections also ad¬
vance a little beyond the flat of the shoulders, forming be¬
tween them a shallow notch about an inch deep, which
receives the iron of the arms, where they abut on each
other, and thus give an additional firmness to the joint.
The manner in which the arms are thus grasped by these
notches in the bridles is more distinctly seen in fig. h
at the letter H, in the middle of the upper rail.
The rib having been all trimmed and put together, so
as to form the exact curve, the bolts are all taken out,
and the horizontal bridles are then set on in their places,
and the bolts are again put in and made fast by the fore¬
locks. The bolts now pass through the shoulders of the
bridles, through the wrought iron bars, and through the
cast iron arm that is between them, and the forelocks
bind all fast together. The manner in which this connec¬
tion is completed is distinctly seen in fig. 4, which shows
in perspective a double block in front, and a single block
behind it. The abutting joint" of the two front blocks are
at the letters E, E, E; the holes in the shoulders of the
horizontal cross pieces are at FI.
48. This construction is beautifully simple, and very
judicious. A vast addition of strength and of stiffness is
procured by lodging the wrought iron bars in grooves
A R
j,. formed in the cast iron rails; and for this purpose it is of
p-^reat importance to make the wrought iron bars fill the
Grooves completely, and even to be so tight as to require
' the force of the forelocks to draw them home to the bot¬
tom of the grooves. There can be no doubt but that this
arch is able to withstand an enormous pressure, as long
is the abutments from which it springs do not yield. Of
•^is there is hardly any risk, because they are masses of
•ock, faced with about four or five yards (in some places
mly) of solid block masonry. The mutual thrusts of the
rames are all in the direction of the rails, so that no part
aears any transverse strain. We can hardly conceive any
brce that can overcome the strength of those arms by
aressure or crushing them. The manner in which the
fames are connected into one rib effectually secures the
ibutting joints from slipping; and the accuracy with which
he whole can be executed secures us against any warp-
ng or deviation of a rib from the vertical plane.
But when we consider the prodigious span of this arch,
md reflect that it is only five feet thick, it should seem
hat the most perfect equilibration is indispensably neces¬
sary. It is but like a film, and must be so supple, that an
werload on any part must have a great tendency to bend
t, and to cause it to rise in a distant part; and this effect
s increased by the very firmness with which the wdiole
sticks together. The overloaded part acts on a distant
)art, tending to break it with all the energy of a long
ever. This can be prevented only by means of the stiff-
less of the distant part. It is very true, the arch cannot
weak in the extrados except by tearing asunder the
vrought iron bars which connect the blocks along the up-
)er rail, and each of these requires more than a hundred
,ons to tear it asunder; yet an overload of five tons on any
ib at its middle will produce this strain at twenty feet
rom the sides, supposing the sides held firm in their po¬
rtion. It were desirable, therefore, that something were
lone to stiffen the arch at the sides, by the manner of
illing up the spandrels or space between the arch and
lie road-way. This is filled up in a manner that is ex-
remely light and pleasing to the eye, namely, by large
:ast iron circles, which touch the extrados of the arch and
ouch the road-way. The road-way rests on them as on
o many hoops, while they rest on the back of the arch,
nd also touch each other laterally. We cannot think
bat this contributes to the strength of the arch ; for these
mops will be easily compressed at the points of contact,
.nd, changing their shape, will oppose very little resist-
tnce. We think that this part of the arch might have
leen greatly stiffened and strengthened by connecting it
nth the road-way by trussed frames, in the same way
bat a judicious carpenter would have framed a roof. If
strong cast iron pillar had been made to rest on the
reh at about 20 feet from the impost, and been placed in
he direction of a radius, the top of this pillar might have
icen connected by a diagonal bar of wrought iron with
i be impost of the arch, and with the crown of the arch
'} another string or bar of the same materials. These
'I o ties would cause the radial pillar to press strongly on
le . ck of the arch, and they must be torn asunder be-
Ji e it could bend in that place in the smallest degree,
opposing them of the same dimensions as the bars in the
rms, their position would give them near ten times the
jrce for resisting the strain produced by an overload on
he crown.
Ibis beautiful arch contains only 260 tons of iron, of
ni i about 55 are wrought iron. The superstructure is
'vood, planked over a top. This floor is covered with
coating of chalk and tar, on which are laid the materials
1 . ’e C£ji'nage road, consisting of marl, limestone, and
‘ ve, with foot-ways of flag-stones at the sides. The
'ol. in.
C H.
weight of the whole did not exceed 1000 tons, whereas
the lightest stone arch which could have been erected
would have weighed 15,000. It was turned on a very
light but stiff scaffolding, niost judiciously constructed for
the pieservation of its form, and for allowing an uninter-
rupted passage for the numerous ships and small craft
which frequent the busy harbour of Sunderland. The
mode of framing the arch was so simple and easy that it
was put up in ten days, without an accident; and when
all was finished, and the scaffolding removed, the arch did
not sensibly change its form. The whole work was exe¬
cuted in three years, and cost about L.26,000.
Appendix.
49. The excellence of the preceding article, written by
the late Dr John Robison, Professor of Natural Philosophy
in the University of Edinburgh, for the Supplement to
the third edition of this work, may be inferred from the
fact, that almost every later writer on mechanics has
spoken of it with approbation, and borrowed more or less
from it. (See Gregory’s Mechanics, book i. chap. 6 ; Hut¬
ton s Tracts, vol. i., Bridges; Whewell s Mechanics, art.
72, &c.) There is however one part of the article, viz.
the purely mathematical part, which must have been
quite unintelligible as it originally appeared, because of
its numerous typographical errors. These are here cor¬
rected, we believe for the first time. Even with this ad¬
vantage, we fear it has rather a forbidding aspect to the
student of modern mathematics, because of the very
complicated diagram (see Plate LIE fig. 12) from which
the differential equation of the equilibrated arch has
been deduced. We shall therefore, as an appendix,
treat of the equilibrated polygon and equilibrated arch
upon the general principles of statics, and employ in this
investigation only the most simple geometrical figures.
The theory of the equilibrated arch cannot be delivered
without employing the principles of the differential and
integral calculus; but we shall endeavour to pass from
the finite equation of the equilibrated polygon to the
differential equation of the arch by the shortest and most
direct road.
Equilibrated Polygon.
50. In Plate LIII. fig. 9, let ABCDED'C'B'A' be a poly¬
gon formed by beams or rods AB, BC, CD, DE, &c. of any
length, movable about the points B, C, D, E, &c, as joints,
and forming an equilibrium in a vertical plane by the
mutual thrusts at the joints and by the weight of the
beams, the extreme sides of the polygon being supposed
supported or attached to fixed points. Let AB, BC,
CD, be any three consecutive sides of the polygon: pro¬
duce AB, DC, the extreme sides, until they meet in H.
The beam BC is kept in its position by the thrusts of the
adjoining beams AB, CD, in the directions BH, CH,
and its own weight, which is equivalent to pressures or
loads on the joints B, C, acting in a vertical direction.
Let G be the point in BC, which is the centre of gravity
of weights proportional to loads at B and C. By the
principles of statics, the directions of these forces must
pass through the same point; therefore G must be in a
vertical line passing through H.
51. Draw BL, CK, perpendicular to the vertical H G.
Let <p, cp', p'', denote the angles which the lines AB, BC,
CD, in their order, make with any horizontal line in the
plane of the polygon ; then
cp - angle HBL, cp' - GBL = GCK, <p” = HCK:
also let w denote the load on the joint B, and w' the load
on the joint C.
3d
393
Arch.
»
By the nature of the centre of gravity,
w id — CG : BG r= CK : BL,
1
BL
therefore w td —
XT HG HL
N°w BL _ RL
J HG GK
and CK _ CK
1 _ HG
CK “ BL
GL
BL
HK
CK
HG
CK
— tan. <p — tan. <p
= tan. <p' — tan. <p'';
hence it appears that
w \ u) — tan. <p — tan. p': tan. <p’ — tan. f".
If tc" denote the load on the next joint D, and £>"' the
angle which the line DE makes with the horizontal plane,
it will appear in the same way that
td : td' — tan. <p’ — tan. <p'' : tan. <p" — tan.
and so on throughout the whole polygon: whence we
have this important proposition:
The vertical pressures on any two joints of the polygon,
whether adjoining or remote, are to one another as the dif¬
ferences of the tangents of the angles which the sides about
the joints make with the plane of the horizon.
52. From this proposition we may infer, that if <p, <p' de¬
note the angles which any two adjoining sides of the
polygon make with the horizontal plane, and w the load
on the joint at their intersection, then,
w = C (tan. <p — tan. <pj (A) ;
and in this formula, C denotes some constant quantity,
which is the same for all the angles of the polygon. This
is the general equation of the equilibrated polygon; and
it shows that the loads at the joints depend entirely on
the angles which the beams make with the horizontal
plane, and are independent of the lengths of the beams
themselves.
Equilibrated Arch.
53. We shall next investigate the differential equation
of an equilibrated arch, deducing it from the finite equa¬
tion of the equilibrated polygon.
Let us suppose an equilibrated polygon of a very great
number of sides (fig. 10), and that a curve ABC passes
through all the joints: the sides of the polygon will then
be chords in the curve; and as the number of these may
be conceived to be greater than any assigned number, and
each shorter than any given line, they may be regarded
as elements of the curve, and as constituting it.
54. Let us suppose the curve ABC formed in this man¬
ner to be the intrados of an arch of a bridge, and that the
extrados is the line MDN, which may be curved or
straight. Let AC be the span, or greatest horizontal
width of the arch, and BH, which bisects AC at right
angles, its rise or height; also let BD be the thickness of
the arch of the crown : draw a straight line EDF perpen¬
dicular to DH, and draw AE, CF perpendicular to EF.
Let Yp be any indefinitely small part of the intrados
ABC. Draw PRQ perpendicular to the horizontal line
EF, meeting the extrados in R, and rp parallel to RP;
also draw PK perpendicular to DH, meeting rp in q, and
PT touching the intrados in p; and, referring the two
curves to the same axes DE, let us put
x — DQ the common abscissa,
y — PQ the ordinate of the intrados,
v — RQ the ordinate of the extrados,
— angle TPK made by the tangent and horizontal linePK,
d — DB the given value of y at the crown,
d'zzz AE the given value of y at either haunch.
Then, because Yp is a differential of the arc BP, we
have Yq — dx, and pq ~ dy.
55. The load on the arc BP is the gravitating matter
between it and DR, the arc of the extrados immediately
over it. This is expressed by the area BDRP; there-
fore the load on Yp, the differential of the arc, is (y
the differential of that area.
We have put <p to denote the angle which a tangent at
P makes with any horizontal line ; similarly, let <p' denote
the angle which a line touching the curve at p makes
with a horizontal line. If now the curve be considered
as a polygon of an infinite number of infinitely short sides,
and the lines which touch the curve at P and p as the pro¬
longations of two adjoining sides, then, by formula (A),
sect. 52, the vertical pressure at their intersection will be
C (tan. p — tan. <pj. But these infinitely short touching
lines may be regarded as forming Yp, the differential of
the curve, the load on which we have found to be
(y — v)dx; and, moreover, tan. <p — tan. <p' = rf(tan. p),
the differential of the trigonometrical tangent of p; there¬
fore, the relation between the intrados and extrados will
be expressed by this equation,
C (/(tan. <p) — (y — v)dx.
i
v
dy
Now in all curves, tan. ,
and making dx constant,
d(tan. f) — -A, let us, to make the members of the
equation homogeneous, put c2 instead of C, which is al¬
ways positive, and the above equation becomes
^ dx~(y~V^dX;
and hence
^ __V
dx? c? <?
(B).
This differential equation, which is of the second order,
and linear, or of the first degree, comprehends in it the
whole theory of the equilibrated arch. We may now de¬
duce from it the resolution of two problems.
Prob. 1. Having given the form of the intrados ABC,
to find that of the extrados.
Prob. 2. Having given the nature of the extrados, to
determine the intrados.
56. The first problem is easy, and may be resolved by
the differential calculus.
Ex. Let the intrados ABC be a segment of a circle
whose centre is O. Draw PO to the centre. Let angle
POB, and a z= PO the radius of the circle ; then,
x — DO, = PK — a sin. <p,
y - PQ = BD + BK = c'+« (1 — cos. <p),
dx — a cos. <p d<p, dy — a sin. <pd$,
!mlf=tan
dx cos. <p dx cos.2p>
d?y 1 _ sec.3 <p
dx? ~ a cos.3 <p~ o,
Now, by formula (B),
y — v d?y sec.3 <p
c2 dx? a ’
therefore y — v — — sec.3 <Z>.
^ a
But when a; = 0, then v — 0, y zzc', p = 0, and sec.
c?
therefore d — - and <? — ad ; hence we have
v — y — d sec.3 <p.
This shows that the vertical line between the intrados
and extrados is always proportional to the cube of t e
secant of the angle which the radius OP makes with tie
perpendicular; a conclusion which agrees with section
of the preceding article.
57. The second problem, viz. having given the nature
ARCH.
ch of the extrados, to find that of the intrados, is the more im- (C)
-Important of the two, and more difficult. Its solution re- _
quires the integral calculus; but the difficulty is no great- y=hei+Ve 7+S Lf fe~7Xdx-e~7 fe7Xdz\ .
er than that of finding the area of a curve whose equa- 2 l ^ j ♦
tion is given. This can always be accomplished, if not in
inite terms, at least by infinite series. We shall now give
i general solution of the problem.
Lagrange has shown (Theorie des Fonctiom Analy-
iques, chap, viii.) that the integration of the equation
d*y y _ V
dx* c* ~ ’
where X denotes an explicit function of the variable x),
:an always be accomplished when two particular integrals
>f this other equation, viz.
d*y y _ 0
dtf c2 “
X —X
ire known. Now y — pe^ and y — qe c are such inte¬
grals (/i and q being arbitrary constants, and 2*7182818,
he number whose Napierian logarithm is unity), as may
>e proved by differentiation; therefore, following La¬
grange, to integrate the equation (B), viz.
d?y y   v
dx1 c2 c2’
re assume
M_ —£
y—pec + c
or the complete integral equation; but now p and q are
o be considered as functions of the variable x. To de¬
ermine these, we differentiate, and get
To determine the arbitrary constants b and b\ we must
consider that a tangent to the intrados at the vertex is
perpendicular to the vertical DH; therefore, when a;=0,
then -j-— 0» but from the equation just found we get
dy_
dx
1 f £ , Ldp , -£ dq
=.-lpec — qe 1 j c^:
iince p and q are indeterminate functions of x, we may
.ssume that
-dp -1 dq
ec^ + e c
nd then we have
dy If -
Tx = -c\pec-qe C\:
Igain, by differentiating, we find
/ £i ~L\ ,l j ~dp ~£dq)
's+c\e'-£-e dxS
= 2+l{e7±_e-7±\.
c* c I dx dx)
This result, compared with equation (B), gives
1 f Idp dq) v
~c \eCTx~e C tic)
Irom this and the equation
-dp dq
e'ic+e dx~*'
’e obtain ^putting X = — ^
dp__c
dx 2e ^ ’
dq c -_r
dx~ 2ecX’
P~<r)fe eXdx-\-b ; q-=. — c'K.dxA’U.
lore b and U are arbitrary constants, and the integrals
re supposed to be taken so as to vanish when #=0. The
omplete integral equation is now
% = \{bec~h,e *Xc&+e l/^Xd*}.
_£ —
Now, when a;—0, then ec rr 1, and e c — 1; and by hypo¬
thesis the integrals fecXdx, fe LXdx in this particu¬
lar case vanish; therefore, when a?=0, the last equation
becomes 0=zb—b’, so that b'—b. But again, in the gene¬
ral equation (C), when a;—0, then y—d; therefore we
have also d—2b and b—\d. On the whole, the equation
of the extrados is
(D)
d ( — —£l c ( - F —Lf'~ 1
y=--{ec+e c\^r‘?\ec Je c^dx—e cJecXdx\\
the integrals being taken so as to vanish when a;=0.
We have thus brought the solution to depend on the in¬
tegration of the two differentials
£. —x
ec Xdx, e ~<iXdx,
which in fact will only differ in their sign, because the
branches of the extrados on opposite sides of the vertical
are exactly alike, and therefore the substitution of — x
for + x will not change the sign of u nor of X. Now this
integration can always be effected by known methods,
therefore the second problem may be regarded as com¬
pletely resolved.
57. Example. Let us suppose that the extrados is a ho¬
rizontal straight line EF.
The line PT being supposed to touch the curve, let us
as before put
d — DB, d' — EA, s — DE,
x — DQ, y = PQ, <p — angle TPK.
In this case v = 0 and X = 0, and the equation of the
curve is simply
y
= 5p+e "}•
This case of the general problem has been resolved in
sect. 25; the equation of the curve is, however, here
given under a different form. We shall now deduce from
it a formula for logarithmic calculation.
In all curves, tan. p = ^; in the present case
tan-K=l)=rc{e7_e 7}:
Let 4/ be such an angle that
X X
ec" = tan. (45° + 1 ■4), then e ^ = tan. (45 — £ -4).
Hence, by the arithmetic of sines (Algebra, sect. 244,
(K) and sect. 240, (C) No. 1),
ec-|-e c —
X —JT
e*—e c:
cos.(45° + £4) cos.(45c
sin. -4
’ cos.(45°+14) cos.(45°—14) cos.4
=——, =2 sec. 4
=2tan.4
44) cos.4
 2sin.4
396
ARC
ARC
Arch Also, by the theory of logarithms (Algebra, sect, xix.),
II x i i tan. (45° + 14') . , //. co i i i \
Archangel. - log. e = log. j—-—- — log. tan. (45 + 4)
' r ' — 10.
From these expressions we obtain the relation of the
three principal elements of the curve, viz. p, x, y, as fol¬
lows :
tan. 4 = tan. <p (1)
Bridge, for which a table of corresponding values of a; and i
y has been given, sect. 26. Here the span is 100 feet,
the height or rise forty feet, and the thickness at theM {
crown six feet; and first, let it be required to find the or-^" <
dinate y, when x=20 feet; we have now
71 20
5= 50, (/=6, d’zz 46, x-20, - =
s 50
Logarithmic Calculation.
X ~ T^Te {l0g’ tan- ^45° + i ~10 } • • • (2)
y = —C—-. = d sec. 4 (3)
J cos.4
But before these formulae can be applied, the value of
c must be known. To find this, let a denote the value of
4 when x — s and y — d'\ then equations (3) and (2)
become
d
~ {loo* tan. (45° +la).
,0}
From these we obtain
d
cos. a = — 
d
log. e
•C)
.(5)
log. tan.(450-l-^a)—10
These formulae determine c, and this known, the values
of x and y corresponding to any proposed value of may
be readily found from formulae (1) (2) and (3).
58. We may also determine y directly from x without
p by eliminating
log. e
by formulae (2) and (5); we have
then, to determine y from x, these formulae,
cos. a —
.(a)
log.tan.(45° -{- 44)—10 ^ log.tan.(45° + ia)_ 10 j* (5)
d f \
y=-^ w
1. As an example, let us take the case of Blackfriars
d= 6 0-7781512
c"=46 1-6627578
cos. (a=82° 3(y 19") 9-1153934
log. tan. (45° + ia=860 15'9"-5)—10= 1-1837773
To  10-0000000
add |-g- X 1.1837773.... . = 0-4735109
tan. (45°+ 14=71° 25' 18") 10-4735109
cos. (4=52° 50' 36")  9-7810344
y = -A-r =9-9338 feet  0-9971168
J cos. 4
The greater part of the above calculation serves for all
the values of x, and need not be repeated in constructing
a table of the ordinates.
2. Let it be required to find y when x=32 feet.
To 10-0000000
add §4 X 1-1837773=  0-7576175
tan. (45° + 44=80° 5' 18") 10-7576175
c'=6   0-7781512
cos. (4=70° 10'36")  9-5303431
7/= 17-6933 feet.....  1-2478081
In this way may all the numbers in the table of sect.
26. be computed with greater expedition than by the for¬
mula given there.
The value of 9 to each value of x may be found from
formulae (5) and (1) of last article. (R.)
ARCHiEUS, or Archeus. See Archeus.
ARCHANGEL, a Russian government or stadtholder-
ship in the north of the eastern hemisphere of the globe ;
for though the city as well as the circle of the same name
is comprehended in Europe, yet the government extends,
according to Russian division, over great part of Asia. It
is bounded on the north by the Frozen Ocean and White
Sea; on the east by Tobolsk; on the south-east by Wologda;
on the south-west by Olonez, of which a narrow part ex¬
tends to the White Sea, and separates it from Finland; on
the west by Finland; and on the north-west by Norway:
but besides these boundaries there are some islands in
the White Sea, and the great island Nova Zembla in the
Frozen Ocean. The whole extent is 346,120 square miles,
or 18,000 square miles more than the kingdom of France,
comprehending 41 degrees of longitude, from 27. 54. to
69. 13., and 16|- of latitude, from 61. 23. to 78. 4. The
climate, though not all alike, is universally raw and cold.
Up to the latitude of 65° the spring is moist, with frost at
nights; the summer is short, with long but foggy days;
the autumn is moist, and the winter begins early. The
trees, however, grow, and the rye ripens. The rivers cease
to flow from October to April. Between the 65th and
47th degrees there are some trees, but dwarfish; corn does
not ripen; and animals scarcely endure the temperature.
Beyond 67° is a more arctic climate, short summer, long
winter, and the soil always frozen below the surface. The
rivers are closed in September, and scarcely thaw before
July. Though oats and rye grow up to the 65°, yet be¬
yond that the chief subsistence depends on the chase and
the fisheries; but even in the most southern parts the
bark of trees is mixed with corn to eke out the scanty
products of the harvest. The province contains seven
cities or towns, and 220 parishes. The inhabitants are
Russians, Samoieds, Laplanders, or Permijaks, whose num¬
ber it is difficult to ascertain. By the latest accounts
we have been able to obtain, the males, exclusive of the
burghers, were, in 1783, 80,546 ; the whole may be about
170,000.
Archangel, a circle in the Russian government of the
same name, through the centre of which the Dwina
runs. It produces some little corn, and turnips, radishes,
cabbages, onions, and garlic. The cattle are tolerable, an
their Calves are in great request both in Petersburg ant
ARC
ARC
397
,    TIip inlialiitanfs are all of the Russian race. Oxford. Peterboroup-h. Rochester. Salishnrv. Winntiocfor
«'10 Archangel, a city, the capital of the government and the bishopric of Sodor and Man, whose bishop is not a^^ellor
circle of the same name, is situated on the Dwina where lord of parliament.
that river flows into the White Sea, and forms the Bay of The archbishop of Canterbury had anciently, viz. till
Dwinskaja. The city is fortified in a very antique man- the year 1152, jurisdiction over Ireland as well as Eng-
ner. All the houses but one are of wood, and the streets land, and was styled a patriarch, and sometimes alterius
are planked instead of being paved. The churches are orhis papa, and orbits Britannici pontifex. Matters were
eleven Greek, and one each for Lutherans and Calvinists, done and recorded in his name thus,—Anno pontijicatus
There are a gymnasium, a seminary for priests, an hospital, nostri primo, &c. The first archbishop of Canterbury was
and 1300 houses, with about 8000 inhabitants, who depend Austin, appointed by King Ethelbert on his conversion to
chiefly on foreign commerce. The harbour is good, but Christianity, about the year 598. He was also legatus
only accessible from July to September. The ships that natus. He even enjoyed some special marks of royalty;
repair to it are generally of 300 tons burden, mostly Bri- as to be patron of a bishopric, which he was of Rochester;
fish, but some from the Netherlands and the Hans towns, and to make knights, coin moneys, &c. The archbishop is
The way to this port was first discovered by the English still the first peer of England, and the next to the royal fa¬
in the year 1553, since which it has gradually increased mily, having precedence of all dukes and all great officers
in commercial importance. In the year 1819 the arrivals of the crown. It is his privilege, by custom, to crown the
of vessels were 305; the imports amounted to 442,403 kings and queens of this kingdom. He may retain and
rubles, the exports to 6,031,088: the former have dou- qualify eight chaplains, whereas a duke is allowed by sta¬
bled, and the latter tripled, since the year 1803. The tute only six. He has, by common law, the power of pro¬
chief exports are, corn, linseed, train-oil, tar, tallow, peltry, bate of wills and testaments, and granting letters of ad-
wax, honey, mats, linen, bar iron, and copper, the greater ministration. He has also a power to grant licences and
part of which is brought from a great distance, some by dispensations in all cases formerly sued for in the court of
the Dwina, and some in the winter on sledges. The im- Rome, and not repugnant to the law of God. He accord-
ports consist chiefly of sugar and other colonial produc- ly issues special licences to marry, to hold two livings, &c.
tions, wine, and manufactured goods. The commercial and he exercises thq right of conferring degrees. He
establishments are chiefly branches of mei’cantile houses also holds several courts of judicature ; as court of arches,
of Petersburg, or of English, German, or Dutch merchants court of audience, prerogative court, and court of pecu-
residing here. It is in long. 38. 41. 48. E. and lat. 64. liars.
31. 40. N. The archbishop of York has the like rights in his pro-
Arciiangel, an angel occupying the eighth rank in the vince as the archbishop of Canterbury. He has prece-
celestial hierarchy. dence of all dukes not of the royal blood, and of all officers
ARCHBISHOP, the name of a church dignitary of of state except the lord high chancellor. He has also
the first class. Archbishops were not known in the East the rights of a count palatine over Hexhamshire. Ihe
till about the year 320; and though there were some soon first archbishop of York was Paulinus, appointed by Pope
after this who had the title, yet that was only a personal Gregory about the year 622. He had formerly jurisdic-
honour, by which the bishops of considerable cities were tion over all tbe bishops of Scotland; but in the year
distinguished. It was not till of late that archbishops 1470 Pope Sextus IV. created the bishop of St Andrews
became metropolitans, and had suffragans under them, archbishop and metropolitan of all Scotland.
Athanasius appears to be the first who used the title Scotland, whilst episcopacy prevailed in that country,
Archbishop, which he gave occasionally to his predeces- had two archbishops, of St Andrews and Glasgow, the
sor; Gregory Nazianzen, in like manner, gave it to Atha- former of which was accounted the metropolitan, and,
nasius; not that either of them was entitled to any juris- even before it arrived at the dignity of an archbishopric,
diction, or even any precedence, in virtue of it. Among resisted with great spirit all the attempts of the arch-
the Latins, Isidore Hispalensis is'the first that speaks of bishops of York in England to become the metropolitans
archbishops. He distinguishes four orders or degrees in of Scotland. The sees of Argyll, Galloway, and the
the ecclesiastical hierarchy, viz. patriarchs, archbishops, Isles, were suffragans to Glasgow; all the others in the
metropolitans, and bishops. ' kingdom to St Andrews.
The archbishop, beside the inspection of the bishops Ireland has four archbishops—of Armagh, Dublin, Ca~
and inferior clergy in the province over which he presides, shel, and I uam ; the first of which is primate of all Ireland,
exercises episcopal jurisdiction in his own diocese. He is ARCHBISHOPRIC, in iSccZesfas&caZ a pro¬
guardian of the spiritualities of any vacant see in his pro- vince subject to the jurisdiction of an archbishop,
vince, as the king is of the temporalities, and exercises ARCHBUILER, one of the great officers of the Ger-
ecclesiastical jurisdiction in it. He is entitled to present man empire, who presents the cup to the emperor on so-
by lapse to all the ecclesiastical livings in the disposal of lemn occasions. I his office belongs to the king of Bo¬
lus diocesan bishop, if not filled within six months. He hernia.
has likewise a customary prerogative, upon consecrating ARCHCHAMBERLAIN, an officer of the empire,
a bishop, to name a clerk or chaplain, to be provided for much the same with the great chamberlain in England,
by such bishop; in lieu of which it is now usual to ac- The elector of Brandenburg was appointed by the golden
cept an option. He is said to be enthroned when vested bull archchamberlain of the empire,
in the archbishopric, whereas bishops are said to be in- ARCHCHANCELLOR, a high officer, who in ancient
stalled. times presided over the secretaries of the court. Under
Ihe ecclesiastical government of England is divided the first two races of the kings of France, when their ter-
into two provinces, viz. Canterbury and York. Canter- ritories were divided into Germany, Italy, and Arles, there
bury has the following suffragan bishoprics appertaining were three archchancellors; and hence the three ai ch-
to it: St Asaph, Bangor, Bath and Wells, Bristol, Chi- chancellors still subsisting in Germany—the archbishop
Chester, Lichfield and Coventry, St Davids, Ely, Exeter, of Mentz being archchancellor of Germany, the arch-
Gloucester, Hereford, Llandaff, Lincoln, London, Norwich, bishop of Cologn, and the archbishop of Treves.
398 A R C
Arch- ARCHCHANTER, the president of the chanters of a
chanter church.
Archers. ARCHCOUNT, a title formerly given to the earl of
Flanders on account of his great power and riches.
ARCHDEACON, an ecclesiastical dignitary or officer,
next to a bishop, whose jurisdiction extends either over
the whole diocese or only a part of it. He is usually ap¬
pointed by the bishop himself, and has a kind of episco¬
pal authority, originally derived from the bishop, but now
independent and distinct from his. He therefore visits
the clergy, and has his separate court for punishment of
offenders by spiritual censures, and for hearing all other
causes of ecclesiastical cognizance. There are 60 arch¬
deacons in England.
Archdeacon's Court is the most inferior court in the
whole ecclesiastical polity. It is held, in the archdeacon’s
absence, before a judge appointed by himself, and called
his official; and its jurisdiction is sometimes in concur¬
rence with, sometimes in exclusion of, the bishop’s court
of the diocese. From hence, however, by statute 24, Henry
VIII. cap. 12, there lies an appeal to that of the bishop.
ARCHDRUID, the chief or pontiff of the ancient
druids of a nation.
ARCHDUKE, a title peculiar to the house of Austria,
all the sons of which are archdukes, and the daughters
archduchesses.
ARCHELAUS, a celebrated Greek philosopher, the
disciple of Anaxagoras, flourished about 440 years before
Christ. He read lectures at Athens, and did not depart
much from the opinions of his master. He taught that
there was a double principle of all things, namely, the
expansion and condensation of the air, which he regarded
as infinite. Heat, according to him, was in continual
motion. Cold was ever at rest. The earth, which was
placed in the midst of the universe, had no motion. It
originally resembled a wet marsh, but was afterwards
dried up; and its figure, he said, resembled that of an
egg. Animals were produced from the heat of the earth,
and even men were formed in the same manner. All
animals have a soul, which was born with them, but the
capacities of which vary according to the structure of the
organs of the body in which it resides. Socrates, the
most illustrious of his disciples, was his successor.
Archelaus, the son of Herod the Great, was declared
king of Judea the second year after the birth of Christ.
He put to death 3000 persons before he went to Rome to
be confirmed by Augustus. However, that emperor gave
him half of what had been possessed by his father; but
at length, on fresh complaints exhibited against him by
the Jews, he banished him to Vienne in Gaul, A. d. 6,
where he died.
Archelaus, the son of Apollonius, one of the greatest
sculptors of antiquity, was a native of Ionia, and is thought
to have lived in the time of the emperor Claudius. He
executed in marble the apotheosis of Homer. Kircher,
Spanheim, and several other learned antiquaries, have
given a description and explication of this work.
ARCHENA, a town of Murcia, in Spain. It is situ¬
ated on the river Segura, at the eastern extremity of the
delicious valley of Ricote, and celebrated for its thermal
springs. The waters retain a uniform heat of 41° of Reau¬
mur, or 112° of Fahrenheit. These springs are much re¬
sorted to, though the situation is most melancholy, and
the accommodations for invalids very bad.
ARCHERS, a kind of militia or soldiery armed with
bows and arrows. Jhe word is formed of arcus, a bow;
whence arcuarius, and even arquis and arquites, as they
are also denominated in the corrupt state of the Latin
tongue. Archers were much employed in former times;
but they are now laid aside, excepting in Turkey and
A H C
some of the eastern countries. As an exercise, the prac- Ai
tice of archery is still kept up in many places. ^ ^
ARCHERY, the art or exercise of shooting with a bow i
and arrow.
In most nations the bow was anciently the principal
implement of war, and by the expertness of the archers
alone was often decided the fate of battles and of empires.
In this island archery was greatly encouraged in former
times, and many statutes were made for its advancement-
whence it was that the English archers in particular be¬
came the best in Europe, and procured many signal vic¬
tories.
The Artillery Company of London, though they have
long disused the weapon, are the remains of the ancient
fraternity of bowmen or archers. Artillery (artillerie) is^c;
a French term signifying archery, as the king's bowyer is£i<i, \
in that language styled artillier du roy; and from that
nation the English seem to have learnt at least the cross¬
bow archery. We therefore find that William the Con¬
queror had a considerable number of bowmen in his army
at the battle of Hastings, when no mention is made of
such troops on the side of Harold; and it is supposed
that these Norman archers shot with the arbalest or cross¬
bow, in which formerly the arrow was placed in a groove,
being termed in French a quadrel, and in English a bolt.
Of the time when shooting with the long-bow first
began among the English, at which exercise they after¬
wards became so expert, there appear no certain accounts.
Their chronicles do not mention the use of archery as
expressly applied to the cross-bow or the long-bow till
the death of Richard I., who was killed by an arrow at
the siege of Limoges in Guienne, which Hemmingford
mentions to have issued from a cross-bow. After this,
which happened in 1199, there appear not upon record
any notices of archery for nearly 150 years, when an or¬
der was issued by Edward III., in the 15th year of his
reign, to the sheriffs of most of the English counties, for
providing 500 white bows and 500 bundles of arrows, for
the then intended war against France. Similar orders
are repeated in the following years; with this difference
only, that the sheriff of Gloucestershire is directed to
furnish 500 painted bows, as well as the same number of
white. The famous battle of Cressy was fought four
years afterwards, in which our chroniclers state that we
had 2800 archers, who were opposed to about the same
number of the French; which, together with a circum¬
stance to be immediately mentioned, seems to prove that
by this time we used the long-bow, while the French
archers shot with the arbalest. The circumstance alluded
to is as follows :—Previously to the engagement there fell
a very heavy rain, which is said to have much damaged
the bows of the French, or perhaps rather the strings of
them. Now the long-bow, when unstrung, may be most
conveniently covered, so as to prevent the rain’s injuring
it; nor is there scarcely any addition to the weight from
a case; whereas the arbalest is of a most inconvenient
form to be sheltered from the weather. As, therefore,
in the year 1342, orders were issued to the sheriffs of
each county to provide 500 bows, with a proper propor¬
tion of arrows, it seems probable that these were long¬
bows, and not the arbalest.
At the above-mentioned battle the English ascribed their
victory chiefly to the archers. The battle of Poictiers was
fought in 1356, and gained by the same means.
Sometimes the archers gained great victories without
even the least assistance from the men at arms; as parti¬
cularly the decisive victory over the Scots at Homildon
in 1402. In that bloody battle the men at arms did not Hem
strike a stroke, but were mere spectators of the valour and
victory of the archers. The earl of Douglas, who com-P'
A R C H E H Y.
en manded the Scotish army in that action, enraged to see
his men falling thick around him by showers of arrows, and
trusting to the goodness of his armour, which had been
three years in making, accompanied by about 80 lords,
knights, and gentlemen, in complete armour, rushed for¬
ward and attacked the English archers sword in hand.
But he soon had reason to repent his rashness. The En¬
glish arrows were so sharp and strong, and discharged
with so much force, that no armour could repel them.
The earl of Douglas, after receiving five wounds, was
made prisoner; and all his brave companions were either
killed or taken. Philip de Comines acknowledges, what
our own writers assert, that the English archers excelled
those of every other nation ; and Sir John Fortescue says
again and again, “ that the might of the realme of Eng¬
land standyth upon archers.” The superior dexterity of
their archers, gave the English a great advantage over
their capital enemies the French and Scots. The French
depended chiefly on their men at arms, and the Scots on
their pikemen ; but the ranks of both were often thinned
and thrown into disorder by flights of arrows before they
could reach their enemies.
James I. of Scotland, who had seen and admired the
dexterity of the English archers, and who was himself an
excellent archer, endeavoured to revive the exercise of
archery among his own subjects, by whom it had been too
much neglected. With this view he procured the fol¬
lowing law to be made in his first parliament, in 1424,
immediately after his return to Scotland: “ That all men
might busk thame to be archares fra the be 12 years of
age; and that at ilk ten punds worth of land thair be made
bow markes, and speciallie near paroche kirks, quhairn
upon halie dayis men may cum, and at the leist schute
thryse about, and have usage of archarie ; and whasa usis
not archarie, the laird of the land sal rais of him a wed-
der; and giff the laird raisis not the said pane, the king’s
shiref, or his ministers, sal rais it to the king.” But his
death prevented the effectual execution of this law.
There is not found any act of parliament of Henry Y.
in relation to archery, and all the orders of Rymer till
the battle of Agincourt relate to great guns, from which
he seems at fii^t to have expected more considerable
advantage than from the training of bowmen. It should
seem, however, that this sort of artillery, from its unwieldi¬
ness, bad and narrow roads, together with other defects,
was as yet but of little use in military operations. In the
year 1417 this king therefore ascribes his victory at Agin¬
court to the archers, and directs the sheriffs of many
counties to pluck from every goose six wing-feathers for
the purpose of improving arrows, which are to be paid for
by the king.
In 1421, though the French had been defeated both at
Cressy, Poictiers, and Agincourt, by the English archers,
yet they still continued the use of the cross-bow; for
which reason Henry V., as duke of Normandy, confirms
the charters and privileges of the balistarii, who had been
long established as a fraternity in his city of Rouen.
In the fifth of Edward IV. an act passed, that every
ngbshman, and Irishman dwelling with Englishmen, shall
uive an English bow of his own height, which is directed
o >e made of yew, wych, hazel, ash, or awburne, or any
o ier reasonable tree, according to their power. The next
chapter also directs that butts shall be made in every
ownship, which the inhabitants are obliged to shoot up
and down every feast day, under the penalty of a half¬
penny when they shall omit this exercise.
, l1.1 le year, however, of this same king, it appears
J ??lers ^’ce(^era’ that 1000 archers were to be sent to
ie uke of Burgundy, whose pay is settled at sixpence a
3 > which was a considerable sum in those times, when .
the value of money was so much higher than it is at pre¬
sent. This circumstance seems to prove very strongly
the great estimation in which archers were still held. bIn
the same year Edward, preparing for a war with France,
directs the sheriffs to procure bows and arrows, “ as most
specially requisite and necessary.”
On the war taking place with Scotland, eight years
after this, Edward provides both ordnance and archers;
so that though the use of artillery, as we now term it,
was then gaining ground, yet that of the bow and arrow
was not neglected.
Richard III., by his attention to archery, was able to
send 1000 bowmen to the duke of Bretagne ; and he avail¬
ed himself of the same troops at the battle of Bosworth.
During the reign of Henry VII., however, there appears
no order relative to gunpowder or artillery; wdiile, on the
other hand, in 1488, he directs a large levy of archers to
be sent to Brittany, and ’that they shall be reviewed be¬
fore they embark. In the 19th year of his reign, the
same king forbids the use of the cross-bow, because “ the
long-bow had been much used in this realm, whereby
honour and victory had been gotten against outward
enemies, the realm greatly defended, and much more the
dread of all Christian princes, by reason of the same.”
During the reign of Henry VIII. several statutes were
made for the promotion of archery. The 8th Eliz. c. 10, re¬
gulates the price of bows; and the 13th Eliz. c. 14, enacts
that bow-staves shall be brought into the realm from the
Hans Towns and the eastward; so that archery still con¬
tinued to be an object of attention in the legislature.
In Rymer’s Fcedera there is neither statute nor procla¬
mation of James I. on this head; but it appears, by Dr
Birch s life of his son (Prince Henry), that at eight years
of age he learned to shoot both with the bow and gun,
while at the same time this prince had in his establish¬
ment an officer who was styled boiv-bearer. The king
granted a second charter to the Artillery Company, by
which the powers they had received from Henry VIII.
were considerably extended.
Charles I. appears, from the dedication of a treatise
entitled The Bowmans Glory, to have been himself an
archer; and in the eighth year of his reign he issued a
commission to the chancellor, lord mayor, and several of
the privy council, to prevent the fields near London being
so inclosed as to “ interrupt the necessary and profitable
exercise of shooting;” as also to lower the mounds where
they prevented the view from one mark to another.
Catharine of Portugal, queen to Charles II., seems to
have been much pleased with the sight at least of this
exercise ; for in 1676, by the contributions of Sir Edward
Hungerford and others, a silver badge for the marshal of
the fraternity was made, weighing 25 ounces, and repre¬
senting an archer drawing the long-bow (in the proper
manner) to his ear, with the following inscription: Re-
gince Caiharince Sagittarii. The supporters are two bow¬
men, with the arms of England and Portugal. In 1682
there was a most magnificent cavalcade and entertainment
given by the Finsbury archers, when they bestowed the
titles of “ Duke of Shoreditch,” “ Marquis of Islington,”
&c. upon the most deserving. Charles II. was present
upon this occasion.
So late as the year 1753 targets were erected in the
Finsbury fields during the Easter and Whitsun holydays,
when the best shooter was styled captain for the ensuing
year, and the second lieutenant.
Before the introduction of fire-arms the enemy could
only be struck at a distance by slings, the bow used by
the ancients, or the cross-bow; to all which the Eng¬
lish long-bow was infinitely superior. As for slings, they
never have been used in the more northern parts of Eu-
400
ARCHERY.
iy
In Scotland, also, little less attention, though apparent- a '' $
not with equal success, ivas shown to the encourage-vj-
ment of the art. In both kingdoms it was provided that
the importers of merchandise should be obliged, alon^
with their articles of commerce, to import a certain pro-¬
people should be made expert in the use of it as a mili-
tary weapon, by habituating them to the familiar exercise
of it as an instrument of amusement. As there was no ma¬
terial difference between the activity and bodily strength
Archery, rope by armies in the field; nor does their use indeed
seem to have been at all convenient or extensively
practicable, for two principal reasons: in the first place,
slingers cannot advance in a compact body, on account
of the space to be occupied by this weapon in its rota- _
tory motion ; in the next place, the weight of the stones portion of bows, bow-staves, and shafts for arrows. In
to be carried must necessarily impede the slingers greatly both every person was enjoined to hold himself provided
in their movements. The bow of the ancients, again, in bows and arrows, and was prescribed the frequent use
as represented in all their reliefs, was a mere toy com- of archery. In both a restraint was imposed upon the
pared with that of our ancestors; it was therefore chiefly exercise of other games and sports, lest they should inter-
used by the Parthians, whose attacks, like those of the fere with the use of the bow; for it was intended that
present Arabs, were desultory. As for the cross-bow,
it is of a most inconvenient form for carriage, even with
the modern improvements; and, in case of rain, could
not easily be secured firom the weather. After the first
shot, moreover, it could not be recharged under a con- of the two people, it might be supposed that the English
siderable time, whilst the bolts were also heavy and and Scots wielded the bow with no unequal vigour and
cumbersome. The English long-bow, on the other hand, dexterity ; but, from undoubted historical monuments, it
together with the quiver of arrows, was easily carried by appears that the former had the superiority, of which
the archer, as easily secured from the rain, and recharged one instance has been already narrated. By the regula-
almost instantaneously. It is not therefore extraordinary,
that troops who solely used this most effectual weapon
should generally obtain the victory, even when opposed
to much more numerous armies.
It may be urged, that these losses having been experi¬
enced by our enemies, must have induced them to prac¬
tise the same mode of warfare. But it is thought that
the long-bow was not commonly used even in England
till the time of Edward III., when the victory at Cressy
sufficiently proclaimed the superiority of that weapon. It
required, however, so much training before the archer
could be expert, that we must not be surprised if, soon
afterwards, this military exercise was much neglected, as
appears by the preambles of several ancient statutes.
While the military tenures subsisted, the sovereign could yard in length to those only who were six feet high. A
strong man of this size in the present times cannot easily
draw above 27 inches, if the bow is of a proper strength
to do execution at a considerable distance. At the same
time it must be admitted, that as our ancestors were ob¬
liged by some of the old statutes to begin shooting with
the long-bow at the age of seven, they might have ac¬
quired a greater sleight in this exercise than their descend¬
ants, though the latter should be allowed to be of equal
strength.
As the shooting with the long-bow was first introduced
only call upon his tenants during war, who therefore at¬
tended with the weapons they had been used to, and
which required no previous practice. On the other hand,
the English archers were obliged by acts of parliament,
even in time of peace, to erect butts in every parish, and
to shoot on every Sunday and holyday, after repairing per¬
haps to these butts from a considerable distance; while
the expense of at least a yew bow is represented as being
a charge to which they were scarcely equal. The kings
and parliaments of this country having thus compelled ^
the inhabitants to such training, the English armies had, in England, and practised almost exclusively lor nearly
it should seem, the same advantage over their enemies as two centuries, so it has occasioned a peculiar method ot
the exclusive use of fire-arms would give us at present. drawing the arrow to the ear and not to the breast. That
It appears, also, by what has been already stated, that this is contrary to the usage of the ancients is very clear
the long-bow continued to be in estimation for more than from their reliefs, and from the tradition of the Amazons
two centuries after gunpowder was introduced, which pro¬
bably arose from muskets being very cumbersome and un¬
wieldy. It is well known that rapid movements are gene¬
rally decisive of the campaign; and for such the archers
wrere particularly adapted, because, as they could not be
annoyed at the same distance by the weapons of the
enemy, they had scarcely any occasion for armour. The ^  &      0 . .
flower of ancient armies likewise was the cavalry, against must necessarily depend much both upon the strength
which the long-bow never failed to prevail; and hence and sleight of the archer; but in general the distance was
the great number of French nobility who were prisoners reckoned from eleven to twelve score yards. 1 he butts
at Cressy, Poictiers, and Agincourt; for being dismount- for exercise, as above noticed, were directed to be distant
ed, if not wounded, whilst they were also clad in heavy upwards of 220 yards. There is indeed a tradition, that
armour, they could not make their escape. The same an attorney of Wigan in Lancashire, named Leigh, shot
reason accounts for the English obtaining these signal a mile in three flights; but the same tradition states that
victories with so inferior numbers; for the nobility and he placed himself in a very particular attitude, wine
gentry thus becoming prisoners, the other parts of the cannot be used commonly in this exercise Ainfr
French army made little or no resistance. No wonder,
therefore, that in England the greatest anxiety was shown
to promote the exercise of this most important weapon,
and that so many statutes were made for that purpose.
cutting off one of their paps, as it occasioned an impedi¬
ment to their shooting. The Finsbury archer is there¬
fore represented in this attitude of drawing to the ear,
both in the Bowman’s Glory and in the silver badge
given by Catharine to the Artillery Company.
As to the distance to which an arrow can be shot from
a long-bow with the best elevation of 45 degrees, that
to Neade, an
of charging and discharging one musket.
The archers consider an arrow' of from 20 to 24 drop
tions prescribed in their statute-book for the practice of
archery, we find that the English shot a very long bow,
those who were arrived at their full growth and maturity
being prohibited from shooting at any mark that was not
distant upwards of 220 yards.
In the use of the bow', great dexterity as vrell as strength
seems to have been requisite. Though we hear of arrows
at Chevy Chase which were a yard long, yet it is by no
means to be supposed that the whole band made use of
such, or could draw them to the head. The regulation of
the Irish statute of Edward IV., viz. that the bow should
not exceed the height of the man, is allowed by archers
to have been well considered ; and as the arrow should be
half the length of the bow, this would give an arrow of a
According
rcher might shoot six arrows in the time
weight to be the best for flight or hitting a mark atacon
ARCHERY.
401
sed since the use of gunpowder. Neade says he" has
nown by experience that an archer may shoot an ounce
ffireworks upon an arrow twelve score yards. Arrows
ith wildfire, and arrows for fireworks, are mentioned
ery. iiderable distance, and^that yew is the be^t matenal^of Though archery continued to be encouraged bv the An Wv
no- nnrl lon-lolafuro C™. ^    P ^ . /Mailerj.
which they can be made. As to the feathers, that of a king and legislature for more than two centurfes aft Jr Ihe
roose is preferred: it is also wished that the bird should first knowledge of the effects of gunpowder vet bv thl
,e two or three years old, and that the feather may drop latter end of the reign of Henry VIII it seems to ha™
,f itself. Two out of three feathers in an arrow are com- been partly considered as a pastime. Arthur, the elder
nonly white, being plucked from the gander; but the brother of Henry, is said to have been fond of this exer
bird is generally brown or gray, being taken from the cise, insomuch that a good shooter was styled Prince
;oose, and, from this difference in point of colour, informs Arthur. We are also informed that he pitched his tent
he archer when the arrow is properly placed, from this at Mile-End in order to be present at this recreation and
nost distinguished part, therefore, the whole arrow some- that Henry his brother also attended. When the fatter
imes receives its name: and this, by the by, affords an afterwards became king, he gave a prize at Windsor to
xplanation of the gray-goose wing m the ballad of Chevy those who should excel in this exercise; and a capital shot
^hase. Arrows were armed anciently with flint or metal having been made, Henry said to Barlow (one of his
'eads, latterly with heads of iron: of these there were guards), “ If you still win, you shall be duke over all
anous forms and denominations. By an act of parha- archers.” Barlow therefore having succeeded, and living
nent made the 7th of Henry IV. it was enacted. That in Shoreditch, was created duke thereof. Upon another
or the future all the heads for arrows and quarrels should occasion Henry and the queen were met by 200 archers
■e well boiled or brased, and hardened at the points with 0n Shooter’s hill, which probably took its name from their
teel; and that every arrow-head or quarrel should have assembling near it to shoot at marks. This kin- likewise
he mark of the maker : workmen disobeying this order gaVe the first charter to the Artillery Company in the
rere to be fined and imprisoned at the kings will, and 29th year of his reign, by which they are permitted to
he arrow-heads or quarrel s to be forfeited to the crown, wear dresses of any colour except purple and scarlet—to
Arrows were reckoned by sheaves, a sheaf consisting shoot not only at marks, but birds, if not pheasants or
f 24 arrows. I hey were carried in a quiver, called also herons, and within two miles of the royal palaces. Thev
n arrow-case, which served for the magazine; arrows for are also enjoined by the same charter not to wear furs of
nmediate use were worn in the girdle. In ancient times a greater price than those of the marten. The most ma-
hials of quicklime, or rather combustible matter, for terial privilege, however, is that of indemnification for
urning houses or ships, were fixed on the heads of ar- murder, if any person passing between the shooter and
iws, and shot from long-bows. This has been also prac- the mark is killed, provided the archers have first called
out fast.
The following description of an archer, his bow, and
accoutrements, is given in a MS. written in the time of
A xt i  ^ Queen Elizabeth. “ Captains and officers should be skilful
nnng the stores at Newhaven and Berwick in the 1st of 0f that most noble weapon, and to see that their soldiers
award yh. according to their draught and strength have good bowes,
I he force with which an arrow strikes an object at a well nocked, well strynged, every strynge whippe in their
loderate distance may be conceived from the account n0cke, and in the myddes rubbed with wax, braser and
veil by K.ng Edward VI. m Ins’ournal; wherein he says, shuting giovej some spare strynges trymed as aforesaid,
archers of his guaid shot before him two arrows every man one shefe of arrows, with a case of leather de-
,a t<^r.wiar^s altogether; and that they shot at an fensible against the rayne, and in the same fower and
twentie arrowes, whereof eight of them should be lighter
than the residue, to gall or astoyne the enemye with the
hailshot of light arrows, before they shall come within the
tv . , , „    , danger of the harquebuss shot. Let every man have a
P . ec our.a, cliers h'01*1 die attacks of the enemy s brigandine, or a little cote of plate, a skull or hufkyn, a
’ , ^ carn(jd long stakes pointed at both ends: mawle ofleade of five foote in lengthe, and a pike, and
L^n eClia th^ eart]b sloPmg before them. In the same hanging by his girdle, with a hook and a dagger;
efown R WardiVI” f f these1wer^ in lhe ftorf of being thus furnished, teach them by musters to marche,
nrp . i erwic’^’ un^er t?le arbcle of archers stakes: shoote, and retire, keepinge their faces upon the enemy’s,
akes in p3 Tf1 110 timeeigbt bundles of archers Sumtyme put them into great nowmbers, as to battell ap-
Tn nrpvmrf Ca . ^ „ ... . . . parteyneth, and thus use them often times practised, till
P arm l a bc:M:strinF fro™ striking the left arm, they be perfecte ; ffor those men in battel ne skirmish can
I nn ti, C?VC,re( 1 a Plece o. smo°th leather, fasten- not be spared. None other weapon maye compare with
p °f t le arm~thls 18 called a bracer> and the same noble weapon.”
pi, g ,e ngars being cut by the bowstring, The long-bow, as already observed, maintained its place
e Panic. Ke S U'r i°Vej’ ^baucer’ in bis prologue to jn our armies long after the invention of fire-arms ; nor
r ury a es, thus describes an archer of his day: have there been wanting experienced soldiers who were
advocates for its continuance, and who in many cases
even preferred it to the harquebuss or musket. King
Charles I. twice granted special commissions under the
great seal for enforcing the use of the long-bow. The
first was in the 4th year of his reign; but this was revok¬
ed by proclamation four years afterwards, on account of
divers extortions and abuses committed under sanction
thereof. The second, anno 1633, in the ninth year of his
reign, to William Neade and his son, also named William,
wherein the former is styled an ancient archer, who had
presented to the king a warlike invention for uniting the
use of the pike and bow, seen and approved by him and
his council of war; whereof his majesty had granted them
3 £
ch board, which some pierced quite through and struck
to the other board ; divers pierced it quite through with
ie heads of their arrows, the board being well-seasoned
mber: their distance from the mark is not mentioned.
And he was cladde in cote and bode of grene.
A shefe of peacock arwes bright and kene
Under his belt he bare ful thriftily.
V el coude he dresse his takel yemanly:
His arwes drouped not with fetheres lowe.
And in his hond he bare a mighty bowe.
A not-hed hadde he, with a broune visage.
Oi wood-craft coude he wel alle the usage.
Upon his arme he bare a gaie bracer.
And by his side a swerd and a bokeler,
And on that other side a gaie daggere,
Harneised wel, and sharpe as point of spere:
A Lnstofre on his brest of silver shene.
n home he bare, the baudrik was of grene.
V0L A^torster was he sothely as I gesse.
402
ARCHERY.
Archery, a commission to teach and exercise his loving subjects in sists of the principal nobility and gentry of Scotland, ate i
the said invention, which he particularly recommended now more prosperous, and perhaps more dexterous in the S
the chief officers of his trained bands to learn and prac- art of archery, than at any former period in their history,
tise; and the justices and other chief magistrates through- The prizes belonging to this it oyal Company, and
out England are therein enjoined to use every means in which are annually shot for, are, m, A silver arrow, given
their power to assist Neade, his son, and all persons au- by the town of Musselburgh, which appears to have been
thorized by them, in the furtherance, propagation, and shot for as early as the year 1603. The victor in this, as
practice of this useful invention. Both the .commissions in the other prizes, except the kings pnze, has the cus-
and proclamation are printed at large in Itymer. At the tody of it for a year, then returns it with a medal append¬
breaking out of the civil war, the earl of Essex issued a ed, on which are engraved any motto and device which
precept, dated in November 1643, for stirring up all well- the gainer’s fancy dictates. 2d, A silver arrow, given by
affected people towards the raising of a company of archers the town of Peebles a. d. 1626. Jid, A silver arrow, given
for the service of the king and parliament. by the city of Edinburgh a. d. 1709. 4t/f, A silver arrow,
There are several societies of archers in England ; but given by the town of Selkirk, which was shot for in 1819,
the most noted society of this kind now existing is after an interval of 144 years. 5th, A silver punch bowl,
The Royal Company of Archers, the Kings Body made of Scotish silver, at the expense of the company,
Guard for Scotland, The ancient records of this com- A. d. 1720, to which a gold medal has annually been at-
pany having been destroyed by fire about the end of the tached. ihis prize can only be gained by three consecu-
16th century, no authentic traces of its institution now tive ends; and if not won during the summer, it isshotfor
remain; but, from entries found in some of the old national as an ordinary prize at the end of the season. Qth, A gold
records, this company must be of great antiquity. It is medal, made of pagodas, being part of the money paid by
believed that the Royal Company owes its origin to the 1 ippoo Sultan at the treaty of Seringapatam, and presented
commissioners appointed in the reign of James I. of Scot- to the Royal Company by Major James Spens. tth, An
land for enforcing and overseeing the exercise of archery elegant silver vase and gold medal, presented by General
in different counties. These commissioners, who were John Earl of Hopetoun, in commemoration of the visit ot
men of rank and power, picked out from among the better George IV. to Scotland in 1822, called the royal commemo-
classes under their cognizance, the most expert bowmen, ration prize, and which is shot for on the king s birth-day
formed them into a company, and upon perilous occasions annually. These prizes are all shot for at the distance
they attended the king as his chief body guard; and in of 180 yards. There is another prize, which was given
that situation they always distinguished themselves for by Sir George Mackenzie of Coul, Bart., to the Koya
their loyalty, courage, and skill in archery. The rank of Company, to be shot for at the distance of 200 yards, and
King’s Body Guard for Scotland was from tradition un- is called the “ Saint Andrew prize. fhese prizes are
derstood to be vested in the Royal Company, and they shot for at rovers, and, with the exception of the silver
accordingly claimed the honour of acting as body guard bowl, are gained by the person who counts the greatest
to his majesty Kinp- George IV. on the occasion of his number of points in a given number of ends,
visit to Scotland in 1822. His majesty was graciously Besides the above, there is another prize shot for, at the
pleased to recognise their claim, and the Royal Com- distance of 100 yards, being an elegant silver bugle-horn,
pany were thus established as the King’s Body Guard presented to the Royal Company by one of the genera
for Scotland. They attended his majesty at court and officers, Sir Henry Jardme, Knt., and was shot tor on 9th
on all state occasions during his residence in Scotland, April 1830 for the first time.
and accompanied him on his visit to Hopetoun House, There are also two prizes contended for at butts, or point
from whence he embarked for London. The captain- blank distance, being 100 feet. The first is called the
general has since been appointed gold stick for Scotland, goose. The ancient manner of shooting for this prize
and the Royal Company now forms part of the household, was, by building a living goose in a turf-butt, having the
It appears from the minutes of the Royal Company now head only exposed to view; and the archer who hrst hit
extant, that an act of the privy council of Scotland was the head was entitled to have the goose as his reward,
passed in 1677, conferring on them the name and title of and bore the title of Captain Goose for the season, ims
“ His Majesty’s Company of Archers,” and granting a barbarous custom has long since been laid aside; and in
sum of money for a piece of plate to be shot for in that place of the goose s head a small glass § °he is pu in
year as a prize; but no permanent king's prize was estab- the butt, of about an inch in diameter, and the archer w
lished until 1788, when his majesty George III., as a mark breaks this is declared victor, and is entertained by t ie
of his royal patronage and favour, was pleased to grant a company at dinner. He wears a medal which was p
sum of money to be shot for annually, to be named the sented by Major Spens, also made of lippoo ^ u an.G\
king’s prize, and to become the property of the winner, godas. The other butt prize is a gold medal, w ic
The gainer is bound to purchase a piece of plate, on shot for on the last Saturday of January, rebruary,
which must be inscribed the king’s arms, and the date March, annually, and is gained by him who counts
when the prize was gained. greatest number of points in the tlnee cays sioo “lo’
During the revolution in 1688 the Royal Company The affairs of the Royal Company are manag y
were opposed to the principles then espoused; and for council, consisting of seven, who are chosen annua 7
many years they had to forego their public parades, and general meeting of the members. 1 he counci arc
the company in consequence had nearly been annihilated, with the power of receiving or rejecting can 1( ‘
On the accession of Queen Anne, however, their former admission, and of appointing the officers o re F • ’
splendour was revived; and in the year 1703 a royal char- civil and military. _ members,
ter was granted, confirming all their former rights and I he Royal Company consists of about , ;n
privileges, and conferring others upon them. There are weekly meetings of membeis at tin »
Thus the Royal Company continued to flourish for a the Meadows, when they exercise themselves in, -ave
number of years; but their attachment to the family of at butts and rovers; and in the adjoining groun , I-ithin
Stuart was the cause at various times of a temporary a handsome building called Archer s Hall, erec e . jons
prosperity and decline. These unhappy differences hav- these 50 years, where they dine, and hold ieir any,
ing long since terminated, the Royal Company, which con- and other meetings relative to the business of ie t
ARC
, gi 'The field uniform of the Royal Company is of dark-green
fp cl0th, faced with black braiding, with a narrow stripe of
shisj crimson velvet in the centre. The hat is of the same
jnte, coiour, with a handsome medallion in front, and a plume
’T" of black feathers.
The Royal Company have two standards, which are
very old. The first of these bears on one side Mars and
Venus, encircled in a wreath of thistles, with this motto,
“In peace and war.” On the other side a yew-tree, with
two men dressed and equipped as archers, encircled as the
former; motto, “ Dat gloria vires.” The other standard
displays on one side a lion rampant, gules on a field or,
encircled with a wreath ; on the top a thistle and crown ;
motto, “ Nemo me impune lacessit.” On the reverse
side St Andrew on the Cross, on a field argent; at the
top a crown; motto, “ Dulce pro patria periculum.”
His present majesty King William IV. has presented the
Royal Company of Archers, his Body Guard for Scotland,
with new colours. The one combines both the old ones,
with the words, “ the Royal Company of Archers;” and
the other bears the Royal Arms of Scotland, with the -words,
“ King’s Body Guard for Scotland.” His majesty has also
expressly confirmed the appointment of the Royal Com¬
pany to be “ the King’s Body Guard for Scotland.”
ARCHES Court. See Court of Arches.
ARCHETYPE, the first model of a work, which is co¬
pied after to make another like it. Among minters it is
used for the standard weight by which the others are ad¬
justed. The archetypal world, among Platonists, means
the world as it existed in the idea of God before the vi¬
sible creation.
ARCHEUS (from the principal, chief, or first
mover), a sort of primum mobile set up by Helmont, to
superintend the animal economy, and preserve it. It is
akin to Plato’s anima mundi. Hippocrates uses the words
fuffyj to signify the former healthy state before the
attack of the disease.
ARCHIACOLYTHUS (from a^og, chief, and axoXoo-
Dog, minister), an ancient dignity in cathedral churches,
the ministers whereof were divided into four orders or
degrees, viz. priests, deacons, subdeacons, and acolythi,
each of which had their chiefs. The chief of the acoly¬
thi was called archiacolythus.
ARCHIATER, Archiatrus, properly denotes chief
physician of a prince who retains several. The word is
formed of agyjj, principium, chief, and /arpog, medicus, a
physician.
ARCHIDAPIFER (from a»%og, and dapifer, sewer), or
chief sewer, is a great officer of the empire. The elector
of Bavaria is archidapifer. The palatine of the Rhine at
one time pretended this office was annexed to his palati¬
nate, but he has since desisted.
ARCHIDONA, a city of Spain, on a small stream which
flows into the river Guadalorza, in the province of Granada.
It is a well built town, with one church, five monasteries,
and 5000 inhabitants, who derive their subsistence chiefly
from the excellent oil which they make from their abun¬
dant olives.
ARCHIEROSYNES, in the Grecian Antiquity, a high
priest vested with authority over the rest of the priests,
and appointed to execute the more sacred and mysterious
rites of religion.
archigallus, in Antiquity, the high priest of Cy-
bele, or the chief of the eunuch priests of that goddess,
called Galli.
ARCHIGERONTES (from and old), in
Antiquity, the chiefs or masters of the several companies
of artificers at Alexandria. Some have mistaken the
archigerontes for the arch-priests appointed to take the
confession of those who were condemned to the mines.
ARC 403
ARCHIGUBERNUS, Archiguberneta, or Archi- Archigu-
gubernites, in Antiquity, the commander of the imperial bernus
ship, or that which the emperor was aboard of. Some II.
have confounded the office of archigubernus with that of
prcefectus classis, or admiral; but the former was under theiA^l/
command of the latter. Potter takes the proper office of
the archiguberneta to have been, to manage the marine
affairs, to provide commodious harbours, and order all
things relating to the sailing of the fleet except what re¬
lated to war.
ARCHIL, Archilla, Rocella, Orsielle, is a whit¬
ish moss which grows upon rocks, in the Canary and Cape
de Verde Islands, and yields a rich purple tincture, fugi¬
tive indeed, but extremely beautiful. This weed is im¬
ported to us as it is gathered. Those who prepare it for
the use of the dyer grind it between stones, so as to
thoroughly bruise, but not to reduce it into powder; and
then moisten it occasionally with a strong spirit of urine,
or urine itself mixed with quicklime. In a few days it ac¬
quires a purplish red, and at length a blue colour. In the
first it is called Archil; in the latter, Lacmus or Litmase.
ARCHILOCHIAN, a term in poetry applied to a sort
of verses, of -which Archilochus-was the inventor; con¬
sisting of seven feet, of which the first four are ordinarily
dactyles, though sometimes spondees; the last three tro¬
chees.
ARCHILOCHUS, a famous Greek poet and musician,
was, according to Herodotus, contemporary with Candaules
and Gyges, kings of Lydia, who flourished about the 14th
Olympiad, 724 years before Christ. But he is placed
much later by modern chronologists, viz. by Blair 686,
and by Priestley 660 years before Christ. lie was born
at Paros, one of the Cyclades. His father Telesicles was
of so high a rank that he was chosen by his countrymen
to consult the oracle at Delphi concerning the sending of
a colony to Thasos—a proof that he was of one of the most
distinguished families upon the island. However, he is
said to have sullied his birth by an ignoble marriage with
a slave called Enipo, of which alliance our poet musician
was the fruit. Though Archilochus showed an early
genius and attachment to poetry and music, these arts
did not prevent his becoming a soldier; but in the first
engagement at which he was present the young poet lost
his buckler, though he saved his life by the help of his heels.
“ It it much easier,” said he, “ to get a new buckler than a
new existence.” This pleasantry, however, did not save his
reputation ; nor could his poetry or prayers prevail upon
Lycambes, the father of his mistress, to let him marry
his daughter, though she had been long promised to him.
According to Plutarch, there was no bard of antiquity
by whom the two arts of poetry and music were so much
advanced as by Archilochus. To him is attributed par¬
ticularly the sudden transition from one rhythm to ano¬
ther of a different kind, and the manner of accompanying
those irregular measures upon the lyre. Heroic poetry,
in hexameter verse, seems to have been solely in use
among the more ancient poets and musicians; and the
transition from one rhythm to another, which lyric poetry
required, was unknown to them; so that if Archilochus
was the first author of this mixture, he might with pro¬
priety be styled the Inventor of Lyric Poetry, which after
his time became a species of versification wholly distinct
from heroic. To him is likewise ascribed the invention
of Epodes. One of his hymns, written in honour of Her¬
cules, acquired him the acclamations of all Greece; for he
sung it in full assembly at the Olympic games, and had
the satisfaction of receiving from the judges the crown of
victory consecrated to real merit. This hymn or ode was
afterwards sung in honour of every victor at Olympia who
had no poet to celebrate his particular exploits.
404 ARC
Archima- Archilochus was slain by one Callondax Corax, of the
gus island of Naxos ; who, though he did it in fight according
Archime t0 t^ie ^awS War' WaS ^r^ven out t^ie temple Delphi,
r jgg by command of the oracle, for having deprived of life a
man consecrated to the Muses.
The names of Homer and Archilochus were revered
and celebrated in Greece, as the two most excellent poets
which the nation had ever produced. This appears from
an epigram in the Anthologia; and from Cicero, who ranks
him with poets of the first class, and in his Epistles tells
us that the grammarian Aristophanes, the most rigid and
scrupulous critic of his time, used to say that the longest
poem of Archilochus always appeared to him the most ex¬
cellent. Some fragments of his poems have been pre¬
served. These may be seen in the Collection of Greek
Poets published at Geneva in 1606, and in the Analecta
of Brunck, vols. i. and iii.
ARCHIMAGUS, the high priest of the Persian Magi
or worshippers of fire. Darius Hystaspes took upon him¬
self the dignity of Archimagus; for Porphyry tells us he
ordered, before his death, that, among the other titles, it
should be engraven on his monument that he had been
Master of the Magi; which plainly implies that he had
borne this office among them, for none but the Archima¬
gus was master of the whole sect. From hence it seems
to have proceeded that the kings of Persia were ever af¬
ter looked on to be of the sacerdotal tribe, and were al¬
ways initiated into the sacred order of the Magi, before
they took on them the crown, and were inaugurated into
the kingdom.
ARCHIMANDRITE, in Ecclesiastical History, was a
name given by the ancient Christians to what we now call
an abbot. Father Simon observes, that the word mandrite
is Syriac, and signifies a solitary monk.
ARCHIMEDES, the most celebrated of the ancient
mathematicians, was born at Syracuse, in Sicily, about the
year 180 before the Christian era. Hiero, king of Syra¬
cuse, deemed it an honour to have this philosopher for his
relative and friend. History does not inform us to whom
he was indebted for the rudiments of literature, but he
flourished about 50 years after Euclid. It is reported
that he was indebted to Egypt for much of his know¬
ledge ; but other accounts indicate that he conferred
more knowledge than he received from that celebrated
nation ; and, in particular, Diodorus mentions that Egypt
was indebted to him for the invention of the screw-pump
for drawing off water: and the same author narrates that
he was the inventor of several other useful machines,
which conveyed his fame to every quarter of the globe.
The following passage from Livy proves that he was
dexterous both for the inventing of warlike machines, and
also for his accurate observation of the heavenly bodies :
“ Unicus spectator cceli siderumque, mirabilior tamen in¬
ventor ac machinator bellicorum tormentorum,” &c. lib.
xxiv. cap. 34. It appears also that, in Cicero’s time, he
had become proverbial for his skill in solving problems.
In a letter to Atticus, he informs him that he is now freed
from a difficulty, which he termed an Archimedian pro¬
blem, lib. xiii. ep. 28.
Vitruvius mentions a fact which proves Archimedes’s
knowledge in the doctrine of specific gravity. Hiero, the
king, having given a certain quantity of gold wherewith
to make a golden crown, and suspecting that the work¬
men had stolen part of the gold and substituted silver in
its stead, he applied to Archimedes to employ his inge¬
nuity in detecting the fraud. Ruminating upon this sub¬
ject when he was bathing himself, he observed that he
dislodged a quantity of water corresponding to the bulk
of his own body; therefore, instantly quitting the bath
with all the eagerness natural to an inventive mind upon a
A R €
new discovery, he ran into the street naked, crying, Eufifjxa'
Eugjjxa ! / have found it out ! I have found it out! Then
taking one mass of gold and another of silver, each equal''
in weight to the crown, he carefully observed the quan¬
tity of fluid which they alternately displaced, when intro- '
duced in the same vessel full of water. Next he ascer¬
tained how much water was displaced by the crown when
put into the same vessel full of water; and, upon compar-
ing the three quantities together, he ascertained the ex¬
act proportions of gold and silver of which the crown was
composed.
Archimedes was well acquainted with the mechanical
powers. His celebrated saying with regard to the power
of the lever has been often repeated,—“ Give me a place
to stand upon, and I will move the earth.” In order to
show Hiero the effect of mechanical powers, it is said
that, aided by ropes and pulleys, he drew towards him a
galley which lay on the shore manned and loaded; but
the displays of his mechanical skill mentioned by Mar-
cellus at the siege of Syracuse were long deemed almost
incredible, until the after-improvements in mechanics
have demonstrated them practicable. He harassed the
vessels of the besiegers, both when they approached and
kept at a distance from the city. When they approached,
he sunk them by means of long and huge beams of wood;
or, by means of grappling hooks placed at the extremity
of levers, he hoisted up the vessels into the air, and dash¬
ed them to pieces either against the walls or the rocks.
When the enemy kept at a distance, he employed ma¬
chines which threw from the walls such a quantity of
stones as shattered and destroyed their vessels. In short,
his mechanical genius supplied strength and courage to
the city, and filled the Romans with astonishment and
terror. Until Buffon invented and framed a burning glass,
composed of about 400 glass panes, capable of setting fire
to wood at the distance of 200 feet, and of melting lead
and tin at the distance of 120 feet, and silver at the dis¬
tance of 50, the account of Archimedes’s instrument for
burning ships at a great distance by means of the rays of
the sun was deemed fabulous and impossible.
But, however eminent for mechanical invention, he was
still more eminent for the investigation of abstract truths,
and the formation of conclusive demonstrations in pure
geometry. Plutarch also mentions that Archimedes him¬
self esteemed mechanical inventions greatly inferior in
value to those speculations which convey irresistible con¬
viction to the mind. His geometrical works afford nume¬
rous proofs of his success in this field of science. It is re¬
ported that he was often so deeply engaged in mathema¬
tical speculations, as both to neglect his food and the care
of his person ; and at the bath he would sometimes draw
geometrical figures in the ashes, and sometimes upon his
own body when it was anointed, according to the custom
of that time. He valued himself so much upon the dis¬
covery of the ratio between the sphere and the containing
cylinder, that, indifferent to all his other inventions, he
ordered his friends to engrave upon his tomb a cylinder
containing a sphere, with an inscription explanatory of its
nature and use.
It must be extremely painful to every humane mind, but
particularly to every lover of philosophic merit, to learn,
that when Syracuse was taken by storm, Archimedes, being
ignorant of that fact, was run through the body, when en¬
gaged in drawing a geometrical figure upon the sand. As
Marcellus had given express orders that both his person
and his house should be held sacred, this appears to have
happened through ignorance, and therefore removes a great
part of the odium from the Roman name. This mournful
event happened in the 142d Olympiad, or 212 years be¬
fore the Christian era. Marcellus, in the midst of bis
ARC
triumph, lamented the death of Archimedes, conferred
upon him an honourable burial, and took his surviving re¬
lations under his protection ; but greater honour was con-
, ferred upon him when the philosopher of Arpinum, 140
years after, went in search of his long-neglected tomb.
Hence, says Cicero, “ I diligently sought to discover the
sepulchre of Archimedes, which the Syracusans had total¬
ly neglected, and suffered to be overgrown with thorns
and briers. Recollecting some verses said to be inscrib¬
ed on the tomb, which mentioned that on the top was
placed a sphere with a cylinder, I looked round me upon
every object at the Agrigentine gate, the common recep¬
tacle of the dead. At last I observed a little column
which just rose above the thorns, upon which was placed
the figure of a sphere and cylinder. ‘ This,’ said I to the
Syracusan nobles who were with me, ‘ this must, I think,
be what I am seeking.’ Several persons were immediate¬
ly employed to clear away the weeds and lay open the
spot. As soon as a passage was opened, we drew near,
and found on the opposite base the inscription, with near¬
ly half the latter part of the verses worn away. Thus
would this most famous, and formerly most learned, city of
Greece have remained a stranger to the tomb of one of
its most ingenious citizens, had it not been discovered by
a man of Arpinum.”
Several works of this celebrated mathematician have
escaped the wreck of time. In abstract geometry we
have a treatise on the Sphere and Cylinder, another on
the Dimension of the Circle, or the Proportion between
the Diameter and the Circumference; on Obtuse Conoids
and Spheroids; on Spiral Lines; and on the Quadrature
of the Parabola. Of his mechanics we have a treatise
on Equiponderants, or Centres of Gravity ; and in hydro¬
statics, a treatise concerning Bodies floating on Fluids.
The existing works of Archimedes were printed at Basil,
in a folio volume, Greek and Latin, in 1544. This is the
editio princeps. Another edition was printed at Paris in
1615. The most complete and best is that printed at Ox¬
ford in 1792, in a handsome folio volume, superintended
by the late Dr Abraham Roberston. There is a French
translation by M. Peyrard, of the works of Archimedes :
it was published in 1808, in 2 vols. 8vo.
ARCHIPELAGO, in Geography, a general term signi-
fying a sea interrupted with islands ; it is however more
especially applied to that lying between Europe and Asia,
which contains the islands anciently called Cyclades and
Sporades.
ARCHIPRESBYTER, or Archpriest, a priest esta¬
blished in some dioceses with a superiority over the rest.
He was anciently chosen out of the college of presbyters
at the pleasure of the bishop.
ARCHISYNAGOGUS, the chief of the synagogue,
the title ot an officer among the Jews, who presided in
their synagogues and assemblies. The number of these
omcers was not fixed, nor the same in all places, there
being 70 in some, and in others only one.
ARCHITECT (Latin Architectus, Greek k^/jnxruv,
iom the primitive words a^jj, the beginning, origin, or
cause, and to contrive, construct, build), an origi¬
nator, a contriver of structures; one who designs and
executes works of architecture. An architect is either
enu, naval, or military. To a civil architect the term
s app ied simply, without the qualifying adjective, and
arc
405
to the others with the distinctive adjective prefixed. Architect.
Architecture requires of its professor that he be both
a man of science and an artist. He has to study it as
a useful science and as a decorative art; the former
requiring a more than ordinary knowledge of all that
natural philosophy teaches, together with a technical ac¬
quaintance with the mechanical arts used in building;
and the latter a fine perception of what is competent to’
produce pleasing effects, and in what manner they may
be combined to produce grandeur and beauty. It often
happens, and particularly on the Continent, where indeed
they do not generally profess to be otherwise, that archi¬
tects are totally devoid of all technical knowledge of the
details of their profession, in which case a surveyor or su¬
pervisor is required to carry the architect’s designs into
execution. Such architects are little better than mere
draughtsmen. In this country there is a large class of per¬
sons called surveyors, most of whom are in fact mere mea¬
surers. They too assume the office and distinction of ar¬
chitects, and are frequently employed as such. Country
builders, again, who are for the most part simply carpen¬
ters, masons, or plasterers, are not unfrequently allowed
to execute their own designs, the result of which passes
with the vulgar for architecture, and their authors are
also called architects. Vitruvius, who, whatever may be
his merits as an historian of architecture, certainly well
understood what an architect should be, requires him
to be versed in almost every branch of science and art
that was taught at the time he wrote.
Very few names of the architects of antiquity most de¬
serving of celebrity have descended to us through authen¬
tic channels. Vitruvius was himself so obscure as not to
be mentioned, or in any way referred to, by any ancient
author whose works remain to the present time. Of the
authors of the splendid architectural monuments of Egypt
and India we know absolutely nothing. It is indeed but
with difficulty and uncertainty that we can indicate the
architects of the middle ages, the inventors and perfecters
of that magnificent and beautiful style which, in the ab¬
sence of a better generic name, has been called Gothic.
I hey were mostly ecclesiastics,—frequently bishops and
abbots.
When learning began to extend itself beyond the clois¬
ter, and science and the liberal arts were allowed to shed
their influence on the minds of men, their application to
useful and agreeable purposes became the occupation or
profession of distinct classes. These had of course to
derive reasonable emolument from their respective profes¬
sions, and it was generally made in the shape of fees.
Fees, however, could not be well determined in some
professions, and among them in that of architecture. At
first the architect was paid so much for a design, and a
salary as supervisor or surveyor of its execution; but the
established custom in this country now is, that the archi¬
tect shall be paid a commission of five per cent, on the
cost of the structure he is engaged to design and exe¬
cute. For this he makes the design; an estimate of the
expense, if required; a specification of every thing re¬
quired to be done by the builder by contract or otherwise ;
with working drawings, and drawings of details. He su¬
perintends the execution of the structure, and measures
and values the whole of the work if necessary, when com¬
pleted, to check the builder’s accounts.
406
ARCHITECTURE.
History. The term Architecture is derived from the name of
w^-y-w' its professor, Architect. It is the art of contriving and
constructing buildings; and the thing produced is by
metonomy called by the name of the art which produces
it, as the art itself is named from its professor. The
word is directly from the Latin architectural irregularly
formed from the deponent verb architector, which is itself
from the Greek substantive a^/rexrwy, Latinized archi¬
tector, architects, and architectus ; all of which are used by
Latin authors. A more regular but less relevant deriva¬
tion of the Latin words architectus and architectura is
found in the substitution of the participles of the verb tego,
to cover, &c. for the derivative of the Greek rsv^/ai, to
build, &c.
When architecture is spoken of simply, without a quali¬
fying adjective, the designing and building civil and religi¬
ous edifices, such as palaces, mansions, theatres, churches,
courts, bridges, &c. is intended; and it is called civil, to
distinguish it from naval and military architecture. Al¬
though every description of building may thus have the
term applied to it, it is by common consent restricted to
such edifices as display symmetrical arrangement in the
general design and fitting proportions in its parts, with a
certain degree of enrichment effected by means of cor¬
nices, blocking courses, architraves, or pillared, columnar,
or arcaded arrangements. Architecture may indeed be
said to bear the same analogy to building, that literature
does to language. A plain brick wall covered in the ordi¬
nary way with bricks on their edges is not architectural, be¬
cause it is poor, rude, and unadorned: it produces no pleas¬
ing effect, and is such as a totally uninstructed workman
would construct merely to answer the purpose required of
it. As man, however, is endowed by nature with a taste
for beauty and elegance, mere rugged utility does not de¬
light him ; as he becomes civilized, he seeks to embellish
whatever he produces, that it may give him positive in¬
stead of negative pleasure, by presenting to his sense of
vision what his mind may dwell on with complacency ;
and he is thus disposed to avail himself of the dispositions
and decorations which constitute architecture. It may be
asked, what standard of beauty there is in this art, on which
taste may be formed; though it must be obvious, that, like
other children of the imagination, such as poetry and music,
no other can be assigned than such compositions and modes
of arrangement as by their harmony and simplicity attract
the attention of the rudest mind, which is pleased without
being conscious why, and of the most learned or practised,
which discovers in them those proportions and peculiari¬
ties of form which always produce the most pleasing im¬
pressions, and appear to be dictated by nature. Painting
and sculpture have, to a certain extent, their originals in
the external works of nature, so that the most uncultured
taste may be gratified, or otherwise, with them, as their
works are faithful or unfaithful imitations ; music is more
artificial, and the taste must be cultivated to judge of and
enjoy its higher productions ; but architecture is purely
conventional, requiring a knowledge of its system, and a
mind informed as to the principles on which it depends for
beauty, even to its appreciation.1
As it is necessary, in erecting a new edifice where an
old one has stood, to remove all that was falsely construct¬
ed and insecure, if not entirely to clear out the founda- g;
tions ; so it is at this time necessary, in writing a treatise w j
on architecture, to show the false grounds on which the
old system is founded, and remove the false impressions
which it has generally induced.
The earliest extant author on the subject is Vitruvius,
who, being ignorant of any other than his native architec¬
ture, which was Roman, and generally derived from the
Greek, concocted or adopted a silly fable about the origin
of building, and pretends to trace from it the invention of
what are called “ the orders” by the Greeks; giving, how¬
ever, to each a separate fable of its own. He professes
to give the proportions, arrangements, and disposition of
the architectural works of the latter people, and the rules
by which they were composed. He describes with con¬
siderable minuteness various species of temples and other
edifices of both the Greeks and Romans, and endeavours to
give reasons for almost every thing connected with them.
His account of the advance of man from a state of savage
wildness to civilization, the discovery and acquisition of
fire, and progress in the art of building, made by the early
fathers of the human race, is only surpassed in absurdity
by his stories of the invention and proportioning of the
various columnar ordinances of which the ancients made
use ; if we except perhaps the fact, that this crude system
has been received and propagated throughout the civi¬
lized world ever since the resuscitation of the work, four
centuries ago. How could a man, who evidently knew
nothing of the early history of the world, of the Celtic
monuments, or of the history and architecture of Egypt
and the East, be supposed capable of describing the in¬
ventions and advances in knowledge of the human race?
Nor is this all: How can Vitruvius be received as an
authority, when it is found that he does not correctly de¬
scribe any existing edifice in either Greece or Italy, and
that no example of ancient architecture, either Greek or
Roman, is in perfect accordance with his laws ? I his we
shall show in its proper place, and proceed now to take a
view of the rise, progress, and history of our subject, with¬
out reference to the popular system, which is based on such
fallacious ground. _ •' 11
Although it is very probable that men built houses toOri »
shelter themselves from the inclemencies of the weather!^' n
before they constructed temples to the divinity, yet itj^
.must be obvious to all who have studied the early history
of the human race in connection with its antiquities, and
have considered the analogies afforded by the rude and
simple nations of the world at the present time, and parti¬
cularly by those who occupied the western side ot the
Americas on the discovery of those continents, that
though the art of building may have originated in the per¬
sonal wants of man, the science of architecture was the
result of his devotional feelings and tendencies. In Egypt
and in India, in Greece and in Italy, in Gaul and in Bri¬
tain, in Mexico and in Peru, structures connected with
the worship of the divinity existed, and still exist, ot the
earliest date, or rather of dates beyond the range of posi¬
tive chronological information; some evincing a greater an
others a less advance in taste and refinement, but all re¬
taining some analogy, bearing upon the same point, an
tending to what mayr be called architectural arrangemen •
1 Count Algarotti, speaking of the absence of any thing in nature on which architecture may be modelled, says, “ ?0,° rolti
son it may be said to hold the same place among the arts, that metaphysics does among the sciences.” (Operc del Conte g
edizione novissima, tomo iii. p. 25.)
ARCHITECTURE.
rjBtofL None of those countries, however, nor any other with
ry-,-' which we are acquainted, present any thing intended for
the personal accommodation of man in the early ages ; nor
is there any thing in the sacred structures that could for
a moment induce the idea, that the dispositions of archi¬
tecture arose in the construction and composition of do¬
mestic buildings. Everything rather leads to the belief that
devotion and superstition were the originators, carriers on,
and, it may be almost said, perfecters of the science.
The modern tent and marquee may be assumed as the
representatives of the earliest habitations of man ; at first
perhaps covered with leaves, then with the bark of trees,
and, in a more advanced state, with the skins of animals.
It would not be till men began to congregate in towns
and cities for mutual defence from the aggressions of each
other, that any thing more permanent than such tent-like
habitations would be thought necessary, or even conveni¬
ent, as most of the tribes, if not all, were nomadic. In
what manner the cities were fortified, whether by being
surrounded with brick walls, or with defences of earth
or mud, as the forts in India are at the present day, is
not for us here to inquire; but we have no reason to
suppose that the houses within them were better than
the hovels of the inhabitants of such places in the East
now, if they were indeed so good. The rude New Zea¬
landers are found to fortify their villages very respectably,
although their habitations are mere huts; and the ancient
Mexicans and Peruvians are reported by their discove¬
rers and conquerors to have made their towns or cities
very secure by means of walls and other defences, and to
have had considerable structures dedicated to the divinity,
while their houses were of a mean and unpretending de¬
scription. It is probable that timber was principally used
in the ruder ages by men in the construction of their per¬
manent habitations, for such is the material employed by
the South Sea islanders to whom we have referred ; and
more particularly by the simpler and less savage tribes
inhabiting the Friendly and Society Islands of the same
hemisphere, who, moreover, thatch their houses with the
large leaves of the cocoa-nut and bread-fruit trees. This
supposition is supported, too, by the general tenor of the
Mosaic history, and by the command which the Israelites
received to burn with fire cities whose inhabitants were
given to idolatry, which would not have been an efficient
mode of destruction if such materials had been employed
in building them as were then used in temples; for simi¬
lar commands enjoined them to “ overthrow their altars and
break their pillars.’’ Deut. chap. xii. and xiii. Jericho, also,
and Hazor, were burntby Joshua. Even so late as the esta¬
blishment of the kingdom of Israel in the person of David,
that monarch is represented to have built himself “ a house
of cedar.” Ihere is indeed no reason whatever for sup¬
posing that the dispositions of architecture were employed
for domestic purposes till a comparatively late period;
and at no time in the history of the human race has the
science been rendered so subservient to the comfort and
convenience of man in civilized communities, as it is at
t ae present day. To that fact the remains of Herculaneum
and Pompeii, for their age, give the most decisive and
satisfactory evidence; and since their time the fact will
not be disputed.
If what we understand by the term architecture did not
originate in, or grow out of, the mode of building which
nicn employed in the construction of their own habita-
10ns, our next object must be to discover, whether it can
e educed from the mode they adopted in arranging
constructing edifices for the worship of the divinity.
The earliest intelligible record in existence makes fre¬
quent mention of the building of altars, but without s
temples. The first act of Noah on coming out of the ark"
was to build an altar; Abraham built altars at various
times and in various places; Isaac and Jacob built altars
and the lattei is the first said to have set up a stone un¬
der the circumstances detailed in the 28th chapter of
Genesis. On awaking after his remarkable dream, he
said, “ Surely the Lord is in this place”—“ this is none
other but the house of God”—he “ took the stone that
he had put for his pillows, and set it up for a pillar, and
poured oil upon the top of it, and he called the name of
that place Betheland then dedicating it to the Deity,
he said, “ and this stone which I have set for a pillar
shall be God s house. Jacob set up a stone again on
which to ratify his agreement with Laban in the most
sacred manner. In many other parts of the Old Testa¬
ment, stones, or pillars as they are called in some places,
woe set up as witnesses and memorials of sacred engage¬
ments. In the covenant at Shechem (Josh. xxiv. 26,
et seq.), Joshua “ took a stone and set it up there under an
oak that was by the sanctuary of the Lord. And Joshua
said unto all the people, Behold, this stone shall be a
witness unto us, for it hath heard all the words of the
Lord.” After the battle with the Philistines at Mizpeh,
in which the Israelites were conquerors, Samuel, who had
prayed for their success, “ took a stone and set it up between
Mizpeh and Shen, and called the name of it Eben-ezer,
saying, Hitherto hath the Lord helped us.” 1 Sam. vii.
12. The analogy between these stones and the crom¬
lechs of the ancient Celtic nations is too clear not to be
observed. “ It is remarkable,” says General Vallancey,
in his Collectanea de Rebus Hibernicis, “ that all the an¬
cient altars found in Ireland, and now distinguished by
the name of cromlechs, or sloping stones, were originally
called Bothal, or the House of God; and they seem to be
of the same species as those mentioned in the book of
Genesis, called by the Hebrews Bethel, which has the
same signification as the Irish Bothal.”1 Of these cromlechs Pi
there are three kinds, the single upright stone or pillar;
the same, with another stone laid on it crosswise; and'
two upright stones with a third placed on them, like an
entablature on two columns; and this third kind, to dis¬
tinguish it from the other two, has been called by the
Greek descriptive name trilithon. It is evident, moreover,
from the sacred text, that it was customary to offer sacri¬
fices by these pillars or cromlechs; for on the return of the
ark from Philistia (1 Sam. vi. 14, 15), the kine drew the
cart on which it was placed into a field “ where there was
a great stone; and they (the people) clave the wood of
the cart for a burnt-offering to the Lord,” having placed
the ark and its contents on the stone. Now the sacrificial
stone or altar at Stonehenge is immediately before the
great trilithon which forms the end of the hypoethral
temple within the external peribolus, and that temple it¬
self is doubtless of the same species as those which Moses
built at Mount Sinai, and directed the people to construct
on their arrival in the promised land (Exod. xxiv. 4, and
Deut. xxvii. 2-6), which they afterwards did under the
command of Joshua, the stones or cromlechs being multi¬
plied for special purposes. Moses and Joshua set up
twelve stones (probably trilithons), because of the num¬
ber of the tribes : at Stonehenge there were five. Strabo,
speaking of the temples of the Egyptians, describes the
most ancient as being of vast extent, but of rude work¬
manship, without elegance, without grace, and without
embellishment of any sort. What could this have been
407
History.
LV.
1 Coll, de Beb. Hib. tom. ii. p. 211.
408
ARCHITECTURE.
History, but the same simple combination of sacred stones which,
we have found, was the earliest species of temple on re¬
cord, and one of which we may presume to be the earliest,
in manner if not in date, in existence ? Indeed, late tra¬
vellers have discovered, at Amada in Nubia, about half¬
way between the first and second cataracts of the Nile,
a temple which consists of square piers supporting plain
squared blocks of stone, which form a simple entablature,
occupying the mid-distance between the ruder Celtic
structure and the finished Egyptian columnar arrange¬
ment. The Egyptians had made considerable advances
on the rude model to which the Greek geographer refers,
when the Israelites escaped from them, having already
fallen into polytheism and idolatry; and changes in faith
inducing changes in form, their temples might no longer
retain their monotheistic simplicity, but must be arranged
with more complexity to suit the purposes of a complex
religion. Lucian and Herodotus both say that the most
ancient of the Egyptian temples had had no statues or
images in them; but the express command given to the
Israelites by Moses, in the passage just referred to in
Deuteronomy, that the stones to be set up, and the altar
to be made, should be of whole stones, and that no iron
tool should be used upon them, warrants the supposition
that it was to prevent them from doing what their late
masters were then accustomed to do—carve the altar and
piers or pillars with images, and so fall into idolatry; and
may be admitted as a proof that the Egyptians had al¬
ready made the advances in architecture which we have
presumed: indeed we shall find that they had actually
arrived at the splendid results which the ancient capital
of Egypt even at this day presents. One of the col¬
leagues of Denon, in a dissertation on the antiquity of
Thebes, in the great work of the French Institute on the
Antiquities of Egypt, says, “ Let us add to all these con¬
siderations (that all the historians and philosophers of
Greece and Rome agree in assigning the highest antiquity
to the Egyptians) that most of the edifices of Thebes
bear incontestable marks of great age. This is a fact not
of a nature to produce a strong impression on those who
have not seen the monuments themselves, but it helps to
carry conviction to the minds of those who have been
able, in the places where they exist, to compare the edi¬
fices of ancient Egypt with each other.”1 He goes on to
speak of the causes of their preservation, and concludes
with this passage:—“ It may be remarked, moreover,
that most of the ancient edifices of Thebes are composed
of the ruins of other monuments which had perhaps them¬
selves become ruined by age.”
But Strabo and Herodotus agree in saying that the In¬
dian caverns or excavations were justly presumed to be
more ancient than the temples of Egypt; and a learned
modern antiquary (the Rev. Mr Maurice) asserts that
they were made by the Celtae. Now the architectural
arrangement of these excavations, and of Hindoo archi¬
tecture generally, very much resembles the early Egyp¬
tian style. This coincidence strengthens the supposition
that they had a common origin, and that indeed the sci¬
ence of architecture had its birth in the simple combi¬
nations which we see in what are called the Celtic or
Druidical remains; and it is not doubted that they ori¬
ginated in devotional feelings.
In assuming Stonehenge to be the oldest architectural
monument (in manner, it may be, rather than in the date
of its execution), we do not pretend to lower the antiquity
of any other, but to put this beyond them all; believing it
to be a specimen of primeval columnar architecture, which
led the way, as one of the numerous gradations, some of Hi i
which may have left no traces on the face of the earth, V)
from the monolithic cromlech to the Parthenon of Athens,
the Pantheon of Rome, and the Minster of York. It is
not a sufficient argument against this assumption, that
such structures are not found existing in the East at
the present time; for they were doubtless swept away to
make room for more ornate edifices, as the custom was,
in the same sacred places, and to furnish materials for
them; as the latter have in many cases been as com-
pletely obliterated from the face of the earth, with the
cities to which they belonged. A specimen of the next
step in advance exists in the temple at Amada; and, as
we shall have occasion to show, it clearly demonstrates
the truth of our position, by some of its square piers hav-
ing been sculptured into cylinders, which exhibit the
simplest form of the Greek Doric column.
This, however, is not the generally received opinion.
It is thought that the trunks of trees used in the con¬
struction of human habitations first suggested the idea of
columns; and that the lintels, transverse beams, wall-
plates, and rafters, first furnished that of an entablature.
Neither authentic history nor analogy appear to us to
bear this out; for the most ancient architectural remains,
in various places, accord less with the arrangements con¬
sequent on such an origin than those which are more mo¬
dern ; and it requires a great stretch of fancy to imagine
the derivation of the Titanic structures of Thebes, Paes-
turn, and Selinus, from the posts of a woodman’s hut.
But the inquiry, being more curious than instructive, is
not worth pursuing further; for indeed no useful result
could arise from its determination.
Such being the case, we now proceed to trace the pro¬
gress of the science from its earliest regular formations,
of which we have sufficient and authentic information,
down to the present day.
Indian chronology being so vague and undefined, and the Ini
connection of the Hindoos with the civilized nations aboutarcl
the Mediterranean Sea having been so much restrictedturi
in the earlier ages that we can get little assistance from
the Greek historians on the subject, the date of their
architectural monuments can be determined only by ana¬
logy. That, however, is an uncertain guide, especially
in the circumstances in which we are placed, without
proper delineations, and indeed without any work that
gives a competent idea of them. Though we have held
India so long, and by a so much more honourable tenure
than the French did Egypt, if we were now to be dis¬
possessed we should leave nothing, and we should certainly
retain nothing, to show to our credit that we had ever held
it. Such an undertaking as the great work of the French
Institute on the Architectural Antiquities of Egypt is far
beyond the means of individuals ; the constitution of our
government appears to preclude the application of funds
from the public purse to such purposes; and the East
India Company, from whom perhaps something of the
kind on the archaeology of India might have been expect¬
ed, have, it would appear, occupations of more interest
to them than the advancement of science and art. It
may be generally stated, that, in its leading forms and
more obvious features, Hindoo architecture strongly re¬
sembles Egyptian, and may be considered as of the same
family with it. _ r i, Fc »
No nation that ever existed within the annals of the j
human race has left structures that, ,in extent, magnifi
.arc.
cence, and grandeur, can vie with those of ancient EgyP1'
We have the authority of historians for believing tna
tur
1 Description de l Egyptc, tome L p. 432.
ARCHITECTURE.
401)
- there were others in the same country which no longer
exist, that must have surpassed those which do remain;
^ and they speak also of the cities of Assyria, as unparal¬
leled in the extent and splendour of their edifices, whose
sites, even, are not now determinable. The pyramids,
however, mausoleums of a nation—and the temples, mo¬
numents of human folly—speak more strongly than any
historian can, and compel our belief of what they have
been by what they are; whereas the others do not exist
but in name. Nineveh and Babylon were—but Thebes
and Memphis still remain. It is strange, indeed, that a
people who displayed such energies in the construction
of tombs, pyramids, and temples, should have left no work
of any description that could be applied to any really
useful purpose. Denon, speaking of Thebes, says, “ Still
temples—nothing but temples—not a vestige of the hun¬
dred gates, so celebrated in history; no walls, quays,
bridges, baths, or theatres; not a single edifice of public
utility or convenience. Notwithstanding all the pains I
took in the research, I could find nothing but temples,
walls covered with obscure emblems, and hieroglyphics
which attested the ascendency of the priesthood, who
still seemed to reign over the mighty ruins, and whose
empire constantly haunted my imagination.”1 Champollion,
however, in his late researches, speaks of the remains of
quays, and calls some of the structures palaces instead of
temples; but as the former exist only in connection with the
latter, they can hardly be considered as any thing more
than mere embankments; and the regal and hierarchical
offices having been so closely connected in the economy
of ancient Egypt, it is of little or no consequence to our
position whether the same edifices be called palaces or
temples. Diodorus Siculus says, in one place, that
“ Busiris,” believed to be one of the Pharaohs who per¬
secuted Israel, “ built that great city which the Egyp¬
tians call Heliopolis and the Greeks Thebes, and adorned
it with stately public buildings and magnificent temples,
with rich revenues;” and that “ he built all the private
houses, some four, and others five stories high.”2 Shortly
after, speaking of Memphis, to account for. the splendour
with which the Egyptians built their tombs, and the com¬
parative meanness of their houses, the same author says,
“ They call the houses of the living inns, because they
stay in them but a little while ; but the sepulchres of the
dead they call everlasting habitations, because they abide
in the grave to infinite generations. Therefore they are
not very curious in the building of their houses; but in
beautifying their sepulchres they leave nothing undone
that can be thought of.” Strabo also speaks of a splendid
dwelling which was erected for the priests at Heliopolis,
but that probably was one of the sacred palaces just re¬
ferred to; for none of the ancient writers describe the do-
jnestic structures of the Egyptians, from personal know¬
ledge of them, as being worthy of any notice; and that
assertion of Strabo is too loose and unsupported by con¬
temporary authority or analogy to deserve confidence of
itself. To the statement of Diodorus, that private houses
were built to four and five stories high, we can give no
credence whatever; for the construction of edifices in
tiers or stories was very imperfectly understood even in
ns time, which was many centuries after the destruction
even of Thebes ; and none of the existing remains of that
city g^e the slightest indication of a second story, or in-
eed of aptitude to construct one, except the rude land¬
ings m some of the propylaea. Herodotus says that the
Egyptians were the first who erected altars, shrines, and
temples; but of their private houses he says nothing; History,
neither does he describe any of the temples as they ex-
isted in his time in Egypt; so that he in fact affords no
assistance in determining the comparative antiquity of the
various architectural structures which remain to the pre¬
sent time in that country. Indeed the ancient historians
and topographers speak for the most part so wildly of
dates and dimensions, that they are, at the best, most un¬
satisfactory, if not fallacious, guides; and in the present
case, that of Egypt, the style of architecture is so uni¬
form, or so imperfectly understood, that no argument can
with safety be drawn from it, as there may in other cases.
In Hamilton’s JEgyptiaca, the author says, with reference
to this question: “ In Egyptian architecture there is an
uniformity of structure, both in the ornaments and in the
masses, which, if unassisted by other circumstances, re¬
duces us to mere conjecture; and that not only for the
difference of a century or two, but perhaps for a thousand
years.”3 Again: “ The monuments of antiquity in Upper
Egypt present a very uniform appearance; and his first
impressions incline the traveller to attribute them to the
same or nearly the same epoch. The plans and disposi¬
tions of the temples bear throughout a great resemblance
to one another. The same character of hieroglyphics,
the same forms of the divinity, bearing the same symbols
and worshipped in the same manner, are sculptured on
their walls from Hermopolis to Philse. They are built of
the same species of stone; very little difference is dis¬
cernible in the degrees of excellence of workmanship, or
the quality of the materials; and where human force has
not been evidently employed to destroy the buildings, they
are all in the same state of preservation or decay.”4 But
we are fortunately now about to be rid of that difficulty
by the erudition and industry of those learned men who
have given their attention to the hieroglyphic literature
of the Egyptians. M. Champollion professes to have de¬
termined the date of every monument of antiquity in that
country which is inscribed, by the inscriptions, which he
has qualified himself to read. As yet, however, we are
not in possession of the whole result of his discoveries.
Hypogea, spea, or caves formed by excavation, are found
of earlier date than any existing structures. Internally
they present square piers, which were left to support the
superincumbent mass of mountain or rock when their
magnitude rendered it necessary. These were originally
tombs; and the cave of Machpelah, of which Abraham
made the purchase as a burying-place for his family, was,
doubtless, one of that kind. Oratories or chapels were
afterwards made in the same manner, but, it would ap¬
pear, not until columnar architecture had come into use;
for their entrances are generally sculptured into the re¬
semblance of the front of a rude portico, or an actual por¬
tico or pronaos is constructed before them. Many such
are found on the banks of the Nile, in its course through
Nubia and Egypt. At Ibrim, which the Greeks call
Primis, in the former country, there are several of these
cavern temples, the earliest of which, according to M.
Champollion, bears date of the reign of one of the Pha¬
raohs, who was contemporaneous with Abraham, or his
son Isaac, or about eighteen centuries before Christ; the
latest is of the time of llhameses Sethos, the Sesostris of
Greek history. To some of the cavern tombs and temples
in Upper Egypt M. Champollion accords even a still
higher degree of antiquit}'. The earliest columnar struc¬
tures which are found within the same range of country
do not appear to bear a higher date than that of the
» |,°WC& Baste et la Haute Egypte, p. 176. Far V. Denon. 3 JEgyptiaca, by Wm. Hamilton, Esq. F. S. A. Part I. p. 280.
■uiod. Sic. lib. i. cap. iy. * Ibid. p. 18.
VoL. Ill, 3 ji
410
ARCH ITECTURE.
History, earliest kings or Pharaohs of the eighteenth dynasty of
Manetho, which began about the time of the Jewish pa¬
triarch Abraham, and ended with the Pharaoh from whom
his descendants escaped under the conduct of Moses.
The temple at Amada, to which we have already referred,
is of the time of Moeris, who was contemporary with the
patriarch Jacob, and consists of twelve square piers or
pillars, and four columns, which possess the form and cha¬
racter of the Greek Doric, and may, it is suggested, be
called protodoric. The same intention, if it may be so
called, is found in others of the ear]y monuments, but in
none so perfect as in this, as almost all the structures of
ancient Egypt were either destroyed or seriously damag¬
ed by the Persians at the time of their invasion under
Cambyses; and they are supposed not to have ascended
the Nile much above Psalcis or Dakke, but to have turned
off by the way across the desert to Ethiopia, so that the
temple at Amada, which is considerably above Dakke,
escaped.
Of all the Pharaohs, Sesostris, the first of the nineteenth
dynasty, was the most distinguished for the great and ex¬
tensive works he executed in architecture. Most of the
existing ruins in Egypt, anterior to the Persian invasion, are
attributed to that monarch by M. Champollion. The im¬
mense ruins at Thebes, which have been by turns called the
Memnonium and the tomb of Osymandyas, and are popular¬
ly called Medinet Abou, are proved by that gentleman to be
those of the Palatial Temple of Rhameses the Great, or Se¬
sostris, and which he therefore calls the Rhamesseion, the
ruins at Luxor being those of the Memnonium; that edifice
or series of edifices having been constructed by Amenophis
Memnon, of the eighteenth dynasty, one of the good and
beneficent princes by whom the children of Israel were
protected during their sojourn in Egypt. The magnificent
structure at the village of Carnack, within the same city,
appears however to excel all the rest in extent and
grandeur, and is at least their equal in antiquity. It is
generally known as the temple of Carnack, but it has
been distinguished as that of Jupiter Ammon. It bears
inscribed the name of Thothmosis II., the predecessor
of Amenophis Memnon. From the existing remains of
Thebes, and the relations of historians combined, that
city may be assumed to have attained its highest degree
of splendour in the time of Sesostris; few of the ruins it
presents being of later date than the time of that monarch.
This being admitted, and we believe it can hardly be de¬
nied, it must be admitted also that the science of archi¬
tecture, and the practice of the mechanical arts, were al¬
ready well understood; for the composition of the monu¬
ments displays an exquisite combination of simplicity and
harmony, which produce the finest effects of beauty and
grandeur; while their construction is the apparent result
of perfection . in the use of mechanical powers. All the
Pharaonic monuments, indeed, throughout Egypt and
Nubia, are wonders of science and art. The structures of
Ombos, Apollinopolis Magna, and Latopolis, between
Thebes and the cataract, M. Champollion determines to
be generally of the age of the Ptolemies, and some even
of the Roman dominion ; all, however, of these of compa¬
ratively modern date are evidently restorations; others,
probably of the earliest ages, having occupied the same
sites. Indeed M. Champollion asserts generally that the
Ptolemies, and the Ethiopian Ergamenes himself, only re¬
built temples where they had already stood in the times
of the Pharaohs, and to the same divinities that had al¬
ways been worshipped there. He goes on to say, that the
religious system of this people was such a complete whole,
so connected in all its parts, and fixed from time imme¬
morial in so absolute and precise a manner, that the do¬
minion cf the Greeks and of the Romans did not produce
any innovation; the Ptolemies and the Caesars only re- Hi
stored in Nubia what the Persians had destroyed, and re-V
built temples where they had formerly stood, and dedi-
cated them to the same gods.
Of the arrangements of an Egyptian temple we shall
speak when we come to treat of Egyptian architecture as
a style. In construction the Egyptians appear to have
used wrought stones at a very early period: this probably
was induced by the still earlier habit of excavating rocks
to form tombs; for the walls in their oldest structures are
composed of rectangularly cut blocks in parallel courses;
whereas we shall find that the most ancient specimens of
walling in Greece and Italy are not so. In the Pharaonic
monuments, besides walls built in parallel courses of
wrought stone, we find squared piers also; and frequently,
in the same structure with them, the peculiarly formed
tumescent column with a bulbous capital or head, covered
with an abacus or square tablet, corresponding with the
size of the piers, and warranting the supposition that that
species of column is a mere refinement on the simple
square pillar. What dictated its singular form must re¬
main matter of speculation. The cylindrical column with
a bell-shaped capital was the next advance, and that also
is found in the same structures, though not in the simplest
and earliest of them, in which piers occur. Terminal or
Caryatic figures are common in those early works also;
not absolutely supporting an entablature, but placed be¬
fore piers which do, and having the appearance of doing
it themselves when seen in front. Bold, massive, rectan¬
gular architraves extend from pier to pier and from co¬
lumn to column, and are generally surmounted externally
by a deep coved coping, or cornice, with a large corded
and torus-formed moulding intervening. This masks the
ends of the stones which are placed transversely on the
architraves to form the ceiling internally, the whole be¬
ing flushed square on the top, and forming a flat terrace
or floor. The pyramidal form of the moles or propylaea,
peculiar to Egyptian temples, may have been suggested
by the pyramids, as neither that form nor those adjuncts
to a temple appear to have been used before the period
at which it is supposed the former were constructed.
The grandeur and dignity inherent to that form would in¬
deed hardly be suspected till its appearance in the pyra¬
mids themselves ; and certainly the impression of its ef¬
fect must have been strong, to induce men to seek it in a
truncated pyramid under a very acute angle, as in the
propylaea, relying on the tendency of its outline alone. It
was gradually, too, that this tendency was generally ap¬
plied, for in the earliest Pharaonic structures the vertical
outline is most common, except in the propylaea, where
they exist; and in the structures of the Ptolemies the
inclined outline pervades every thing. The monolithic
obelisk is of Egyptian origin also. Its tapering form may
be the consequence of the impression the pyramidal ten¬
dency had occasioned, though perhaps the object itself is
the representative of the single stone by which religious
feeling appears first to have expressed itself. Obelisks
were set up by the Egyptians, sometimes in the courts or
atria of their temples, and sometimes before the entrances
to them.
Of all the architectural works of the Egyptians, how¬
ever, none have excited so much the wonder and curiosity
of men as the pyramids themselves; not in consequence of
any particular beauty in their composition, or ingenuity m
their construction, but simply because of their immense
magnitude, and unknown use, and antiquity. Denon makes
the following observation on his first visit to the great py¬
ramid of Gizeh, at Memphis. “ If we reflect upon these
pyramids, we shall be inclined to think the pride tna
constructed them greater even than these masses them-
ARCHITECTURE.
411
r selves, and shall scarcely know whether to reprobate most
v^the insolent tyranny which commanded, or the stupid ser¬
vility of the people which executed, the undertaking.
None but sacerdotal despots would ever have undertaken
them, and none but a stupid fanatical people would ever
have built them....The most honourable reason that can
be assigned for their erection is the emulation of man to
excel the works of nature in immensity and duration, and
in this project he has not been altogether unsuccessful.
The mountains near the pyramids are not so high, and
have suffered more from time than the pyramids them¬
selves.”1 But Memphis itself was of late foundation in com¬
parison with other cities on the Nile. According to Pro¬
fessor Heeren,2 civilization descended by the Nile from
Ethiopia with the caste of priests who brought with them
the worship of Ammon, Osiris, and Phtha (the Jupiter,
Bacchus, and Vulcan of the Greeks), and “ the spread of
this worship, which was always connected with temples,
affords the most evident vestiges of the spread of the
caste itself; and those vestiges, combined with the records
of the Egyptians, lead us to the conclusion that this caste
was a tribe which migrated from the south, above Meroe,
in Ethiopia, and, by the establishment of inland colonies
around the temples founded by them, gradually extended
and made the worship of their gods the dominant religion
in Egypt. Proofs of the accuracy of this theory,” he as¬
serts, “ may be deduced from monuments and express
testimonies concerning the origin of Thebes and Ammon
from Meroe; that it might indeed have been inferred
from the preservation of the worship of Ammon in this
last place.” The same author goes on to say, that “ Thebes
was, if not the most, one of the most, ancient cities
of Egyptand that “ Memphis and other cities of the
vale of the Nile are known to have been founded from
Thebes.” Now Thebes exists to the present time in the
ruins of her magnificent temples, the works of the Pha¬
raohs, but without the vestige of a pyramid, so that it
may be concluded that none was ever built there; and
Memphis may be said to exist in the everlasting pyramids
of Gizeh anti Saccharah, which occupy two of its extre¬
mities; but no indication remains of the existence of a
temple of any kind: indeed the exact site of the city
cannot be determined except by the pyramids. Herodo¬
tus, however, speaks of temples at Memphis, particularly
ol that of Vulcan or Phtha; but certainly no vestige of
such has existed for a long period of time within that vi¬
cinity. Memphis was a great and ancient capital, and
why should it not retain some evidence of the existence
of temples in it ? But Thebes was a greater and more an¬
cient capital, and indeed the metropolis of all Egypt; and
why has it no pyramids ? These things are equally un¬
accountable and inexplicable, affording groundwork for
almost any theory, but giving perfect support to none.
Mr Hamilton, in his sEgyptiaca, before quoted, places
Memphis considerably further south, where some ruins
have been discovered which may be thought to give a
colour to his supposition. But the ruins are of very in¬
considerable extent, and are all prostrate, so that nothing
can be positively determined by them ; and the statement
of Pliny as to the relative distances of the Nile and the
city from the pyramids of Gizeh being proved to be cor¬
rect in the one, may be admitted in the other. If Hero-
uotus s account of the building of the pyramids be receiv-
. ’ tlley are of comparatively modern date, the oldest hav-
ing been constructed several generations after the time
Sesostris, under whom Thebes attained its highest
degree of splendour; but this would leave unaccounted
or the tendency to pyramidal forms in Egyptian archi¬
tecture before referred to, unless every example exhi- History,
biting that tendency were itself referred to a date poste-
rior to that assigned to Cheops and Cephron, which can¬
not be done in accordance with the assertions of M.
Champollion as to the structures of Thebes, Elephantina,
and Nubia generally.
From its immense size, the dimensions of the great py¬
ramid of Gizeh, at Memphis, are variously given by the
various persons who have measured it. M. Nouet, who
wms of the French commission in Egypt, and had perhaps
the best opportunity of being correct, determined its base
to be a square whose side is 716 French or 768 English
feet in length, occupying about the area of the great
square of Lincoln’s-Inn-Fields in London; and its height
421 French or 452 English feet, or about one third as
high again as St Paul’s cathedral. It is built in regular
courses or layers of stone, which vary in thickness from
two to three feet, each receding from the one below it, to
the number ol 202; though even this is variously^ stated
from that number to 260, as indeed the height is given by
various modern travellers at from 444 to 625 feet. And
the ancient writers differ as widely, both among them¬
selves and with the moderns. On the top course the area
is about 10 English feet square, though it is believed to
have been originally two courses higher, which would
bring it to the smallest that in regular gradation it could
be. It is a solid mass of stone, with the exception of a
narrow corridor leading to a small chamber in its centre;
and a larger ascending corridor or gallery, from about half
the distance of the first to another larger chamber at a
considerable distance, vertically above the former, in
which there is a single granite sarcophagus, not more than
large enough for one body, putting the intention of the
structure clearly beyond doubt. The other pyramids dif¬
fer from that of Cheops (as the largest is called) in size,
and slightly in form and mode of construction, some having
the angles of the steps or courses of stone worked a\Vay
to a plain surface, and some not diminishing in a right line.
One of the middle-sized pyramids is unlike all the rest, in
being neither smooth nor in small steps, but in six large
steps or stories, apparently of equal height, and dimi¬
nishing gradually. But the circumstance which most dis¬
tinguishes it is, that it is constructed of rude unshapen
blocks of stone, cemented together with a very large pro¬
portion of mortar. Another is of unburnt brick, and has
consequently become ruinous and mis-shapen.
The famous labyrinth, of which Herodotus speaks as
having been built by the twelve kings of Egypt, beyond
the lake Mceris, is believed by Derion, after examination
of the described site, to be little better than fabulous, and
that the historian was imposed on by the priests, from
whom he derived most of his information. He says, in¬
deed, that he saw and examined it himself; but his de¬
scription is so vague, that an architect who should endea¬
vour to make a design from it, would be greatly embarrass¬
ed. As we can therefore derive no information from it
with regard to architecture, it need not be further dis¬
cussed here. It has been suggested as probable, and in¬
deed the opinion has been maintained, that the pyramids
stand over immense substructures; that their areas are
occupied by chambers, in which maybe found the arcana
of Egyptian lore, of which they are the depositories. If
it really be so, may not the labyrinths just referred to
have been under the pyramid, which the historian says
was constructed at the point where the labyrinth termi¬
nates, instead of near it ? His expression is so ambiguous,
that it leaves room for a suggestion of the kind.
Of the domestic architecture of the Egyptians we have
* °yagc dam la Basse et la Haute Egyptc, p. 77- Bar Y. Denon.
3 Manual cf Ancient History, p. 58.
412
ARCHITECTURE,
History, no knowledge whatever. The Statements of the ancient
writers on the subject have been already mentioned ; but
supposing them to be more explicit, and more in confor¬
mity with probability, than they really are, without exist¬
ing remains we could form but a very imperfect idea of
what it was. Reasoning from analogy, and the slight in¬
formation of historians, we should conclude that the habi¬
tations of the Egyptians were of a very unpretending de¬
scription. The already quoted statement of Diodorus
Siculus, that “ they are not very curious in the building
of their houses,” even in his time, after their long inter¬
course with Greece, and their more recent connection
with luxurious Rome; added to the fact, that no indica¬
tions of domestic structures exist in any part of the coun¬
try, and that the presumed habitations of the priests, in
the ancient temples, are small and inconvenient cells; and
all these things, taken in conjunction with the mildness of
the climate and the salubrity of the atmosphere, we think
it must be admitted, warrant the conclusion.
No style of architecture of which we have any know¬
ledge is so well qualified to produce impressive effects on
the mind as the Egyptian. The mere assumption of its
forms, however, is not sufficient to produce its effects;
and drawing is more incompetent to convey an idea of it
than perhaps of any thing else in art. To this point the
authors of the great work of the French Institute on the
antiquities of Egypt bear testimony in strong language.
Speaking of the incompetence of drawings to convey just
ideas of the grandeur, magnificence, and beauty of the
Egyptian temples, and other remains of antiquity, they say,
“ Despite the care we have given ourselves to describe
the Egyptian monuments, we cannot even hope that we
have succeeded in giving' to others the ideas which we
ourselves received from actual views and present contem¬
plation of them ; for there are things which drawings and
descriptions cannot convey. Geometrical drawings are
without doubt quite competent to show the form and
proportions of an edifice, its disposition and distribution;
but far indeed are they from giving satisfactory ideas of
the elegance and effect of structures. Frequently we had
to regret how much of the beauty of the original was lost
in its geometrical representation on paper; for what in
execution was light and graceful, often in the geometrical
drawings appeared heavy and inelegant.”1
The materials used in the construction of the Egyptian
architectural monuments are, for the most part, granite,
breccia, sandstone, and unburnt brick. The granite was
principally supplied by the quarries at Elephantina and
Syene, for which the Nile offered a ready mode of con¬
veyance ; some species were brought down the river from
Ethiopia, but we do not find that the materials were at
any time brought from any other foreign country. It may
be remarked, too, that in the earliest structures the com¬
mon grres or sandstone is principally employed. Excepting
the obelisks and some few of the propylsea, all the temples
at Thebes are of that material. In Lower Egypt, on the
contrary, and in the works of later date generally, almost
every thing is constructed of granite.
Herodotus informs us that the ancient Persians had
neither statues, temples, nor altars ; and Diodorus Siculus
affirms that the palaces of Persepolis and Susa were not
built till after the conquest of Egypt by Cambyses, and
that they were constructed by architects of that nation.
In this case, as in that of India, we are at a great loss for
evidence. The Persepolitan remains, though frequently
visited and slightly sketched, have not been explored and
delineated by such men as Stuart and Revett, or the
Persian,
Assyrian,
and Phoe¬
nician
architec¬
ture.
authors of the great French work we have so often allud-
ed to. That the Persian style, though very different in'll p
particulars, does bear a relation to the Egyptian family, '
however, is very evident. Sir Robert Ker Porter, in his
travels in the East, says that the first impression he re¬
ceived in his first walk among the ruins of Persepolis was,
that “ in mass and in detail they bore a strong resem-
blance to the architectural taste of Egypt.”2 Neverthe-
less, there is a strong probability that the Persian is itself
an original style, and that the resemblance is merely for.
tuitous, similar results arising from the same causes, as in
Egypt and India; for the eastern parts of that country
are believed to have been the earliest seat of the human
Professor Heeren says of Persia, “ it cannot be
doubted, that long before the rise of the Persian power,
mighty kingdoms existed in these regions, and particular¬
ly in the eastern part of Bactria; yet of those kingdoms
we have by no means a consistent or chronological his¬
tory—nothing but a few fragments, probably of dynasties
which ruled in Media property so called, immediately
previous to the Persians ;”3 from whom the style of archi¬
tecture may be derived, though indeed we know of no re¬
mains of earlier date than those which are properly called
Persian. But we may be said to know nothing of Bac¬
tria ; it may, and probably does, rival Elora, Salsette, and
the banks of the Nile* in primitive specimens of architec¬
ture.
We have neither historical nor archaeological informa¬
tion that can be depended on to prove what the state or
style of architecture was among the ancient Assyrians.
Lucian says, however, that their temples were less ancient
than those of Egypt. The ruins believed to be those of
the great capital of Babylonia present nothing but shape¬
less masses of brick, from which no idea whatever can be
formed as to the style of architecture, or the progress it
had made in that country; but some cylindrical and other
seals and fragments, in terra cotta, lately found by excava¬
tion among those ruins, now in the British Museum, are
sufficiently in accordance with the rest of the eastern an¬
tiquities to be received as evidence of the general assimi¬
lation of its style of design with that which was common
to the neighbouring nations.
The Phoenicians, we are told by Lucian, built in the
Egyptian style ; but their country retains no memorials of
its ancient architecture by which we might confirm or
correct his information. Doubtless Carthage and the
other colonies of Phoenicia followed their parent country
in this particular.
As far as we can judge from the trifling documents we
possess of the architecture of the ancient Mexicans and
Peruvians, it was of a rude but massive character, and may
be thought also to resemble the early architecture of In¬
dia, Egypt, and Persia more than we can see any reason
for, except in the tendency of the mind of man to the
same result when he is placed under similar circum¬
stances. An impression to this effect appears to have
been made on Humboldt, who, when speaking of a pyra*
midal mass of ancient Mexico, says, “ It is impossible to
read the descriptions which Herodotus and Diodorus
Siculus have left us of the temple of Jupiter Belus, without
being struck with the resemblance of that Babylonian
monument to the teocallis of Anahuac.”4
It is an illustration of the fact that the wants and fan¬
cies of man lead him to nearly the same results as he be¬
comes civilized, without communication and consequent
imitation, that the plans given by Sir William Chambers,
of Chinese public and private buildings, might be taken,
1 Description de PEgypte, vol. i. p. 292.
2 Travels in Georgia, Persia, Qc. by Sir It. K. Porter, vol. L p. 579-
3 Manual of Ancient History, p. 20.
4 Humboldt’s Personal Narrative, voL i. p. 82.
ARCHITECTURE.
413
trr .it the first glance, for either Hindoo, Greek, Roman, or
J-^Aloresco—of course not considering magnitude of parts,
jut general forms and arrangements. Indeed, the remark
nay be extended beyond the mere plans; for all have, to
i certain extent, insulated columns placed equidistant, and
•rowned with an entablature ; and the general appearance
if many Chinese buildings is quite Moorish,
j, Architecture was not likely to flourish among the shep-
ec- ierd tribes of Israel. It is in agricultural and commercial
countries, such as Egypt and Greece, that its noblest
vorks are produced, and not among the nomades of Ara¬
bia and Palestine. Saul, the first king of Israel, appears
x) have had no settled place of abode ; and the most sa¬
bred ceremonies of the Jewish religion were performed at
jilgal, where was the temple of unhewn stones set up
jy Joshua on taking possession of the promised land, and
naking a covenant between God and the people, until
he building of the temple at Jerusalem in the place ren-
lered holy by Abraham’s great sacrifice. Saul himself
vas confirmed in the kingdom at Gilgal, and there the
lation swore allegiance to him with sacrifices to the Al-
nighty; but as yet nothing existed there in which to per-
brm the rites, but the ancient Celtic structure to which
ve have alluded. After the division of the tribes into two
cingdoms, a splendid temple was erected on the site of
jilgal, in Mount Gerizim, as the national temple of the
ungdom of Israel. Like his predecessor on the throne,
Javid appears to have been but indifferently lodged till
owards the end of his reign, when he is said to have
milt himself a house; and until the temple was built in
he following reign, the ark of the covenant was never in
i fixed place;—it was at one time in a private house, at
mother in captivity among the Philistines; and, indeed,
£ing David expressed his shame that he had a house of
sedar, whilst the ark of the Lord still dwelt in a tent.
These things, and the fact that Solomon sent to Tyre for
vorkmen, and indeed for an architect also, are, we think,
inclusive evidence, that in whatever state architecture
vas among the Jews from the building of the temple at
Jerusalem, it was very low before that time; and from the
lescriptions we have of that edifice itself in the Bible, it
tppears to have exhibited a greater degree of barbaric
splendour than of classic elegance. From mere descrip-
lon, however, it is impossible to understand an unknown
species of building, as many things we shall have occasion
U) refer to will clearly prove.
Few things have occasioned controversies more amus-
ng, from the singularity of some assumptions, and the ab¬
solute futility of them all, than the style and manner in
ivhich Solomon’s temple was built. Villalpanda, a Spanish
Jesuit, appended to a commentary which he wrote on the
prophecies of Ezekiel, a long dissertation on the first and
second temples of Jerusalem, in which he insists that the
theory and practice of permanent architecture commenced
with the building of that temple by Solomon—that with
it, “ the orders,” which, he says, are falsely attributed to
the Greeks, came into existence—that indeed the design
(from a passage in the first book of the Chronicles), per¬
fect in all its details, was given to David, drawn bij the
hand of God ! He moreover pretends to show, that the
proportions assigned by Vitruvius to the different orders
accord exactly with the descriptions given of the temple
of Solomon; and accuses Callimachus of usurping the ho¬
nour of inventing the Corinthian capital, which could not
belong to him, as it was of divine origin, and had been
executed in the temple at Jerusalem centuries before he
was born. Some learned, and in some respects sensible
floen, have attempted to support this theory; and others
have thought it worth while to controvert it, by proving
that the architect and the principal workmen were all History,
either Egyptians or Phoenicians, and that consequently the'^V"^>/
edifice must have been in the Egyptian style. A learned
architect of the present day has endeavoured to show that
it was in the Greek style, and that its form, proportions,
and distribution, were not dissimilar to those of the
temple of Ceres at Eleusis. As the Phoenicians, who
were principally employed by Solomon, themselves built
in the Egyptian manner, we think the probability is great
that it was in the Egyptian or Phoenician stjde, as far as
the Jewish ceremonial would permit; and certainly the
descriptions of its distribution accord better with that of
an Egyptian than of a Grecian temple. The pillars of
Jachim and Boaz, which are said to have been set up be¬
fore the temple, correspond exactly in relative situation
with the obelisks in temples at Thebes. Clemens of Alex¬
andria, too, gives a description of an Egyptian temple very
much like that of the Jewish ; and the palm-leaves, roses,
fruits, and flowers, in the latter, are very common in ex¬
isting specimens of the former, whereas in the Greek re¬
mains of early date no such things are to be found.
Whether the Jews in after-times possessed a national
style of architecture or not, we cannot tell: there is no
reason, however, for supposing that they did; for their
monotheistic structure at Jerusalem was not repeated in
other places, as the temples of the heathen divinities were
among the Greeks and Romans, by which they might
have acquired a peculiar mode of composition and. com¬
bination. The non-existence of a national Jewish style
of architecture tends also to strengthen our position, that
architecture did not originate in the disposition and de¬
coration of buildings for domestic purposes, of which the
Jews must, when settled, have made as much use as
other nations; and a multiplicity of religious edifices, in
the construction of which they might have acquired one,
was forbidden by their code.
In various parts of Greece and Italy, specimens of rude Pelasgic
walling are found of such remote antiquity that they are, arc}utec¬
us by common consent, referred to the fabulous ages, and,ture*
for want of a more distinctive term, are called Cyclopaean.
Now it appears, from the concurring evidence and opi¬
nions of most antiquaries, that a people who have been
called Pelasgi, or sailors, migrated from Asia Minor, or
the coast of Syria, at a very early period, and possessed
themselves of various countries, some of which were un¬
occupied, and others inhabited by Celtic tribes. Mr
Godfrey Higgins says that the Pelasgi were Canaanites,
and being a hardy sea-faring race, they soon subdued the
Celtic inhabitants of Delphi in Greece, or of Cuma in
Italy, who, from their first quitting the parent hive, never
had occasion for an offensive weapon, except against wild
beasts; and that they were the people who settled Car¬
thage, Spain, and Ireland. Bishop Marsh has proved the
Pelasgi to be Dorians, Dr Clarke has proved the Etrusci
to be Phoenicians, and Gallneus has proved the Dorians to
be Phoenicians. Thus, says Mr Higgins, the Pelasgi, the
Etrusci, and the Phoenicians, are all proved to be the
same. According to Professor Heeren, also, who affixes
dates to the various migrations, the Pelasgi were of
Asiatic origin. “ Their first arrival in the Peloponnesus
was under Inachus, about 1800 years b. c. ; and accord¬
ing to their owm traditions,” he says, “ they made their
first appearance in this quarter as uncultivated savages.
They must, however, at an early period, have made some
progress towards civilization, since the most ancient states,
Argos and Sicyon, owed their origin to them; and to
them, perhaps with great probability, are attributed the
remains of those most ancient monuments generally
termed Cyclopic.”1 He adds, that the Hellenes, a people
1 Manual of Amicnt History, p. Hi).
414
ARCHITECTURE.
History, of Asiatic origin also, expelled the Pelasgi from almost
every part of Greece, about 300 years after their first
occupation of it; the latter keeping their footing only in
Arcadia and in the land of Dodona, whilst some of them
migrated to Italy, and others to Crete and various islands.
The arrival of the Egyptian and Phoenician colonies in
Greece, Professor Heeren thinks, was between 1600 and
1400 b. c.
The connection of Greece and Italy with each other,
and with Egypt and Phoenicia, is thus made evident. The
Cyclopaean structures, however, were the works of the
rude Pelasgi before that connection took place, except as
far as it existed in their having a common origin. They
occupied, either simultaneously or consecutively, both
Greece and Italy; and this accounts for the sameness
of that peculiar and original mode of structure which, we
have said, is found in both countries, though no evidence
exists of its ever having been practised elsewhere. If, in¬
deed, the things in question were the work of the earlier
Celtic inhabitants, a still more remote date must be as¬
signed them than they could derive from the Pelasgi;
and this is the opinion of Mr Higgins, supported, he
contends, by the suffrages of Dodwell, Clarke, and others,
who say that the doorway called the Gate of the Lions,
in the Acropolis of Mycenae, is built exactly like the
remains of Stonehenge. The most ancient specimen
of Cyclopic walling is found at Tyrinthus, near My¬
cenae. It is composed of huge masses of rock roughly
hewn and piled up together, with the interstices at the
angles filled up by small stones, but without mortar or
cement of any kind. The next species is in stones of va¬
rious sizes also, shaped polygonally, and fitted with nicety
one to another, but not laid in courses. Specimens of
this are found at lulls and Delphi, as well as at the places
already mentioned, in Greece, and in various parts of
Italy, particularly at Cossa, a town of the Volsci. This
also was constructed without mortar. The mode of build¬
ing walls, which took the place of that, is not called Cyclo¬
paean ; it is in parallel courses of rectangular stones, of un¬
equal size, but of the same height. This is common in
the Phocian cities, and in some pans of Bceotia and Ar-
golis. To that succeeded the mode most common in, and
which was chiefly confined to, Attica. It consists of hori¬
zontal courses of masonry, not always of the same height,
but composed of rectangular stones.
Grecian ' The oldest existing structure in Greece of regular form
architec- is of far superior construction to the Cyclopaean walling,
ture. anci must be referred to the Egyptian or Phoenician co¬
lonists. It is at Mycenae, and consists of two subterra¬
nean chambers, one of which is much larger than the
other. The outer and larger one is of circular form, and
is entered by a huge doorway at the end of a long ave¬
nue of colossal walls, built in nearly parallel courses of
rectangular stones, roughly hewn, however, and laid with¬
out mortar. Its external effect is that of an excavation,
though the structure of the front is evident; and inter¬
nally it assumes the form of an immense lime-kiln ; its
vertical section being of a somewhat conical form, under
nearly parabolic curves, like a pointed, or what is vulgarly
called a Gothic arch. The construction of this edifice
was thought to afford clear evidence that the Greeks
were acquainted with the properties of the arch; but
in the most material point this whs destroyed on finding
that it consisted of parallel projecting courses of stone in
horizontal layers, in the manner called by our workmen
battering, or more correctly perhaps corbelling. It proves,
however, that its architect understood the principle of the
arch in its horizontal position ; for Mr Cockerell has dis¬
covered, by excavations above it, that the diminishing rings
of which the dome is composed are complete in them-
fr.
selves for withstanding outward pressure ; the joints of the
stones being partly wrought concentric, and partly ren.\ T,
dered so by wedges of small stones driven tightly into ^
them behind. The apex is formed, not by a key-stone
for the construction does not admit of such, but by a
covering stone, which is merely laid on the course imme-
diately below it. It may be added, that internally the
lower projecting angles of the stones are worked off to
follow the general outline. Though this is the largest
and most perfect, its internal diameter at the base being
48 feet 6 inches, and its height from the floor to the co¬
vering stone 45 feet, yet edifices exhibiting similar struc-
ture are found in many other places in Greece itself, in
Egypt, in Sicily, and in Italy. They all however tend to
prove, that the principle of the construction of the verti-
cal arch was unknown at the time of their erection in all
those countries ; and their erection is as evidently of the
most remote antiquity, perhaps of the presumed era of
Daedalus, to whom some have assigned many of them, as
well as the discovery of so much of the principle of the
arch as is exhibited in the arrangement of the horizontal
rings or layers in the Mycenaean monument. Neither
could the mechanical powers have been unknown to their
constructors. In the edifice which we have described,
and which is thought by some to be the Treasury of Atreus,
or the Tomb of his son Agamemnon, mentioned by Pau-
sanias as existing among the ruins of Mycenae in his time,
the inner lintel of the doorway is 27 feet in length, 16 feet
deep, and nearly 4 feet thick, weighing, it is computed,
upwards of 130 tons ; and the lintel of the Gate of the
Lions in the Acropolis of the same cit}r, is, from its im¬
mense magnitude, also strongly illustrative of the great
mechanical skill of the people of those times. As the
treasury of Atreus at present exists, it exhibits nothing
like an attempt at decoration, except that the doorway is,
on the outside, sunk in two faces all round, as if to harmo¬
nize with some architectural composition ; and the inte¬
rior of the edifice may be supposed to have been lined,
probably with plates of metal, like the tower of Acrisius,
as bronze nails for attaching them to the vault still re¬
main. Some sculptured fragments of marble which have
been found among the ruins of the fallen parts and the
rubbish which chokes up the entrance, together with in¬
dications on the external front of the edifice that it was
cased, have led to an ingenious attempt at restoration,
upon the supposition that the fragments were parts of a
frontispiece. The fact that such frontispieces were some¬
times carved, and sometimes constructed, in connection
with the entrances of excavated tombs and other spea in
Egypt and Nubia, gives a degree of probability to the
idea that it would not otherwise have ; for the fragments
do not resemble the earliest existing specimens of Greek
architectural forms; though indeed these latter may be
traced to Persepolis, and Ibrim in Nubia, according to
several ingenious antiquaries and architects. In curious
accordance with this Mycenaean structure is the ancient
monument at New Grange, near Drogheda, in Ireland.
Ruder in every respect than the former, in form, con¬
struction, and mode of access, it bears such a striking
similarity to it, that it is almost impossible to be supposed
the effect of mere chance. The opinion of Mr Godfrey
Higgins, that the Pelasgi, who peopled many of the coun¬
tries on the shores of the Mediterranean Sea, peopled
Ireland also, appears to be supported by this coincidence
between the so-called Treasury of Atreus, or Tomb or
Agamemnon, in the Peloponnesus, and the monument at
New Grange in Ireland. ty
We know of no columnar edifice in Greece, or else-Pi p
where in the Grecian style, of earlier date than the ruin¬
ed temple at Corinth, wliich is in the plainest and sim-
ARCHITECTURE.
415
leSt form of what has been called the Doric Order,
JSthoueh it would be more correctly designated the Doric
^ Style; for the term Order is objectionable, because it sup¬
poses rules and limitations to what in its best times was
subjected to neither. As, however, it is the term best
understood, we shall not hesitate to continue it. It is dif¬
ficult, if not impossible, to ascertain where and in what
manner the Doric order originated. The example we have
referred to, though the earliest, does not differ in its lead¬
ing features and characteristics from the more perfect
specimens of later date ; and it bears no direct and easy
analogy to any species of columnar arrangement of other
countries and earlier times. The story of Vitruvius, even
supposing it rational, does not coincide with the Greek
style of Doric at all, but, if with any thing, with the Ro¬
man examples of it, which at the best are mean and in¬
elegant deteriorations of the simple and beautiful original.
This author says that “ Dorus, the son of Hellenus and of
the nymph Orseis, king of Achaia and of all the Pelopon¬
nesus, having formerly built a temple to Juno in the an¬
cient city of Argos, this temple was found by chance
to be in that manner which we call Doric.”1 in another
place he deduces the arrangements of this same order
from those of a primitive log-hut in the first place, through
all the refinements of carpentry, leaving nothing to chance,
but settling with the utmost precision what, in the latter,
suggested the various parts of the former. Chance in
One case, and experience in another, however, are not
enough for this author ; but he also tells us that the Doric
column was modelled by the Grecian colonists in Asia
Minor, on the proportions of the male human figure, and
was made six diameters in height, because a man was found
to be six times the length of his foot; and that eventual
improvements occasioned the column to be made one dia¬
meter more, or seven instead of six. “ Thus the Doric
column was first adapted to edifices, having the propor¬
tions, strength, and beauty of the body of a man 1” The
earliest examples of this order, however, are those which
least agree with the primitive forms and proportions of
Vitruvius; the columns at Corinth hardly exceed four
diameters in height, while in later examples they gradu¬
ally extend, till, in the temple of Minerva on the promon¬
tory of Sunium, the columns are nearly six diameters, be¬
ing one of the tallest specimens of pure Greek origin ever
executed. If the trunks of trees used in the structure of
tents suggested the first idea of columns, and of the Doric
in particular, as many contend, how is it that the earli¬
est specimens discovered are the most massive ? For the
merest saplings would have formed the wooden proto-
columns, and necessarily, when imitated in stone, they
would not have been made more bulky than the less tena¬
cious nature of the material required; much less would
tbe slender wooden architrave have been magnified into
the ponderous entablature of the primitive permanent ar¬
chitectural structures of all nations. In the construction
of edifices with the trunks of trees, and timber generally,
then, we do not find the origin of Doric architecture. If
we have recourse to Egypt, the mother of the arts and
sciences, we shall indeed find many things even in the
more ancient structures which may have furnished an idea
oi the Doric arrangements to the fertile imagination of a
fireek. The later works of that country cannot be trust¬
ed for originality, as they may themselves have been in¬
fluenced by Greek examples ; but we hardly dare assert
that the Doric order was suggested by any thing in Egyp¬
tian architecture, though in making such assertion we
mould be supported by the opinions of many competent
judges. The temple at Amada in Nubia can hardly be History,
positively assumed as an example of the proto-Doric,
though it may of, the proto-columnar. Nevertheless, the.^te
example is striking, as it certainly possesses the Doric
character. The broad square abacus, and the cylindrical
or even conoidal tendency of the shaft, marked as it is, as
if for fluting, with the plain, simple, and massive epistyle
or architrave superimposed, are all in accordance with the
Hellenic columnar ordinance; but still there is nothing
to connect that rude model with the positive and some¬
what formally arranged example at Corinth with which
we began. It must be remembered, however, that two
connecting links between Egyptian and Greek architec¬
ture are lost; Lower Egypt, with its splendid, capital
Memphis, and Phoenicia ; through which latter the .learn¬
ing and taste of the inhabitants of the foianer country ap¬
pear to have taken their course; but of neither of these
do we possess architectural remains that bear on the sub¬
ject in question. In the Pharaonic structures of Thebes
we find both the tumescent and the cylindrical columns;
and an amalgamation and modification of the two would
easily produce the Doric column, or something very much
like it, which may have been executed in those places, and
so transferred to Greece. Of the triglyphs, the most dis¬
tinguishing part of the Doric entablature, there are many
indications in the early works of Upper Egypt; and in the
structures of the Ptolemies they are still more evident;
though it may be objected that, in these, those indications
were borrowed from the Greeks after the Macedonian con¬
quest. But it must be borne in mind that the Egyptian na¬
tion did not change its character, religion, or usages by the
change of its governors; and the Egyptians were, through
the whole period of their existence, as a nation, an origi¬
nating and not an imitative people; whereas the Greeks
seized on a beauty wherever they found one, and made it
their own by improving it. The forms and arrangement,:
too, of many of the Greek mouldings, and the manner of
carving to enrich them, are common in the earliest ornate
works of the Egyptians; and such things are as strong
evidence of community of origin, as the existence of simi¬
lar words having the same meaning in different languages
is of theirs. We may be asked, why the Greeks cannot
be allowed to have originated that beautiful style of ar¬
chitecture which they brought to the perfection it displays
in their works ? To which we think it a sufficient answer,
that it would be against the common course of events if it
were so. In Egypt we can trace a progress from the ruder
to the more advanced, and, with trifling discrepancies, to
the most perfect; but in Greece, the earliest specimen of
columnar architecture that presents itself displays almost
all the qualities and perfections which are found in works
of periods when learning and civility were at their acme in
that country. We cannot find in Greece a stepping-stone
from the Celtic or Pelasgic Gate of theLions of Mycenae, to
the Doric columns at Corinth, and hardly to the Fane of
Minerva in the Acropolis of Athens; and have therefore to
seek the gradations among the people with whom we have
seen they were connected, and whose country furnishes
them in a great measure, if not entirely. Differences in
climate and in political constitution, as well as in forms
of religion, account sufficiently for the differences between
the arrangements of the religious structures of the Greeks
and those of Egypt. At the present day we find, that
though they may be built in the same style, and for the
worship of the same divinity, there is a wide difference be¬
tween a church in Italy and a church in England, and a
still greater between a church in the former country and
1 Vitruvius, lib. i. cap. j.
416
ARCHITECTURE.
History, one in Scotland. The model, however, of the Greek
temple is found in many places in Egypt, generally placed
as a chapel or aedicula, subsidiary to, and in connection
with, the larger structures, as well as in the earlier Nubian
temples themselves.
None other than the Doric style or order was used in
Greece till after the Macedonian conquest, about which
period that beautiful and graceful variety called the Ionic
was brought into use. It is as difficult to determine its origin
as that of the Doric. Vitruvius says that the Ionian colo¬
nists, on building a temple to Diana, wished to find some
new manner that was beautiful; and by the method which
they had pursued with the Doric, proportioning the column
after a man, they gave to this the delicacy of the female
figure; in the first place by making the diameter of the
column one eighth of its height, then by putting a base to
it in twisted cords, like the sandals of a woman, and putting
volutes to the capital, like the hair which hangs on both
sides of her face. To crown all, he says that they chan¬
nelled or fluted the column, to resemble the folds of female
garments, by which it would appear that Vitruvius did
not know that the Greeks never executed the Doric order
without fluting the columns. “ Thus,” he goes on to say,
“ they invented these two species of columns, imitating in
the one the naked simplicity and dignity of a man, and in
the other the delicacy and the ornaments of a woman.” It
can hardly be doubted that the voluted or Ionic order did
originate in Ionia, at least we know of no earlier ex¬
amples of it than those which exist there; and it does
not appear to have been known to the European Greeks,
and certainly was not practised by them, till after the pe¬
riod we have indicated. It probably took its rise from
some peculiarities in Persian architecture; though many
believe that the Ionic order had a much earlier origin, de¬
riving it from Egypt, where, it is true, many indications
are found of its volutes in the spiral enrichments of capi¬
tals ; but it must be observed that they are in edifices
now ascertained to be of the age of the Ptolemies, and
consequently later than the structures which exhibit the
voluted order in Ionia and its islands. We think, too,
that many persons are influenced in assigning a higher
degree of antiquity to this style than facts will bear out,
by their respect for the authority of Vitruvius; though
Mr Gwilt (his latest translator into English) confesses
that “ upon his authority in matters of historical research
not much reliance is to be placed.”1 We are willing to
admit that much may be adduced in support of the opinion,
that this style was known and used in Greece even before
the age of Pericles; specimens of it having been found in
connection with sculpture, certainly less perfect, and there¬
fore presumed to be of earlier date, than the works of
Phidias and his pupils and compeers.
It is no less difficult to determine the origin of what is
called the Corinthian order. The not inelegant tradi¬
tionary tale by Vitruvius of the invention of its capital, is
the only reason of the name it bears. His account of
the origin of this third species of columnar composition
is more summary, and not less absurd, than that of the pre¬
ceding. He says that it was arranged “ to represent the
delicacy of a young girl whose age renders her figure
more pleasing and more susceptible of ornaments which
may enhance her natural beauty.” With much more
reason might the Doric be called the Corinthian order;
for, as we have stated, at Corinth there exists the oldest
example of that style; whereas there is nothing, either in
ruins or authentic record, to prove that the latter was ever
known in that city. Columns with foliated capitals are
not of very early date in Greece; 'earlier exist ift Asia
Minor, and foliage adorns the capitals of columns in someUt
of the Pharaonic monuments of Egypt; not arranged ^
indeed, as in the later Corinthian capital, which by posl
sibility may have been the result of some such accident
as Vitruvius relates of Callimachus and the basket on the
grave of the Corinthian virgin. The interior of the temple
of Apollo Didymseus at Miletus in Ionia exhibits the
earliest example of the acanthus leaf arranged round the
drum of a capital in a single row, surmounted by the
favourite honeysuckle; but that edifice was constructed
about a century before Callimachus is understood to have
lived. The only perfect columnar example in Greece it.
self of this species of foliated capital is of later date than
and is a great improvement on, that of Miletus; it is the
beautiful little structure called the Choragic monument
of Lysicrates at Athens. Specimens are less uncommon
in Greece of square or antae capitals, enriched with folk
age, than of circular or columnar capitals; but they are
almost invariably found to have belonged to the interior
of buildings, and not to have been used externally. In
considering Greek architecture, it is necessary to bear in
mind that it ceases almost immediately after the subjec¬
tion of Greece to the Roman power; for there are many
edifices in that country in the style of columnar arrange-
mcnt of which we are now speaking besides those re¬
ferred to, but they belong to Roman and not to Greek
architecture. The earliest of them perhaps, and certainly
the least influenced by Roman taste, is the structure called
the Tower of the Winds, or of Andronicus Cyrrhestes, at
Athens. A spurious example of Greek Doric, evidently
executed under the Roman domination, may be referred
to here ; it is that of the Agora, or Doric portico, as it is
sometimes distinguished, in the same city.
Besides the three species of columnar arrangement we
have enumerated, the Greeks employed another in which
statues of women occupied the place of columns. The
reason of this too Vitruvius furnishes in a story which is,
as usual, totally unsupported by history or analogy; but
the consequence of it is, that such figures are called
Caryatides; and the arrangement has been called by
some the Caryatic order. The use of representations of
the human and other figures with or instead of columns
is, however, common in the structures of Egypt and In¬
dia ; and to the former the Greeks were doubtless indebt¬
ed for the idea, though they appear to have restricted
its application to human female figures. Mr Gwilt in¬
fers, from various facts connected with the worship of
Diana Caryatis, “ that the statues called Caryatides were
originally applied to or used about the temples of Diana;
and instead of representing captives or persons in a state
of ignominy (as the Vitruvian story goes), were in fact
nothing more than the figures of the virgins who celebrat¬
ed the worship of that goddess.”2
The only architectural works of the Greeks that re¬
main to us of any consequence, besides temples, pro-
pylsea, and Choragic monuments, are theatres; but these
latter do not retain any thing connected with architec¬
tural decoration to make them interesting, except to the
architect and antiquary. They are generally situated on
the side of a hill, and were rather excavated or carved
out in the earth or rock, than built; except the prosce¬
nium and parascenium, which being at the lower part, in
front, and requiring elevation, must of necessity be built;
but very little of the constructed portions in any case ex¬
ists. It does not appear that the theatres afforded any
provision for sheltering the spectators, or indeed the ac-
1 G wilt’s Chambers't Civil Architecture, p. 30.
Ibid. p. 67.
ARCHITECTURE.
iors, from rain, except perhaps a covered cyrtostylar co-
^.lonnade within the upper boundary wall, which, even when
t existed, was of necessity very narrow and small for so
arge a number of people as were generally assembled ;
'or the theatres were calculated to hold from five to fifteen
md even twenty thousand persons. This, to say the least
)fit, must have subjected the public to great inconve-
liences, even in so fine a climate as that of Greece; for
;hey were unsheltered from the sun at all times, and effec-
ually debarred of a favourite amusement in wet weather.
No remains exist of the domestic structures of the
Greeks; and we are too well aware, from the example of
rthers, of the futility of following mere descriptions on
:he subject, to attempt it here ; especially as the most ex¬
plicit are those of Vitruvius, whom we know to have been
gnorant of the arrangement of Greek temples, by those
>f them which exist, and may therefore reasonably sus¬
pect of ignorance with regard to things of which we have
10 remains. It may be taken for granted that the houses
if the Greeks were less extensive than those of the
lomans, as they were a poorer and less luxurious peo-
ile; and we shall be able to determine those of the lat¬
er nation with great exactitude, from the actual remains
if Roman towns and country mansions. The exquisite
leauty of form and decoration which pervades every ar-
icle of Greek origin, whether coins, medallions, vases,
mplements of war or husbandry, or even the meanest ar-
icle of domestic or personal use of which we have speei-
nensor representations, is evidence of the fine taste with
diich the mansions of the Greeks were furnished. How-
ver, ignorance of the use of the arch, inferior carpentry,
he absence of glass, and ignorance of the use of chimneys,
reredisadvantages which the Greeks laboured under in the
onstruction and convenient arrangement of their houses,
hat no degree of taste and elegance could completely
ountervail.
In the construction of their edifices, the Greeks sel-
lom, if ever, had recourse to foreign materials ; the stone
ised in their temples being almost invariably from the
leareet convenient quarries, which supplied it of suffi-
iently good quality. The structures of Athens are built
1 marble from the quarries of Pentelicus, and those of
^grigentum of a fossil conglomerate which the place it-
elf furnishes.
We have taken it for granted that the Greeks were ig-
lorant of the properties of the arch, having too high an
•pimon of their good sense to think that they could be
cquainted with so admirable and useful an expedient, and
tever use it; and no instance of its adaptation occurs in
he construction of Greek edifices before the connection
f Greece with Rome took place. Whether its invention
hould be referred to Italy or not is another question. If
he great sewer at Rome called the Cloaca Maxima was
instructed in the time of Tarquinius Priscus, it must be
onceded that the properties of the arch were known and
'ractised in that country at an earlier period than we
now the principle to have been understood and applied
sewhere; for neither Egypt nor Greece, nor any of the
wecian colonies, can furnish evidence that it was known
o either Egyptians or Grecians till a long time after the
'eriod referred to, and when it may have been communi-
ated from Italy. But it is contended that the Cloaca
' axi,na> as it now exists, is a work of much more recent
ate, and that it may have succeeded the sewer con¬
flicted by the first Tarquinius, who was moreover himself
reek. If the first part of the objection be correct, the
V1 ence m favour of Italy is destroyed, as far as that
417
work is concerned ; the second is fallacious, because it is History,
not necessary that the monarch should have brought the'^^v'-O
knowledge with him; though indeed he might have ac¬
quired it in Etruria, or it might have existed in Rome be¬
fore his arrival there. Most writers on the subject are of
opinion that the principle of the arch was not known, in
Europe at least, nor to the nations of Western Asia and
Africa, till after the Macedonian conquest, about which
time it may have been invented, or acquired from some
of the eastern nations who were visited by the conque¬
rors. lo these suggestions the objections hold that the
arch was not applied in Egypt in the architectural works
which remain of the Ptolemies, nor is it found in the Per¬
sian and Indian monuments which date beyond that pe¬
riod. The author of the Munimenta Antiqua, after a
comprehensive review of all the authorities and examples
on the subject, gives it as his own opinion that “ Sicily
was the country where this noble kind of ornament first
appeared, and that Archimedes was the inventor of it.”1
I he evidence appears, we think, generally stronger in fa¬
vour of its Italian origin; but to whomsoever the inven¬
tion may be attributed, and whensoever it was made, the
Romans were the first to make extensive practical use of
it; and by means of it they succeeded in doing what their
predecessors in civilization never effected. It enabled
them to carry permanent and secure roads across wide
and rapid rivers, and to make a comparatively frail and
fragile material, such as brick, more extensively useful
than the finest marbles were in the hands of the Greeks
without that principle. To the Greeks, however, the Ro¬
mans were indebted for their knowledge of the more po¬
lished forms of columnar architecture; for, before the
conquest of Greece, the structures of Rome appear to
have been rude and inelegant. The few specimens of
architecture which exist of date anterior to that period
evidently resemble the works of the ancient Etrurians,
who, though they had made considerable advances on
the architecture of their Pelasgic ancestors, were far in¬
ferior in taste and refinement to the Greeks; yet it is to
that people we are inclined to attribute the invention of
the arch, from whom the Romans acquired their know¬
ledge of its use, and that degree of civilization which
they possessed before the epoch referred to. It may be
presumed that the Etrurians had also originated the style
of columnar architecture which Vitruvius describes and
calls Tuscan; but as no example of it exists, at least no¬
thing that answers his description of it, we cannot tell posi¬
tively what it really was ; for, as we have before remarked,
descriptions without a model, of architecture particularly,
are quite unintelligible, as far as understanding a new
style goes. Whatever then was the style of architecture
in Rome before the conquest of Greece, it was either ex¬
ploded by the superior merit and beauty of what the Ro¬
mans found in that country, or combined with it, though
frequently the combination tended to destroy the beauty
of both. In the porticoes of the temple of Antoninus and
Faustina, and of the Pantheon, at Rome, the chaste sim¬
plicity of a Greek columnar composition is preserved;
and in the magnificent dome of the latter edifice, and in
the long extended aqueduct, it is fully equalled. But the
triumphal arch of the Romans, a hybrid composed of co¬
lumns and arches, is devoid alike of simplicity and har¬
mony, indeed of every quality which constitutes beauty in
architecture.
In the transference of Greek columnar architecture to Roman
Rome, a great change was effected, independently of those ^“tec’
combinations. The less refined taste of the Romans
vol. m.
1 Munim. Antiq. by Edward King, Esq. F.R. S. and S. A. vol. ii. p. 268.
3 G
418
ARCHITECTURE.
History, could not appreciate the simple grandeur and dignified
beauty of the Doric, as it existed in Greece. They appear
to have moulded it on what we suppose their own Tuscan to
have been ; and the result was the mean and characterless
ordinance exemplified in the lowest story of the theatre of
Marcellus at Rome, and in the temple at Cora, between
30 and 40 miles south of that city. Not less inferior to
the Athenian examples of the Ionic order, than the Doric
of Cora is to the Doric of Athens, are the mean and taste¬
less deteriorations of them in the Roman temples of
Manly Fortune and Concord. It was different, however,
with the foliated Corinthian, which became to the Romans
what the Doric had been to the Greeks—their national
style. But though they borrowed the style, they did not
copy the Greek examples of it. In Rome the Corinthian
order assumed a new and not less beautiful form and
character, and was varied to a wonderful extent, but with¬
out losing its original and distinctive features. The ex¬
ample of the temple of Vesta at Tivoli hardly differs less
from that of the temple of Jupiter Stator in Rome, than
the latter does from the ordinance of the Choragic monu¬
ment of Lysicrates at Athens ; and all three are among the
most beautiful examples of the Corinthian order in exist¬
ence—if indeed they are not pre-eminently so—and yet
they do not possess a single proportion in common. It
must be confessed, moreover, that if the Romans had not
good taste enough to admire the Doric and Ionic models
of Greece, they had too much to be fond of their own, for
they seldom used them. Both at home and abroad, in all
their conquests and colonies, wherever they built, they
employed the Corinthian order. Corinthian edifices were
raised in Iberia and in Gaul, in Istria and in Greece, in
Syria and in Egypt; and to the present day Nismes,1 Pola,
Athens, Palmyra, and the banks of the Nile, alike attest
the fondness of the Romans for that peculiar style. We
cannot agree with the generally received opinion, that
Greek architects were employed by the Romans after the
connection between the two countries took place; for the
difference between the Greek and Roman styles of archi¬
tecture is not merely in the preference given to one over
another peculiar mode of columnar arrangement and com¬
position, but a different taste pervades even the details:
though the mouldings are the same, they differ more in
spirit and character than do those of Greece and Egypt,
which certainly would not have been the case if Roman
architecture had been the work of Greek architects. In¬
deed, were it not for historical evidence, which cannot
absolutely be refuted, an examination and comparison of
the architectural monuments of the two countries would
lead an architect to the conclusion, that the Corinthian
order had its origin in Italy, and that the almost solitary
perfect example of it in Greece was the result of an acci¬
dental communication with that country, modified by Greek
taste ; or that the foliated style was common to both, with¬
out either being indebted to the other for it. The Ro¬
mans conquered Egypt as well as Greece, but we do not
find that they adopted any of the peculiarities of Egyptian
architecture. They carried away indeed the obelisks and
many of the sculptures of Egypt, as trophies of their con¬
quests or as ornaments of their city; but they neither made
obelisks nor qonstructed temples to Egyptian divinities in
the Egyptian style. If, however, Greek architects were ir
employed by the Romans, they must have made their ^
taste and mode of design conform to those of their con¬
querors much more readily than we can imagine they
would as the civilized slaves of barbarian masters; and it
is too clear to be disputed, that the Roman architecture
is a style essentially distinct from the Greek. This is
elucidated by the fact that many of the minor works of
sculpture in connection with architecture, such as candela¬
bra, vases, and various articles of household furniture dis¬
covered at the villa of Adrianus, near Rome, and at Her¬
culaneum and Pompeii, are fashioned and ornamented in
the Greek style, while others are as decidedly Roman in
those particulars; rendering it evident that such things
were either imported from Greece, or that Greek artists
and artisans were employed in Italy, who retained their
own national taste and modes of design. It is probable
nevertheless, that both the architects and artists, natives
of Rome, qualified their own less elegant productions by
reference to Greek models ; but that the Romans derived
their architecture entirely from the Greeks, may certainly
be disputed.
Half the extent and magnificence of the architectural
works of the Romans is attributable to their knowledge and
use of the arch, which enabled them, as we have already
intimated, to make small parallelopipedons of burnt earth
more extensively applicable to useful purposes than any
other material could be, from the greater cost of provid¬
ing and preparing it; whereas brick can, in almost every
place, be made on the spot in which it is wanted. There
is a very false notion abroad as to the richness of the ma¬
terials used for building in Rome, induced by the inflated
accounts of travellers and poets, who attempt to disguise
their ignorance, or their want of knowledge and taste, by
raving of Vitruvian proportions, and marble temples, pa¬
laces, and baths. The truth is, that Rome was built, not
of marble, nor even of stone, but of brick ; for in compari¬
son to the quantity of brick, it may be safely asserted that
there is more stone in London than there was in imperial
Rome. Almost all the structures of the Romans indeed
were of brick—their aqueducts, their palaces, their villas,
their baths, and their temples. Of the present remains, it
is only a few columns and their entablatures that are of
marble or granite, and two or three buildings of Traver¬
tine stone ;—all the rest are brick. The Colosseum, the
Mausoleum of Adrian, the Cloaca Maxima, the Temple of
Manly Fortune, and the ancient bridges on the Tiber, are
of Travertine stone ; the remaining columns of the more
splendid temples, the internal columns and their accessories
of the Pantheon, the exterior of the imperial arches, and
the cenotaphial columns of Trajanus and Antoninus, are
of marble : but the Imperial Mount of the Palatine, which
holds the ruins of the Palace of the Caesars, is but one
mass of brick; the Pantheon, except its portico and in¬
ternal columns, &c. is of brick ; the Temples of Peace, of
Venus and Rome, and of tylinerva Medica, are of brick;
and so, for the most part, were the walls of others, though
they may have been faced with marble or freestone. Ihe
Baths of Titus, of Caracalla, and of Diocletianus, are of
brick; the city walls are of brick; so are the extensive
remains of the splendid villa of Adrianus near Rome;
1 Bordeaux did. A century and a half ago there existed at Bordeaux very considerable remains of a most interesting Roman
edifice, of which no authentic record is preserved but a slight sketch by Renault, the architect of the great front of the Louvre, who
delineated it a few years before its destruction by the government, and who termed it one of the most magnificent and most entire o
the Roman monuments then remaining in France. The editor of the new edition of Stuart’s Athens, speaking of this, says, “ on tms
occasion the reflection presents itself, that while the Turks are reprobated for appropriating the columns of ancient Athens, in their
haste to raise a wall to defend their town from the predatory Albanians, here, in the vaunted age of Louis XIV. (in his kingdom
and under his government, may be added) the finest production of ancient architecture in France was more recklessly demolished o
make place for the fortifications of Bordeaux, deliberately constructed by Vauban ; and no architect, either of the city or government,
has preserved for posterity the details of so noble a monument.” (Antiquities of Athens, new edition, vol. iii. c. xi. p. 120.)
ARCHITECTURE.
)ry the villa of Mecaenas at Tivoli; the palaces of the Roman
■^..emperors and patricians at Baiae and in other parts of
Italy; and so, it may be said, are the remains of Hercu¬
laneum and Pompeii, for the houses in those cities are
generally built of alternate double courses of brick, and
courses of stone or lava. In most cases, at Rome and in
the provinces, stucco formed the surface which received
the decorations. From the above enumeration, it will ap¬
pear how much more variously the Romans built than any
jf their predecessors in civilization did. In Egypt we find no
indications of edifices of real utility or convenience, nothing
but temples and tombs,—and in Greece there is but a small
iddition to this list; but in Rome are found specimens of
ilmost every variety of structure that men in civilized
communities require. Much of this also may be attributed
:o the knowledge they possessed of the properties of the
irch, which may be considered among the most admirable
md useful discoveries ever made in the practical applica-
;ions of mechanical science. It entered into the composi-
;ion of every structure, and made the rudest and cheapest
material of more real value than the most costly. It not
jnly superseded the use of long stone beams, but wTas
constantly used in places where indeed joists of wood
vould have been much more convenient, giving support
o the opinion that even the Romans were not skilled in
he application of timber to their edifices ; though, on the
contrary, it is difficult to understand how Rome could
cecome subject to such a dreadful conflagration as that
vhich occurred in the reign of Nero, if timber had not
jeen employed in the ordinary houses of the city to a
nuch greater extent than would appear from existing re-
nains. The domestic structures of Herculaneum and Pom-
»eii were evidently never very susceptible of fire, from the
mall quantity of timber required in their construction;
nd discoveries which are made from time to time, of por-
ions of the ordinary houses of ancient Rome, under the
lavements of the modern city, evince that they were very
imilar to them in almost every particular. The infrequency
f stairs, and the meanness of those which exist, leading to
ipper apartments in the houses of those cities, leads to the
elief that the Romans seldom built above the ground story,
nd that their skill in carpentry was not very great; other-
dse they would more frequently have had recourse to so
asy and convenient a mode of extending room as upper
tories offer. There are, however, other things which tend
o prove that carpentry was well understood by the Ro-
ians; and the most remarkable is the bridge that Trajan
uilt over the Danube, the piers of which are said by Dion
assius to have been 150 feet high and 170 feet apart.
*ow, whether the bridge itself consisted of a wooden plat-
nm, as there is much reason to believe, or was of stone
iches, as the historian intimates, the skill which con-
tructed centring for the latter, or laid the platform from
ier to pier in the former case, of that immense extent,
as amazing; nevertheless, such skill in carpentry is not
vinced by the remains of the civic and domestic struc-
l ires of the Romans, in which arching in all its varieties
as used where carpentry would have been better. Of
ieir joinery ye know nothing; but it does not appear,
om the last-quoted mode of ascertaining such things, to
ave been much practised by them—mosaic pavements
jpp ying the place of flooring, and stucco that of wain-
mting: the luxury of windows being unknown, their
mgs were not required; and doors, it would appear,
ere uncommon, except externally—the internal door-
ajs being most probably covered with something equi-
ei? quilted leather mats suspended from the
1 e, w nch are used instead of swinging doors at the
a ranees of the churches in Italy at the present time,
lough the Romans did not use marble to the extent
419
that has been supposed, yet they were extremely luxurious Historv.
in the use of costly stones. Marbles of every variety, v—
and from all parts, were used in Rome ; and columns were
made of Egyptian and other granites, and porphyry. In
Greece, and the Grecian colonies which were conquered
by Rome, the edifices of the Romans might be distin¬
guished by the foreign marbles used in them, if the style
of their execution were not sufficient otherwise to deter¬
mine them.
The mingling of columnar and arcaded arrangements in
the same composition appears to have been the grand
cause of the deterioration of Roman architecture. It oc¬
casioned unequal and inordinately distended intercolum-
niations and broken entablatures: these a vitiated taste
repeated, where the necessity that had first occasioned
them did not exist; and harmony and simplicity being
thus destroyed, the practice of the science went on de-
teiiorating, till it was made to produce such monstrous
combinations as the Palace of Diocletian at Spalatro, and
the Temple of Pallas, or ruins of the Forum of Nerva in
Rome, present. It was indeed a fall from the grandeur,
harmony, and noble simplicity of the interior of the Pan¬
theon in its pristine state, to the hall or xystum of the
baths of Diocletian, which now exists as the church of
Santa Maria degli Angeli, with its straggling columns and
broken and imperfect entablature; or from the temple of
Jupiter Stator to that of Concord or the arch of Septi-
mius Severus.
Architecture was already extinct among the Romans
when the seat of empire was transferred to Constantinople;
so that, however great was the extent and splendour of
its edifices, we cannot suppose them to have possessed any
of those qualities which give to the Parthenon at Athens,
and to the interior of the Pantheon at Rome, the charm
they possess; unless the Greeks had recourse to the
monuments of their own country, and used them as founts
from which to draw matter for the composition of the edi¬
fices of their new capital. This, indeed, is possible, for
there appears to have been, even in Rome, at and after
the time of Constantine, a recurrence to the ancient sim¬
plicity, though, truly, without any of that beauty and
elegance of form in the details, and of proportion in the
general arrangement, which constitute half the merit of
works of architecture. The change of religion which
took place under Constantine led to the destruction or
destitution of many of the noblest structures in Rome.
The ancient Christian basilicas are for the most part con¬
structed of the ruins of the more ancient Pagan temples,
baths, and mausoleums; and in them a much greater degree
of simplicity, and consequent beauty, pervades the colum¬
nar arrangements than existed perhaps in some of the
previous combinations of the same materials. Frequently,
however, the collocation of various parts was most unapt;
and gross inconsistencies were recurred to, to get rid of
the difficulty of combining discordant fragments. Some¬
times it was necessary to make up with new, what was
wanting of old materials, whose forms were rudely imi¬
tated.
In those countries which received the Christian re-Gothic
ligion from Rome, but which did not contain mines of or Pointed
architectural material in temples, amphitheatres, and pa-architec-
laces, as Italy did, and indeed in the other parts of Italy ture‘
itself which did not contain them as Rom'e did, churches
were constructed in imitation of those of the metropolis
of the Christian world. These, being the work of a semi-
barbarous and unpolished people, were of necessity rude
and clumsy. Hence arose the Gothic architecture of the
middle ages, and not from any previously existing style
of architecture among the northern nations who overran
Italy and subverted the Roman power. The rude Celtic
ARCHITECTURE.
History, monuments were the only specimens of architecture they
possessed, and the performance of their unhallowed rites
appears to have been long transferred even from them to
the groves, or it may be that the stone circles and temples
themselves were called groves. This, however, is of but
little consequence to our purpose. The fact is indisput¬
able, that nothing existed among those nations that could
have given rise to the rude style of architecture referred
to, which was indeed introduced to them by the Christian
religion in the manner we have stated. It will be found
in what are called the Saxon and Norman styles of this
country, and to a greater or less extent in all the coun¬
tries of Europe in which the Romans had been masters,
and particularly in those which adhered to the Roman
communion in the great division of the churches. The
general forms and modes of arrangement peculiar to Ro¬
man architecture may be traced throughout; in some
specimens they are more, and in others less obvious, but
the leading features are the same. This is more evident
in Italy than elsewhere. In the early Roman basilicas and
churches, some of which are of the Constantinian age, and
which were constructed with the matter and in the man¬
ner related, the first divergencies occur; in those which
are later they are still greater, and distance of time and
place appears still to have increased them, till what may
be called a new style was formed, having peculiarities of
its own, but yet more clearly deducible from its origin
than Roman is from Greek or Greek from Egyptian. As
might be expected, this style was not the same in all the
countries which practised it; it was derived, in them all,
from the same source as we have shown, but was mate¬
rially influenced by the habits, manners, and state of civi¬
lization in which the various nations were, and much too
by their means of communication with Rome. This, with
strict propriety, may be called Gothic architecture, as it
was partly induced by the Gothic invasions of Italy, and
was most generally practised by the nations to whom that
term may with equal propriety be applied. It arose in
the fourth century, and was subverted in the twelfth by
the invention or introduction of the pointed arch, which
marks a new era, and was destined to give birth to a new
style in architecture. Where, when, and by whom it was
invented or originated, has been more discussed and dis¬
puted than the discovery of the properties of the arch it¬
self. Some have contended that it was suggested by the
intersections of semicircular arches, as they were employ¬
ed in ornamenting the fronts of edifices in the preceding
style; some, that groined arches of the same form gave
the idea; others have referred it to the interlacing of the
branches of trees when planted in parallel rows,—to an
imitation of wicker-work,—to a figure used on conventual
seals,—to the principle of the pyramid,—to Noah’s Ark,
—to chance. Its invention has been accorded to almost
every nation, civilized and uncivilized. It has been claim¬
ed by Germans for Germany, by Frenchmen for France,
by Scotsmen for Scotland, and by Englishmen for Eng¬
land. Italians have not directly laid claim to the honour
for themselves, but it has been given them by others.
Such a mass of conflicting opinions, almost all supported
by some show of reason, and more or less by evidence,
may be called a proof of the impossibility of determining
the question, and therefore we shall not attempt it. There
is one striking fact, however, which has been too much
overlooked by many of the theorists in the discussion of
the question ; it is, that the pointed arch made its appear¬
ance almost at the same moment of time in all the civi¬
lized countries of Europe. This is proved by the contro¬
versies of those who, more patriotically than philosophi¬
cally, claim its invention for their respective nations; for
none of them can produce genuine specimens of it before
a certain period, to which they can all reach. Now, if ^ jj;s.
had been invented in any of the European nations, that W
one would certainly have been able to show specimens of
it of a date considerably anterior to some of the others-
for though it might by chance have been soon communi-
cated to any one of them, the improbability is great that
it would have reached them all, and have been adopted
by all, to the subversion of their previously existing style
of architecture, immediately. The infrequent and im-
perfect modes of communication between the different
countries of Europe at the period referred to, furnish an¬
other reason why it is not probable that a discovery of
the kind should travel rapidly from one to another. Con-
' sidering these things, and particularly the fact of the al¬
most simultaneous introduction of the pointed arch to the
various nations of Europe, as it appears by their monu¬
ments immediately after the first crusade, in which they
all bore a part, connected with existing evidence that it
was commonly used in the East at and anterior to that
period, it seems to be the most rational theory, that a
knowledge of it was acquired by the crusaders in the
Holy Land, and brought home to their respective coun¬
tries by them. This, indeed, is the opinion of many of
those who have written on the subject; and without con¬
tending that the evidence in its favour is quite conclu¬
sive, we think it more satisfactory than any other. In
Europe there are found rude approaches to the pointed
arch in some of the earlier Gothic structures; but we
believe it may be safely asserted, that nothing can be
indicated of a date beyond that of the first crusade, ap¬
proaching the simple but perfect lancet arch, which, it
is not denied, came into use immediately after that pe¬
riod ; whereas tolerably well authenticated examples of
it are found in the East, of sufficient antiquity to in¬
duce the opinion that it was at that time imported from
thence. It is, moreover, indisputable that the Saracenic
or Mahometan nations do use, and have used, the point¬
ed arch; but they were never known to adopt any Eu¬
ropean custom or invention of any kind till very lately.
How then can they be supposed to have availed them¬
selves so readily as they must have done, if it be of Eu¬
ropean origin, of so unlikely a thing to attract a Mos¬
lem’s attention, as the peculiar form and structure of an
arch f and when and where in Europe had they an oppor¬
tunity of contemplating it till long after it is admitted to
have been in common use among them ? With what na¬
tion of the East, and in what manner, the pointed arch ori¬
ginated, are points equally difficult to solve. We have
not been able to discover that the properties of the arch
were known to the Egyptians or the Greeks, and much
less so were they to the Persians and Indians, till it may
have been communicated from Italy; but structures are
found among those nations, in which chambers are domed,
and apertures headed, in the form of a pointed arch,
but produced by battering or corbelling over. It is not
improbable, therefore, that such things being before the
eyes of men, when the principles of the arch had been ac¬
quired, that form would be repeated upon it, and the re¬
sult would be the lancet arch,—the prototypp, the germot
the style. The pointed arch, on its introduction into Eu¬
rope, does not appear to have been accompanied by its
ordinary accessories in after-time ; its light clustered pi -
]ars—its mullions, foliations or featherings, and gracefu
tracery—these resulted from its adoption: so that whe¬
ther the arch itself was invented in Europe, or importe
from the East, to the European nations must be assigne
the credit of educing the beautiful style of architecture
whose distinguishing feature it is.
It may be doubted whether Venice was not the Paren,
of the style, for very early specimens of the pointed arc
ARCHIT
t. re certainly found there, in private houses as well as in
basilica of St Mark. In the former they are gene-
illy of the ogee or contrasted form, in windows formed by
olumns or mullions, with, in certain places, approaches to
)liations and tracery; and in the basilica the lancet arch
, not uncommon. The commercial connection of that city
■ith the eastern nations may easily account for its presence
lere,even before the first crusade; and Venice is known
) have been one of the thoroughfares from the other
arts of Europe to the Holy Land. But the peculiar
lode of arrangement in the Venetian style does not ap-
ear to have been adopted north of the Alps; so that,
owever original it may be, it can hardly be considered
le progenetrix of the school, or the model on which it was
irmed. '
Before proceeding further with this subject, it is neces-
iry to determine by what name to call the style whose
•ogress we have yet to contemplate. There would be
) greater propriety in calling it Saracenic because its dis-
nctive feature originated in the East, even if that point
ere conceded, than in calling all architectural combina-
ons which derive their character from the use of co-
mns in them by the name of the nation in whose works
e find columns first used, and from whom the idea of
iem may have been acquired. Neither can it with any
;gree of fitness be called Gothic: that term, we have
en, applies to the style that preceded it, and was first
ven to the pointed-arch style opprobriously, during the
Fuscation of good taste that succeeded its subversion,
i Italy it had never taken root, as in the countries north
' the Alps—the ancient Roman monuments having con-
nued to influence the national architecture, it would ap-
,>ar, throughout the middle ages; for the ecclesiastical
ructures of that country, though rude, were never so
ide as they were in other places, and a better style had
i far formed itself before the introduction of the pointed
rch, that it was hardly received there. Indeed, whatever
lifices of merit Italy possesses in its manner, are, with
irdly an exception, by German architects, few Italians
iving ever qualified themselves to practise it. When,
erefore, what has been called “ the revival of architec-
re” took place in the fifteenth century, under Brunel-
schi and his successors, the rude structures of their own
•untry, the precursors and contemporaries of our Saxon
iid Norman edifices, were called Gothic ; but the pointed
yle was always distinguished as the German manner,
laniera Tedesca. The disgrace of applying the oppro-
ious term Gothic to it attaches itself to an Englishman,
r Henry Wotton, who wrote on architecture early in the
yenteenth century. It was continued by Evelyn, who ap-
ied it more directly; and the authority of Sir Christo-
ier Wren finally settled its application. Its injustice is,
wever, rendered very obvious, by comparing the front
A Pisa cathedral, the best example, perhaps, of Gothic,
merely deteriorated Roman architecture, with that of
ork Minster, which holds an equal rank in the pointed
'yle. Ihe presence of the pointed arch, on the singular
icntal-looking cupola of the former, shows it to be one
the latest edifices in its style, overtaken by that before
was completely finished. Within the last half-century
better taste has been formed, in this country particu-
fly, and has led to the appreciation of that, which is, in-
vd, our national style; and within that period many
tempts have been made to explode the universally-de-
let ’ unjust, and totally irrelevant appellation, but with-
it effect. Sir Christopher Wren himself attempted to
<uige it to Saracenic, believing that not merely the arch,
it tlie style generally, was borrowed from the Saracens,
"as, however, too late—he had already used the other.
r otukely wished to call it Arabian. Some writers called
E C T U R E.
it Italian, others German, others Norman or French
others British, and many have contended for the exclu¬
sive term English ; and to this last the Society of Anti¬
quaries lent its influence, but with equal inefficiency, for
the term Gothic still prevails. Mr Britton, than whom
perhaps no man possesses an equal right to affix an appel¬
lation to the pointed-arch style, from the splendid services
he has done it in the publication of his Cathedral and Ar¬
chitectural Antiquities, wishes to introduce a term which
is not at all unlikely to succeed, as it is equally appro¬
priate and independent of national feeling and hypothetic
origin. He calls it Christian architecture. This, as a
generic term, would admit each nation possessing speci¬
mens of it to distinguish its own species or style; and as
the varieties of Hellenic architecture are known by the
names of the tribes or nations who are presumed to have
originated them—Dorian, Ionian, and Corinthian—so might
Christian architecture be English or British, German,
French, &c. for each has its peculiarities. These species
would again individually admit of classification, according
to the changes each underwent in the course of its career.
One strong objection, however, in our view of the case,
lies to Mr Britton’s distinctive appellation. It is, that
“ Christian” applies as well, if not better, to the real
Gothic style—that which arose on the extinction of Roman
architecture, and was subverted by the introduction of
the pointed arch, and which, indeed, owed its diffusion
and progress, if not its origin, to the Christian religion.
We are therefore still left to seek an appellation; and, in
the absence of a better, will use the term Pointed, which
is not only distinctive, but descriptive; and it has, too, the
merit of being general, so that it may mark the genus,
while the national species and their varieties may be dis¬
tinguished by their peculiarities as before.
The Pointed Arch was a graft on the Gothic architec¬
ture of northern Europe, as the circular arch of the Ro¬
mans had been on the columnar ordinances of the Greeks;
but with a widely different result. The amalgamation in
the latter case destroyed the beauty of both the stock
and the scion; while in the former the stock lent itself to
the modifying influence of its parasitical nursling, gradu¬
ally gave up its heavy, dull, and cheerless forms, and was
eventually lost in its beautiful offspring, as the unlovely
caterpillar is in the gay and graceful butterfly.
We have seen that architecture had its origin in reli¬
gious feelings and observances—that its noblest monu¬
ments among the pagan nations of antiquity were temples
to the divinity—that the rude nations of the north in the
middle ages devoted their energies, after their conversion
to Christianity, to the construction of edifices for the
worship of the Almighty; and we find, again, that the
most extensive and most splendid structures raised by the
same people, when the light of learning had begun to
shine upon them, and a new and more beautiful style of
architecture was introduced, were dedicated to the same
purpose. In addition, however, many, hardly less mag¬
nificent, and not less beautiful, were raised for the pur¬
poses of education, and became the nurseries of science
and literature. Kings and nobles also employed architec¬
ture in the composition, arrangement, and decoration of
their palaces and castles; but still, for domestic purposes,
its aid was hardly required beyond the carving grotesque
ornaments on the wooden fronts of houses in towns.
When the practice of building houses in stories com¬
menced cannot be correctly ascertained; but it appears to
have arisen during the middle ages. We frequently, in¬
deed, find an apparent equivalent for the term story used
by the ancient writers, both sacred and profane; but it
must have reference to something else—some peculiarity
of which we are not aware; for none of the ancient re-
422
ARCHITECTURE.
History.
mains, whether of public or private structures, give rea*
' Son to believe that it was a common practice eveiV among
the Romans; much less was it likely to be so among the
eastern nations, with whom the practice is not very gene¬
ral, nor is it carried to great extent even at the present
day. Indeed, without considerable proficiency in the art
of construction, it is hardly practicable to build in stories
with such slight materials as were used by the Romans m
their domestic edifices; and their remains do not evince
the requisite degree of proficiency. We find, however,
in the oldest existing works of the middle ages, and par¬
ticularly in some of the secular structures of Venice which
are among them, a degree of intelligence evinced in that
respect far surpassing any thing in those ot the ancients.
Possibly the skill was principally acquired in that city
from the necessity of making artificial foundations, in the
first place, which in their turn exacted walls not unne¬
cessarily cumbrous; and to make slight ones sufficiently
strong, they must be skilfully bonded in themselves, and
bound together, which could only be done by means of a
material possessing considerable length and great fibrous
tenacity—whence framed floors of timber. These, by
their strength, their obvious utility and convenience, add¬
ed to the want of space which existed in a thriving and
populous community on a very restricted spot of dry
land, superinduced, in the second place, the building of
additional stories, which would soon be imitated in other
places. But in what manner soever the improvement
took place, the fact is certain that the acquisition was
made; and we find it applied in all the works of the Euro¬
pean nations, both ecclesiastical and civil, from the ninth
and tenth centuries downwards. The combination of
masonry and carpentry in building tended greatly to the
advancement of both; for, it being required at times to
make them act independently of each other, additional
science and art were necessary, as the proportions must
be retained that were given to similar works in which they
co-operated. Hence the wondrous skill evinced in the
vaulted roofs and ceilings, in the towers and lofty spires,
of some of our Pointed cathedrals for the one, and the
splendid piece of construction in the roof of Westminster
Hall for the other. To this point Sir William Chambers,
who was no depreciator of the merits of the Romans in
architecture, says, “ In the constructive part of architec¬
ture the ancients do not seem to have been great profi¬
cients i”1 then having referred many of what he calls the
“ deformities observable in Grecian buildings” to want of
skill in construction, he continues, “ neither were the Ro¬
mans much more skilful; the precepts of Vitruvius and
Pliny on that subject are imperfect, sometimes erroneous,
and the strength or duration of their structures is more
owing to the quantity and goodness of their materials
than to any great art in putting them together. It is not,
therefore, from any of the ancient works that much infor¬
mation can be obtained in that branch of the art. To
those usually called Gothic architects we are indebted for
the first considerable improvement in construction. There
is a lightness in their works, an art and boldness of execu¬
tion, to which the ancients never arrived, and which the
moderns comprehend and imitate with difficulty. Eng¬
land contains many magnificent specimens of this species
of architecture, equally admirable for the art with which
they are built, the taste and ingenuity with which they are
composed.”
Pointed architecture took root and grew with the great- ] L
est vigour in Gei'many and Great Britain, and in those^ ^
provinces, principally, of France which were connected
with England; but in this country its course is the most
marked, and its advances are the most easily traceable.
We find in various portions of the same edifice, according
to the period of its construction, exemplifications of the
stylesfrom the ingrafting of the simple lancet arch on the
Norman or Gothic piers in the time of Henry II. to the
highly enriched groinings and ramified traceries of the
age of Henry VII.; but the changes are so gradual, and
are so finely blended, that the one in advance appears natu¬
rally to result from that which comes before it. Whether
the nations of the Continent, then, borrowed from us, or
were themselves originators, it is very clear that we did
not borrow; for our structures bear the strongest pos¬
sible marks of originality, as the advances can be traced
from one thing to another on them; and such is not so com¬
pletely the case with theirs. Moreover, the latest manner,
and certainly not the least beautiful, the Corinthian order
of Pointed architecture, is almost peculiar to this country.
Neither Germany nor France can produce edifices in the
style of St George’s Chapel at Windsor, King’s College
Chapel at Cambridge, and Henry VII.’s Chapel at West¬
minster. The structures of Scotland in the Pointed style
so much resemble those of England, that they must be
considered of the same school; Roslin Chapel is one of
the few specimens which indicate a connection with the
Continent. Ireland contains but few examples in any
degree of perfection, and they are, of course, of the Eng¬
lish school. The German school was next in merit to the
English in the practice of Pointed architecture. In the
extent and magnificence of its attempts, perhaps, that
country excelled; but few of the great structures in Ger¬
many were ever completed. In regularity, however, they
have generally an advantage over those of England, being
mostly in the same manner throughout, as far as they
were carried; whereas few of the greater edifices of this
country were begun and completed without considerable
variations in the style. But the Germans were never so
successful in the splendour and beauty of their interiors as
the English; indeed in that particular our Pointed struc¬
tures are strikingly superior to every other: nor is their
ornament generally so effective as ours. The blemish
style of Pointed architecture is hardly a variety of the
German, but maybe classed with it through the whole
course of its history. Italy, we have said, possesses but
few structures in the Pointed style, and they are for the
most part the work of German architects, which their
appearance indeed bespeaks. Milan cathedral, or “ the
Duomo,” as it is called, is the most renowned edifice in
the style that Italy contains; but it has few beauties in
the eyes of those who are accustomed to the models of
Great Britain, Normandy, and Germany. The Patri¬
archal Church of St Mark at Venice is a genus per se. n
was constructed by a Constantinopolitan architect in the
ninth or tenth century, and may be a specimen of the ar¬
chitecture of the Byzantine capital at that time. The few
examples in Sicily of the pointed arch may be attribute
to the Norman conquerors of that island; and so indee
may most of those which are found in the continenta
part of the same kingdom. Although France contains
many fine specimens of Pointed architecture, it can har y
be considered indigenous to that country. On the Ger-
 t  To this Mr Gwilt, in his new edition of Sir uc ^   
William’s work, adds in a note, “ there is more construe- man frontier they resemble the German style; and in
tive skill shown in Salisbury, and others of our cathedrals, provinces which were formerly connected with Eng an ^
than in all the works of the ancients put together.” they are different, and more like the English styles. cer
1 G wilt’s Chambers's Civ. Arch. p. 128.
ARCHITECTURE.
isW
tain it is, that after their connection with this country
was broken off, its practice fell into disuse, and nothing
of consequence in it was posteriorly produced in any of
them. This fact is an argument against the presumption
that England was indebted to Normandy and Norman
architects for its improvements in Pointed architecture ;
it tends rather to prove the opposite. It must be con¬
fessed, moreover, that there is an air of cumbrous mas¬
siveness in the Pointed style of Normandy which renders
it peculiar, and perhaps marks its more close relationship
with the earlier Norman Gothic. Like the German
examples, too, those of France are generally inferior in in¬
ternal richness and beauty to those of England. Pointed
architecture in Spain never acquired that degree of con¬
sistency and elegance which might justify us in speaking
of the Spanish specimens of it as forming a style. The
edifices in Spain of the ages of Pointed architecture are
more in accordance with the Moorish than with the Euro¬
pean manner, and may perhaps be more correctly con¬
sidered as an off-shoot of the former than of the latter.
Though not in the Pointed style, the Moorish or Saracenic
structures in Spain may be referred to here. They are
in a very peculiar manner, which, it would appear, their
authors brought with them from the East. Probably it
grew out of some of the earlier styles of architecture, as
the Gothic and Pointed did out of the Roman, and was not
the result of design. The really distinctive feature of the
Saracenic style is the horse-shoe arch, which is the greater
segment of an ellipsis, nearly, on a conjugate chord. The
columns from which the arches are sprung are slender,
and the superincumbent masses are broad and heavy,
giving an air of the intermingling of Chinese and Egyp¬
tian, both of which this style may be said to assimilate.
The enrichments of Saracenic architecture are very much
confined to flat surfaces, the walls being sculptured all
over with monotonous ornaments, which produce an eifect
very similar to that produced by the hieroglyphics on the
flat surfaces of the Egyptian temples, and possibly were
derived from them. The most distinguished monument
of this style in Spain is the Alhamra at Granada. The
most distinguished specimen of Pointed architecture in
Portugal is the church of the convent of Eatalha, which
was constructed by an Irish architect, who appears to
have modified the style of his own country (the English),
by the manner of the country itself, which is nearly that
of Spain.
What the expansive dome is to Roman architecture, the
graceful spire is to Pointed. Bell-towers appear to have
been added to Christian churches at a very early period;
hut it is much to be doubted whether the pyramidal pin¬
nacle or spire was ever used before the introduction of
the pointed arch, though one or two doubtful examples
exist. These, certainly the earliest specimens of it, are
simple cones, whose vertical bisection would be nearly an
equilateral triangle: the angle at the apex was gradually
made less, and as it diminished the altitude was increased,
ti at length resulted an object even more beautiful than
^ ,Sypt*an obelisk, which would of itself indeed be a
sufficient warranty for the appellation we have given to the
st} e that it crowns. The spire was at first round, solid,
am unornamented; it then became polygonal, and finally
oc agonal, though there are examples of square spires.
icy were sometimes plainly ribbed, sometimes crocket-
in ’ a” i iln some ^stances were pierced; and were almost
variably surmounted by a rich finial in the style of or-
ament peculiar to the time of its execution. In some
for the guidance of the traveller and the distant parish¬
ioner; and adduces as evidence, the fact, that in the hilly'
parts of England spires are hardly to be found except in
modern churches. The old village church on a hill has a
plain square tower, merely consisting of about two cubes,
which can be seen at the greatest distance the nature of
the country will allow any object to be distinguished;
whereas in the level parts of the country, where a low
tower would be lost amidst the foliage of its own church¬
yard, and be completely indistinguishable at a very short
distance, spires are their almost invariable accompani¬
ment. It may be added, that the tapering spire is almost
unknown in Italy and France, except Normandy; and in
no part of the Continent is it so common as in this coun¬
try.
We have already given our reasons for thinking that
the pointed arch originated in the East; but whether it did
or did not, it has been very extensively used in various
parts of Asia, and nowhere in more sumptuous edifices,
or to such effect, as by the Mohammedan conquerors of
India in various parts of that country.
The opening of the Italian school of architecture on Italian
the resuscitated dogmas of Vitruvius was the signal for school of
the extinction of that of the beautiful Pointed style. For-arcllitec-
tunately, however, its effects were a full century in reach-ture’
ing this country, and during that period many of our
most elegant structures came into being; and many of
those of earlier date which had been commenced before,
or during the w^ars of the Roses, and left unfinished, were
completed. The first indication we have of the pre¬
sence of the Cinquecentist, the real Gothic, is in the tomb
of Henry VII., which was executed by Torregiano, an
Italian artist, who, it would appear, was obliged to have
some respect to the style of the edifice in which his work
was to rest; but his preconceived ideas of propriety and
beauty were too strong to allow him to omit the cha¬
racteristics of his school, and the result is a strange mix¬
ture of both. From that time the Pointed style was
rapidly deteriorated, being overborne by the devices of
Italy. On the Continent the latter were already predo¬
minant, for during the whole of the fifteenth century the
o'Ses tie whole structure was a pyramis or spire, and in
Th:rere rested on a rectangular and upright tower,
at fi f6)!' -i ’ B™les has suggested that the spire was
rs °uilt on the bell-tower as a beacon or land-mark
current had been setting from Italy over every part of
Europe which received its religion from Rome; and this
country was only the last to be overwhelmed by it. Be¬
fore quitting the part of the subject having reference to
our national style of architecture, it may be well to con¬
trovert the absurd but too prevalent idea, that we are in¬
debted to foreigners, and particularly Italians, for the ex¬
cellence of our ancient works. After what has been al¬
ready said, perhaps it may be unnecessary to do so here,
seeing that we have described our specimens of the Point¬
ed style as being not only fully equal in composition, con¬
struction, and execution to those of any other country,
but that they are absolutely in a different manner, having
peculiarities which no other nation has ever equalled in
beauty and elegance. But, to put the case in a clear point
of view : If foreigners were employed to design and ex¬
ecute for us, it is not less strange that they should sur¬
pass their own works at home, than that they should make
inventions and improvements for us (or let them be call¬
ed mere variations) which were not in turn executed in
their own countries. We know very well that works of
architecture and sculpture which have been executed by
foreigners in this country, since the explosion of Pointed
architecture, are in the style of Italy or France, and not
according to the manner prevalent in this country at the
time of their execution. Moreover, for one whole cen¬
tury this nation alone adhered to the Pointed s-tyle, dur¬
ing which works were produced, that, for originality, exu¬
berance of fancy, and beauty, spirit, and excellence of ex»
424
ARCHITECTURE.
History.
ecution, have been seldom equalled and never surpassed;
'while all the architects, artists, and workmen ot the Con¬
tinent were rendered totally unable to assist us by the
change which had taken place in their practice. It this
required proof, it is proved in the case of Torregiano
just referred to, who sculptured Henry VII. s tomb, and
in that of Hans Holbein, who designed architectural works
for us in the classical manner; and if the I orregianos
and Holbeins had been employed during the 15th century,
would they not have done the same ?
If the architecture of Italy never tell away so much
from the more classic style of Imperial Rome as that of
the northern nations did, neither did that country ever
possess that more than equivalent, whose splendid course
we have last noticed. Whilst the Pointed style was al¬
most exclusively known and practised in Germany, France,
and the British Islands, the Italians were gradually im¬
proving on their Gothic style; yet the improvement was
more evinced in their secular than in theii ecclesiastical
structures. Florence, Bologna, Ferrara, Venice, and many
other cities of Italy, contain palaces and mansions of the
twelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth centhries, which for
simplicity and classical beauty far excel most of those in
the same and other places of the three subsecutive cen¬
turies. The contemporary churches, however, do not ex¬
hibit the same degree of improvement, forming, as it were,
an anomaly in the history of architecture; a change in it
being first developed in secular structures, and then ap¬
plied to those devoted to the worship of the divinity; for
many of the churches of the fifteenth century are in this,
which may be called the early Italian style, or Trecento, as
that which followed it is known as the Cinquecento.1 Cir¬
cular arches, and plain continuous horizontal cornices, and
pilasters but slightly projected, with simple but generally
tasteful and elegant enrichments of foliage and carved
mouldings, are the most striking characteristics of the Tre¬
cento ; but columns, and the arrangements depending on
them, except as collocated with pilasters, are very infre¬
quent in it. In various parts of Italy, and particularly in
Venice and some of the Venetian cities, this style pro¬
duced many of its best works, both secular and ecclesias¬
tical, even during the fifteenth century; but it gradually
gave way to, though in some instances its influence may
be traced even when it had been overborne by, the new
style.
The first step taken towards the reformation of archi¬
tecture was by Filippo Brunelleschi, a Florentine archi¬
tect, who was employed to finish the cathedral or duomo
of his native city early in the 15th century; a work which
had been commenced more than a century before on the
design of Arnolpho, a Florentine also, but which still re¬
quired the cupola when its completion was intrusted to
Brunelleschi. The edifice is in the Italian Gothic style,
slightly modified by what we have termed the Trecento,
which his superior taste and talent induced him to at¬
tempt to supersede, and bring the world back to the clas¬
sic style of ancient Rome. The construction of the cupola
gained him great reputation and the confidence of the pub¬
lic, which he employed to advance his favourite scheme.
To use the words of an Italian writer on the subject,
“ On the example of so wise and skilled a man, other
architects afterwards devoted themselves to free architec¬
ture of the monstrosities introduced by barbarism and ex¬
cessive license, and to restore it to its primitive simplicity
and dignity.”2 But to what did they have recourse to ef¬
fect this ? Did they examine and study the remains of iSl0
antiquity in Greece and Rome, in Italy and elsewhere?|v
No! they referred to the writings of an obscure Latin
author, who professed to give the principles and practice
of architecture among the Greeks and Romans, but paid
no more attention to the existing architectural works of
those nations than if they had never been, although one
could hardly walk the streets of any of the old cities in
the south of Italy without seeing Roman edifices, whilst
Rome and its vicinity was, as it still is, full of them. All
the use, however, that these self-called “ restorers” of
architecture made of the works of the ancients, was to use
them as lay-figures, or frame-work, to model on, according
to the proportions and directions given by Vitruvius; and
the effect was formality and mannerism in those who ad¬
hered to the dogmas of the school, and wild grotesqueness
in those who allowed themselves to wander from them,
whilst simplicity, and its consequence good taste, were
effectually banished from the works of them all.
It will be necessary here, perhaps, before we advance
further in our remarks on the Italian school, to disabuse
the public mind as to the merit of the works of Vitruvius,
whose anilities have so long passed for authorities, that a
writer would be suspected of prejudice who spoke of them
slightingly without adducing reason and evidence to prove
them valueless; except, indeed, as records of the architec¬
tural practice, and the opinions and acquirements of an ar¬
chitect of a distant age. It is of very little consequence
that Vitruvius is only known by his own writings, but that
mention of him by a contemporary or other ancient author
would probably determine the age in which he lived.
From several things he mentions, and his inscription or
dedication to the “ Imperator Caesar,” it has been con¬
cluded that he lived in the time of Augustus ; but certain¬
ly without sufficient reason; for if the man he speaks of
as the son of Masinissa had been the son ot the celebrat¬
ed Numidian of that name, in the course of nature neither
he nor Vitruvius could have lived to the time of Augustus.
But he addresses an emperor who succeeded his father
an emperor, and speaks of a temple of Augustus; so that
he must have been a contemporary of some period of the
empire. If that period had been the Augustan, he would
doubtlessly have made some reference to some of the
many distinguished men of that age, or have been refer¬
red to by some of them if he had himself been at all
known or distinguished as his admirers insist he was;
neither of which is the case; and, moreover, his language
is not that of an educated man of the Augustan age.
This, however, does not affect the merit of his work as
a treatise on architecture; but his fables about the ori¬
gin of building, the invention of the orders, and the ar¬
rangements which grew out of certain modes of construc¬
tion, do so; by proving his total ignorance not only o
the architectural works of the more ancient eastern na¬
tions, but of those of Greece itself, which he professes to
describe. Now his classical taste, in consequence of Ins
knowledge of antiquity, is vaunted by Perrault, one o
his commentators, and given by him as a reason why
truvius was not much employed by the whimsical Romans
in their love of variety, to which he would not administer
How far his knowledge of antiquity, that is, according tc
himself, of the works of the Greeks, extended, may <■
readily determined by comparing the designs of Gree
structures, made by Perrault and others, according c
the directions of Vitruvius, with the Greek structure.
- Cinquecento means literally Jive hundred, but it is used as a contraction for fifteen hundred, or rather for one thousand Jiveftundr^
by the omission of mille, the century in which the revival of architecture, of which we are about to speak, took place; and the man
consequent is so designated. Trecento would be three hundred, or the third, for the thirteenth century.
2 Le Fab. e i Disegni. di A. Palladio da O. B. Scamozzi, tomo i. p. 4.
ARCHITECTURE.
425
themselves as they exist at the present time, and are
yV faithfully delineated in various modern works, but espe¬
cially in Stuart and Revett’s Antiquities of Athens. It
is indeed not less strange than true, that not a single ex¬
ample of Greek architecture will bear out a single rule
which Vitruvius prescribes, professedly on its authority;
and not an existing edifice, or fragment of an edifice, in
form or proportion, is in perfect accordance with any law
of that author, nor indeed are they generally referable to
the principles he lays down. Examples might be cited
almost to infinity in support of this statement, and to
prove the inutility of a work consisting of mere descrip¬
tions without delineations, even if it were otherwise cor¬
rect. The latter may certainly be supplied from the an¬
cient remains when they exist; but to a man in posses¬
sion of the specimens, descriptions and directions for
their composition are quite unnecessary. Even Sir Wil¬
liam Chambers, a distinguished disciple of the Italian or
Vitruvian school, speaks very lightly of the advantage to
be gained from the study of the Vitruvian principles of
construction ; and Mr Gwilt, in the introductory treatises
to and notes on Sir William Chambers’s work, has done
much to undermine the authority, by exposing the absur¬
dities and fallacies of the Magnus Apollo of pseudo-classi¬
cal architecture. A student would acquire as correct a
knowledge of history and geography from the Seven
Champions of Christendom and Gulliver’s Travels, as of
architecture from the text of Vitruvius !
The adoption of the Vitruvian laws by the Italian archi¬
tects of the 15th century led to the formation of the
“ Five Orders.” It will have been observed that, in
speaking of the course of Greek and Roman architecture,
the Doric, Ionic, and Corinthian styles were mentioned.
Vitruvius describes, in addition to these, another, which
he calls Tuscan—possibly a style of columnar arrange¬
ment peculiar to Italy, and most likely of Etrurian ori¬
gin; but, in the absence of delineations, the Cinquecentists
could only apply the proportions he laid down for it, to
what appeared to approximate them in the ancient re¬
mains; and hence arose a fourth, or “ the Tuscan Order.”
It is, however, a mere modification of the Roman debase¬
ment of the Doric, and may be considered, in its present
form, as of purely modern Italian origin. The same
“ Revivers,” on looking among the ruins of ancient Rome
for the forms of their Vitruvian orders, found specimens
of a foliated ordinance, which the bad taste of the Ro¬
mans had compounded of the foliated and voluted styles of
the Greeks. This was seized upon as a fifth style, sub¬
jected to certain rules and proportions, and called “ the
Composite Order,” The very poor Roman specimens of
Doric and Ionic fitted themselves without much difficulty
to the Vitruvian laws; but the examples Rome afforded of
the Corinthian were less tractable, and being as various
as they are generally beautiful, they were all passed over,
and their places supplied by a mere changeling—an epitome
ot the Vitruvian theory. Thus we have the “ Five Orders”
ot the Italo-Vitruvian school, and in this manner they
are arranged; First, the Tuscan, of which there is no re¬
cognised example of antiquity, but which owes its form
to the descriptions of Vitruvius and the fancies of the re¬
vivers ; second, the Doric, a poor and tasteless arrangement
of the general features of the style on a Roman model;
third, the Ionic, which is almost as great a debasement of
the Cirecian originals, and was produced in the same
manner as the last-mentioned; fourth, the Corinthian, a
something totally unlike the ancient examples of both
Creece and Rome in beauty and spirit; andj^/f/it/i, the
Composite, an inelegant variety of the Corinthian, or a
ubrid mixture of the horned or angular-ionic volutes,
with a deep necking of the foliage of the preceding order.
vol. in.
The first to publish this system was Leon Battista Al- History,
berti, a pupil of Brunelleschi. He has been followed by
many others, the most distinguished of whom are, Pal¬
ladio, Vignola, Scamozzi, Serlio, and De Lorme, archi¬
tects ; and Barbaro, a Venetian prelate, and an esteemed
translator of, and commentator on, Vitruvius. None of
these, it must be understood, agreed with any other of
them, but each took his own view of the meaning of
their common preceptor; and yet none of their produc¬
tions evince the slightest approach to the elegance of
form and beauty of proportion which distinguish the
classic models of the columnar architecture of antiquity.
Palladio and Serlio were the first to publish delineations
and admeasurements of the Roman architectural remains
in Italy; but the total absence of verisimilitude to the
originals, and, in many cases, the absolute misrepresen¬
tations, in both works, prove how incompetent the au¬
thors were to appreciate their merits; and the exagge¬
ration of their defects proves with equal clearness the
general bad taste of the school in which they are masters.
The worst qualities of the Roman school of architecture
were embraced and perpetuated by the Cinquecento.
The inharmonious and unpleasing combinations which
arose out of the collocation of arches with columnar ordi¬
nances became the characteristics of the Italian ; unequal
intercolumniations, broken entablatures, and stylobates,
enter alike into the productions of the best and of the worst
of the Cinquecento architects. The style of this school
is marked, too, by the constant attachment of columns
and their accessories to the fronts or elevations of build¬
ings ; by the infrequency of their use in insulated (their
natural) positions to form porticoes and colonnades; by
the thinness or want of breadth in the smaller members
of their entablatures, and the bad proportion of the larger
parts, into which they are divided, to one another; by
the general want of that degree of enrichment which
fluting imparts to columns; by the too great projection
of pilasters, and the inconsistent practice of diminishing,
and sometimes fluting them; by the use of circular and
twisted pediments, and the habit of making breaks in
them to suit the broken ordinance they may crown; and
by various other inconsistencies and deformities, which
will be rendered more evident when we come to treat of
the style in detail. The merit of the Italian school con¬
sists in the adaptation and collocation of the prolate hemi-
spheroidal cupola, which appears to have grown out of
its opposite in the Roman works during the Gothic ages,
as we find it in the early cathedrals; though it is highly
probable that the idea was brought from the East, in the
forms exhibited by the cupolas of St Marks at Venice,
and of Pisa cathedral. A very noble style of Palatial
architecture also was practised by many of the Italian
architects. It consists of the use of a grand crowning
cornice, running in one unbroken line, unsurmounted by
an attic, or any thing of the kind, superimposing a broad,
lofty, and generally well-proportioned front, made into
graceful compartments, but not storied, by massive block¬
ing courses and other things, which are at the disposal of
the judicious architect. Not unfrequently, however, the
faults of the school interfere to injure a composition of
this kind; for, to produce variety in the decorations of the
windows; some of them have been made like doors, with
distyle arrangements of columns, surmounted by alterna¬
tions of circular and angular pediments, and sometimes
with all the vagaries which deform the front of an Italian
church. It is indeed the ecclesiastical architecture of
the school in which its faults are most rife and its
merits most rare. An Italian church possesses nothing
of the stern simplicity and imposing grandeur of an
Egyptian sacred structure—nothing of the harmonious
426
ARCHITECTURE.
History, beauty and classic dignity of a Grecian fane—nothing
of the ornate and attractive elegance of a Roman temple
—and nothing truly of the glittering grace and capti¬
vating harmony of a Pointed cathedral. No other style
of architecture presents so great a contrast, in any
two species of its productions, as the Italian does, in
one of its ordinary church fronts, with the front of
a nobleman’s mansion or palace, in the manner already
referred to; and in no city of Italy is the contrast so
strong, by the egregiousness of the examples it contains
of both, as Rome. The stately portico is hardly known in
Italian architecture; and in the rare cases which exist in it
of insulated columns, they are for the most part so meagre
in themselves, and so thinly set, according to the Vitru-
vian laws, that the effect produced by them is poor and
wretched in the extreme. This applies most particular¬
ly to Italy itself: in some other countries, and especially
in this, those architects wdio have been of the Italian
school have generally preferred the proportions and ar¬
rangements which they found in the Roman examples of
antiquity, to those laid down by their Italian masters.
Still, Italian church architecture boasts the cupola,—cer¬
tainly its redeeming feature; and the architects of Italy
must have full credit for the use they have made of it, both
internally and externally. Perhaps no two edifices display
more, and in a greater degree, both the merits and de¬
fects of the school which produced them, than the Far-
Pl. LXIX. nese palace and the basilica of St Peter in Rome. The
and LXX. principal front of the former edifice is exquisite in its pro¬
portions, but frittered in its details. It has an immense
crowning cornice, whose general effect is surpassingly
grand; but the mouldings are too much projected, and its
vertical parts want the breadth which the blocking courses
possess. The lowest of its thi’ee tiers of windows is cha¬
racterized by the most charming simplicity and good
taste in almost every particular; but the other two are
crowded with sins against both those qualities, in the
dressings of the windows. The cortile and back front,
though both very differently arranged from the front, and
from each other, are not less filled with contrarieties ; and
so of the structure throughout. The front of St Peter’s
is not more distinguished by its magnitude than by its
littleness and deformity. It contains the materials of a
noble octaprostyle, and consists of an attached tetrastyle.
It is divided into three unequal stories, wdthin the height
of the columns, whose entablature ’is surmounted by a
windowed attic. In length it is frittered into a multitude
of compartments, between which not the slightest har¬
mony is maintained; while tawdriness and poverty are
the distinguishing characteristics of its detail. A total
absence of every thing which produces grandeur and
beauty in architecture, marks, indeed, the whole of the
exterior of the edifice, except the glorious cupola, than
which architecture never produced a more noble and
magnificent object. Internally, the structure is open to
similar praise and similar dispraise. Gorgeousness in
matter and meanness in manner characterize the interior
of St Peter’s, except the sublime concave which is formed
by its redeeming feature without.
The Cinquecento architects of Italy were exceeding man¬
nerists : but besides the manner of the school, each had
his own peculiarities ; so that there exists in their works
what may almost be called monotonous variety ! Brunel¬
leschi s designs are distinguished by a degree of sim¬
plicity and comparative good taste, which cause regret
that he had not referred more to the remains of antiquity
in Italy, and sought out those of-Greece, and less to the
dogmas of Vitruvius ; for then his works would have been
more elegant than they are, and the school he founded
would have done him much more honour than it does.
The works of Bramante possess a more classical character
than those of any other architect of the school. Bra-
mantes design for St Peter’s was preferred by Pope
Julius II. to a great many others by the most esteemed
men of the time. He it was who suggested the cu-
v
pola; but, unfortunately, after his death men of less taste
and talent were allow-ed to alter the design, and the
edifice has resulted very differently from what it would
have done had Bramante been adhered to. This we
judge from his works generally, and not from any positive
knowledge of the design, which indeed does not exist.
The elder Sangallo was far inferior to his contemporary
and rival Bramante, and his wrorks are full of the faults
of the school. Michel Angelo Buonaroti was a man of
great genius, but of very bad taste in architecture; and
to him may be attributed many of the bad qualities of the
Italian style. His principal works are the buildings of the
Capitol, and the College della Sapienza in Rome, and the
Laurentian Library at Florence; and these are all dis¬
tinguished for their singular want of architectural beaut}
and propriety in every particular. Michel Angelo was
the Dante of Italian painting, but the Berni of its ar¬
chitecture. Raffaelle, too, had a very bad style in ar¬
chitecture, and so indeed had almost all the painters
who professed to be architects also. They generally car¬
ried to extremes all the faults of the school. Sansovino
and Sanmichele were men of considerable talent: their
works display more originality and less servility than
those of most of their contemporaries. Peruzzi was less
employed than many who had not half his merit: hisj
productions are with reason considered among the most
classical of the Italian school. Vignola had a more correct
taste than perhaps any other Italian architect of the 16th
century: his works are indeed distinguishable by their su-|
periority in harmony of composition and in general beauty
of detail. Palladio very much affected the study of the an¬
tique, but his works do not indicate any appreciation of its
beauties. He appears to have been very well qualified
by nature for an architect, but spoiled by education. He
did not look at the remains of antiquity with his ownj
eyes, but with those of Vitruvius and Alberti, and of
course was much influenced by the manner of the ad¬
mired works of his predecessors. Palladio made greater!
use of insulated columns than the Italian architects ge¬
nerally, but his ordinances are deficient in every quality
that produces beauty; his porticoes may be Vitruvian,
but they certainly are not classic; and all his works
evince that he studied the Colosseum, the Theatre of
Marcellus, and the Triumphal Arches, more than the co¬
lumns of Jupiter Stator and Mars Ultor, the Temple of
Antoninus and Faustina, the Pantheon, the Portico at
Assisi, and the other classic models, which he drew', but
clearly did not appreciate. His columns upon columns,
his attached and clustered columns, his stilted post-like
columns, his broken entablatures, his*numberless pilasters,
straggling and unequal intercolumniations, inappropriate
and inelegant ornaments, circular pediments and the like,
are blemishes too numerous and too great to be passed
over because of occasional elegance of proportion and
beauty of detail. Scamozzi did not improve on the style
of his master, which, however, he very much affected.
Indeed the term Palladian has long been in general use
throughout the civilized world for beautiful and excellent
in architecture, so that it cannot be wondered at that
Palladio’s pupils and successors should imitate him; nor
is it surprising that they did not surpass, or even equal
him, for they were taught to look to his works as the M
plus ultra of excellence. Giacomo della Porta, a con¬
temporary of Palladio, followed Michel Angelo in several,
of his works, and imbibed much of his manner, on which
ARCHITECTURE.
; he certainly improved; but still his own is far from being
^/l>Vood. Della Porta was much employed in Rome ; and it
fell to him, in conjunction with Domenico Fontana, to put
the cupola on St Peter’s. Fontana’s style of architecture
is not particularly distinguished for its good or bad quali¬
ties ; he obtained more reputation as an engineer than
as an architect, having been engaged in removing and
setting up most of the obelisks which give so much inte¬
rest to the architectural scenery of Rome. The Lunghi,
father, son, and grandson, the Rainaldi, Maderno, Bor¬
romini, Bernini, Carlo Fontana, Fuga, Vanvitelli, and
many others in the course of the 17th and 18th cen¬
turies, carried the peculiarities of the Italian school to
the greatest extremes. Of those enumerated, Bernini was
perhaps the least offensive, and Borromini the most ex¬
travagant ; but throughout that period, except in extreme
cases, individual manner is less distinguishable, and that
of the school more strongly marked.
It may be gathered from the preceding remarks, that
the secular architecture of the Italian school is generally
preferable to the ecclesiastical, and that the architects of
the 15th and 16th centuries were generally superior to
those who followed them. In Italy the school has not
yet ceased to exist, nor indeed has its style ceased to be
studied. Designs are still made by the students of the va¬
rious academies in the manner of the Cinquecento, and on
the models with which the country abounds. The pre¬
cepts of Vitruvius are yet inculcated, and the works of the
men whose names we have mentioned are looked up to as
master-works of architecture in the country which con¬
tains the Roman Pantheon and the Greek Neptunium,
besides the power of referring to the more exquisite works
of Greece herself.
'“4 In the 15th century such was the reverence of men for
the revived works of ancient literature and science, that
the profession of the Italians, that they had restored ancient
classical architecture on the precepts of an architect of
the Augustan age, was sufficient to open the way for them
all over civilized Europe. In the course of that and the
following century Italian architecture was adopted and
Italian architects employed in France, Spain, Germany,
Great Britain, and their respective dependencies; and
now, in the 19th century, Vitruvius and Palladio are as
predominant on the shores of the Baltic as on those of
the Mediterranean Sea; though in this country and in
some parts of the Continent their influence is consider¬
ably diminished since the time of Inigo Jones and Claude
Perrault. It has been already remarked, too, that the
Cinquecento was later in gaining a footing iiere than on the
Continent, in consequence of the existence of a beautiful
national style of architecture, which our ancestors do not
appear to have been induced to resign to the barbarian
innovators of the South, as readily as the interjacent na¬
tions were to give up theirs ; for which indeed the reason
exists in the greater attractions of ours, and the conse¬
quent greater difficulty of inducing the nation to part
with it The French, though they received the Vitruvian
architecture from the Italians, were patriotic enough, as
soon as they had acquired its p”inciples, to confine the
practice of it almost entirely to native architects, in whose
lands it assumed a different character from that which it
possessed in Italy, and became what may be called the
rench style of Cinquecento. Its ecclesiastical structures
are less faulty than are those of the corresponding period
in Italy, but its secular edifices are as far inferior to those
0 1 country. The grand palatial style, which is ex¬
emplified in the Farnese palace in Rome, never found its
"‘i} into France; but instead, there arose that monstrous
ami peculiarly French manner, of which the well-known
pa.aces ot the Tuilleries and Luxembourg are egregious
427
examples. In the age of Louis XIV. the French appear to History,
have reverted to the Italian manner in a certain decree,
for the palace of Versailles includes almost all the extra¬
vagancies of that school in its worst period, and contains
moreover architectural deformities which Italy never
equalled till it imitated them. They consist in the style
of enrichment which is distinguished by the name of that
monarcli in whose reign it had its origin, and of whose gross
taste and vulgar mind it is an apt emblem. The same pe¬
riod produced one of the most classical architects of the
French school—its Palladio or Inigo Jones, Perrault, whose
design for the buildings of the Louvre was preferred to that
of Bernini, though indeed the preference was no compli¬
ment to the one nor discredit to the other, considering to
whom the decision w'as of necessity referred. The Hotel
des Invalides is of the same age: it exhibits the graces of
the Italian cupola, surmounting a composition which in¬
cludes more than all the faults of St Peter’s in Rome. The
church of Sainte Genevieve, or the Pantheon, a work
of the following reign, was intended to be in the ancient
Roman style, and of Roman magnificence ; but it is rather
papally than imperially so. Ancient Rome was regarded
in the columnar ordinance, but modern Rome in the ar¬
chitectural composition. In it the ecclesiastical style of
the Cinquecento is commingled with the simple beauties of
Roman architecture, almost indeed to the destruction of
the latter: to this structure also there is a handsome cu¬
pola. Of late years the works of the ancients have been
studied by the architects of France, greatly to the ameli¬
oration of their style ; as yet, however, they are but im¬
perfectly acquainted with the peculiarities of the Greek,
and many of them still appear. to retain their devotion
to Vitruvius and the 15th century. Spain servilely re¬
ceived the Italo-Vitruvian architecture, and to the present
day knows no other. Less patriotic than the French, the
Spaniards have for their greatest works employed the ar¬
chitects of France and Italy; so that of course the coun¬
try can boast of no peculiarity in the style of its archi¬
tecture redounding to its own credit. The palace of the
Escurial being by a French architect, and abounding in
the deformities of the French and Italian schools, cannot
be cited in favour of Spain. The Italian Revival was the
means of extinguishing the Pointed style of architecture
in Germany, and certainly without affording it an equiva¬
lent. Italian architects were employed in Germany, and
Germans acquired their manner; but they did not im¬
prove it, nor did they make it productive of so many good
effects as the Italians themselves did. The change in re¬
ligion which supervened the change in architecture in so
large a part of Germany, may have tended to prevent the
latter from acquiring that degree of exuberance there
which it did in Italy; but even in Catholic Germany the
splendid Pointed cathedrals have never given way to mo¬
difications of the pseudo-classic St Peter’s. In the use of
Cinquecento architecture for secular structures, it may be
truly said that the Germans have not excelled the Ita¬
lians ; nor, on the other hand, have they equalled them
in the absurdities and extravagancies which are so fre¬
quently observable in the works of some of the latter.
The Germans also have lately turned their attention to
the works of the ancients, and the fruit of it is already
evident in many parts of the country, and most particu¬
larly in Prussia: still, however, they appear to have yet
to learn the right use of the Greek models, and a proper
sense of the exquisite perfection of their detail; as well
as to emancipate themselves from many of the trammels
of the Vitruvian school. The northern continental na¬
tions have been dependent on Germany, France, or Italy
for their architecture, and can produce nothing that gives
them a claim to our consideration in such a review as the
428
ARCH ITECTURE.
History, present. St Petersburg is exclusively the work of ar-
chitects of the nations just enumerated, and presents a
mass of the merest common-places of Italian architecture,
in structures calculated by their extent, like Versailles, the
Escurial and St Peter’s, to impose on the vulgar eye.
We have already more than once had occasion to refer
incidentally to the introduction of Cinquecento architec¬
ture into Britain; and in noticing it more particularly,
and tracing its course, we are saved the trouble of keep¬
ing up a distinction between the different parts of our
triple nation, because, at the time it actually crossed the
channel, the amalgamation of the kingdoms had taken
place by the union of their crowns on the head of the
Scotish sovereign.
English ar- When the Pointed style received its deathblow in Eng-
ohitecture. land, in the reign of Henry VIII., it did not immediately
cease to exist; nor was it immediately succeeded by the
Italian when it became extinct. It was gradually de¬
clining through all the 16th century, during the latter
part of which period, what has been called the Elizabethan
style became somewhat permanent. It consists of a singu¬
lar admixture of the Italian orders, with many peculiari¬
ties of the Pointed style, and in many examples the latter
appears predominant. With such difficulty, indeed, did
that fascinating manner give up its hold on the minds of
men in this country, that the cinquecentists appear to have
relinquished the hope of effecting its destruction,—unfor¬
tunately, however, not until the injury was done; and for
some time we were left without architecture of any kind,
unless that may be called by the name which marks the
edifices of the reign of James I., and of which the oldest
parts of St James’s palace are a specimen.
The destruction of the Pointed style has been referred
by some to the change in religion which took place under
the Tudor line of English monarchs; but such was cer¬
tainly not the case. It was the “ Reformation” of architec¬
ture in Italy, and not that of religion in Great Britain, that
affected it; and it may be doubted whether the change
would not have taken place sooner in this country, if its
connection with Italy had not been so materially affected
by the moral change here, and so delayed that of architec¬
ture; for it was Germany and France that supplied us with
architectural reformers during the reigns of Henry VIII.
and his children, and not Italy, whose professors might
possibly have obtained more credit than their disciples did.
So dilatory were we, indeed, in the cultivation of the
Italian style, that the first professor of it who was actual¬
ly employed on edifices in this country came hither from
Denmark ! It is true, he was an Englishman; but so little
hope did he appear to have of success at home, that he
accepted an invitation from the king of that country, when
he was at Venice, whither he had gone to study painting ;
but becoming enamoured of architecture, as he saw it in
the works of Palladio, he had made that his study instead,
and had already acquired considerable reputation in that
city, when Christian IV. of Denmark invited him to his
court to occupy the post of his first architect. A train of
circumstances, to which we need not here advert, brought
him to England a few years after James I. came to the Eng¬
lish crown, and he was appointed architect at first to the
queen, and subsequently to Henry prince of Wales. But
he does not appear in consequence to have then obtained
employment; for after the death of the prince, he went
again to Italy, where he remained till the office of survey¬
or general, which had been promised him in reversion, fell
vacant. This was the celebrated Inigo Jones, who has
been called the English Palladio ; and indeed he succeed¬
ed so well in acquiring the peculiar manner of that archi¬
tect, that he richly deserves whatever credit the appella¬
tion conveys. It is unfortunate, however, for his own re¬
putation, that he had not looked beyond Palladio and their
common preceptor Vitruvius, to the models the latter preA
tends to describe; in which case he might have been the
means of restoring, or at least of introducing, to his own
country, the truly classical architecture of the ancients.
But instead of that he brought nothing home but Italian
rules and Italian prejudices. Jones commenced the truly
Gothic custom of thrusting Cinquecento fittings into our
Pointed cathedrals, by putting up an Italian screen in that
of Winchester ; and he barbarized the ancient cathedral
of St Paul in London, by repairing it according to his
notions of Pointed architecture, for it was in that style,
and affixed to it an Italian front. Fortunately the great
fire supervened, and made room for the present magnifi-
cent structure, by clearing away that early specimen of
pseudo-classic taste. Of the Palladian style, however,
it must be confessed Jones was a complete master. He
designed a royal palace which was to have been built at
Whitehall, in a manner as far superior to those of Versailles
and the Escurial, as the works of Palladio are to those of
Borromini. The only part of it ever executed is the
structure called the Banqueting-House in London, whose
exterior is an epitome of many of the faults, and most of
the beauties, of the Palladian school. It rises boldly from
the ground with a broad, simple, and nearly continuous
basement or stereobate, and the various compartments of
its principal front are beautifully proportioned; but the
circular pediments to the windows, the attached unfluted
columns, with broken entablatures and stylobates, the attic
and balustrade, though they be the materials of Palla¬
dian, it may be confidently denied that they are consist¬
ent with classical architecture. Another well-known work
of this architect is the Italo-Vitruvian Tuscan church of
St Paul, Covent-Garden, whose eastern portico is well-
proportioned in general, but grossly deformed in detail.
Architecture was in abeyance in this country, again,
from the troublous times of Charles I. till the restoration
of the monarchy in the person of his son, whose French
taste would have completely Gallicized the architecture,
as well as the manners and morals, of the nation, if the
resplendent genius of Sir Christopher Wren had not been
present to avert the infliction, or rather to modify it; for
it cannot be denied that the influence of the French man¬
ner had an effect on the architecture of this country from
that period down to the middle of the last century. In¬
deed Wren himself only knew the style he practised from
books and the structures of France, except the few that
existed of Inigo Jones in this country; and, in conse¬
quence of his visit to France, the peculiarities of the
French style are obvious in many of his less esteemed
works. Fortunately, however, he was proof against the
grosser peculiarities of the Cinquecento, whether in the
books of the Italians or in the edifices of the French;
and his own productions evince that he had imbibed
much of the spirit of the antique monuments of Italy(
which he could have known only from engravings, and
those very imperfect ones. The field that was opened to
his genius by the great fire of London in 1666, and its re¬
sult, are equally well known. It is true that the general
offuscation of taste and feeling with regard to the Pointed
style extended even to him. Wren was guilty of many
offences in that respect, besides giving authority to the
opprobrious term Gothic ; and in no case more so than in
the construction of the towers to Westminster Abbey,
which are a lasting proof of his ignorance of its most ob¬
vious principles. Nevertheless, to the influence of oui
beautiful native style on his mind, architecture is indebt¬
ed for some of its most charming works. If Wren had not
been accustomed to contemplate the graceful and elegant
pyramids or spires of his native country, he would never
Stoi
Y>
ARCHITECTURE.
have originated the tapering steeple, in the composition
^ which with the materials of Italian architecture he
still stands as unrivalled as he was original. Witness the
steeples of Bow Church and St Bride’s in London, the
former of which is hardly surpassed in grace and elegance
bv the Pointed spires themselves. It must remain a con¬
stant subject of regret that this great head of the English
school of Cinquecento architecture did not know the re¬
mains of ancient Greece and Rome from personal obser¬
vation. With his splendid genius and fine taste, if he had
not been imposed on by the specious pretence of the Italo-
Vitruvian school, his works would have been models
for imitation and study, as they are objects of admi¬
ration : as it was, he avoided many of the faults of that
school, and improved on many of its beauties. Without
knowing the Greek style at all, and knowing the Roman
only through imperfect mediums; without, indeed, ever
having seen an example of either; whenever he has varied
from the Italian practice, it has been towards the propor¬
tions and peculiarities of the Greek! The great west front
,of St Paul’s, though it is said to be imitated from that of
X' [i. St Peter’s in Rome, or rather from what it was proposed
to be, with the two towers to form its wings, is a much
finer, a more imposing, and more classical specimen of ar¬
chitecture than its prototype ; for the advantage the latter
should have in being of columns in one height is lost en¬
tirely in their poverty and the miserable arrangement of
the whole front; whereas that of St Paul’s is in two noble
pseudo-prostyle and recessed porticoes, with the columns
fluted, and generally conceived and executed in much
better taste than those of the former. The entablatures,
though massive, are finely proportioned, and sufficiently
ornate to be elegant; they are, too, quite continuous, and
the upper one is surmounted by a noble pediment, whose
pyramidal form gives at the same time dignity and a finish¬
ed appearance to the whole front. The coupling of the
columns, however, and the putting of one columnar ordi¬
nance over another, can only be defended by the practice
of the Italian school; though, in the present case, both are
rendered less offensive by the judicious management of
the architect. Nothing shows more strikingly the supe-
1.1 JX.riority of St Paul’s to St Peter’s, as an architectural com¬
position, than a parallel of their flanks. The great mag¬
nitude of the latter may strike the vulgar eye with admi¬
ration in the contrast; but the rudest taste must appre¬
ciate the surpassing merit of the former in the form and
arrangement of the cupola, and the noble peristyle with
its unbroken entablature and stylobate, out of which it
rises, when compared with the sharper form and depressed
substructure of that of St Peter’s. The superiority of
St Paul’ s in the composition of the main body of the edi¬
fice is not less in degree, though perhaps less obvious,
than in the superstructure. In the one it is broken and
frittered, and in the other almost perfectly continuous, in
broad, bold, and effective masses.
dhe history of the works of Sir Christopher Wren is
the history of the architecture of the period in this coun¬
try; and as it must be admitted that he was not so suc¬
cessful in the composition of the architecture of secular
structures as of ecclesiastical, it will follow that our se¬
cular edifices of that time are of inferior merit. If it
were not indeed an historical fact, it would hardly be
credited, that Chelsea College, the old College of Physi¬
cians in London, and the halls of some of the city com¬
panies, are by the architect of Bow Church and St Paul’s.
The style introduced by Sir John Vanbrugh, who may
be said to have succeeded Sir Christopher Wren in the
direction of architecture in England, was distinguished by
massiveness unsuited to the style in which he built, which
was of course Italian. It was, however, free from the va¬
garies and extravagancies which characterize that style History,
generally in other countries at the same period, but was'^'V^-
certainly more suited to the soberer character of ecclesi¬
astical than of secular structures, whereas his principal
works were noblemen’s mansions. Vanbrugh’s faults were
generally those of Michel Angelo: he was a painter’s ar¬
chitect, and did not understand beauty of proportion and
detail so well as the pictorial arrangement of lights and
shadows; to produce which in the Cinquecento it is almost
necessary to part with all the higher beauties of architec¬
ture. Hawksmoor added to the style of his master that
noble ornament in which Italian works are so very deficient
—a prostyle portico. His compositions are marked by
severe simplicity, and only want to be absolved from a few
faults and enriched with a few elegancies to be among the
best of modern times. Not the least distinguished archi¬
tect of the same age (the first half of the 18th century)
was the Earl of Burlington, who was a passionate admirer
of the style of Palladio and Inigo Jones. Many of the
edifices erected by Kent are believed to be from the de¬
signs of that amiable nobleman, who, with considerable
talent, was, however, a somewhat bigoted devotee to
Vitruvius and the Cinquecento generally, as well as to Pal¬
ladio in particular; for he has frequently used columns
representing half-barked trees, in conformity with the silly
tales of Vitruvius, and the sillier whims of his disciples.
The portal of his own house in Piccadilly, and that of the
King’s Mews, are special examples of this bad taste, and
of other faults of the school besides. Lord Burlington
built for himself at Chiswick a villa on the model of the
Villa Capra, or Rotonda, near Vicenza—a structure which
has been called the masterpiece of Palladio. In form and
proportion it is certainly elegant, but its details strongly
exhibit the poverty of Italian columnar architecture, when
unaided by the frittering which is its bane, and almost its
sole dependence for efifect. Gibbs was a contemporary
of the same period. He too, like Hawksmoor, had imbibed
a taste for the classic prostyle portico, which he evinced
in St Martin’s church in London; but that he also was in
the trammels of the Italian school is no less evident, in
the same structure, to a considerable extent, and still
more so in the church of St Mary in the Strand, which is
a bad specimen of architecture, and a favourable one of
its style. During the following half-century (the latter
half of the 18th) Sir William Chambers and Sir Robert
Taylor were the most distinguished architects of this
country. They were both men of talent and genius, who
had availed themselves of the remains of Roman antiquity
to good purpose; for as yet those of Greece were either
unknown or unappreciated; and the former of them has
left us, in the Strand front of Somerset House in London,
perhaps the best specimen of its style in existence. Other
parts of the same edifice, however, are far from deserving
the same degree of praise: indeed, as an architectural
composition, the river front is altogether inferior in merit
to the other, though of much greater pretence. The inner
fronts to the great quadrangle, though exhibiting good
parts, are, as a whole, not above mediocrity. An air of
littleness pervades them; and the general effect of the
fronts themselves is made still worse by the little clock
towers and cupolas by which they are surmounted; and
to this maybe added the infinity of ill-arranged chimneys,
which impart an air of meanness and confusion that no¬
thing can excuse. While Sir William Chambers and a
few others were applying the best qualities of Italian ar¬
chitecture, indeed improving its general character, and, it
may be said, making an English style of it, there were
many structures raised in various parts of the country in
a manner hardly superior to that of the time of James I.;
structures in which all the meanness and poverty of the
430
ARCHITECTURE.
History. Cinquecento are put forth, without any of its elegance of
proportion, or that degree of effectiveness which men of
talent contrived to give it. During the same period, too,
the seeds of a revolution were sown, which has almost
succeeded in ejecting the Italian style and its derivative
from this country, without perhaps having as yet fur¬
nished a complete equivalent.
In the year 1748 James Stuart and Nicholas Revett,
two painters pursuing their studies in Rome, having
moreover paid some attention to architecture, issued
« Proposals for publishing an accurate description of the
Antiquities of Athens, &c.” These proposals met with
general approbation, and in consequence they determin¬
ed on prosecuting their plan ; but various hinderances
prevented their arrival in Athens till March 1751, when
they commenced measuring and delineating the architec¬
tural monuments of that city and its environs. In this
work Messrs Stuart and Revett were unremittingly em¬
ployed (as far as their own exertions went, for they
were frequently interrupted by the Turks) for several
years, so that they did not reach England with the re¬
sult of their labours until 1755; and, by a series of al¬
most unaccountable delays, the first volume of their work
did not appear until the year 1762. Sixteen years more
expired before the second issued from the press; and
the third was not published until 1794, being nearly
fifty years from the time the work was first announced!
Avarice and envy had induced a Frenchman of the name
of Le Roy, who v/as at Rome when our countrymen is¬
sued their proposals, to forestall them with the public,
and rob them of the profit and reputation they were so
hardly labouring to earn. This man went to Athens,
and in a very short time collected some loose mate¬
rials, with which he published at Paris, in 1758, a work
which he called Les Ruines des plus beaux Monumens
de la Grece, fyc., in which he makes not the slightest
mention of Stuart and Revett, nor of their labours or in¬
tentions, with all of which he was well acquainted. This
work is moreover notoriously and grossly incorrect; so
incorrect indeed, as to make it difficult of belief that its
author ever saw the objects of which he professes to give
the representations. Such as it is, however, it was from
M. le Roy’s work that the public had to judge of the
merits and beauties of Greek architecture; for we have
said that the first volume of Stuart and Revett’s did not
appear for several years after it, and that does not con¬
tain any pure specimen of the national or Doric style:
the second, which does, was not published for twenty
years after Le Roy’s. Considering, therefore, the source
from which the public had to derive information on the
subject, it can hardly be wondered at that Greek ar¬
chitecture was vituperated on all sides; and by none
with greater acrimony than by Sir William Chambers,
whose apology must be, ignorance and the prejudices of
education. He really did not know the style he carped
at; and his education in the Italo-Vitruvian school had
unfitted him for appreciating its grand, chaste, and simple
beauties, even if he had known it. Notwithstanding the
misrepresentations of Le Roy, the vituperations of Cham¬
bers, the established reputation of Italian architecture,
and the trammels which Vitruvius and his disciples had
fixed on the public mind, when Stuart and Revett’s work
actually appeared, the Greek style gradually advanced in
esteem, by dint of superior merit alone—for it has had no
factitious aids; and since that period Greece and all her
colonies which possess remains of her unrivalled archi-
tectuie have been explored, and we now possess correct
delineations of almost every Greek structure which has
survived, though *in ruins, the wreck of time and the de¬
solation of barbarism. To our country and nation, then,
is due the honour of opening the temple of Greek architec- ]
tural science,—of drawing away the veil of ignorance which ^
obscured the beauties it contains,—and of snatchino- from
perdition, and consequent oblivion, the noble relics of an¬
cient architecture which bear the impress of the Grecian
mind. Not only indeed were we the first to open the
mine, but by us it has been principally worked ; for among
the numerous publications which now exist on the Hel¬
lenic remains, by far the greatest number, and indisput-
ably the most correct, are by our countrymen, and were
brought out in this country. It required, however, a
generation for the effects of ignorance and prejudice in
some, and imperfect knowledge in others, to wear away,
before the beneficial effects of the Greek style could be
obvious in our structures. The works of the Adamses
who were contemporaries of and immediate successors to
Sir William Chambers, evince a taste for the beauties of
Greek architecture, but a very imperfect knowledge in¬
deed of the means of reproducing them. The architects
who have had the direction of our principal works during
the first quarter of this century had the disadvantage of
being pupils of those who were themselves, as we have
shown, incompetent to appreciate the Greek style; and
at a time too when the state of Europe shut up all access
to the remains of Greece and Rome; so that no great
improvement could perhaps be expected from them.
When they shall have passed away, it is to be hoped that
we shall find a new class, some of whom, indeed, are al¬
ready before the world, who, having received their edu¬
cation since peace has opened the Continent, are prepared
by the actual contemplation and study of the works of
Egypt, Greece, Rome, and Italy, in all their varieties, to
form new and pleasing combinations of their beauties,
adapted to our wants,—to produce what may equal, if not
surpass them all. The structures of Egypt may show
how to arrange large masses harmoniously and effectively;
those of Greece and Rome how to impart grace and dig¬
nity ; and the structures of Italy how the materials of an¬
cient architecture may be moulded to modern uses, while
at the same time they give practical warning of what may
result from the abuse of the most obvious principles of the
science.
The difference between the representations of the
Athenian antiquities by Stuart and his colleague, and the
misrepresentations of them by Le Roy, appear to have
opened the eyes of the world to those of ancient Rome,
to see if they too had not been dealt with unjustly; for
of late years much more correct delineations of them have
appeared than those of Palladio and Desgodetz,—delinea¬
tions of them as they exist, exhibiting the spirit of the
originals, and not warped to the Vitruvian precepts, and
thereby stripped of their best quality, truth. The exca¬
vation of the ancient cities of Herculaneum and Pompeii
has opened to us much interesting matter, and some that
is instructive : their ruins too have the advantage of being
correctly delineated; so that we are at this time in pos¬
session of more knowledge of the architecture of the an¬
cients, acquired in a few years by the actual examination
of its relics, than our predecessors of the last generation
were, after talking, and writing, and reading Vitruvius
about it, for nearly four centuries.
It is an argument in proof of the classical beauty of the
Pointed style, that when the eyes of men were opened to
the perfections of Greek architecture, they began to dis¬
cover its merits also. Pointed architecture, under the op¬
probrious name Gothic, had long been a subject of discus¬
sion among antiquaries; that is, essays were written by
them to prove how the Pointed arch originated, but none
appreciated its beauties. Our Pointed cathedrals and
churches were, after the example of Inigo Jones, ruth-
A R C HI T
[ist Vi ieSsly barbarized in repairing and fitting up. If an archi-
^jOtect were employed to do any thing in or to one of them,
he appears to have thought it incumbent on him to con¬
vert it to the doctrines of his own faith—to Italicize it.
Deans and chapters for the most part intrusted their
commissions to country masons and plasterers, who also
operated according to the laws of the “ five orders.”
About the middle of the 18th century one Batty Lang¬
ley endeavoured to draw the attention of the world to
Pointed architecture, by reducing it to rules, and dividing
it into orders. Fortunately he was only laughed at, and
both he and the book he published on the subject were
goon forgotten. One of the first men in rank and influ¬
ence of his time, in matters of taste particularly, Horace
Walpole, patronized Pointed architecture, but ineffec¬
tually. He had himself neither taste nor feeling to ap¬
preciate its beauties, as his Strawberry Hill clearly evinces;
so that his patronage of it must have been the effect of
mere whim, or a wish to lead a fashion. Delineations
were indeed put forth from time to time, but generally
so rude and imperfect, that, like M. le Roy to Greek
architecture, they did more harm than good. The So¬
ciety of Antiquaries, however, at length took up the sub¬
ject, engaged Mr John Carter, an ardent and judicious ad¬
mirer of our national architecture, and commenced the
publication of a series of splendid volumes, containing en¬
gravings of its best specimens, from drawings and admea¬
surements by him. The “ Antiquities of Athens” had al¬
ready done much to dispossess men of their prejudices,
by showing that Greek architecture, though neither Vi-
truvian nor Palladian, was nevertheless beautiful; and the
great work of the Society of Antiquaries did the same for
Pointed architecture. Since the death of Mr Carter, our
native style has been beautifully illustrated, in a series of
valuable works by Mr Britton, and elucidated in detailed
“ specimens,” by Mr Pugin, a French gentleman but an
English artist, and by a great variety of other useful and
excellent publications; so . that, at the present time, the
Pointed style, too, is studied and understood, and not a
few of our architects are now competent, not only to be
intrusted with the repairs and restorations of the ancient
structures, but also to originate new ones, which may
rival all but their prototypes in beauty.
We have now, in this part of the subject, only to add a
few remarks on the improvement which has taken place in
domestic architecture, since men have begun to consider
their own comfort and happiness of as much importance
to them as the splendour of their religious edifices. The
exhumated city of Pompeii has very clearly proved, that
notwithstanding the extent and general beauty of the pub¬
lic buildings of the Romans, the houses of the common¬
alty were exceedingly plain and confined, while those of
the higher classes, though internally elegant, were exter¬
nally unpretending. The rooms were small and badly ar¬
ranged, imperfectly secluded from the public gaze, and
quite exposed to the inmates ; pervious alike to the sum¬
mer s heat and winter’s cold. Indeed, the house of a Ro¬
man gentleman presents a very convenient model for a
prison, but without many of the comforts which in mo¬
dern times are thought necessary even in such places. Of
t us, however, we shall treat more in detail when we come
to consider Roman architecture as a style. It has been
stated as probable, that the use of wooden floors, and the
consequent power of making additional stories without
cnormousiy thick walls, arose during the middle ages.
ut improvement, together with the use of glass forwin-
ows, gives an air of comfort and convenience to the ear¬
nest domestic structures of modern times, of which the
ancients could have had no idea; but the latter were de-
icient m elegance, though indeed the use of windows
E C T U R E.
tended to the introduction of external architectural deco¬
ration. With learning and civilization came refinement
and luxury, and men began, though at a great distance, to
imitate in their houses what they found of beautiful and
splendid in the churches and monasteries. The exclusion,
by glass window's, of currents of cold air, which carried
the smoke off to the funnel in the roof of a hall or larye
room, when the fire was exposed in the middle of it, led
to the invention and use of chimneys, w'hich should convey
it away without occupying the room at all. This is more
particularly applicable to the colder countries north of
the Alps, and it is in them that domestic building is best
understood, and is best applied to produce comfort and
convenience. Not that the Palazzi of Italy are not gene¬
rally more pretending in their external architecture than
the town mansions of this country; but they are deficient
in those internal arrangements which tend to produce the
greatest possible advantages, which, indeed, promote the
enjoyments of domestic life.
In consequence of the refinements which now pervade
the manners, habits, and customs of civilized life, and
civilization having extended itself from the noble and the
learned through almost the whole social system, men are
no longer contented to admire the beauty and magnifi¬
cence of public edifices, whether ecclesiastical or civil, and
to witness the splendour and elegance of the palaces and
mansions of the wealthy; but all are anxious to see in
their own habitations that degree of decoration and beauty
which they find so productive of pleasure and pleasurable
emotions. Thus architecture is no longer confined to the
temples of the divinity and the palaces of the great, but
its beauties are sought everywhere. In every edifice
whose inhabitant has been fitted by education and habit
to appreciate and enjoy the charm which arises from sym¬
metry of form, beauty of proportion, and elegance of de¬
tail, the aid of architecture is required.
Of Egyptian Structures.
The architecture of ancient Egypt is characterized by
the boldness and magnitude of its parts, and the almost
monotonous uniformity which pervades its features. The
existing monuments of Egyptian architecture consist fot
the most part of temples and pyramids. Obelisks are gene¬
rally found in connection with the former, so that perhaps
they can only be considered as belonging to them, and
not as distinct architectural works, or the sphinxes and
other things of a similar nature must be considered as such
also. Neither can the hypogea or excavations be correct¬
ly described as belonging to architecture, though they
bear many of its features, and were perhaps the antitypes
of regular architectural combinations.
The pyramids are almost solid masses of masonry, whose
bases are squares, and whose inclined sides are nearly
equilateral triangles: some of them are truncated, and
some run up to a point. They are generally much injured
on the surface by long exposure, so that it is impossible
to say whether any of them were considered finished
while in steps or receding courses, or if the angles were
either filled up or worked off, to make smooth surfaces on
the exterior. Some of them not only were made plain by
working olf, but remain so still; whilst others bear no in¬
dication of ever having been finished in that manner. In
one existing example, that of the great southern pyramid
of Dashour, the angles of the receding courses have been
wrought off; and it is singular that the blocks of stone are
not laid in horizontal courses, but at an angle inclined to
the base; nor are its sides carried up to the top in one
continued plane, but at about two thirds from the base they
incline towards each other under a more obtuse angle.
It has been imagined, but not determined, that most of
431
History.
432
ARCHITECTURE.
Egyptian them have natural hills, either of earth or stone, for cores,
Structures, or rather that hills have been cut to the shape, and built
over with large courses of stone to give them the appear¬
ance of being solid masonry. If this be the case, t e
chambers and the passages to them, which have been dis¬
covered in some of the pyramids, have been careiully
built around to have the appearance of being left in the
construction, which is not very probable. Another sug¬
gestion, to account in some measure for the immense
quantity of matter in them, is, that they are actually cut
in living rock to a considerable height, and built above.
This may be the case with regard to those which are of
the stone the place affords; but some of them are of foreign
material, externally at least, and of consequence cannot
have been hewn in the native rock. More consistent with
the genius of Egyptian undertakings, but hardly more pro¬
bable is it, that the pyramids include or cover some such
constructions as the labyrinth beyond Lake Moeris, spoken
of by Herodotus, according to the suggestion we have
made in another place, or chambers of some kind which
may have been the depositories of the arcana of Egyptian
learning and science. Such indeed is the immense extent
of some of these extraordinary monuments of human in¬
dustry and human folly, that no suggestion with regard
to them can be considered wild, as they afford full scope
for the imagination, without presenting any thing to sup¬
port or refute any theory that may be applied to them.
The Egyptian temple's, without possessing that entire
uniformity of plan which those of the Greeks do, are very
similar in arrangement and manner. The larger and
more perfect structures do not externally present the ap¬
pearance of being columned, a boundary wall or peribolus
girding the whole, and preventing the view of any part of
the interior, except perhaps the towering magnificence of
some inner pylones ; of the lofty tops of an extraordinary
avenue of columns, with their superimposed terrace; of
the tapering obelisks which occupy, at times, some of the
courts ; or of a dense mass of structure, which is the body
of the temple itself, inclosing the thickly columned halls.
The immense magnitude of these edifices may perhaps
have made them independent, in their perfect state, of
considerations which have weight in architectural compo¬
sition at the present time, and on which indeed its har¬
mony depends. The various portions of the same temple
differ in size and proportion; and being intermingled, the
cornices of the lower abut indefinitely against the walls of
the higher parts, while the latter are not at all in accord¬
ance among themselves.
PI. LVI. The structure we produce to exemplify Egyptian archi¬
tecture, though not, according to Mr Champollion, one of
the Pharaonic monuments, is perfectly characteristic of
the style and arrangement of Egyptian temples, and is a
more regular specimen than any other possessing the na¬
tional peculiarities. It is known as the temple of Apol-
linopolis Magna, or of Edfou, in Upper Egypt, on the
banks of the Nile, between Thebes and the first cataracts.
The plan of the inclosure behind the propylaea is a long
parallelogram, the moles or propylaea themselves forming
another across one of its ends. The grand entrance to the
great court of the temple is by a doorway between the
moles, to which there may have been folding gates, as the
notches for their hinges are still to be seen. Small cham¬
bers, right and left of the entrance, and in the core of the
propylaea, were probably for the porters or guards of the
temple: a staircase remains on each side, which leads to
other chambers at different heights. To furnish these with
light and air, loop-holes have been cut through the exter¬
nal walls, which disfigure the front of the structure. The
court-yard, cloister, or vestibule, has on three of its sides
a colonnade, against the wall of the peribolus, forming a
covered gallery. This, and the gradual ascent by corded w
steps to the great portico or pronaos, will be better under-S [ct,
stood by reference to the plan and section. The pronaos,'' v
or covered portico, consists of three rows of six columns1 ^
each, parallel and equidistant, except in the middle, where
the intercolumniation is greater, because of the passage
through. The front row of columns is closed by a sort of
breast-work or dado, extending to nearly half their height,
in which moreover they are half-imbedded; and in the
central opening a peculiar doorway is formed, consisting of
piers, with the lintel and cornice over them cut through,
as exhibited in the elevation of the portico. From the!
pronaos another doorway leads to an atrium or inner ves¬
tibule, consisting of three rows of smaller columns, with
four in each, distributed as those of the pronaos are.
Beyond this vestibule there are sundry close rooms and
cells, with passages and staircases, whose intention is not
obvious. The insulated chamber within the sixth door
was most probably the adytum or sanctuary, the holy of
holies, which was honoured by the presence of the divi¬
nity : the rest is inexplicable.
In many cases the temples are without the peribolus
and propylaea, the edifice consisting of no more than the
pronaos and the parts beyond it; and in others, parti¬
cularly in those of Thebes, this arrangement is doubled,
and there are two pairs of the colossal moles, the second
being placed where the pronaos is in this, and another
open court or second vestibule intervening them and the
portico. In these the central line across the courts is
formed by a covered avenue of columns, of much larger
size than ordinary; and the galleries around are of double
rows of columns instead of one row with the walls, as in
this case. The obelisks marked in the plan, and indicat¬
ed in the section, before the propylaea, occupy the situa¬
tion in which they are generally found, though they do
not exist with this example. Colossal sedent figures are
sometimes found before the piers of the gateway; and from
them, as a base, a long avenue of sphinxes is frequently
found ranged like an alley or avenue of trees from a man¬
sion to the park-gate, straight or winding, as the case may
require.
The longitudinal section of the edifice shows the relative!
heights of the various parts, and the mode of constructing
the soffits or ceilings, which are of the same material of
which the walls and columnar ordinances are composed:
this is in some cases granite, and in others freestone.
The elevation of the pronaos shows also a transverse sec-!
tion of the colonnades and peribolus. It displays most ol
the general features of Egyptian columnar architecture;
the unbroken continuity of outline, the pyramidal tendency
of the composition, and the boldness and breadth of every
part. The good taste with which the interspaces of the
columns are covered may be remarked. Panels standing
between the columns would have had a very ill effect,
both internally and externally; and if a continued screen
had been made, the effect would be still worse, as the
columns must then have appeared from the outside ab¬
surdly short; but as it is, their height is perfectly obvious,
and their form is rendered clear by the contrast of light
and shade occasioned by the projection of the panels,
which would not exist if they had been detailed between
the columns. The lotus ornament at the foot of the
panels is particularly simple and elegant; and nothing can
be more graceful and effective than the cyma above their
cornice, which is singularly enriched with ibis mumm)-
cases. The jambs forming a false doorway in the centra
interspace, are a blemish in the composition ; and they in¬
jure it very much by the abruptness of their form, an
their want of harmony with any thing else in it. It niay
be remarked, that the effect of the front generally is hia
ARCHITECTURE.
n of an excavation rather than of a structure, the end piers
ict ^and entablature having a unity of purpose, which leads
v-'to the idea that the rest was similar, or the whole at first
a plain wall afterwards pierced and carved into its present
form. This view of it would support the supposition that
the excavations or hypogea are the antitypes of columnar
architecture.
1. The front elevation of the moles or propylaea, with the
grand entrance between them, is peculiarly Egyptian ; and
very little variety is discoverable between the earliest and
latest specimens of this species of structure. It is an ob¬
ject that must be seen to be appreciated; simplicity and
an inherent impressiveness in the pyramidal tendency are
all on which it has to depend for effect, except magnitude,
which alone would certainly make no agreeable impres¬
sion on the mind. The projecting fillet and coving which
form a cornice to the structures, though large and bold,
appear small and inefficient when compared with the bulk
they crown ; and there is nothing particularly^ striking in
the torus which marks the lateral outline and separates
the straight line of the front from the circular of the cor¬
nice. Neither are they dependent for their effect on the
sculpture, for their appearance is as impressive at such
a distance as to make the latter indistinct, as near, if not
more so. The effect of the sculptures and hieroglyphics
generally on Egyptian architecture is to enrich the sur¬
faces, but not to interfere with the general form of a struc¬
ture, or even with those of its minor parts.
A portion of the portico is given on a larger scale, to
show more clearly the forms and arrangement of Egyptian
columnar composition. The shaft of the column in this
5- example is perfectly cylindrical. It rests on a square
step, or continued stylobate, without the intervention of
a plinth or base of any kind; and has no regular vertical
channelling or enrichment, such as fluting, but is marked
horizontally with series of grooves, and inscribed with
hieroglyphics. The capitals are of different sizes and
forms in the same ordinance. This example is about one
diameter of the column in height, exclusive of its receding
abacus. Its outline is that of the cyma, with a reversed
2 0^° above, and its enrichment consists principally
ot lotus flowers. The capital of the column next to this,
in the front line, is much taller, differently formed, and
ornamented with palm leaves; the third is of the same
size and outline as the first, but differently ornamented ;
and the corresponding columns on the other side of the
centre have capitals corresponding with these, each to its
follow, in the arrangement. Above the capital there is a
square block or receding abacus, which has the effect of a
deepening of the entablature, instead of a covering of the
r ^ “fopins when the capitals spread, as in this case. In the
ear‘ier Egyptian examples, however, in which the columns
are swollen, and diminished in two unequal lengths, the
^ result is different, and the form and size of the abacus
5,1 aPPear perfectly consistent. The height of this column
its capital, without the abacus, is six diameters.
»e entablature consists of an architrave and cornice,
'ere being no equivalent for the frieze of a Greek entab-
ature, unless the coving be so considered, in which case
e cornice becomes a mere shelf. The architrave, in-
c u mg the torus, is about three quarters of a diameter
in eight, which is half that of the whole entablature.
ie architrave itself is in this example sculptured in low
i-116 a °^lerw*se plain. The torus, which returns and
s own fhe angles of the building, is gracefully band-
’ sonielhing like the manner in which the fasces are
*n ^onian works. The coving is divided into
to , Pa,r. ments by vertical flutes, which have been thought
ar ^ le or’gin of triglyphs in a Doric frieze; but these
rranged without reference to the columns, and are
vol. m.
433
m other respects so totally different from them as to give Hindoo
but little weight to the opinion. The compartments are Structures,
beautifully enriched with hieroglyphics, except in theV '
centre, where a winged globe is sculptured, surmounting;
another on the architrave, as shown in the elevation of
the pronaos. The crowning tablet or fillet is quite plain
and unornamented. Angular roofs are unknown in an¬
cient Egyptian buildings, and consequently pediments are
unknown in its architecture.
Of the style of architecture used in the domestic edi¬
fices of the Egyptians we can give no idea, as no docu¬
ments remain by which it may be knowm; neither can we
judge of it by analogy froin what we know of that of
other nations of antiquity, for no direct analogy exists
between the styles of their mutually existing structures.
Indeed the Romans are the only people, above the Chris¬
tian era, of whose domestic architecture we know any
thing with certainty; and the advantages they possessed
over their predecessors in their knowledge of the use of
the arch was so great, for that purpose especially, that
theirs affords no ratio for that of the Greeks even, and
still less for that of the Egyptians.
Of Hindoo Structures.
From local circumstances, structures in India are ex¬
posed to rapid destruction as soon as they lose the pro¬
tecting power of man; and thus the absence of any posi¬
tive architectural works in that country which can be de¬
termined to be of high antiquity may be partly accounted
for. But religious intolerance and devastating war have
conspired together to aid natural causes in the destruc¬
tion of the ancient edifices of the Hindoos. Whatever
of antiquity fell in the route of that ruthless conqueror
Mahmood of Ghizni, in his twelve expeditions into India,
was defaced or destroyed; and those structures in the more
remote parts, impervious to his march, either want data to
pronounce on their antiquity, or, when they possess any, it
is in a character still unintelligible to the learned. But
there are some to which tradition—and this we should not
altogether reject—assigns a date beyond the age of Alex¬
ander ; and we understand that the unity of style of these
warrants the assumption of immense priority for them to
all now existing in Gangetic India. It is from Rajpootana
that we may yet look for developments of the ancient'
architecture of the Hindoos ; a field of great magnitude,
only just begun to be explored, and still remaining unde¬
lineated. Extensive excavations, however, of much greater
magnitude even than those of Egypt, and, it is presumed,
of at least equal antiquity, are found in various parts of In¬
dia ; and they may be supposed to bear some resemblance
to their contemporaneous structures, of which, most like¬
ly, they were either the representations or the originals.
But we thus arrive only at the style: the composition
and arrangement of structures cannot be deduced from
the hypogea; for though these latter in Egypt agree in
style with the architecture, they would not suggest the
other particulars.
The most common Hindoo pagoda of the present day
is composed of a rectangular mass, surmounted by a gra¬
duated truncate pyramid. That this species of structure
is of very considerable antiquity, may be concluded from
the fact, that every thing in its composition and arrange¬
ment is determined by immutable precepts of a religious
nature. This was ascertained by Colonel Tod, the learned
annalist of Central India, from a man to whom the pre¬
cept had descended with his profession from his ancestors
through more than forty generations.
These kinds of evidence, however, though interesting,
are not conclusive; and we must consent, for the pre¬
sent at least, to remain in ignorance of the Hindoo archi-
3 i
434
ARCHITECTURE.
Grecian tecture of the early ages, to which our inquiry is more
Structures. immeclia(;ely directed. The splendid works of the Mos-
iem conquerors of that country bear no relation whatever
to its indigenous architecture.
Of Grecian Structures.
As no nation has ever equalled the Egyptians in the
extent and magnitude of their architectural monuments,
neither have the Greeks been surpassed in the exquisite
beauty of form and proportion which theirs possess. Ex¬
treme simplicity and perfect harmony pervade every part
of a Greek structure; and to the evanescence of the finer
spirit of these qualities may be referred the difficulty—
for great difficulty certainly exists—of applying Grecian
architecture to modern practice. The national style, or
Doric Order, is in every respect the most distinguished
and the most intractable. The voluted Ionic being more
complicated, is more plastic; and the foliated Corin¬
thian, from its still greater divergence from Doric sim¬
plicity and harmony, is the most easily moulded to
various purposes. Unfortunately nothing remains from
which we might acquire a knowledge of the practice
of the Greeks themselves in the architecture of do¬
mestic and general structures; but it may be inferred
from some existing edifices, particularly the Choragic
monuments, that the Doric columnar style was not used
by them except for the temples of the gods and some
of their accessories. But whether this arose—if the
feeling really did exist—from the sanctity of its cha-
racter, in consequence of that appropriation, or from the
difficulty of moulding it to general purposes, cannot be
determined. It is very certain, however, that the few
structures which do exist of Greek origin, not of a reli¬
gious character, are either Ionic or Corinthian, or a mix¬
ture of one of them with some of the features of the Do¬
ric ; and in all Greece and the Grecian colonies, except
Ionia, there are very few examples of religious edifices
not of the Doric order, and none which are of the Corin¬
thian.
We have already given our reasons for mistrusting the
descriptions of ancient writers on architectural subjects;
and when they merely make reference to different parts
of a structure, without pretending to describe, in the ab¬
sence of examples or models they must be unintelligible,
and therefore no more valuable to the architectural anti¬
quary than those of the others, whom existing specimens
of what they profess to describe prove to have been to¬
tally ignorant of their subject. We shall therefore not
attempt to develope what does not exist, either from in¬
ferences to be drawn from Homer and others, from the
professional dicta of Vitruvius, or from the description of
Pausanias; but confine ourselves to the remains of the
architecture itself of the Greeks, which are actually be¬
fore our eyes, for the elucidation and exemplification of
the Grecian style.
Like the architecture of Egypt, that of Greece is known
to us principally by means of its sacred monuments, and
from them is deduced almost all we know of its principles.
The Doric temples of the Greeks are uniform in plan,
and differ only in arrangement and proportion, as they are
of greater or less size; for every part depends on the same
thing. If the dimensions of a single column, and the pro¬
portion the entablature shall bear to it, were given to two
individuals acquainted with the style, with directions to
compose a hexastyle peripteral temple, or one of any other
description, they would produce designs exactly similar
in size, arrangement, features, and general proportions,
differing only, if at all, in the relative proportions of mi¬
nor parts, and slightly perhaps in the contour of some of
the mouldings. This can only be the case with the Do¬
ric, and it arises from the intercolumniation being deter- i
mined by the arrangement of the frieze with triglyphsSt
and metopes; the frieze bearing a certain proportion in'-
the entablature to the diameter of the column, and so on
in such a manner that the most perfect harmony is pre!p
served between every part. Thus, in the example, theu
column is so many of its diameters in height; it diminishes
gradually from the base upwards, with a slightly convex-
ed tendency or swelling downwards ; and is superimposed
by a capital proportioned to it, and coming within its
height. The entablature is so many diameters high also,
and is divided, according to slightly varying proportions,
into three parts—architrave, frieze, and cornice. A triglyph
bearing a certain proportion to the diameter of the co¬
lumn is drawn immediately over its centre; the metope is
then set off equal to the height of the frieze; another
triglyph is drawn, which hangs over the void ; then a me¬
tope as before ; and a second triglyph, the centre of which
is the central line for another column; and so on to the
number required, which, in a front, will be four, six, eight,
or ten columns,' as the case may be, the temple being tetra-
style, hexastyle, octastyle, or decastyle; and on the flanks
twice the number of those on the front and one more,?
counting the columns on the angles both ways. ThusF
a hexastyle temple will have thirteen columns on each1’
flank, an octastyle seventeen, and so on. It must be ob-j,
served, however, that to ease the columns at the angles,1
they are not placed so that the triglyph over them shall
impend their centre as the others, but are set in towards
the next columns so far that a line let fall from the outer
edge of the triglyph will touch the circumferential line of
the column at the base, or at its greatest diameter. It
has been generally thought that the object in this dispo¬
sition was to bring the triglyph to the extreme angle, to
obviate the necessity of a half-metope there ; and many
imitators have puzzled themselves to no avail to effect it,
without contracting the intercolumniation or elongating
the first metope; though it is perfectly obvious that the
intention of the Greek architects was to ease the columns
in those important situations of a part of their burden,
and for no such purpose as Vitruvius and his disciples
have thought. Indeed, this has been a problem to the
whole school, which their master proposed, and which
they have settled only by putting a half-metope beyond
the outer triglyph; thus preserving the intercolumniation
equal, but rendering the angles more infirm, or perhaps
less stable, than the Greek architects judiciously thought
they should be. Besides contracting the intercolumnia¬
tion, the Greeks also made the corner columns a little
larger than the rest, thus counteracting in every way the
danger that might accrue to them, or to the structure
through them, from their exposed and partly unconnected
situation. The graduated pyramidal stylobate on which
the structure rests also bears a certain proportion to the
standard which is the measure of all the rest; and so
every part is determined by the capacity of the sustain¬
ing power. Though the Doric order thus possesses, as it
were, a self-proportioning power, which will secure har¬
mony in its composition under any circumstances, yet
skill and taste in the architect are necessary to deter¬
mine, according to them, the number of diameters the
column shall have in height, and according to that assign
the height of the entablature. For these two points in
proportioning, and for appropriate detail and enrichment,
he may, without servility, refer to the ancient examples;
with the confidence, moreover, that in availing himself ot
their beauties he acquires the power of producing an ob¬
ject that shall be itself beautiful, while he can avoid being
a mere copyist in the adaptation and arrangement of the
materials of his composition, as well as in the selection
Grf m of them. We cannot discover that the elevation of the
Stmt res.pediment depended so immediately on the common stand-
-W ard, though in the best examples the tympanum will be
found to be about one diameter and a half in height.
The Ionic and Corinthian, or Voluted and Foliate
ARCHITECTURE.
435
gentum in Sicily. It is not even prostylar, for the columns Grecian
on Hts fronts are attached, as well as those on its flanks. Structures.
Ihe dipteral arrangement is found at Selinus, in an octa-
style temple ; and in some cases the porticoes of peripteral
,*•” y , - ----- ---- -—temP^es have a pseudo-dipteral projection, though no ner-
orders, do not possess that innate principle of harmony feet example of the pseudo-dipteros exists P
which pervades the Doric, and therefore they are, as Most of the temples of the Greeks were cleithral; those
styles, less perfect, and depend more on factitious combi- to the inferior and demi-gods were invariably so. The
nations. The Greek compositions of Ionic and Corinthian fanes of the supreme divinity were almost as invariably
are of such consummate beauty in every particular, that hypaethral, and frequently those of other superior gods
their examples appear perfect, and may therefore be taken were of the latter description also. The Doric order was
as models for study in preference to the rules which have never used by the Greeks in mere prostyles ; consequent!
been laid down for those orders, without a knowledge of ly there is no Doric temple of the tetrastyle arrangement,
these exemplifications. \\ ith a consciousness of their in- for it is incompatible with the peripteral, the tetrastyle
fenor capacity to produce grand and harmonious effects examples which do exist being all Ionic.1 With verv few
m such arrangements as their temples require, the Greeks exceptions, all the Doric temples of the Greeks are hexa-
never applied either the Ionic or the Corinthian peripte- style. Their queen, however, the unmatched Parthenon, PI. LIV.
rally, and, as far as we have certain knowledge, only the is octastyle; and the pseudo-peripteral fane of Jupiter
fatter m piostyles. Whether the lomans did or did not, Olympius at Agrigentum, just referred to, presents the
singular arrangement, heptastyle. No example exists in
Greek aichitecture of a portico of more than eight columns,
except the mis-shapen monument called the Basilica ut
Paestum, the 1 hersites of its style, be so considered, and that
— X V  . ■■ — W4 KAXVA. 11U
cannot be satisfactorily ascertained, as their temples are in
every case so much destroyed, that it is impossible, at least
without more care and attention than they have yet re¬
ceived, to make out satisfactorily what their plans were.
T ,, T • i r, • ^ ui its siyie, ue soconsiuereu,anatn£3
n ^ie I°nic aml Corinthian orders, the proportions of the has a front of nine columns, or an enneastyle arrangement
various parts are generallv made denendont nn tlip dfawio. it u •  . v .
various parts are generally made dependent on the diame ¬
ter of the column, as in the Doric ; but the intercolumni-
ations, and consequently the general proportions, of a com¬
position, are not determined by the column and its acces¬
sories according to their capacity, but must be left to the
taste and skill of the architect, as well as the columnar
proportions themselves. This gave rise to the rules re¬
ferred to, which are laid down by Vitruvius, for what he
calls the “ Five Sorts of Edifices,” or, more correctly,
species of intercolumniation. They are pycnostyle, systyle,
diastyle, armostyle, and eustyle, to each of which a fixed
space is assigned. Architects will, however, act more
wisely in judging for themselves, by reference to the best
It may be here remarked, in support of the opinion we
have given as to the authority of Vitruvius, that, ac¬
cording to him, peripteral temples have on each flank
twice the number of intercolumniations they have in front;
thus giving to a hexastyle eleven, to an octastyle fifteen
columns, and so on, whereas in the Greek temples this is
never the case, for they always have more. The best ex¬
amples have two, some have but one, but many have three,
and in one instance there are four intercolumniations more
in flank than in front. Again, he limits the internal hy¬
paethral arrangement to those structures which are exter¬
nally decastyle and dipteral, though an example, he says,
existed in Greece of an octastyle hyqiaethros, and that was
i i c A F 7. —• J  . ^ m vjicc^c ui iiu uciasiyie uypaiiiiros, anu mat was
models of antiquity, what proportion constitutes an Eustyle a Homan structure. Now, the Parthenon is an octastyle
internn nmninfinn —j:  i • r i . n i , , , , . .
intercolumniation, according to the application of his
ordinance, than by attending to such irrational dogmas as
are contained in that classification.
The temples of the Greeks are described, according to
their external arrangement, as being either in antis, pro¬
style, amphiprostyle, peripteral, pseudo-peripteral, dip¬
teral, or pseudo-dipteral; and internally, as cleithral or
nypaethral. I he columnar arrangement in antis is not com-
I L1 r of0’! ln ^le.eJv aic|11l:ectu_re, though there are examples imm n u prunaus anu naos. ivn ampmprostyie nas, in an¬
il nr *' ^n^ra 01 t le II°ric order, i he inner porticoes or dition to the preceding, a posticum, but is not understood
I.|n 0 Penpteral temples are for the most part placed to have a second entrance. The porticoes of a peripteral
^■> in ai},,1S,i aS Seen ^7 reference to the examples, temple are distinguished as the porticus and posticum,
w uc i columns stand between the antae. The Ionic and the lateral ambulatories are incorrectly called peri-
temples of Athens are the principal examples of the ' 1 T'   ’ ’ ’
Minple prostyle. They may be called apteral, if it be ne¬
cessary to distinguish them from peripteral, as the latter
are prostylar; but the former term alone is sufficient.
hypsethros, but all the other hypaethral temples, both* in
Greece and her colonies, are hexastyles, except perhaps
the octastyle dipteral at Selinus ; and there is no evidence
in existence that the Greeks ever constructed a decastyle
dipteral temple.
A Greek temple, whose columnar arrangement is sim¬
ply in antis, whether distyle or tetrastyle, consists of pro-
naos and naos or cella. A tetraprostyle may have be¬
hind it a pronaos and naos. An amphiprostyle has, in ad-
styles. It may indeed be here suggested, that as the ad¬
mixture of Latin with Greek terms in the description of
a Grecian edifice cannot be approved of, it would perhaps
be better to apply the term stoa to the colonnaded plat-
Noith I V • aiune is sumcient. oe neuer to apply tne term stoa to tne coionnauea piat-
e,r 1 oes , architecture present more than one form or ambitus altogether, and distinguish the various
example, and that, is at Athena aler.    
examp e, and that is at Athens also, of an amphiprostyle,
except in the same peripteral structures, which are also
mp iprostylar. Almost all the Doric temples are perip-
eia , and being peripteral, they are, as a matter of course,
„ P ''P^tylar, as we have just remarked ; so that the for
parts of it by the addition of English adjectives: or the
common term portico would be quite as well with front,
back, and side or lateral, prefixed, as the case may be.
Within the back and front stoas or porticoes, then, a pe- Pl.LVIII.
* j 7 ^ xxc* v v; j uo t 1 cintli Jt i.eu ; su uiul um mr- ripteral temple has similar arrangements in antis, which Fig. 3.
kind a ]ne *S uset^ ^escribing an edifice of that are relatively termed the pronaos and opisthodomus, with
co]u’W* . “le numeral which expresses the number of an entrance only from the former; unless there should
said (pace'Ti ^011 ^'111 a. Boric tetraprostyle, may seem to contradict this; but it must be recollected that we have already
under the Tt ’ 11 ^ .sPea^‘ng of Greek architecture, we exclude all the examjiles, even in Greece itself, which were executed
oman dominion, for they bear the Homan impress; and that is one of them.
436
ARCHITECTURE.
Grecian a Greek temple of the most ramified description consists
Structures. on]y 0f a cell, in those which are cleithral; and of a naos,
which is divided into nave and aisles, to use modern eccle¬
siastical terms, in an hypsethral temple.
The only pure Greek architectural works that remain
to us, and of which we have certain information, besides
temples, are, it has been already stated, propylaea, chora-
•gic monuments, and theatres. The Propylseum, by way of
eminence, that to the Acropolis ot Athens, is the entrance
or gateway through the wall of the peribolus into it. It
consists of a Doric hexaprostyle portico internally, with
a very singular arrangement of its columns, the central
intercolumniation being ditriglyph. This was done pro¬
bably to allow a certain procession to pass, which would
have been incommoded by a narrower space. Within the
portico there is a deep recess, similar to the pronaos in a
temple, but without columns in antis; a wall pierced with
five doorways corresponding to the intercolumniations of
the portico, close the entrance; and beyond it is a vesti¬
bule, divided into three parts by two row's of three Ionic
columns, and forming an outer portico, fronted externally
by a hexaprostyle exactly similar to that on the outside.
Right and left of it, and setting out about one intercolum¬
niation of the portico from its end columns, at right angles,
are two small triastyle porticoes in antis, with chambers be¬
hind them. These have been called temples, but most
probably they were nothing more than porters’ lodges or
guard-houses. The whole structure, though extremely
elegant, and possessing many beauties, is not a good ar¬
chitectural composition: the unequal intercolumniation
detracts from its simplicity and harmony. The use oflonic
columns in a Doric ordinance is equally objectionable;
and their elevation from the floor of the portico on insu¬
lated pedestals is even worse, though their intention is
obvious; and without raising them, the ceiling might have
been too low, or they must have been made taller.1 The
uneven style of the small temples or lodges is not pleasing,
even though they be taken as flank and not as front com¬
positions ; and, moreover, their entablature abuts indefi¬
nitely against the walls of the larger structure, both in¬
ternally and externally, to the total destruction of the
harmony of the general composition. Indeed the unequal
heights of the entablature of the greater ordinance in¬
volves a fault, if there were not something to prevent
them from being seen in the same view, which it requires
more than all the beauties of detail and harmony of pro¬
portion to countervail.
The choragic monument of Lysicrates, vulgarly called
the Lanthorn of Demosthenes, at Athens, is a small struc¬
ture, consisting of an elegant rusticated quadrangular
basement or podium, which is more than tw o fifths of the
whole height, surmounted by a cyclostyle of six Corin¬
thian columns, attached to, and projecting rather more
than one half from, a wall which perfects the cylinder up
to the top of their shafts, where it forms a podium for tri¬
pods the height of the capitals. A characteristic enta¬
blature rests on the columns, and receives a tholus or
dome, which is richly ornamented, and terminates in a
foliated and heliced acroterium. To this Stuart has add¬
ed dolphins as supporters, and has placed on the summit
a tripod, which was the prize in the choragic festival;
thus completing perhaps the most beautiful composition
in its style ever executed. In Vitruvian language the ar¬
rangement of this edifice would be called monopteral;
but it is more correctly cyclostylar, or, perhaps, because
of the wall or core, it may be termed a pseudo or attached
PL LX.
Fig. 1 & 2.
N
lira,
one particular either with it or with the portico on
the
cyclostyle. The basement of this monument is eminently
bold and simple, admirably proportioned to the rest of the St IJ
structure, and harmonizing perfectly with it. The coAv^
lumnar ordinance is the only perfect specimen of the style1
in existence of pure Greek origin, and it has never been
surpassed, perhaps not equalled, in beauty elsewhere. The
most exquisite harmony reigns throughout its composi-
tion: it is simple without being poor, and rich without
being meretricious; and the same applies to the super¬
imposed tripod and its supports.
Totally different in style and arrangement, and far in¬
ferior in merit, is the choragic monument of Thrasyllus.
It bears, however, the impress of the Grecian mind. This
•composition is merely a front to a cave, consisting of three
pilasters proportioned and moulded like Doric antae, and
supporting an entablature similar in style, but too shallow
to harmonize with them. Above the entablature there is
an attic or parapet, divided into three compartments hori¬
zontally. The two external form tablets with a cornice or
impost on them, and the central is composed of three re¬
ceding courses, on the summit of which is seated a draped
human figure, whether male or female, in its mutilated
state is not determinable. The entablature, instead of
triglyphs in the frieze, has laurel wreaths; and it would
appear as if the absence of that feature had deranged the
whole composition. The two outer pilasters are of good
proportion, and the architrave is w'ell proportioned to them;
but the frieze and cornice are both too narrow, and
the spaces between the pilasters, equivalent to interco¬
lumniations, are too wide. The third pilaster, itself in¬
harmonious, is absurdly narrow, being narrower than the
others; and, standing immediately under the statue, evi¬
dently to support it, its meagreness is the more obvious
and striking. In spite of all this, the general outline of
the structure is simple and pleasing, the detail is elegant,
and the execution spirited and effective. This little mo¬
nument is, however, a proof that the Greeks were not so
excellent in architectural compositions at all times, as in
the self-composing Doric temples, and in the choragic
monument of Lysicrates; and to this evidence may be
added that of the triple temple in the Acropolis of Athens.
It consists of an Ionic hexaprostyle in front, resting on a]
bold, continuous, and well-proportioned stylobate, and
forming the entrance to a parallelogramic cella, but,
from all that has yet been discovered, without a pronaos
in antis. The back-front consists of four columns like
those of the portico, attached in antis ; and the flanks are
broad and bold, crowned by the well-proportioned and
chaste entablature, with the enriched congeries of mould¬
ings and running ornament of the antae under it. In the
absence of a pronaos to give depth to the portico, the
composition was defective, but otherwise simple and har¬
monious. It was, howrever, completely spoiled by the at¬
tachment of a tetraprostyle to one of its sides, Ionic cer¬
tainly, like that in front, but not only in a different man¬
ner, but of a different size; beautiful in itself, but a blot
on the main building, with which it harmonizes in no one
particular, being altogether lower; for the apex of its pe¬
diment only reaches to the cornice of the former. This
and the Caryatidean portico are omitted in the example.
In a similar situation, against the other side is attached a
similar arrangement of Caryatides, a tetraprostyle of female
figures raised on a lofty basement, and yet not reaching
to the entablature of the main building,—according in j10
other side, and altogether forming the most heterogeneous
1 An editorial note in the new edition of The Antiquities of Athens says that “ they are incorrectly mounted on pedestals” in Stuart
and Ilevett s Restoration. this structure cannot perhaps fairly be judged of, until its site and remains shall have been examine
without the jealous supervision of a Turkish governor.
ARCHITECTURE.
437
. i and inharmonious combination imaginable. Yet the two
Guct' 9'Ionic porticoes are the most beautiful examples of their
✓W order in existence, and perhaps, it may be added, that
were ever executed,—arranged in the finest proportion,
and with the most exquisite details and enrichments.
The Caryatidean frontispiece, also, for more it cannot be
called, is full of architectural beauties, though it is most
injudiciously collocated.
The theatres of the Greeks, it has been already inti¬
mated, present but little to interest in the view we are
taking of architecture. They were not structures, but ex¬
cavations ; and whatever decoration they may have re¬
ceived to make them objects of interest externally, is, in
every known example, entirely gone; and attempts to re¬
store them from their existing remains, and the informa¬
tion to be derived from ancient writers, would be futile,
without a knowledge of Greek architecture gained else¬
where, proving that they themselves cannot furnish it,
and of course cannot yield it to us. No example of it
furnishing us with matter for architectural illustration, we
should gain no information in furtherance of our present
subject by treating of it here.
The division of the columnar architecture of the Greeks
and Romans into orders by the Italian architects of the
fifteenth century, according to the laws of Vitruvius, and
the universal reception of that mode of arranging it, al¬
most imposes on us the necessity of adopting the same
course, and laying down a standard or model for each.
But instead of so doing, we think it better to give each
school separately, and describe the general features of the
orders as they occur in the works of each,—pointing out,
moreover, the varieties that exist, and prevent the mono¬
tony consequent on restricted forms and proportions. We
retain, too, the term “ Order,” and the names in general
use, without consenting to the propriety of either the one
or the other; for if it be judicious to divide Greek and
Roman columnar architecture into orders, there can be
no reason why Egyptian, Hindoo, Persian, or any other
style, should not be classed in a similar manner. More¬
over, there is nothing in any one “ order” that, were it
not for custom, would not be thought as fitting in any
other as in that to which it may belong. The Greeks did
not hesitate to put triglyphs in the frieze of an entablature
whose columns were fillet-fluted and had foliated capi¬
tals, as some ruins at Paestum attest. As to names, the
Doric might, as we have said, be called Corinthian with
more propriety; the Ionic, Samian; and the Corinthian,
Athenian; referring to the oldest known examples of
each. The term Style would be more correct than Order,
as it would indicate the column as the feature referred
to, without conveying the idea of fixed rules; and archi¬
tectural works into which columns do not enter need not
be constrained to admit the arrangement of some Order
in the composition, proportion, and detail of its various
parts. In naming, too, the Doric might be called the
Creek sacred or triglyphed style ; the Ionic, the Voluted
style; and the Corinthian, the Foliated; thus admitting
any varieties of combination which could be expressed as
composites of the voluted and foliate, or of the foliate and
triglyphed, as the case might be.
An Order, according to Mr Gwilt, is “ an assemblage
of parts, consisting of a base, shaft, capital, architrave,
Ineze, and cornice, whose several services requiring some
distinction in strength, have been contrived or designed
in live several species,...each of which has its ornaments
os well as general fabric proportioned to its strength and
character.” Perrault says that an order may be defined
o rule for the proportion of columns, and for the form
o certain parts which belong to them, according to the
dmerent proportions which they have.” We would have
ii.irun^erSt00.d t0 ke a sPecies of columnar arrangement, Grecian
differing in its forms and general proportions, and in some Doric,
leading features, from any other. Greek columnar archi-
tecture may thus be divided into the three arrangements
or orders, Doric, Ionic, and Corinthian, which form its
classes or styles. In considering them, however, it is
necessary to discharge the mind of all the absurdities of
the Italo-Vitruvian school about the proportions of the
human figure being applied to columns, whether virile, ma¬
tronal, or virginal; about the trunks of trees and rafters’
feet; whether Doric columns should not have bases be¬
cause men have feet, or that Ionic columns should have
them because women wore sandals ; that the guttae in a
Doric entablature should be conical, and not pyramidal,
because they are to look like drops of water; that sculls,
furies, thunderbolts, and daggers may be used to enrich
a Doric frieze, but that spears, and swords, and stars, and
garters may not;—these, with the thousand other puer¬
ilities of the Cinquecentists, whether Italian, French, or
English,—whether acquired from the writings of Palladio
and Scamozzi, of Perrault and Leclerc, or of Wotton and
Chambers,—must be forgotten, and the greater or less
degree of beauty resulting from this or that mode of ar¬
rangement and detail alone attended to.
Not to induce the idea that the quoted examples of the
antique should be imitated to the line and letter, but ra¬
ther in spirit, we shall speak of the proportions of their
various parts generally; though it must at the same time
be understood that much of the beauty of a columnar
composition depends on its minutiae : still it is not neces¬
sary that these minutiae should be mere repetitions of an
original; it is in the spirit of the antique models that ex¬
cellence is to be sought, and not in crude rules for their
reproduction.
Of the Grecian Doric.
This order may be divided into three parts, Stylobate,
Column, and Entablature. The stylobate is from two
thirds to a whole diameter of the column in height, in
three equal courses, which recede gradually the one above
from the one below it, and on the floor or upper step the
column rests. That graduation, it may be remarked, does
not appear to have been made by the ancients to facilitate
the access to the floor of the stoa or portico, but on the
principle of the spreading footings of a wall, to give both
real and apparent firmness to the structure, both of which
it does in an eminent degree.
The column varies in different examples from four to PI. LV.
six diameters in height, of which the capital, including Pig- la¬
the necking, is rather less than half a diameter : in those T^1*'
cases in which a necking does not exist, the capital itself
occupies nearly the same proportion. The shaft dimi-p-jg ^
nishes in a slightly curved line, called entasis, from its base
or inferior diameter upwards to the hypotrachelium, leav¬
ing it at that place, or at the superior diameter, from two
thirds to four fifths of the lower or inferior, which latter
is the diameter always intended when the term is used as
a measure of proportion. The capital consists of a neck¬
ing, an echinus or ovalo, and an abacus; the necking is
about one fifth of the height of the capital, and the other
two members equally divide the remaining four fifths:
when there is no necking, the ovalo occupies the greater
proportion of the whole height. The abacus is a square
tablet, whose sides are rather more than the inferior dia¬
meter of the column. The corbelling of the ovalo adapts
it to both the diminished head of the shaft and the ex¬
tended abacus, flowing into the one, and forming a bed
for the other by means of a graceful cyma-reversa; but Fig. 6 &. 7.
its lower part is encircled by three or four rings or annu¬
lets, which are variously formed in different examples,
ARCHITECTURE.
438
Grecian and which are the means of giving the echinus form to
Doric, the great moulding, although it is, as we have said, part
of a cyma-reversa. The shaft is divided generally into
twenty flutes; but there are several examples with sixteen,
PI. LVII. and there is one with twenty-four. The flutes are some-
!. ig. 12. times segments of circles, sometimes semiellipses, and
t sometimes eccentric curves. They always meet in an ariis
iig. of edge> and fo]low t]ie entasis and diminution of the
column up through the hypotrachelium to the annulets,
under which they finish, sometimes with a straight and
sometimes with a curved head. At the base they detail
on the pavement or floor of the stylobate.
Fig. 4. The third part of the order, the entablature, ranges in
various examples from one diameter and three quarters to
rather more than two diameters in height, of which about
four fifths is nearly equally divided between the architrave
and frieze, and the cornice occupies the remaining one
fifth : this is in some cases exactly the distribution of the
entablature. The architrave is in one broad face, four
fifths, and sometimes five sixths of its whole height; and
the remaining fifth or sixth is given to a projecting con¬
tinuous fillet called the taenia, which occupies one half the
space, and a regula or small lintel attached to it, in lengths
equal to the breadth of the triglyphs above in the frieze.
From the regulae six small cylindrical drops called guttae
depend. There are examples to the contrary, but it may
be taken as a general rule, that the architrave is not in
the same vertical line with the upper face of the shaft, or
its circumferential line, at the superior diameter, but is
projected nearly as much as to impend the line or face of
the column at the base. The frieze, vertically, is plain
about six sevenths of its whole height, and is bounded
above by a fascia, slightly projecting from it, which oc¬
cupies the remaining seventh. Horizontally, however,
it is divided into triglyphs and metopes, which regulate
the intercolumniations in the manner that has been al¬
ready described; the former being nearly a semidiame¬
ter in width, and the latter the space interposed between
two triglyphs, generally an exact square, its breadth
being equal to the whole height of the frieze, including
the fascia. This latter breaks round the triglyphs hori¬
zontally, and is a little increased in depth on them. Each
glyph, of which there are two whole ones and two halves
to every tablet, is one fifth of the width of the whole,
and the interglyphs are each one seventh of the whole
tablet or triglyph. The glyphs detail on the taenia of the
architrave, but are variously finished above. In some ex¬
amples they are nearly square-headed, with the angles
rounded off; in others the heads are regular curves, from
a flat segment to a semiellipsis. The semiglyphs are
finished above in a manner peculiar to themselves, with a
turn or drop; but hardly two examples correspond in that
particular. The tablets in which the glyphs are cut are
vertical to the face of the architrave, the metopes recede
from them like sunk panels; these are often charged with
sculptures, and indeed almost appear contrived to receive
them. The third and crowning part of the entablature,
the cornice, in what may be considered the best examples,
projects from the face of the triglyphs and architrave
about its own height. Vertically, it is divided into four
equal parts, one of which is given to a square projecting
fillet at the top, with a small congeries of mouldings, dif¬
ferent, and differently proportioned to each other, in vari¬
ous examples. Two other parts are given to the corona,
and the remaining fourth to a narrow sunk face below it,
with the mutules and their guttae. These latter form the
soffit or planceer of the cornice, which is not horizontal or
at right angles to the vertical face of the entablature ge¬
nerally, but is cut up inwards at an angle of about 80°.
The width of the mutules themselves is regulated by that
of the triglyphs over which they are placed, to which it Grecian
is exactly equal. They are ornamented each with three Doric,
rows of six small cylinders, similar to those which depend
from the regulae under the triglyphs and on the archi¬
trave. There are twice the number of mutules that there
are of triglyphs, one of the former being placed over every
metope also in the manner the examples indicate.
This completes the Greek Doric Order according to the
generally received sense of the term; but there are other
parts necessary to it. In the front or on the ends of api.i/qi
temple, or over a portico, a pediment is placed. Its in-Fig. i.
tention is obviously to inclose the ends of the roof, but it
forms no less a part of the architectural composition. In
reason, it should be raised as much as the roof required;
but when the span is great that would be unsightly; and
reference appears to have been made to the common
standard of proportion, as the pediments of most Doric
temples are found to be about one diameter and a half in
height at the apex of the tympanum, which in a hexastyle
arrangement makes an angle at the base of about 14°,
and in an octastyle about 12^°. The pediment is covered
by the cornice, without its mutules, rising from the point
of its crowning fillet, so that no part of it is repeated in
profile. Another moulding, however, is superimposed:
sometimes this is an ovalo with a fillet over it, and some¬
times a cymatium. It varies much in its proportion to the
cornice, but in the best examples it is about one half the
depth of the latter without its mutules. Ornaments of
various kinds, statues or foliage, are believed to have been
placed on the apices and at the feet of pediments as
acroteria. Of these, however, we have no actual remains;
but indications of the plinths or blocks which may have
received them exist, and such things appear represented
in ancient coins and medallions. The tympana of pedi¬
ments are well known as receptacles of ornamental sculp¬
ture. On the flank of a Doric temple, the cornice sup-puj]
ported a row of ornamented tiles called antefixse. These Fig. 1.
formed a rich and appropriate ornament, but they rather
belonged to the roof than to the columnar arrangement or
order. The antefixae covered the ends of the joint-tiles
as the pediments did those of the roofs; and correspond¬
ing ornaments called stelai rose out of the apices of the
joint-tiles, forming a highly enriched ridge.
A secondary Doric order arises in the disposition of a Fig. 9.
Grecian temple, from the columns of the pronaos and
the inner part of the external entablature continued and
repeated. Of this the frieze is generally without triglyphs,
though there may be regulae and guttae on the architrave.
The fascia of the frieze is either moulded or enriched on
the face; and, instead of a cornice, the beams of the ceiling
are laid at equal intervals to support sunk panels or cof¬
fers, in which there may be flowers or other enrichments.
The proper composition and arrangement of antae are as
necessary to the perfection of the Doric order as that of
the columnar ordinance itself, especially if the latter be j
in antis. A slight projection is made from the end and Fig. 2,
side face of a wall, forming a species of pilaster, whose ^ ^
front shall be nearly equal to the diameter of the columns
to which it is attached, exactly equal indeed to the soffit
of the entablature, whose faces have been described to
impend the circumferential line of the column a little
above its base. This rests on the stylobate in the same
manner as the columns do, with sometimes a small conti¬
nuous moulding as a base; and its capital is a congeries
of mouldings, about the depth of the abacus, with a plain
fascia corresponding to the ovalo of the columnar capital.
The entablature of the order to which it is attached rests
on it, and, continuing along the flank of the building, is re¬
ceived by a similar combination at the other end. These,
it may be remarked, were never diminished or fluted.
f
ARCHITECTURE.
m
Grecia Being projections from the ends of walls, they could not
Ionic, be diminished without involving an absurdity; and fluting
•^T'1 on a straight surface must be productive of monotony, as
the flutes can only project a series of equal and parallel
shadows. Not so, however, with columns, on whose ro¬
tund surface fluting produces a beautiful variety of light
and shade in all their gradations, which it could not pos¬
sess without that enrichment; for on a plain column nei¬
ther are the lights so bright nor the shadows so dark as
in the former case, nor are they so finely diffused over the
whole surface in the one as in the other.
In the only example which occurs in the ancient archi¬
tectural remains of attached Doric columns, that of the
pseudo-peripteral temple of Jupiter Olympius at Agrigen-
tum,the stylobate is peculiarly arranged. The upper gradus
is grooved, and detailed round the columns and along the
walls between them; and a congeries of vertically arranged
mouldings and fillets rests on it, and receives the base of
the column.
Such are the materials of which the Greeks composed
their beautiful temples, the manner of whose composition
has been already described. Of their effect, however, it is
impossible to form a competent idea without seeing one.
And whence, it may be asked, does their interest arise •?
PI. LI From their simplicity and harmony;—simplicity, in the
long unbroken lines which bound their forms, and the
breadth and boldness of every part; such as the lines of
the entablature and stylobate, the breadth of the corona,
of the architrave, of the abaci, of the capitals, and of their
ovalos also; in the defined form of the columns, and the
breadth of the members of the stylobate ;—harmony, in
the evident fitness of every part to all the rest. The en¬
tablature, though massive, is fully upborne by the columns,
whose spreading abaci receive it, and transmit the weight
downwards by the shafts, which rest on a horizontal and
spreading basement; the magnitude of every part, as we
have before had occasion to remark, being determined by
the capacity of the sustaining power. Besides graceful
and elegant outline, and simple and harmonious forms,
these structures possess a bewitching variety of light and
shade, arising from the judicious contour and arrange¬
ment of mouldings, every one of which is rendered effec¬
tive,—by the fluting of the columns and the peculiar form
of the columnar capital, whose broad, square abacus pro¬
jects a deep shadow on the bold ovalo, which mingles it
with reflections, and. produces on itself almost every va¬
riety. The play of light and shade, again, about the in¬
sulated columns, is strongly relieved and corrected by
the deep shadows on the walls behind them; and in the
fronts, where the inner columns appear, the effect is en¬
chanting. For all the highest effects which architecture
is capable of producing, a Greek peripteral temple of the
Doric order is perhaps unrivalled.
Of the Grecian Ionic.
Not less Hellenic in its detail than the national Doric
is the graceful and elegant style called the Ionian, whose
proportions and peculiarities we take from the perfect ex-
> amples of the Athenian Acropolis.
“ . Ihis order may also be considered in three similar parts,
Stylobate, Column, and Entablature. The stylobate is in
three receding equal courses or steps, whose total height
is from four fifths of to a whole diameter. The column,
consisting of base, shaft, and capital, is rather more than
nine diameters in height, of which the base is two fifths of
a diameter; and the capital, including the hypotrachelium,
is in one case three fourths, and in the other seven eighths
of a diameter high. The base consists of a congeries of
mouldings, extending gradually from one diameter and a
third to a diameter and a half, and its height is in three
nearly equal parts, with two equal fillets separating them. Grecian
The lowest, a torus, rests on the top of the stylobate or Ionic,
floor of the portico, a fillet divides that from a scotia, a
second fillet intervenes that and a second torus, and a
third fillet bases the apophyge or escape - of the shaft.
The upper torus of the base is, in one example, fillet-fluted
horizontally; and, in the other, the same member is en¬
riched with the guilochos. The shaft diminishes with en¬
tasis from its lower or whole diameter, to above five sixths
of it immediately under the hypotrachelium. It is fluted
with twenty-four flutes and alternating fillets, which fol¬
low the diminution and entasis of the column. The flutes
in plan are nearly semiellipses, and they finish at both
ends with the same curve: a fillet is in thickness nearly
one fourth the width of a flute. The difference in the
height of the capital is in the length of the necking,
which in one case is separated from the head of the shaft
by a carved bead, and in the other by a plain fillet.
Above the necking, a height of about one third of a dia¬
meter is occupied by a congeries of three spreading or
corbelling mouldings, a bead, an ovalo, and a torus, which
are all appropriately carved. On these rest the parallelo-
gramic block, on whose faces are the volutes, and whose
ends are concaved into what is technically termed a bol¬
ster, to connect them. This part is about one third of a
diameter in height, and includes a rectilinear abacus,
whose edges are moulded to an ovalo, and carved with
the egg and tongue ornament. The volutes are three
fifths of a diameter in depth, and extend in front to
one diameter and a half; and they are nearly a semidia¬
meter apart. The flowing lines which connect the volutes
can only be understood by reference to the example. The Fig. 5.
bolsters are fluted vertically, with alternate fillets, on Fig. 12.
which are carved beads. An ornament composed of the
honeysuckle with tendrils encircles the necking of the
column. It must be remarked, that as the capitals are
parallelogramic, and present but twro similar fronts, to pre¬
serve the appearance of volutes externally on all sides,
the capitals of those columns which occupy the external
angles of porticoes are differently arranged. The outer Fig. 1G.
volute is bent out at an angle of 45°, and volutes are put
on the end or side-front of the capital also, the outer one
being the other side of the angular volute of the front.
To suit the angle internally, the two volutes of the inner
face are placed at right angles to each other: this is,
however, at best but an awkward expedient, and need
not be employed when a portico projects only one inter-
columniation.
The entablature, which is rather more than two diame-Fig. 5.
ters in height, is also divided into three parts—architrave,
frieze, and cornice—which may be proportioned by divid¬
ing the whole height into five parts, four of which, as in
the Doric, may be again equally divided between the ar¬
chitrave and frieze. The cornice, however, in the exam¬
ples referred to, does not occupy one fifth of the entabla¬
ture; but if it had a fillet over the upper moulding, which
it appears to want, that would be just its proportion. If
the architrave be divided into nine parts, seven of them
may be given to three equal fascias, which slightly pro¬
ject the one before the other; the first or lowest, which
is vertical to the circumferential line of the inferior dia¬
meter, being covered by the second, and the second by
the third. The remaining two ninths form a band of
mouldings corbelling a broad fillet, which separates the
architrave from the frieze: these mouldings are enriched.
The frieze, which does not project quite so much as the
lowest fascia of the architrave, is, in the Athenian exam¬
ples, quite plain; but it may be enriched with foliage, or
made the receptacle of sculpture in low relief. The cor¬
nice projects from the face of the frieze rather more than
ARCHITECTURE.
as much as its whole height, and is composed of bed
mouldings, a corona, and crown mouldings, ihe first are
a carved bead and carved cyma-reversa, the former of
which only occupies a portion of the height of the cor¬
nice, as the planceer is cut up inwards in the manner re¬
presented by dotted lines in the example, to a sufficient
depth for it; the crown mouldings, which consist of a
carved ovalo above a carved bead, are rather more than
one fourth of the whole cornice; and the corona occupies
the rest of its height, except that small portion given to
the bead of the bed mould. A fillet above the crown
mouldings, as already intimated, is certainly necessary to
complete the order and receive the antefixae, as described
in the Doric, for the flank of a temple.
The pediments in the Ionic examples are rather flatter
than in the Doric, the angle made by the covering cor¬
nice with the base being, in a hexastyle, less than 14°.
A vertical fillet, with a small moulding, equal in depth to
the two crown mouldings of the cornice, covers them in
the pediment, in the place of the cyma-recta or ovalo
used in the Doric order. The intercolumniation used in
these examples is, in the one two diameters, and in the
other three diameters and one sixth.
A much greater variety is found in the composition of
the Ionic than of the Doric order. Indeed the examples
of the Athenian Acropolis alone have neckings; in all
the others the shaft runs up to the corbelled mouldings,
which bed the block of the volutes, and the flutes finish
under them. Neither have they a torus in that congeries,
but a bead and ovalo alone, which latter makes an incon¬
venient projection under the pendent lines that connect
the volutes, and thus the capital is not more than halt a
diameter in height.
The Ionian or Asiatic examples of this order are far
inferior to those we have referred to. Their bases are dif¬
ferently, and certainly less elegantly composed. They
are without hypotrachelia, as may have been inferred;
they want the torus in the capital; and, in most cases, in¬
stead of flowing, pendent lines, they have straight lines
connecting the volutes. Their entablatures are not so
finely proportioned, nor so delicately executed. The coro¬
nas want breadth, and the bed moulds of the cornice are
as much too heavy as those of Athens are perhaps too
light. Indeed, upon the whole, they have more of the
grossness of Roman architecture than of the delicacy and
elegance of Grecian, though the Ionian examples are
supposed to be the models of those of Athens.
The width of the antae of the Ionic order is determin¬
ed, as in the Doric, by the soffit of the entablature; and
it will, of course, be exactly the same as, or rather less
than, the inferior diameter of the column. It is slightly
raised, too, from the face of the wall at the ends of which
it stands. The base of the antae is, in one of the two ex¬
amples of the Acropolis, a little deeper than that of the
column, having a small projecting moulding between the
lower torus and the floor; and the lower torus itself is
reeded. In the other example there is no difference in the
form and proportion of the antae and columnar bases, but
both the tori are fluted horizontally, with beaded fillets
between the flutes. The antae cap consists of a congeries
of corbelling mouldings, nearly one third of a diameter in
height. It is divided into three nearly equal parts, the
lowest of which is composed of a bead and an ovalo ; the
second of another bead and a cyma-reversa, all carved;
and the third of a plain flat cavetto, with a narrow fillet
and small crowning cyma-reversa, forming an abacus. The
necking is like that of the capital, and is enriched in the
same manner. Ihe cap or cornice thus formed breaks
round the projection of the antae, and is continued along
the wall under the entablature the whole length of the
building, or till it is impeded by some other construction, Grecij
and the base is continued in like manner. \ Corinthi
Attached columns have the voluted capital, but their
base is that of the antae; and it is detailed round them and *V:-
along the wall to which they belong, as with the antae. It
must be remembered, however, that the attached columns
in the triple temple are about one ninth less in diameter
than those which are insulated, though they are similar in
other respects, and have the same entablature.
The back of the triple temple, between the attached
columns, presents the only example in Greek architec¬
ture of windows. These are rather more than twice their
width in height, and are narrower at the top than at the
bottom. They rest on a broad, bold sill, which is equal in
depth to two sixths of the opening, and are surround¬
ed externally by a congeries of mouldings, which, with a
plain fascia, constitute an architrave. This architrave is
one fourth the opening in width; it diminishes with the
window, and in the same proportion, and is returned above
in two knees, which are made vertical to its extreme point
at the base.
Of the Grecian Corinthian.
The importance which the Greeks attached to a gradu-Pl.LX
ated stylobate, and the necessity of giving it a relevant % >•
proportion in a columnar ordinance, are evinced in the
only example of this order which remains to us of Gre¬
cian origin. Unlike the Doric and Ionic in its applica¬
tion, which is in temples of rectangular form, whose whole
height they occupy, this is attached to a small circular
structure, resting on a lofty square basement; and yet,
like those orders, it has a stylobate in receding courses,
and in plan, too, corresponding with the arrangement ofTig. 2.
the columns, and not with that of the substructure; thus
offering further proof that the stylobate was considered a
part of the columnar ordinance. Thus the Corinthian Fig 1
order also consists of stylobate, column, and entablature.
The stylobate is rather more than a diameter in height,
and is divided into three parts, but not equally, in con¬
sequence, it is probable, of the peculiar position of the
ordinance. The two lower grades have vertical faces, are of
equal depth, and they occupy three fourths of the whole
height; the third step occupies the remaining one fourth,
and is moulded on the edge, in exquisite harmony with the
more ornate style, of which it forms a part. Like the
column of the Ionic order, that of the Corinthian consists
of base, shaft, and capital: it is ten diameters in height.
The base is rather more than one third of a diameter high,
and is composed of a torus and fillet, which are nearly
two fifths of its whole height; a scotia and another si¬
milar fillet, rather less than the former; and a second
torus or reversed ovalo, one fifth the height of the base,
on which rests a third fillet basing the apophyge of the
shaft. The extent or diameter of the base, at the lower
torus, is rather more than one diameter and a half. The
shaft diminishes with entasis to five sixths of its diameter
at the hypotrachelium, and, like that of the Ionic order, has
twenty-four flutes and fillets. The flutes are semiellipses, so
deep as nearly to approach semicircles: they finish in the
apophyge at the foot of the shaft, in the same manner and
form; and at the head they terminate in leaves, to which
the fillets are stalks. The fillets are rather more than one
fourth the width of the flutes. The hypotrachelium is a
simple channel or gi'oove immediately under the capital.
The capital itself is a diameter and rather more than one
third in height: its core is a perfect cylinder, in bulk rather
less than the superior diameter of the shaft. This is band¬
ed by a row of water leaves, whose profile is a flat cavetto,
one sixth of the whole height, and another of leaves of the
acanthus, with flowered buttons attaching them to the cyhn-
r n der. These latter have the contour of a cyma-recta, and
Coiintan. are twice the height of the last, or one third of the whole
ARCHITECTURE.
441
capital. Rather more than another third is occupied by
helices and tendrils, which latter support a honeysuckle
against the middle of the abacus; and the abacus itself,
resting on and covering the whole mass, is but little more
than one seventh of the whole height. This member in
plan can only be described as a square whose angles are
cut oft’ at 45°, and whose sides are deeply concaved. In
profile it consists of a narrow fillet, an elliptical cavetto or
reversed scotia, and another fillet surmounted by a small
ovalo, or rather a moulding whose profile is the quadrant
of an ellipsis.
The entablature of this order is two diameters and two
sevenths in height. It also consists of architrave, frieze,
and cornice, of which the first occupies one tenth more
than a third, the second rather more than as much less
than that proportion, and the cornice is so much more
again above one third. The architrave is divided, like
that of the Ionic order, into three equal fascias, which
occupy all but one sixth of its whole height, and that is
given to a corbelled band, consisting of a bead, cyma-re-
versa,' and fillet, separating the two members of the en¬
tablature. The fascias of the architrave, it must be re¬
marked, are not perpendicular, but incline inwards, so
that their lower angles are all in the same vertical line,
third portion of the triple temple in the Athenian Acro¬
polis, and is a projection from the flank of the principal
Ionic structure, formed by a stereobatic dado raised on
the stylobate and antae-base mouldings of it, with a sur-
base consisting of a carved bead and carved ovalo corbel¬
ling a broad lintel, with a narrow projecting fillet above it.
On this rests a square plinth, which bases a draped female
figure, on the head of which there is imposed a circular
moulded block, with a deep rectangular abacus, two thirds
of whose face is vertical, and the other third is a cavetto,
fillet, and small cyma-reversa. The stereobate, including
the moulded base of the temple, is about three fourths
the height of the statue-pillar with its base and capital.
The entablature is rather less than two fifths of the same,
but it consists of architrave and cornice alone, between
which parts the height is nearly equally divided. Rather
more than one fifth of the former is given to a carved
bead and carved cyma-reversa, with the flat, plain cavetto
and fillet which they corbel; the other four fifths are di¬
vided nearly equally into three fascias, of which the third
or upper one has a fraction more than the other two, and
is studded with plain circular tablets, whose diameter is
five sixths of its depth. The cornice consists of bed-
mouldings, corona, and crown mouldings. Two fifths of its
whole height is given to the bed-mould, to which one
seventh of that may be added for the portion cut up in
Caryatic
Order.
which impends the surface of the shaft about one third of the planceer. Half that increased height is occupied by a
its height from the base. The frieze is one plain band, dentilled member, and the other half by a broad plain
slightly inclining inwards, like the fascias of the archi- fillet, a carved bead, carved cyma-reversa, and a narrow
trave, and slightly projected beyond them: in this ex- fillet above it. rI he remaining three fifths of the whole
ample it is enriched with sculptures. The cornice con- cornice being again divided into five parts, rather less than
sists of a deep congeries of bed mouldings, and a corona, two of them is given to the corona; a little more than one
with the accustomed small crown mouldings and fillet. Its to a plain cyma-reversa and fillet, of which the latter is
extreme projection is nearly equal to its whole height: of the wider; and of the rest a carved ovalo occupies five
this the bed-mouldings project about two fifths. As in sevenths, and a listel or crowning fillet, with a carved bead
the Ionic cornice, additional height is given to the bed- on it, the other two. A pier, pilaster, or antae, projects
moulds, by undercutting the planceer. In this case, indeed, from the wrall of the greater temple, and receives the end
it is done to nearly one fourth the height of the corona, of the entablature behind the inner figure; for the projec
One sixth the height of the cornice is given to a flat bead
and an ovalo, which are immediately above the frieze,
and which base a broad dentilled member that occupies
more than one fourth of the whole cornice. This is sur¬
mounted by a listel or broad fillet, above which is a cyma-
recta, whose narrow fillet nearly reaches the horizontal
tion is of two statues and their interspaces. It does not,
however, rest on the stereobate, but runs down to the base-
mouldings of the temple, the dado and surbase abutting
against it. The antse is capped by a congeries of carved
mouldings, which support a narrow cavetto and fillet: the
height of the cap is half the diameter of the antse. There
plane of the planceer, and separates it from a cyma-reversa is also a hypotrachelium, consisting of a cai ved beat an
that beds the superimposed projecting corona. This lat- the honeysuckle ornament, occupying about one t n o
ter is only three eighths of the whole cornice, and nearly a diameter in height. I his Caryatidean portico disp ays
one of the three is given to the ovalo and fillet, the bed- very clearly the arrangement of the ceiling, with its co ers
moulds alone occupying five eighths. The cornice is sur- or cassoons. Internally the architrave is plain two t nrds
of its height; of the remaining third rather more than one
half is a plain, slightly projected fascia; and the other is
occupied by a carved bead and ovalo. In the absence of
a frieze, the ceiling rests on this, and is divided by carv¬
ed beads into panels, which are deeply cohered, and dimi¬
nished by three horizontal moulded fascias.
Of Grecian Mouldings and Ornament.
Greek architecture is distinguished for nothing more Tk LXI-
than for the grace and beauty of its mouldings; and it
mounted by a cut fascia supporting honeysuckle antefixse,
which may indeed be taken as a part of the order, as the
solitary example in question presents it. This, however,
we know, from the Doric and Ionic structures, to be
a modification of the flank ornament of temples; and we
may suppose from analogy, that if used in a portico, the
cornice of this order would have a cyma-recta to crown
it on the inclined side of the pediment. The intercolum-
niation of this example is two diameters and one third.
Of Corinthian antae we have no examples, nor indeed w -
have we of insulated columns ; but as we find in the Ionic may be remarked of them generally, that they are eccen-
examples quoted, that the attached columns are less in trie, and not regular curves. Ihey must be drawn, for
proportion to the entablature than those which are insu- they cannot be described or struck; so that f‘10Ugh tliey
lated, we may conclude that it would be the same with this; be called circular, or elliptical, it is seldom that they are
thus reducing the entablature to two diameters, the ordi- really so : not but that they may be, but, i t ley are, i is
nary average of that part in Greek columnar architecture, evidently the result of chance, and not of design. Hence
all attempts to give rules for striking mouldings are worse
Of the Caryatides, or Caryatic Order. than useless, for they are injurious : the hand alone, direct-
The solecism in architecture of which we have now to ed by good taste, can adapt them to their purpose, and
speak has but the one existing example in the works of give them the spirit and feeling which renders them ettec-
the Greeks, to which we have already referred. It is the tive and pleasing,
vol. in.
3 K
442
Grecian
Mouldings.
ARCHITECTURE.
PI. LVIT.
& LVIIL
Fig. 6 & 7
PI. LIX.
Fig. 5.
PI. LX.
Fig. :i.
PL LXI.
The leading outline of Greek moulding is the grace¬
fully flowing cyma. This will indeed be found to enter
into the composition of almost every thing that diverges
from a right line ; and even combinations of mouldings are
frequently made with this tendency. It is concave above
and convex below, or the reverse ; and though a long and
but slightly fleeted line connect the two ends, they wdl
always be found to correspond; that is, the convexity
and the concavity will be in exactly the same curve, so
that if the moulded surface were reversed, and the one
made to assume the place, it would also have the ap¬
pearance, of the other, and the effect would be the same.
It is, in fact, the Hogarthian line of beauty; and it is not
a little singular that Hogarth, in his well-known Analysis
of Beauty, although he did not know, and indeed could
not have known, the contours of Greek architectural
mouldings, has given the principle of them, and, under
his line of beauty, has described many of the finest Greek
forms. The Roman and Italian mouldings were called
Greek in his day, and he assumed them to be so ; but they
evidently do not agree with his theory, whereas, in prin¬
ciple, the now well-known Greek forms do most com¬
pletely.
The cyma-recta is generally found to be more upright
and less deeply fleeted than the cyma-reversa; it is al¬
most always the profile of enrichments on flat surfaces, of
foliage, of the covering moulding of pediments, of the un¬
dercut or hooked mouldings in antae-caps, the overhang¬
ing not affecting the general principle; and it pervades,
as we have said, fleeted architectural lines generally,
whether horizontal or vertical. The cyma-reversa has all
the variety of inflection that its opposite possesses, but
the line connecting its two ends is, for the most part,
more horizontal, and its curves are deeper. It pervades
many architectural combinations, but is most singularly
evinced in the composition of the Greek Doric capital,
which is a perfect cyma-reversa, with the ends slightly
but sharply fleeted, as it flows out of the shaft below, and
’ turns in under the abacus above. The obviousness of the
former is prevented by the annulets which divide the
cyma into an ovalo and a cavetto, but the principle is
clear.1 The cyma is the governing outline in the con¬
geries of mouldings in bases also, as may be noticed in
the Ionic and Corinthian examples quoted and referred to.
An ovalo is but the upper half of a cyma-reversa, even
when it is used as a distinct moulding, and unconnected
with the waving form. Its name expresses its apparent
rather than its real tendency; for its contour is not that
of an egg in any section, though the ornament which is
carved on it, when used as a running moulding, is formed
like an egg; and from that it was named.
The upper torus of a base forms, with the escape or
apophyge of the shaft, a perfect cyma, and the scotia and
lower torus do the same; so that the torus and scotia
are referable to the same principle when in composition,
and they are not found together except in the combina¬
tion referred to.
Ihe bead is an independent moulding, varying in con¬
tour ; but it is generally the larger segment of a circle.
It is used, however, sometimes to mask the waving form,
and sometimes to separate it.
The cavetto, or simple hollow, is part of a cyma also, as
we have shown; but it is also applied independently, to
obviate a sharp angle, or to take from the formality of a
vertical line, as in the abaci of Ionic antae-caps. Its form,
nevertheless, is not the segment of a circle, for the upper Grecian
part of a cavetto is the most fleeted, and it falls below Mouldy
almost into a straight line.
There is a hooked moulding common in Greek archi-Pl. LYl]
tecture, particularly in the Doric antae-caps, which isFig.5&i
technically called the hawk’s-beak. It is a combination ofp
curves which cannot be described in words; but it hasp .Vl1
been already referred to in speaking of the cyma-recta, °&1
which is brought into its composition.
The cyma-recta is never found carved, or sunk within PI. LXI,
itself; but it sometimes has the honeysuckle, or other
ornament of the kind, wrought on it in relief, particularly
when used as the covering moulding—the cymatium—of
a pediment. The enrichment of the cyma-reversa consists
of a contrasted repetition of its own contour meeting in a
broad point below, and joining by a circular line above,
and making a sort of tongued or leafed ornament, whose
surface is inflected horizontally also. Between the leaves
a dart-formed tongue is wrought, extending from the cir-
cular flexure above to the bottom of the moulding, whose
contour it takes in front alone. As this would not mitre
or join well on the angles of the cyma, a honeysuckle is
gracefully introduced in the manned shown in the ex¬
ample. This enrichment is not wrought in relief on the
moulding, but is carved into it, so that the surfaces of
the parts of the ornament alone retain the full outline of
the cyma. The ovalo is enriched with what is called the
egg and dart ornament. This will be best understood by
reference to the example. Its angles also are made with
a honeysuckle, and the inflections are made in the mould¬
ing itself. The torus is sometimes enriched with the in¬
terlaced ornament called the guilochos: this too is cut
into the moulding itself. We have no Greek example of
an enriched scotia, and from its form and position, which,
to be effective, must be below the eye, it hardly seems
susceptible of ornament which could operate beneficially.
The bead is carved in spheres or slightly prolate sphe¬
roids, with two thin rings or buttons, dilated at their
axes, placed vertically between them. A cavetto is not
enriched at all, nor is the hawk’s beak, except by paint¬
ing, which does not appear to have been an uncommon
mode of enriching mouldings among the Greeks; that
is, the ornament was painted on the moulded surface in¬
stead of being carved into it. Fascias are also found en¬
riched by painted running ornaments, such as the fret or
meander, the honeysuckle, and the lotus. Sometimes plain
colour was given to a member, to heighten the effect it
was intended to produce. Ornaments were painted and
gilt on the coffered panels of ceilings too.
The few examples which exist of sculptured ornament
on straight surfaces exhibit varieties of nearly the same
combinations as those last mentioned,—the honeysuckle
with the lotus, and sometimes a variety of itself on scrolls,
either throwing out tendrils, or plain. This is found on
the necking of the Ionic columns of the Athenian Acro¬
polis, and on those of their antae, and continuing along
under the congeries of mouldings, as previously described.
The varieties of foliage used in the enrichments of Greek
architecture are few, and will be found generally exem- ^
plified in the Corinthian capital of the choragic monu-fy ;■
ment of Lysicrates, and in the rich acroteral pedestal or n- ^
stem of the same edifice, than which we possess no moref'g-
elaborate specimen of foliate enrichment of the Greek
school. There exist many specimens of architectural or¬
nament on vases and fragments, in marble and terracotta,
* The ,
volume to
attention.
presence of the cyma in the Doric capital was, we believe, first pointed out by Mr T. L. Donaldson, in the supplementary
1 ie ne'v e(lltlon 01 otuart’s Athens, though the true contour of the cyma itself appears to have escaped that gentleman’s
ARCHIT
11 Bo an in which human figures, both male and female, are com-
rei Strm.ires. posed, with a greater variety of foliage than is generally
found in Greek architectural works ; and many of the
beautiful marble and bronze utensils discovered in Her¬
culaneum and Pompeii have enrichments obviously of
Greek origin, from which, as well as from the specimens
of ornament on positive architectural monuments, we may
judge of their productions generally, as well as acquire
or imbibe somewhat of the fine taste which originated
them.
It would be puerile to speculate on the domestic e-di-
fices of the Greeks any further than we have done, as we
possess no genuine data on which to proceed. Their sa¬
cred structures have taught us their style of architecture;
but for its application to general purposes we have no re¬
source but to consult the Roman remains of the exhu¬
mated Campanian cities and other places, and gather from
analogy what Greek domestic architecture was.
Of Roman Structures.
! Temlfes With a treatise on Roman architecture by a Roman
and < iei architect, in our hands, mere transcription would appear
f!’1 to be all that is necessary in writing on the subject. But
,U1K ^s' finding that author and existing specimens at variance,
we cannot help determining in favour of the superior au¬
thority of the latter, to which, therefore, we shall refer
to elucidate Roman edifices and the Roman style, as we
did to the Greek remains to elucidate the Grecian.
Though far inferior in simplicity and harmony to the
columnar architecture of the Greeks, that of the Romans,
whether derived from it or not, is evidently of the same
family, and is distinguished by boldness of execution
and elaborate profusion of ornament. The tastes of the
two nations are exemplified in the Doric of the former
H PI. PII. and the Corinthian of the latter; the one a model of
&P II. simple grandeur, perfect in its peculiar adaptation, but al¬
most inapplicable to any other purpose; and the other,
’ PI. I III. less refined, but more ornate, making up in extrinsic what
it wants in intrinsic beauty—imperfect in ever}^ combina¬
tion, but almost equally applicable to every purpose. As
in Greece, so also in Rome, the noblest specimens of co¬
lumnar architecture are in the temples of the divinity;
but it does not appear that the Romans were in the habit
of constructing them peripterally, as the Greeks so con¬
stantly did. There are indeed ruins which induce the
belief that they at times built dipteral temples; but their
common practice (as far as existing examples are authori¬
ties) was to make them pseudo-peripteral, or apteral and
prostylar: of an amphiprostyle, even, we have not an ex¬
ample. It certainly is the custom to restore the ruined
temples; whose remains are a few columns only, as if they
had been peripteral; but it is done not only without sufficient
authority, but against that which the more perfect struc¬
tures present. The great projection, too, that the Romans
gave their porticoes, is evidence that they were depend¬
ent entirely on themselves for effect; for they are gene¬
rally projected three columns and their interspaces be¬
fore the cella, which, however, has no pronaos with co¬
lumns in antis; nor does it appear from existing remains
that the Romans were accustomed to use that arrange¬
ment. Circular or peristylar temples are not uncommon
m Roman architecture; and there are temples to which it
can hardly be supposed that columns were ever attached:
these are for the most part polygonal. Neither do the Ro¬
mans appear ever to have constructed hypaethral temples
with columns internally, as the Greeks did. Indeed it is
a question whether all their temples were not cleithral;
for it is not generally admitted that the Pantheon, which
is hypaethral by the open eye of the dome, was originally
a temple; and where the structures remain tolerably per-
E C T U R E. 443
feet, the ceilings and roofs appear to have been formed Roman
by arching from flank to flank, and thereby quite inclos-Structures,
mg them.
The application of columns internally is most strikingly PL LXIV.
effective in the Pantheon, where they are arranged in Fig-4 & 5.
front of niches, or deep recesses, composed with antse to
carry a crowning entablature round under an attic on
which the cupola rests. No representation can convey
even the most incompetent idea of the effect of this ar¬
rangement, to those who cannot gather it from the plan.
A section presents only one compartment correctly; all
the rest must of necessity be foreshortened. It is far
otherwise with the temple of peace and the hall of the
baths of Diocletian, in which columns stand before the
piers to have the entablature broken over them. This, in¬
deed, was the result, as we have before intimated, of the
combination of columns with arches ; and it is most clearly
exemplified in those works which most probably originat¬
ed the practice, and which are next in pretence to the
temples :—these are the triumphal arches.
The Romans had not adopted the simple graduated
stylobate of Greek columnar architecture in their temples,
but made the access to their porticoes in front with thin Fig. G, 7, &
steps, and built vertical stereobates along the flanks for 8.
the avails of the cella, or as stylobates, if there were at¬
tached columns. In applying a columnar arrangement to Fig. 10 &
the triumphal arch, this lofty stylobate was taken also.n-
The breadth of the opening prevented the columns from
being placed equidistant; they were, therefore, coupled,
the entablature was broken over them, and necessarily the
stylobate was cut through, leaving mere attached pedes¬
tals to stilt the columns, so that the whole ordinance was
deprived of every thing that could render it as a composi¬
tion beautiful: its simplicity and harmony were entirely
gone ; and instead of giving a graceful character to the
structure, it became a mere attached frontispiece, that
could only deform it. As if conscious that the Corinthian
was too beautiful to maltreat in such a manner, the Ro¬
man architects produced the hybrid, which has since been
called the Composite order, to use in these compositions : PI. I.XIII.
in them, indeed, it is chiefly found; and if it were not Fx- 2-
evidently a mere deterioration of the Corinthian, it might
with truth and propriety be called the Roman order.
Coupled columns, broken and recessed entablatures
and pedestals, and the Composite order, are among the
greatest blemishes in Roman architecture; for the mis-
formed and inappropriate abortions which have obtained
the name of Ionic and Doric, in Roman works, are hardly F.x. 3 & 4.
to be attributed to the school, but to individuals of it, as
they are of very infrequent occurrence, and generally ap¬
pear only in works which are otherwise ungainly. Such
are the amphitheatres, whose elliptical forms can never
be graceful, and whose architecture was invariably the
worst the time produced. The immense structure in PL LXIV.
Rome, which, from its magnitude, has been called the Fig- l-
Colosseum, bears in relief the gross architectural solecism
of columns in stories, which, moreover, have recessed sty¬
lobates and immense intercolumniations, with large arches
in them, which again reduce the effect of the column still
more, making the continuity of the entablatures themselves
a fault, by their consequent infirmity. The architectural
details of this structure are coarse and inelegant, plain
without simplicity, and laboured without elegance. But
internally these blemishes disappear, columns and arches
piled upon columns and arches give way to the long con¬
tinuous lines which graduated from the arena to the gal¬
lery, and must have produced as grand an effect as al¬
most any object in architecture : its magnitude and ruined
state produce the imposing effect so striking at the pre¬
sent time; but the mind can easily restore it, or it may
444 <
Eoman be contemplated in miniature in the amphitheatre at
Structures. Verona. _ .
The most perfect specimens of the^oman theatre^re¬
maining are those of Pompeii and Herculaneum
ARCHITECTURE.
sacrificed. But in an after-appropriation, as we imagine in Roman
this case, it might have been, and clearly was done; pro-Structure;
bably through ignorance, as well as bad taste, in those who
did it. If, then, the Pantheon, whose diameter is nearly
150 feet, was but an apartment—suppose the grand saloon
or xystum—in the baths, the whole structure must have
been immense; and if its proportions and internal archi¬
tecture be taken, as they certainly may be, as a specimen
of the style and manner of the interior of the edifice gene¬
rally, w'e shall obtain a very high opinion of the magnifi,
cence of the Roman baths or thermae. That they were
adorned with admirable works of sculpture, too, is proved
inclining cii^ w i  . , P i mi
those of the Greeks, they, too, rest on the side of a hill;
but instead of being hewn, they are built in it, as there
is no rock out of which they might have been excavated.
Their general form, however, is very similar to that ot
the Greek theatre, but they received a greater degree ot
architectural decoration than the latter was susceptible o .
Of this the theatre of Marcellus in Rome is an example;
by the fact, that some of the noblest specimens of that art
f. .51“ ,n the vicious and inelegant practice have been discovered in andamong the rums of the baths
in Rome. It may be further remarked ot the Pantheon,
in stories, according to the vicious and inelegant practice
of the Roman school. This, however, is on a plain, and
presents external walls, which other examples do not so
completely. .
The baths of the Romans were structures of immense
extent, and of splendid appearance internally. W hat their
exteriors were we have no competent means of determin¬
ing ; fragments, however, give us reason to believe, that
in architectural merit they did not surpass the exteiiois
of the amphitheatres. The walls internally were covered
with stucco, and painted with foliage, figures of animals,
and compositions, architectural landscape or history : the
floors were of mosaic, laid in compartments, and variously
ornamented : the ceilings were vaulted and stuccoed like
the Avails; sometimes they were enriched with coffered
that its effect has been seriously injured since its original
construction, by the removal of the columns from the re-Fig.Us,
cess opposite to the entrance, making the opening greater,
fixing the columns before the antse with the entablature
broken round them, and turning an arch over the Avhole;
thus destroying, as far as that part could affect it, the
simplicity and perfect harmony of the primitive composi¬
tion. The same bad taste which dictated that alteration
affixed little pedimented excrescences, now used as altars,
against the piers which alternate Avith the compartments
of columns.
The still extensive remains of the villa of Adrian, near Palaces
Tivoli, bespeak its original magnificence; and the archi-and villas
panels containing sculptured flowers or other architectural tectural fragments Avith which the site even now abounds,
ornament, and sometimes they were merely painted Avith rhmurh it, has furnished specimens to almost every coun-
what are termed arabesques. Columnar ordinances do
not appear to have been much used, and when they were,
it was not always with good taste, as we have had occa¬
sion already to remark; though the structure called the
Pantheon, which, with a great show of probability, is be¬
lieved to have been a saloon in the baths, perhaps of
Agrippa, on the contrary presents a beautiful adaptation
Fig. 2 ct 3. of one. That the Pantheon Avas part of a more extended
edifice, is very clear from its external form and appear¬
ance, which are unsightly in the extreme, presenting a
mis-shapen and unfinished mass. Now, domed chambers
are very common in the baths and palaces of the Romans.
They are not only more effective than rectangular apart¬
ments, but were much more convenient in the absence of
glass; for a small opening left in the apex lights and ven¬
tilates the vaulted saloon most completely, Avhilst the rain
that could pass through it was necessarily small in quantity,
and could be easily avoided by those walking on the floor.
though it has furnished specimens to almost every
try in Europe, after having suffered the spoliation and
destruction attending the incursions of barbarians and
the lapse of so many centuries, attest its pristine beauty,
and the fine taste of its imperial builder. This, however,
furnishes no evidence that its exterior was attractive.
Every thing about it appears directed to internal splendour
and effect alone ; and indeed all collateral evidence tends
to the same point, that the exterior of Roman palaces
and mansions was not heeded, being merely plain brick
Avails. This is the case at Pompeii, as we shall see; and
the ruins of mansions in various parts of Italy, from that
of Sallust on the Benacus or Lago di Garda, to those of
other Roman nobles on the shores of the Bay of Baise,
present no indications whatever that their exteriors were
subjected to architectural decoration. The palace of
Diocletian at Spalatro, and the splendid remains of Bal-
bec and Palmyra, some of which perhaps belonged to se¬
cular structures, offer eiddence to the contrary of this, if
In rectangular vaults this could not be effected, so that they are correctly restored in the works which treat of
them; for they present in their elevations so many of the
worst features of the Italian school, that there would be
room for doubt, if views of the ruins did not help to bear
the restorers out. But this does not appear to have been
the case in the earlier ages of the empire, Avhen archi¬
tecture among the Romans Avas in its best state. Notwith¬
standing the extent of the structure, and its general magni¬
ficence, however, the mouldings and ornaments in the in¬
terior of the villa of Adrian, though in themselves classical
and elegant, are small, and have a general air of littleness,
especially when compared with the apartments to which
they belong;—not that the apartments are generally large,
but they are for the most part lofty. The ceilings appear
to have been formed by vaulting; there are no indications
of windows, and none of stairs of any magnitude—so that
the rooms must have been nearly if not quite open at
one end, to admit light and air; and the probability is
that there were no apartments above the ground floor,
though it is likely enough that terraces formed on the
vaulted roofs A\rere used for the purposes of recreation
and pleasure. The floors were of mosaic, several of
rooms of that form depended on lateral openings for light
and air, and Avere thereby exposed and uncomfortable.
Again, there is a rectangular portico attached to the Pan¬
theon, having no single feature in common with it, the
former being a noble Corinthian octaprostyle of three in-
tercolumniations projecting, with two others of antae and
pilasters behind ; and the other a polygonal, bulbous mass
of brickAvork, much loftier than the portico, having cor¬
nices and blocking courses, too, none of Avhich range with
the entablature or any part of it. A conclusive argument,
moreover, against the commonly received opinion, that the
portico and the circular temple are an original composi¬
tion, proving indeed that the former Avas an adaptation of
what most likely had previously existed elsewhere in a
different situation, and of course could not be intended
for its present adjunct, is, that it now fronts north, and
consequently the sun never shines full on it, so that it is
in fact ahvays in shadow; and that was never permitted
by the ancients in their original compositions ; for tAvo
thirds of the beauty of a portico, consisting in the beauti¬
ful play and contrast of light and shade it affords, are thus
ARCHITECTURE,
n which are preserved entire in the Museum of the Vati-
tnKhes-can; and many fine specimens of ornamental sculpture
in vases and candelabra, besides busts, statues, and groups
in bronze, marble, porphyry, and granite, of various styles,
the remains of the noble collection Adrian made during
his progress through his extensive dominions, found among
the ruins of the villa, are conserved in the same place.
The ruins of the palace of the Caesars present no forms
or arrangements from which it would be possible to form
a rational notion of its original plan, still less of its gene¬
ral elevation, or indeed of the elevation of any part of
it. Large vaulted apartments, with here and there a
little stucco, sometimes moulded and sometimes plain or
painted, and a few small unconnected chambers scattered
up and down in a mountain of brick and rubble, convey
too vague an idea, or rather they are incompetent to con¬
vey an idea of a palace at all.
]{nr If evidence were required to prove the futility of writ-
stret: ten descriptions of buildings when their general model is
unknown, it would be enough to compare the house of a
Roman gentleman in Pompeii with the various designs
which have been made of the same thing from the de¬
scriptions and directions of Vitruvius, before the exhu¬
mation of that city. Their authors could only work upon
the notion they had of laying out houses; and therefore
the plans produced are those of ill-contrived modern re¬
sidences, so arranged that they may present a uniform
and architectural external elevation, which the Roman
houses have not; with windows properly lighting every
apartment, which are totally wanting in the latter; with
staircases to upper stories that did not exist; with corri¬
dors and doors uniformly disposed, which was unheeded
in laying out a Roman house. The Vitruvian restorers
put columns wherever they could, whereas the Roman
architects appear only to have put them where they could
not avoid it. In dimensions, too, the former erred no less
than in distribution ; they thought none too extensive for
a Roman domicile: but the apartments in Roman houses,
wherever they are, are generally small, and in ordinary
cases their whole site is exceedingly restricted. In pro¬
portioning the various parts, they adhered to rules the
Romans never heeded; and applied the details of the
architecture of temples and triumphal arches to domestic
edifices, in whose composition the plasterer, painter, and
mason, almost appear to have been the only architects!
Far inferior as Pompeii wras to Rome in magnitude and
splendour, there is no more reason for supposing that
houses in the latter were so very differently arranged
from those in the former that the same general descrip¬
tion of them should not apply to both, than there would
be for a future antiquary to hesitate in applying the plan
of a Brighton or Bath house, which may be preserved, to
a London mansion; for we know that in ordinary cases
they nearly coincide. It is, too, a recorded fact, that
wealthy Roman citizens had mansions at Pompeii and
Herculaneum; and we have already stated that discove¬
ries made of ordinary houses under the present level of
Rome show them to be exactly like the more perfect ones
of the Campanian city, except in their state of preserva¬
tion; so that, “ parvis componere magna” in Pompeii we
may see the domestic as well as public architecture of
ancient Rome.
The streets of Pompeii are very narrow, their average
width being not more than twelve or fifteen feet; fre¬
quently they are not more than eight feet wide, and very
few in any part exceed twenty. The principal excavated
street in the city, that leading from the Forum to the gate
towards Herculaneum and the street of the tombs, is, at
the widest, twenty-three feet six inches, including two
footways, each five feet wide. The streets are all paved
445
with lava, and almost all have side pavements or footways, Roman
which, however, are for the most part so narrow, that,Structures*
with few exceptions, two persons cannot pass on any ofV-^v^v^/
them. That the cars or carriages of the inhabitants could
not pass each other in most of the streets, is proved by
the wheel-ruts which have been worn on the stones, and
the recesses made here and there for the purpose of pass¬
ing. Their narrowness and inconvenience are aptly exem¬
plified in London by the narrow lanes which come be¬
tween St Paul’s and Thames Street, about Doctors’ Com¬
mons. The Forums, on the contrary, though not very
spacious, are of regular forms, and have wide and con¬
venient footways, completely colonnaded. In immediate
connection with them are the theatres, the principal tem¬
ples, the basilica, the courts of justice, and other public
edifices: the amphitheatre is by itself, in an extreme an¬
gle of the city. The use of some of the buildings on one
flank of the great Forum is not obvious : they are not ar¬
ranged like temples, and indeed possess no peculiar cha¬
racter by which they may be distinguished: it is tolera¬
bly clear, however, from circumstances, that they were for
the use of the public. The temples differ but little from
the ordinary Roman structures of that description, but are
generally inferior to them in the quality of the materials
of which they are constructed, in the style of their archi¬
tecture, and in the manner of its execution. The basilica is
not unlike a modern church, it being a long rectangular
edifice, having an arcaded porch at one end, being divided
internally by rows of columns into nave and aisles, and
having a columned recess at the west end of the nave for
a tribunal. There are, however, no indications of win¬
dows, so that it was probably hypaethral, though that ar¬
rangement would have made the place very inconvenient
for its purpose.
The streets of Pompeii are lined on either side with Pi. LXV.
small cells, which served for shops of various kinds; and
they are strikingly like the ordinary shops in towns in the
south of Italy and in Sicily at the present time. Like,
them, too, there appear in very few cases to be accommo¬
dations in connection with the shops for the occupiers
and their families, who must have lived elsewhere, as mo¬
dern Italian shopkeepers very commonly do. These pre¬
sent no architectural decoration whatever; the fronts are
merely plain stuccoed brick walls, with a large square
opening in each, part of which is the door, and part the
window, for lighting the place and showing the goods.
Whenever a private house or gentleman’s mansion oc-Houses
curs in a good place for business, like the ground floor of^1^0™5'’
many modern Italian noblemen’s palaces, the street-front,or ^odations-
fronts, was entirely occupied with shops, a comparatively
narrow entrance being preserved to the house in a conve¬
nient part between some two of them. The door to this
is sometimes quite plain, but at times it is decorated
with pilasters. WTien the site permitted such an arrange¬
ment, the entrance door being open, a passer by could
look completely through the house to the garden, or, in
the absence of a garden, to the extreme boundary wall, on
which was painted a landscape or other picture. An ar¬
rangement, it may be observed, not unlike this, is com¬
mon in some of the Italian cities at the present day; but
the mansions being now built in stories, and the upper
stories alone being occupied by the families, a merely
pleasing effect is produced; but in the former, persons
crossing from one apartment to another were exposed,
and domestic privacy thus completely invaded to produce
a pretty picture. Within the entrance passage, which
may be from ten to twelve feet in depth, there is a ves¬
tibule or atrium, generally square, or nearly so, on which
various rooms open, that vary in size from ten feet square
to ten feet by twelve, or even twelve feet square: they
architecture.
446
Roman have doors only, and were probably used as sleeping-
Structures. chambers by the male servants of the family. In the
centre of this court there is a sunk basin or reservon for
receiving the rain, called the compluvium, rendering it
likely that this was roofed over, with a well-hole to admit
light and air, and allow the rain to drop from the root
into the reservoirs. Connected with this outer court was
the kitchen and its accessories. If the site allowed the
second court to be placed beyond the first in the same di¬
rection from the entrance, the communication was by a
wide opening not unlike folding doors between rooms, in
modern houses, generally with a space intervening, \v hich
was variously occupied; if the site did not allow of that
arrangement, a mere passage led from one to the other.
The second or inner vestibule, atrium, or court, is gene¬
rally much larger than the first, is for the most pait paral-
lelogramic, but variously proportioned. It forms a tetra-
stoon, being open in the middle and arranged with a pe¬
ristyle of columns, colonnading a covered walk all round.
On this the best and most finished apartments open; but
they are of such various sizes, and are so variously ar¬
ranged, that it is not easy to determine more than that
they included the refectory, the library, and sleeping-
rooms. Some of them, indeed, are such as must have
been useless except for the last purpose: these, perhaps,
were the apartments of the female branches of a family,
at least in most cases. Some houses, however, have a
nest of small cells in an inner corner or secluded recess,
which may have been the Gynaeceum ; but that is far from
being common. Exhedrae or recesses, open in front to
the atrium, are common, and are often painted with
more care and elegance than any other part of the house ;
but generally the walls are everywhere painted—in the
more common places flat, with a slight degree of orna¬
ment perhaps, and in the best rooms with arabesques and
pictures in compartments. The architectural decorations
are mostly painted: the ornaments are not unfrequently
elegant, but the architecture itself of the mansions is bad
in almost every sense. The rooms being windowless,
would, when covered, be necessarily dark; the doors are
arranged without any regard to uniformity, either in size
or situation. The street-fronts of those houses which, not
being in a good business situation, were not occupied with
shops, were not merely unadorned, but were actually de¬
formed by loop-holes to light some passage or inner closet
which had no door on one of the courts. The columns of
the second courts are generally in the worst style possi¬
ble : those which have foliated capitals, and may be con¬
sidered compositions of the Corinthian order, are the best;
but the imitations of Doric and Ionic are both mean and
ugly. From the duty they had to perform, and the wide¬
ness of their intercolumniations, together with the fact
that none of them remain, it is probable that the entabla¬
tures were of wood, and were consequently burnt at the
time of the destruction of the city, and broken up by the
inhabitants, almost all of whom certainly escaped, and
who, it is very evident, returned, when the fiery shower
and the conflagration had ceased, to remove whatever
they could find of their property undestroyed; for it must
be remembered that the roofs and ceilings all over the
city are entirely gone, and the uncovered and broken
walls remain, from eight to ten feet only in height. Every
thing, indeed, clearly demonstrates that great exertions
were used to recover whatever was valuable; and it is
very probable, moreover, that the place was constantly
resorted to by treasure-seekers for perhaps centuries af¬
ter the calamity occurred. It may also be remarked that
the loftier edifices, which would have been unburied by
the ashes, had been thrown down by a terrible earthquake
about sixteen years before the volcanic shower fell, and
therefore were the more easily covered. Other showers Roman
must have fallen since that which destroyed the city, toStructurei
produce the complete filling up of every part and the ge-
neral level throughout; as the one must have been pre¬
vented by those roofs and ceilings which were fire-proof
in the first instance, and the other would be the result of
the same, if it were not deranged by the subsequent ex¬
cavations. It is indeed the fact, that the superstrata of
ashes are evident and unbroken, while the substratum is
mingled with ruins. Hence we are still uninformed as to
the structure and disposition of the roofs and ceilings of
the houses of the ancients. The doors, too, of whatever
materials they were composed, are entirely gone: there
remain, however, here and there, indications of wooden
door-posts—in some cases, indeed, charred fragments of
them—but they are to outer or street-doors, leaving it
probable, as we have before suggested, that a matting of
some kind, suspended from the lintel, formed the usual
doors to rooms,—or perhaps they were closed by cur¬
tains only. In these particulars, unfortunately, Hercu¬
laneum affords but little assistance, as the mode of its
destruction was similar to that of Pompeii, and it, too,
was doubtlessly exposed in nearly the same manner; its
subterranean situation, moreover, at present, renders it
difficult to examine; but, upon the whole, Herculaneum
is more likely to furnish information on these particulars
than its sister in misfortune. Although it has been as¬
certained that the Homans understood the manufacture
of glass, or at least that they possessed some utensils of
that material, it must not be supposed that they were ac¬
customed to apply it to exclude the weather and trans¬
mit light; for in no case has a glass window of any kind
been discovered in any ancient structure; and, without
contemplating the houses of Pompeii, it is impossible to
appreciate the advantages we derive in our habitations
from the application of that beautiful production of the
useful arts, and how much superior it alone renders them
to those of the ancients. The floors of the houses of
Pompeii and Herculaneum are all of mosaic work, coarser
and simpler in the less esteemed parts, and finer and
more ornate in the more finished apartments: the orna¬
ments are borders, dots, frets, labyrinths, flowers, and
sometimes figures. In this, too, the superior advantages
the moderns enjoy are evident. The ancients did not un¬
derstand how to construct wooden floors, at least the ap¬
plication of timber to that use was not made by them; for,
though it were admitted, which, however, it cannot be with
justice, that, in the warmer climate of the south of Italy,
lithic floors would be more grateful, that would not be
the case in this country ; and we find the remains of Ro¬
man houses, baths, &c. in England, with floors of mosaic,
as in Naples and Sicily. All the indications which are
found in Pompeii of an upper story consist in a few rude
and narrow staircases, which, it is very probable, were to
afford access to the terraces or flat roofs, for they are not
common, and no portion of an upper story remains in any
part, though the lower or ground-floor rooms, it is most
likely, were arched over. In one part of the city the
houses on one side of a street are on a declivity: there a
commodious flight of stairs is found to lead from the
atrium in front, to another atrium and rooms below, not
under the houses, but behind them ; for neither do we find
an under-ground or cellar story in the Pompeian houses.
On the shores of the Bay of Baiae, and of the Gulf ot
Gaeta, at Cicero’s Formian Villa, however, there are
crypts or arched chambers under the level of the man¬
sions ; for the sites require substructions ; but it may be
questioned whether even these were used as parts of the
house, and as we use cellars; for they present no indica¬
tions of stairs, and have no regular means of intercommu-
ARCHIT
Bonn nication. Neither had the houses of the Romans chim-
Struc res.neyS 0f any kind ; their only mode of warming their apart-
v-<rvS”y ments was by means of braziers, many specimens of which
have been taken out of both Herculaneum and Pompeii;
and their cooking fires were on fixed gratings over a sort
of stove, but without flues ; so that most probably char¬
coal alone was burnt for domestic purposes. In this re¬
spect the modern Italians are not far beyond their prede¬
cessors ; and the mode used by them of applying fire in
warming and cooking appears very similar to that used
by the Romans. Indeed many of the peculiarities we
have noticed in the Pompeian houses are still found in
various parts of Italy and Sicily; the cortili, courts, or
cloisters of palaces, mansions, monasteries, and inns, are
representatives of the cavaedia, vestibula, atria or courts,
of Pompeian or Roman mansions. It is common, too, in
the former, for bed-rooms to open on open galleries, as on
the colonnaded courts of the latter. There are instances
also in the countries referred to, of rooms which have
no aperture but the doorway. Shops, we have said, are
frequently mere cells, having an opening towards the
street, part of which is a door, and the other part, with a
low dado, a window. It was only in the forums and pub¬
lic places, then, that architectural beauty and magnifi¬
cence were displayed in a Roman city. Street architec¬
ture was unknown, and the decoration of houses was the
work of the plasterer and painter rather than of the ar¬
chitect.
If such as we have described were the imperfections
and inferiority of the domestic architecture of the Ro¬
mans, who knew that of the Greeks and Egyptians, and
had, moreover, knowledge of the use of the arch, and were,
we have reason to believe, better carpenters than either,
besides possessing greater wealth, and a greater taste for
luxury than they, with a less mild and serene climate than
Greece and Egypt,—what must the domestic edifices of
those nations have been ! A person accustomed to the
comforts and conveniences of houses in this country finds
much to complain of in a modern Italian mansion, but
not so much as an Italian would in the house of an an¬
cient Roman; and from analogy we may believe that a
Roman of the empire would have had reason to complain
of a Grecian domicile, even of the Periclean age ; and a
Greek, again, might have been abridged of the comforts
of his house in the palace of an Egyptian.
Superior as the habitations of civilized men in modern
times may be to those of the ancients, a degree of classic
beauty and elegance pervaded the decorations and furni¬
ture, and even the domestic utensils, in the houses of
Pompeii and Herculaneum, which we do not equal,
though we imitate them; and from the Hellenic taste
which reigns in their forms and enrichments, their origin
may generally be attributed to Greek artists; so that, it
may be supposed, in these particulars the Greeks even
excelled the Romans. It is indeed not a little singular,
that though the architecture of these cities is completely
Roman, the painted ornaments and ornamental sculp¬
ture generally are in style and manner perfectly Greek.
There are certainly modifications found of Greek Doric
columns in Pompeii; but they bear so slight a degree of
relationship to their original, that its existence may al¬
most be denied,—they have the form without the feeling.
®eI)U| ral As works of architecture, the sepulchral monuments of
'mm ^omans were of more importance than their domes¬
tic structures. There is more architectural display in the
street of the tombs at Pompeii, than in any street of the
city itself; and the mausoleum of Adrian on the right
bank of the Tiber at Rome was a much more important
object in its perfect state than his villa near Tivoli could
ever have been. It was perhaps the most splendid struc-
ECTURE. 447
ture of the kind ever executed; excelling the Memphian Roman
pyramids as much in architectural pretence as they sur-Corinthian,
pass it in magnitude. There was, too,, a degree of har-
mony and simplicity in its composition, which can only
be accounted for by supposing that the imperial builder,
who was Jtimself an adept in architecture, had acquired
better taste than the architects of Rome generally pos¬
sessed, by the contemplation of the monuments of Greece
and Egypt. It consisted of a deep quadrangular basement,
each of whose sides was about 250 feet in length. This was
surmounted by a lofty circular mass, on which was a gra¬
duated stylobate, supporting a noble peristyle of Corin¬
thian columns, with their entablature; forming, with its
circular cone, a species of peristylar temple, something
like that below the cupola of St Paul’s Cathedral in Lon¬
don. Above this there was, most probably, a species of
dome, whose acroterium is said to have been a metal pind-
cone, which was the receptacle of the ashes of the empe¬
ror. The mausoleum of Augustus was inferior in size, in
splendour, and in good taste, we may believe, from the
descriptions which exist of it when in a more perfect
state than it is at present, to that of Adrian; but it was
nevertheless a magnificent monument. Its form was
conical; it diminished in stories and terraces, probably
columned round, and terminated at the apex in a bronze
figure of its founder. The sepulchral monuments of Ce¬
cilia Metella, of the Plautian family, and others, are evi¬
dences of the same fact. The sarcophagus from the first-
mentioned of these is simple and elegant in the extreme;
and indeed it exhibits a greater degree of good taste than
almost any thing of the same kind that remains to us of
the ancients.
Of the Homan Corinthian.
Like the Greek orders, the Roman Corinthian may be PI. LXIV.
said to consist of three parts, stylobate, column, and en-Pig- 6, 8,
tablature; but, unlike them, the stylobate is much loftier,9’ & 19-
and is not graduated, except for the purposes of access
before a portico. Its usual height is not exactly deter¬
minable, in consequence of the ruined state of most of
the best examples; but it may be taken at from two and
a half to three diameters. In the triumphal arches the
height of the stylobate sometimes amounts to four, and
even to five diameters. It is variously arranged, more¬
over, having, in the shallower examples, simply a congeries
of mouldings forming its base, with perhaps a narrow
square member under it, a plain dado, and a covering
cornice or coping, on the back of which the columns rest.
In the loftier examples a single, and sometimes a double
plinth, comes under the base mouldings; and a blocking
cornice superimposes the coping, to receive the bases of
the columns. This last is only necessary when the height
of the stylobate is such as to take the columnar base
above the human eye, when the coping cornice would in¬
tercept it if a blocking cornice did not intervene.
The column consists of base, shaft, and capital, and PI. LXJI.
varies in height from nine and a half to ten diameters. The
base has, ordinarily, in addition to the diminishing congeries
of mouldings which follows the circular form of the shafts,
a square member or plinth, whose edges are vertical: with
this the whole height of the base is about half a dia¬
meter. The rest of this part of the column is variously
composed, but it generally consists of two plain tori anti
a scotia, with fillets intervening, as in the Greek examples
of this order, but differently proportioned and projected,
as the examples indicate. Sometimes the scotia is divided
into two parts, by two beads with fillets, as in the Jupiter
Stator example, in which also a bead is placed between the Ex. 1.
upper torus and the fillet of the apophyge. The spread
of the base varies from a diameter and one third to a dia-
448
Roman
Corinthian
architecture.
Ex. 1.
Ex. 4.
Ex. 3.
meter and four ninths. In the best Roman examples, as
well as in the Greek, the shaft diminishes with entasis:
the average diminution is one eighth of a diameter. le
shaft was always fluted when the material of which it was
composed did not oppose itself; for the Romans often
used granites, and sometimes a stratified or laminou
marble called cipollino, for the shafts of commas; e
former of which could not be easily wrought and polished
in flutes, and the latter would scale away if it were cut
into narrow fillets. Like the Greek Corinthian and
Ionic orders, the Roman Corinthian has twenty-tour fil¬
lets and flutes. The flutes are generally semicircles, and
they terminate at both ends, for the most part, with that
contour. Dividing the space for a fillet and a flute into
five parts, four are given to the latter, and one to the for¬
mer. The hypotrachelium is a plain torus, about half tne
size of the upper torus of the base, or half the width of a
flute, as these nearly correspond: it rests on a fillet above
the cavetto at the head of the shaft.
The ordinary height of the capital is a diameter and
one eighth; but there is a very fine example in which it
hardly exceeds one diameter, and another in which it is
not quite so much. It is composed of two rows or bands
of acanthus leaves, each consisting of six, placed upright,
and ranged side by side, but not in contact; ox nelices and
tendrils trussed with foliage; and an abacus, wThose faces
are moulded and variously enriched. The lower row of
acanthus leaves is two sevenths the whole height of the
capital; the upper row is two thirds the height of the
lower above it, and its leaves rest on the hypotrachelium
below, in the space left between the others. I hey are
placed regularly, too, under the helices and tendrils
above, which support the angles, and are under the middle
of each side of the abacus. The construction and arrange¬
ment of the next compartment above must be gathered
from the examples; for an idea of them cannot be con¬
veyed in words. The abacus is one seventh of the height
of the capital; in plan it is a square whose angles are cut
off, and whose sides are concaved in segments of a circle,
under an angle at the centre of from 55° to 60°. Its ver¬
tical face is generally a flat cavetto, with a fillet and
carved ovalo corbelling over at an angle of about 125°.
The cavetto is sometimes enriched with trailing foliage,
and a rosette or flower of some kind overhangs the ten¬
drils from the middle of each side of the abacus.
Every example of this order differs so much in the form,
proportion, and distribution of the various parts, of its
capital particularly, that it cannot be described in gene¬
ral terms, like the Greek Doric and Ionic: the example
we have referred to in this definition is that of the Jupiter
Stator, the most elegant, perhaps, of all the Roman spe¬
cimens.
The entablature varies in different examples from one
diameter and seven eighths to more than two diameters
and a half in height. Perhaps the best proportioned are
those of the portico of the Pantheon, and of the temple
of Antoninus and Faustina; the former being rather more
than two diameters and a quarter, and the latter rather
less than that ratio. The entablature of the temple of
Jupiter Stator is more than two diameters and a half in
height, of which the cornice alone occupies one sixth
more than a full diameter, leaving to the frieze and archi¬
trave something less than one diameter and a half be¬
tween them. In this latter particular it nearly agrees
with the other two quoted examples, so that the great
difference in the general height is in the cornice almost
alone, the cornices of the others being about a sixth less,
instead of as much more, than a diameter in height. The
Roman Corinthian entablature may be taken, then, at two
diameters and a quarter in height. Rather more than
three fifths of this is nearly equally divided between the Roma1
architrave and frieze, the advantage, if any, being givenCorinthi
to the former ; the cornice, of course, takes the remaining
two fifths, or thereabouts. The architrave is divided into
threb unequal fascias and a small congeries of mouldings,
separating it from the frieze. The first fascia is one filth
the whole height; one third of what remains is given to
the second, and the remainder is divided between the
third fascia and the band of mouldings,—two thirds to the
former, and one to the latter. A bead, sometimes plain
and sometimes carved, taken from the second fascia, which
is itself enriched in the Jupiter Stator example, marks its
projection over the first; and a small cyma-reversa, carved
or plain as the bead may be, taken from the third fascia,
marks its projection over the second. The band consists
of a bead, a cyma-reversa, carved or plain according to
the general character of the ordinance, and a fillet. In
non-accordance with the practice of the Greeks, the face
of the lowest or first fascia of the architrave, in the Roman
Corinthian, impends the face of the column at the top of
the shaft, or at its smallest diameter; and every face in¬
clines inwards from its lowest face up. The whole projec¬
tion of the architrave, that of the covering fillet of the
band, is nearly equal to the height of the first fascia. The
frieze impends the lowest angle of the architrave. Its face
is either perpendicular, or it slightly inclines inwards, like
the fascias of that part of the entablature: in some cases
it is quite plain, and in others is enriched with a foliate
composition, or with sculptures in low or half relief. The
cornice consists of a deep bed-mould, variously propor¬
tioned to the corona; but it may be taken generally, when
it has modillions, at three fifths, and when it has none, at
one half the whole height. It is composed of a bead, an
ovalo or cyma-reversa and fillet, a plain vertical member,
sometimes dentilled, another bead, and a cyma-reversa
and fillet or ovalo, as the lower may not be: this is sur¬
mounted, when modillions are used, by another plain
member, with a small carved cyma-reversa above it. On
this the modillions are placed, and the cyma breaks
round them. They are about as wide as the member from
which they project, and are about two thicknesses apart.
In form they are horizontal trusses or consols, with a
wavy profile, finishing at one end in a large, and at the
other in a small, volute; and under each there is gene¬
rally placed a raffled or acanthus leaf. In proportioning
the parts of this bed-mould in itself, one third of its height
may be given to the modillion member, and the other two
thirds divided nearly equally, but increasing upwards into
three parts, one for the lowest mouldings, one for the
plain or dentil member, and the third and rather largest
portion for the mouldings under the modillion member.
The mouldings of this part of the cornice are carved or
left plain, according to the character of the ordinance;
and its greatest projection, except the modillions them¬
selves, that of the modillion member, is about equal to
half its height. The upper part of the cornice,—the co¬
rona, with its crown mouldings,—consists of the vertical
member called the corona, which is two fifths the whole
height;—this, in the examples of the temples of Jupiter
Stator and Antoninus and Faustina, is enriched with ver¬
tical flutes;—a narrow fillet, an ovalo, and a wider fillet,
occupy one third of the rest, the other two thirds being
given to cyma-recta, with a covering fillet which crowns
the whole. Its extreme projection is nearly equal to the
whole height of the cornice. . ,
The ordinance of the temple of Vesta, or of the siby Ex-
at Tivoli, whose entablature is the very low one mention¬
ed, is not generally in accordance with the scale we have
given, and it must be referred to for its own peculiar
proportions.
ARCHITECTURE.
449
Itor.n Pediments with the Roman Corinthian order are found
Corinian.to be steeper than they were made by the Greeks, vary-
ing in inclination from eighteen to twenty-five degrees;
but they are formed by the cornice of the entablature in
the same manner. Antefixae do not appear to have been
used on flank cornices as in Greek ordinances, in which
the cymatium is confined to pediments; but in Roman
works it is continued over the horizontal or flank cornice,
as we have described ; and frequently it is enriched with
lions’ heads, which were at the first introduced as water¬
spouts. The planceer or soffit of the corona is, in the
Jupiter Stator example, coffered between the modillions,
and in every coffer there is a flower. The soffit of the
entablature in this order is generally panelled and enrich¬
ed with foliate or other ornament. The intercolumnia-
tion is not the same in any two examples. In the temple
of Vesta in Rome it hardly exceeds a diameter and a
quarter ; in the Jupiter Stator example it is a fraction less
than one diameter and a half; in that of Antoninus and
Faustina, nearly a diameter and three quarters; in the
portico at Assisi, rather more than that ratio; in the por¬
tico of the Pantheon, almost two diameters; and in the
Tivoli example, a fraction more than that proportion.
The antae of the Roman Corinthian order is generally
parallel; but pilasters are mostly diminished and fluted
as the columns. Of two of the existing examples of antae,
in one—that of the temple of Mars Ultor—they are plain,
to fluted columns; and in the other—that of the Pantheon
portico—they are fluted, to plain columns. The capitals
and bases are transcripts of those of the columns, fitted to
the square forms.
Ceilings of porticoes are formed, as in the Greek orders,
by the frieze returning in beams from the internal archi¬
trave to the wall or front of the structure, supporting coffers
more or less enriched with foliage or flowers. This, how¬
ever, could only have been effected when the projection was
not more than one, or at the most two intercolumniations,
if stone was used; and it is only in such that examples
exist. Porticoes ordinarily must have had arched ceilings,
as that of the Pantheon has, or the beams must have been
of wood; in which latter case probably the compartments
of the ceiling would be larger. Flow, in the former, it
was arranged we cannot tell, as the arches only remain ;
and they may not be of the date of the rest of the portico.
Pld. III. The ancient examples of what is called the Composite
^ : order do not differ so much from the ordinary examples
of the Corinthian as the latter do among themselves, ex¬
cept in the peculiar conformation of the capital of the co¬
lumn. In other respects, indeed, its arrangement and
general proportions are exactly those of the Corinthian.
The Composite was used, we have said, in triumphal
arches, and, in the best ages of Roman architecture, in
them alone. The difference in the capital consists in the
enlargement of the volutes to nearly one fourth the whole
height of the capital, and in connecting their stems hori¬
zontally under the abacus, giving the appearance of a dis¬
torted Ionic capital. The central tendrils of the Corin¬
thian are omitted, and the bell of the capital is girded un¬
der the stem of the volutes by an ovalo and bead, as in
the Ionic. Acanthus leaves, in two rows, fill up the whole
heightfrom the hypotrachelium to the bottom of the volutes,
and are consequently higher than in the Corinthian capi¬
tal: this difference is given to the upper row. Besides
this Composite, however, the Romans made many others,
the arrangements and proportions of the ordinances being
generally those of the Corinthian order, and the capitals
corresponding also in general form, though in themselves
differently composed. In these, animals of different spe¬
cies, the human figure, armour, a variety of foliage, and
other peculiarities, are found. Shafts of columns also are
vol. in.
sometimes corded or cabled instead of being fluted : those Homan
of the internal ordinance of the Pantheon are cabled one Ionic-
third their height, and the flutes of the ant® of that or-
dinance are flat, eccentric curves. There are fragments of
others existing, in which the fillets between the flutes are
beaded; some in which they are wider than usual, and
grooved; others, again, whose whole surface is wrought
with foliage in various ways; and it would be no less ab¬
surd to arrange all these in different orders, than it is to
make a distorted foliate capital the ground-work of an
order.
Of the Roman Ionic.
The only existing example of this in Rome, in which PI. LXIV.
the columns are insulated, is in the Temple of Manly For-Fig- 12.
tune, except that of the Temple of Concord, which is too
barbarous to deserve consideration. Its stylobate, like that
of the Roman Corinthian, is lofty and not graduated,
having a moulded base and cornice or surbase. ThePl.LXIII
column is nearly nine diameters in height; its base isEx- 3*
half a diameter in height, and consists of a plinth, two
tori, a scotia, and two fillets; the shaft has twenty fillets
and flutes, and diminishes one tenth of a diameter; the
capital is two fifths of a diameter in height; the volutes,
however, dip a little lower, being themselves about that
depth without the abacus; the corbelling for the volutes is
formed by a bead and large ovalo, half the height of the
capital; the latter of these is carved : a straight band con¬
nects the generating lines of the volutes, whose ends are
bolstered and enriched with foliage ; and a square abacus,
moulded on the edges, covers the whole. The entablature
is rather less than two diameters high ; three tenths of this
are given to the architrave, the same to the frieze, and
the cornice occupies the remaining two fifths. The archi¬
trave is unequally divided into three fascias, and a band
consisting of a cyma-reversa and fillet; the lowest angle
impends the upper face of the shaft of the column. The
frieze is in the same vertical line, and is covered with
a fillet which receives the cornice ; it is also enriched
with a composition of figures and foliage. The cornice con¬
sists of a bed-mould, two fifths of its height, and a corona
with crown mouldings. The bed-mould is divided nearly
equally between a cyma-reversa and fillet, a square den-
tilled member and fillet, and another fillet and ovalo. The
corona is two fifths the height of the rest of the cornice;
another fifth is occupied by two fillets and a cyma-rever¬
sa, and the rest is given to a cyma-recta and crowning fil¬
let. The whole projection is nearly equal to the height
of the cornice. The cymatium is enriched with acanthus
leaves and lions’ heads, and the mouldings of the bed-
mould and architrave band are carved. The soffit of the
corona is hollowed out in a wide groove, whose internal
angles are rounded oft' in a cavetto, but without ornament
of any kind, forming indeed a mere throating. Like the
angular capitals of the Greek Ionic, the external volute of
this is turned out and repeated on the flank: either that
or the abuse of it in the Composite capital gave rise to
distortions of this order, in which all the volutes of the
capital are angular, and consequently all its four faces are
alike. In other respects, however, it does not differ ge¬
nerally from the ordinary Roman examples of Ionic. The
Temple of Manly Fortune is pseudo-peripteral, and con-Pl-LXIV-
sequently has neither ant® nor pilasters, nor do ancient Fig- 12.
examples exist of either.
Of the Roman Doric.
This is even a ruder imitation of the Grecian original PI-LXIII.
than the mean and tasteless deterioration of the voluted
Ionic is of the graceful Athenian examples. The speci-Ex. 4.
men of it which is considered preferable to the others is
3 L
450
Roman
Doric.
ARCHITI
that of the theatre of Marcellos in Rome. The column is
nearly eight diameters in height: it consists of shatt ana
capital only. The shaft is quite plain, except fillets above
and below, with escape and cavetto; and it diminishes one
fifth of its diameter. The capital is four sevenths of a
diameter high, and is composed of a torus which forms the
hvpotrachelium, and, with the necking, occupies one third
the whole height. Three deep fillets, with a semitorus or
quarter-round moulding, are intended to represent the
ovalo and its annulets of the Greek capital. They occupy
three sevenths of the rest; the other four sevenths are
given to the abacus, three fifths of whose depth is plain
and vertical; and the other two are divided between a
cyma-reversa and a fillet. _ .
The corona and crown mouldings of the cornice being
destroyed, the whole height of the entablature cannot be
correctly ascertained ; but from analogy it may be taken,
with the bed-mould, part of which exists, at about two
thirds of a diameter, making, with the architrave and
frieze, an entablature nearly two diameters high. Of this
the architrave is rather more than one fourth, indeed ex¬
actly half a diameter. Three tenths of its depth are un¬
equally occupied by the taenia, regula, and guttae, the first
being rather the widest, projecting more than its own
depth, and the second the narrowest. The guttae are six
in number, and are truncate semicones in form. The rest
of the surface of the architrave is plain and vertical, im¬
pending a point rather within the superior diameter of the
column. The frieze is two fifths the whole height of the
entablature. A fascia, one eighth of its own height, bands
it above the triglyphs, and projects about one third of its
depth; the rest of its surface is plain vertically, but hori¬
zontally it is divided into triglyphs, which are half a dia¬
meter in width, and are placed over the centres of the
columns. These are channelled with two full and two
hemi-glyphs, whose heads are cut square on the outer
edge, but inclined downwards at the angle of the glyphs.
The space between the triglyphs is equal to the height of
the frieze without its plat-band or fascia, making in effect
perfectly square metopes. All that can be traced of the
cornice is a small cyma-reversa, immediately over the
frieze, and a square member with dentils on it. In the
example the cornice is completed from that of the Doric
of the Colosseum.
The temple at Cora presents a singular specimen of the
Doric order, evidently the result of an examination of
some Greek examples, but moulded to the Roman pro¬
portions and to Roman taste. The columns are enormous¬
ly tall, but the shafts are partly fluted and partly cham¬
fered for fluting, like the Greek. The capital is ridiculously
shallow, but the abacus is plain, and the echinus of a some¬
what Hellenic form. The entablature is very little more
than a diameter and one third in height, and the archi¬
trave of it is shallower even than the capital; but the
frieze and cornice are tolerably well proportioned, though
the triglyphs in the former are meagre, narrow slips, and
the latter is covered by a deep widely projecting cavetto,
that would be injurious to even a better composition. In¬
stead of regular mutules with guttae, the whole of the
planceer of the cornice is studded with the latter; but, like
the Greek, the triglyph over the angular column extends
to the angle of the architrave, which does not appear to
have been the practice of the Romans; yet the reason for
so doing does not appear to have been understood, for the
external intercolumniations are the same as the others.
As far as we have the means of judging, the Romans
made the antae of their Doric similar to the columns, only
that they were of course square instead of round; though
indeed an attached column appears to have been gene¬
rally preferred.
2 c T u r E.
It may, however, be here again intimated, that these two Roms
orders, the Ionic and Doric of the Roman school, ought Mouldii
hardly to be considered as belonging to the architecture
of the Romans. They are merely coarse and vulgar adap¬
tations of the Greek originals, of which we now possess
records of the finest examples. If it were not, therefore,
that custom required it, we should have omitted all men¬
tion of them, or at least have left them to the Italo-Vitru-
vian school, to which they properly belong. Yet their
meanness and tastelessness, when compared with the
Grecian models, will more strikingly show the superiority
of the latter, and show, moreover, how the architects of
the Italian school must have been blinded by their system,
when they fancied such wretched exemplars as those of
which we have been speaking to be beautiful.
Of Homan Mouldings and Ornament.
The mouldings used in Roman architectural works are PL L3i
the same as the Grecian in general form, but they vary
materially from them in contour. The Roman cyma-recta
is projected much more than the Greek, with a deeper
flexure; and the two parts or ends seldom correspond,
the one being generally larger than the other. On the
contrary, the Roman cyma-reversa does not project so
much, or at so large an angle with its base, as the Grecian,
nor is it so deeply fleeted as the Greeks made it. The
upper or convex part of this moulding is almost always
larger than the lower or concave; and it is frequently
allowed to finish below in a sharp arris projecting from
whatever may be below it, and above it abuts the hori¬
zontal soffit of its covering fillet in a similarly harsh man¬
ner. The ovalo of Greek architecture is represented in
the Roman style by a moulding whose outline is nearly
the convex quadrant of a circle, or a quarter round, and
sometimes it is nearly that of the quadrant of an ellip¬
sis. The Roman torus is either a semicircle or a semi¬
ellipsis; and the bead is a torus, except in its applica¬
tion, and in being smaller, and generally projected rather
more than half the figure whose form it bears. The
cavetto, in Roman architecture, is nearly a regular curve,
being sometimes the concave quadrant of a circle, or in¬
deed the reverse of an ovalo, and sometimes a smaller
segment. A Roman scotia is more deeply cut, and is
consequently less delicate than the same member in a
Greek congeries: its form frequently approaches that of
a concave semiellipsis.
This correspondence in general form, and disagree¬
ment in spirit, of Greek and Roman mouldings, appear to
have arisen entirely from the ignorance or inattention of
the Romans to the governing principle of Greek combi¬
nations ; as we have seen that in these the individual
mouldings are not independent, as the Romans made
them, but that they take their contour and direction from
each other, under a certain pervading outline.
The enrichments of Roman mouldings are for the most
part similar to those of the Greek, but less delicate and
graceful both in design and drawing. Those of the cyma
and ovalo are particularly referred to, but the Romans
used others besides. Raffled leaves form a favourite en¬
richment in the architecture of the Romans: indeed these
are hardly less frequent in their works than the honey¬
suckle is in those of the Greeks. Mouldings were en¬
riched with them; and a raffled leaf masks the angles of
carved cymas and ovalos in the former, as a honeysuckle
does in the latter. Nevertheless, the honeysuckle and
lotus are both found in Roman enrichments, particularly
the latter, and perhaps even more than in Greek. It is
not uncommon to find examples of Roman architecture
completely overdone with ornament,—every moulding
carved, and every straight surface, whether vertical or
ARCHIT
Itran horizontal, sculptured with foliage, or with historical or
Arc-iec- characteristic subjects in relief. This fault is most ob-
tv> vious in those works which exhibit similar bad taste in
the general composition. The triumphal arch of Septimius
Severus, the little arch of the goldsmiths, and the half-
buried ruin called the temple of Pallas, in the forum of
Nerva at Rome, are egregious specimens. The entabla¬
ture of the arch of Titus, too, is overloaded with orna-
ment.
Frieze enrichments, consisting of foliage composed with
animals, and a variety of other things, are very common
in Roman architecture. Many specimens indeed are not
found in existing structures, but there are numerous
fragments of entablatures of destroyed edifices which ex¬
hibit them in great variety. Their general character is
exuberance, and a tendency to frittering, from the variety
and incoherence of form in their composition; but their
effect can only fairly be judged of when seen in appro¬
priate situations. One existing example of an enriched
frieze of the kind referred to, that of the temple of Anto¬
ninus and Faustina, speaks strongly in its favour, for nothing
can surpass its efficiency and simple beauty; but it must,
moreover, be confessed that, when examined in detail,
the enrichment is less exuberant, and is composed of
fewer parts, than most others of the species to which that
example belongs. Architectural ornament, however, is
not confined to purely architectural works. We find many
beautiful specimens of it on the vases and candelabra
which decorated the baths and mansions of the ancient
Romans, and whose elegance of form rivals even the
beauty and delicacy of their enrichments. Whether these
should be referred or not to the Romans, is doubtful; for
it has been already intimated, from the style of many of
them, both in outline and ornament, which appertain more
to the Greek, that they are the productions of Grecian
artists; but indeed they belong exactly to neither, for they
frequently possess the beauties, and sometimes exhibit the
defects, of both. There are existing works, too, clearly
of Roman origin, and far inferior in every respect to the
things just quoted. These are for the most part ceno-
taphial monuments, sarcophagi, and altars, whose compo¬
sition, details, and enrichments, are gross and inelegant
when compared with the objects alluded to. The dif¬
ference may arise merely from the inferiority of the artists
of the one to those of the other, and not from the difference
of their schools; but the prevalence of Greek taste in the
superior productions is not the less striking because it
was acquired by education, while it is wanting in the in¬
ferior, whose authors had not been imbued with the spirit
and fine feeling of the Greek style.
Of Italian Architecture.
Gothic architecture,—that is, the style which preceded
the Pointed,—being for the most part a mere deterioration
of Roman, and possessing no peculiar character which
can recommend it as a subject for study and imitation
that may not be deduced from the Roman style, and
Pointed architecture being a genus per se, we have
thought it better to allow the Italian, or revived Roman
style, to usurp its chronological place; as the latter more
naturally follows what it pretends to be derived from, than
it would follow the Pointed, or than the Pointed would
the Roman.
We have already stated that Italian architecture,
though professedly a revival of the classical styles of
Greece and Rome, was formed without reference to the
existing specimens of either, but on the dogmas of an ob¬
scure Roman author, and the glosses of the “ revivers”
on his text. Vitruvius described four classes or orders
of columnar composition; and, on the principles which go-
EC TURK 451
verned him in subjecting to fixed laws all the varieties Italian
with which he appears to have been acquainted, they form- Architec-
ed a fifth, of a medley of two of his, thus completino- ture-
the Italian orders of architecture. The school which
was founded on the Vitruvian theories has systematized
every thing, and laid down laws for collocating and pro¬
portioning all the matter it furnishes for architectural
composition and decoration. It teaches that columns
are modelled from the human figure; that the Tuscan
column is like a sturdy labourer—a rustic; the Doric
is somewhat trimmer, though equally masculine—a gen¬
tleman, perhaps; the Ionic is a sedate matron; the Co¬
rinthian a lascivious courtesan; and the Composite an
amalgam of the two last! In a composition which admits
any two or more of them, the rustic must take the lowest
place; on his head stands the stately Doric, who in his
turn bears the comely matron, on whose head is placed
the wanton, and the wanton again is made to support the
lady of doubtful character J But as we in this place are
neither apologists for nor impugners of any particular doc¬
trines, we proceed at once to point out the general fea¬
tures of the Italian style; premising only, that, according
to the practice of the school, every thing is confined
to an exclusive use and appropriation; such columns may
be fluted, and such must not; such a moulding may be
used here, but not there ; and so on. The proportions and
arrangements of an order, of any part of one, or of any
thing that may come within an architectural composition,
are fixed and unchangeable, whatever may be the purpose
or situation for which it is required; whether, for instance,
an order be attached or insulate, the column must have
exactly the same number of modules and minutes in
height. It is true that the masters of the school are not
agreed among themselves as to those things in which they
are not bound by Vitruvius; but every one not the less
contends for the principle, each, of course, prescribing
his own doctrine as orthodox on the unsettled points.
Mouldings are considered as constituent parts of an or¬
der, and are limited to eight in number, strangely enough
including the fillet. They are the cyma-recta, cyma-re-
versa, commonly called the ogive or ogee, the ovalo, the
torus, the astragal or bead, the cavetto, the scotia, and
the fillet. They are gathered from the Roman remains,
but reduced to regular lines or curves, which may be
drawn with a rule or struck with a pair of compasses.
Arranged according to certain proportions, with flat sur¬
faces, modillions, and dentils, a profile is formed; no two
conjoined mouldings maybe enriched, but their ornaments,
as well as the modillions and dentils, must be disposed so
as to fall regularly under one another, and, when columns
occur, above the middle of them.
An order is said to be composed of two principal parts, PI. LXVI
the column and the entablature; these are divided into
base, shaft, and capital, in the one, and architrave, frieze,
and cornice in the other, and are variously subdivided in
the different orders. The Tuscan column must be made
seven diameters in height, the Doric eight, the Ionic
nine, and the Corinthian and Composite ten. The height
of the entablature, according to some authorities, should
be one fourth the height of the column, and, according to
others, two of its diameters. The parts of the entablature
of all but the Doric may be divided into ten equal parts,
four of which are given to the cornice, three to the frieze,
and three to the architrave; and in the Doric, the entab¬
lature being divided into eight parts, three must be given
to the cornice, three to the frieze, and the remaining two
to the architrave. For the minor divisions a diameter oi
the column is made into a scale of sixty minutes, by
which they are arranged; but this is obviously irrelevant
if the whole height of the entablature is determined by
452
ARCHITECTURE.
Italian
Architec¬
ture.
PI. LXX,
Fig. 3.
the height of the column, and not by its diameter; in this
case, therefore, they must be proportioned from the ge¬
neral divisions already ascertained. Columns must be
diminished, according to Vitruvius, more or less as their
altitude is greater or less; those of fifteen feet high, or
thereabout, being made one sixth less at their superior
than at their inferior diameter, and that proportion is
lessened gradually, so that columns fifty feet high shall
be diminished one eighth only. On this subject, however,
many of his disciples controvert the authority of their
master; and some of them have fixed the diminution at
one sixth of a diameter for columns of all sizes in all the
orders. The entasis of columns is disputed also, some
authorities making it consist in preserving the cylinder
perfect one quarter or one third the height or the shaft
from below, and thence diminishing in a right line to the
top; while others, following Vitruvius, make the column
increase in bulk in a curved line from the base to three
sevenths of its height, and then diminish in the same
manner for the remaining four sevenths, thus making the
greatest diameter near the middle.
It being difficult to determine among the masters of
the Italo-Vitruvian school whose designs of the various
orders are to be preferred, we have selected those of
Palladio, certainly not for any superior merit they possess,
but because he is more generally esteemed than any other,
and because he the most strictly adhered, as far as he
could understand them, to the precepts of Vitruvius.
It should be remarked, however, that although Palladio
has fluted all but the shaft of the Tuscan column, he
very seldom fluted columns in his own practice ; and
indeed it may be called the custom of the Italian school
not to flute, how much soever their doctrine may be to
the contrary; for fluted columns in Italian architecture
are exceptions to the general practice. Swelled or pil¬
lowed friezes are not peculiar to Palladio ; they are more
or less common to the works of most of the masters
of the same school. Prostyles being almost unknown
in Italian architectui'e, antae are not often required;
but when they are, the meanest succedaneum imagin¬
able is recurred to. Of this, Palladio’s Villa Capra, near
Vicenza, and Lord Burlington’s Palladian Villa at Chis¬
wick, afford striking examples. Pilasters, however, are
very common, so common, indeed, that they may be call¬
ed pro-columns, as they are often used as an apology for
applying an entablature. They are described as differing
from columns in their plan only, the latter being round,
and the former square ; for they are composed with bases
and capitals, they are made to support entablatures ac¬
cording to the order to which they belong, and are fluted
and diminished with or without entasis, just as columns of
the same style would be. When they are fluted, the flutes
are limited to seven in number on the face, which, it is said,
makes them nearly correspond with the flutes of columns;
and their projection must be one eighth of their diameter
or width when the returns are not fluted ; but if they are,
a fillet must come against the wall. Pedestals are not con¬
sidered by the Italo-Vitruvian school as belonging to the
orders, but they may be employed with them all, and
have bases and surbases or cornices to correspond with
the order with which they may be associated. The dado
ot a pedestal must be a square whose side shall be equal
to that of the plinth of the column or pilaster which rests
on it, or a parallelogram a sixth or even a fourth of a dia¬
meter taller. I he intercolumniatiqns of columns are call¬
ed pycnostyle, systyle, eustyle, diastyle, and araeostyle,
and are strictly adhered to in Italian architecture when
columns are insulated, and that is not very often; when
they are attached, the interspaces are not limited, except
when a peculiar arrangement called araeosystyle is adopt¬
ed. This consists of two systyle intercolumniations, the Itaiiaa
column that should stand in the mid-distance between two Archive,
others being placed within half a diameter of one of them, ture.
making in fact coupled columns or pilasters. It is applied 'WpYs«
to insulated columns as well as to those which are attach¬
ed. Following Vitruvius, the Italian school makes the cen¬
tral intercolumniation of a portico wider than any of the
others. Arched openings, in arcades or otherwise, arePlate
generally about twice their width in height; if, however,LXVII.
they are arranged with a columnar ordinance, having co¬
lumns against the piers, they are made to partake of the
order to which the columns belong, being lower in propor¬
tion to their width with the Tuscan than with the Doric,
and so on; and the piers are allowed to vary in the same
manner, from two fifths to one half of the opening. With Fig. ns
columnar arrangements, moulded imposts and archivoltsD.
are used; the former being made rather more than a semi-
diameter of the engaged columns in height, and the latter
exactly that proportion. Variously moulded key-stones
are used, too, projecting so that they give an appearance of
support to the superimposed entablature. Smaller columns Fig. 12.
with their entablature are sometimes made to do the duty
of imposts, and sometimes single columns are similarly ap¬
plied ; at others, columns in couples are allowed to stand for Fig. lo.
piers to carry arches. In plain arcades the masonry is gene-Fig. 13.
rally rusticated, without any other projection than a plain
blocking course for an impost, and a blocking course or cor¬
nice crowning the ordinance. Niches and other recesses
are at times introduced in the plain piers, which are in that
case considerably wider than usual, or in the spandrels over
wide piers. Very considerable variety is allowed in these
combinations, which will be best understood by reference
to the examples. Doors and windows, whether arched or
square, follow nearly the same proportions, being made, in
rustic stories, generally rather less than twice their width
in height, and in others either exactly of that proportion,
or an eighth or a tenth more. If they have columned or
pilastered frontispieces, these are sometimes pedimented;
and, except in rustic stories, whether with or without
columns, a plain or moulded lining called an architrave is
applied to the head and sides of a door or window. This
architrave is made from one sixth to one eighth the width
of the opening it bounds, and it rests on a blocking course
or other sill, as the case may be. In the absence of
columns or pilasters in the frontispiece, their place is fre-Fig.2A4
quently supplied by consols or trusses of various form andan>M’lat
arrangement, backed out by a narrow pilaster, which may "
be considered as the return of the frieze of the entablature,
and supporting the cornice. It is not uncommon for the
architrave lining to project knees at the upper angles,
and this is sometimes done even with consols and their
pilasters. With columned frontispieces to gateways, doors,
and windows, arose the custom, so frequent in Italian
architecture, of rusticating columns, by making them
alternately square and cylindrical, according to the heights
of the courses of rustic masonry to which they are gene¬
rally attached, and with which they are less offensive than
in other collocations. The practice of the Cinquecento
school of piling columns on columns, with their accessories,
is warranted by the doctrine of its master; but his pre¬
cepts not being practicable, recourse has been had to the
inferior works of the Homans, which present examples ofP^,
it. The difficulty of preserving any thing like a rational "
arrangement is acknowledged on all hands to be great, u n
not insurmountable ; for if the first or lowest order be at
an intercolumniation fitting its proportions, the second or
next above it, though diminished ever so little, is already
deranged, for it has the same distance from column to
column that the inferior order has, whilst the columns
themselves are smaller in diameter, and their entablature
ARCHITECTURE.
453
Ite m consequently shallower. This derangement must of course
Arttvec- increase with every succeeding ordinance, rendering it
indeed impossible to make such a composition consistent.
The most approved practice in arranging order above order
appears to be, that the upper column shall take for its dia¬
meter the superior diameter of the one below it; that
when the columns are detached their axes shall be in the
same perpendicular line ; but when attached or engaged,
the plinth of the pedestal of the upper shall impend the
top of the shaft of the lower column. The most rational
mode, however, for diminishing, if reason can be applied to
such compositions, is to carry the diminution through, the
outlines of the columns of the lowest order being drawn
up in the same direction, and so the columns of every
story would take up their place and be diminished in re-
pi, JIX. gular gradation. When columns are attached, or pilasters
Fig.. used, in Italian architecture, the almost invariable custom
is to break the entablature over every column or pilaster,
PL I IX. or over every two when they are in couples. Because of
the great length of the intercolumniation, it would appear
to have been done at first; but it has frequently been done
by some of the most esteemed practitioners of the school,
even without that excuse, so that it may be held as approv¬
ed by them. A basement is either a low stereobate or a
lofty story, as it may be intended to support a single ordi¬
nance the whole height of the main body of the structure,
or indeed the lowest of two or more orders ; or as it may
occupy the ground story of a building, and support an
ordinance, or the appearance of one, above. In either
case, much is necessarily left to the discretion of the
architect; but in the latter the height of the order it is to
support is the generally prescribed height of the base¬
ment. A basement may be rusticated or plain; if it be
low, and is not arranged like a continued pedestal, it
must have neither cornice nor blocking course ; but if
lofty, a deep, bold, blocking course is indispensable. An
attic may vary in height from one quarter to one third the
height of the order it surmounts ; attics are arranged with
a base, dado, and coping cornice, like pedestals, and gene¬
rally have pilasters broken over the columns below. The
rule for the form, composition, and application of pedi¬
ments in Italian architecture, if it may be gathered from
the practice of the school, appears to be to set good taste
at defiance in them all. We find pediments of every shape,
composed of cornices, busts, scrolls, festoons, and what not,
and applied in every situation, and even one within another,
to the number of three or four, and each of these of differ¬
ent form and various composition. The proportion laid
down for the height of a pediment is from one fourth to
one fifth the length of its base, or the cornice on which it
is to rest. Balustrades are used in various situations, but
their most common application is in attics or as parapets,
on the summits of buildings, before windows, in otherwise
close continued stereobates, to flank flights of steps, to
front terraces, or flank bridges. Their shapes and propor¬
tions are even more diversified than their application : that
of most frequent use is shaped like an Italian Doric
column, compressed to a dwarfish stature, and consequent¬
ly swollen in the shaft to an inordinate bulk in the lower
part, and having its capital, to the hypotrachelium, revers¬
ed to form a base to receive its grotesque form. The base
and coping cornice of a balustrade are those of an ordinary
attic, or of a pedestal whose dado may be pierced into
balusters. The general external proportions of an edifice,
when they are not determined by single columnar ordi-
r nances, appear to be unsettled. The grand front of the
1 X. Farnese Palace in Home is in two squares, its length being
twice its height; the length of each front of Vignola’s
celebrated pentagonal palace of Caprarola is twice and a
quarter its height above the bastions. In Palladio’s works
PI.
we find the proportions of fronts to vary so considerably, Pointed
as to make it evident that he did not consider himself Architec-
bound by any rule on that point. In some cases we find ture*
the length to be once and one sixth the height, in others
once and a fourth, once and a half, twice, twice and a
sixth, and even three and a sixth ; and elevations by other
masters of the school are found to vary to the same ex¬
tent. The proportions of rooms, again, range from one to
two cubes inclusive, though it is preferred that the height
should be a sixth, or even a fifth less than a side when the
plan is a square; but the sesquialteral form, with the
height equal to the breadth, and the length one half more,
is considered the most perfect proportion for a room.
There is considerable variety and beauty in the foliate
and other enrichments of an architectural character in
many structures in Italy, but very little ornament enters
into the columnar composition of Italian architecture.
Friezes, instead of being sculptured, are swollen; the shafts
of columns, it has been already remarked, are very seldom
fluted, and their capitals are generally poor in the extreme;
mouldings are indeed sometimes carved, but not often;
rustic masonry, ill-formed fpstoons, and gouty balustrades,
for the most part supply the place of chaste and classic
ornaments. This refers more particularly to the more
classic works of the school; in many of the earlier Trecento
structures of Italy, and on monuments of various kinds,
we find what may be called a graceful profusion of orna¬
ment, of the most tasteful and elegant kind; few carved
mouldings, however, and very few well-profiled cornices,
are to be met with in Italian compositions of any kind. In
many of the later architectural works of that country we
find again a profusion of ornament of the most tasteless
and inelegant description, chiefly in the gross and vulgar
style, which is distinguished as that of Louis XIV. of
France.
Of Pointed Architecture.
There are so many varieties of this beautiful style, and
the variations are at the same time so considerable and
so minute, that it is impossible to describe it generally.
Every country in which it was practised had some pecu¬
liarities in its composition, and, to develope it perfectly,
all of them should be pointed out. This, however, would
far exceed our limits; and as the specimens of our own
are not excelled, if indeed they are equalled, by those of
any other country, a consideration of the style as exhi¬
bited by them will afford us a better opportunity of de¬
veloping it than could be obtained by making our obser¬
vations more general.
Various classifications of Pointed architecture have
been made, and in almost all of them the arch is con¬
sidered the index, as the column is in columnar architec¬
ture ; for, like that, it is more expressive of variety than
any other feature in the composition to which each be¬
longs. These, too, form the grand distinctions between
the Greek and its derivative styles, and the Pointed; but,
independently of the column in the one and the arch in
the other, the two species of architecture may be said each
to have certain governing principles, which sufficiently dis¬
tinguish and make it impossible to mould them together
in one composition, and almost to apply any of the lead¬
ing forms of the one to the other. They may be thus
generally laid down. In Greek and Roman architecture
the general running lines are horizontal, as in entabla¬
tures and single cornices. In Pointed, the general run¬
ning lines are vertical. In the former, arches are not ne¬
cessary to a composition; in the latter, arches are a really
fundamental principle. In Greek and Roman, again,
columns require an entablature ; in the Pointed style no
such thing as an entablature composed of parts is appli-
454
Pointed
Architec¬
ture.
ARCHITECTURE.
11 r mi „ i ^ Vide Rickman’s those of Rochester in Kent, Hedingham in Essex, Conis- Pointed
cable to the pillars, columns, or shafts. ( ^ Hicxma Yorkshire} and Guildford in Surrey. Many ArchiS
Attempt, &C. 110.) uifforonr-ps minor edifices, principally ecclesiastical, exist in almost ture-
r; co„„ty’inpGrepat
found to be marked by such and such distinctive features
in the columns and their accessories, which allowed them
to be divided into orders. In the latter the varieties arise
chronologically, and, consisting for the most part m the
forms and arrangements of details, are not incoheren ;
nor are certain proportions either fixed or determinab e,
and consequently they cannot be rendered into orders.
It has been customary, in treating^ of Pointed architec¬
ture, to class with it the Saxon and Norman Gothic styles.
This is at least unnecessary, as they have no direct rela¬
tion to it, except that of immediate precedence in point
two specimens of this style as peculiarly deserving of
attention; the one in the vestibule or entrance of the
chapter-house at Bristol, and the other in the staircase
leading to the registry of Canterbury Cathedral; the for¬
mer for its simplicity and beauty of composition, and the
latter for its singularity, and as exhibiting a very fine
specimen of enrichment. The roofs, or ceilings rather,
of the Anglo-Gothic edifices, were mostly of wood; but
there are various examples of stone-groined ceilings to be
found in crypts, which appertain to this style. Spires
were unknown : there are, however, turrets crowned with
of time, ’and that the one was the stock on which the large pinnacles of a date anterior to the introduction of
ui liiuc, * _ . ,. ... n t, • a-j i,: 4-V.q nstm+orl arpR as in Rnphpst.pr Cathedral, and the
other was grafted. The peculiarities of Pointed archi¬
tecture are indeed totally independent of those of its pre¬
decessor the Gothic; nevertheless we should hardly be
excused for passing over the latter in total silence.
According to the best authorities, there are very few
the pointed arch, as in Rochester Cathedral, and the
Church of St Peter in the East at Oxford. Towers were
not uncommon; they are square massive structures, ris¬
ing to no great height above the roof of the buildings to
which they are attached. It may be remarked in addi-
specimens of architecture now in existence in this coun- tion, that many of our ancient structures retain the circu-
try which can properly be called Saxon, that is, of a date lar-headed or Anglo-Gothic door, when all the rest has
anterior to the Conquest, and not of Roman origin; and been removed, and replaced by work of a later date,
those few are of the rudest and most inferior description. Architects and antiquaries have generally agreed in
PI. LXXI
Fig. 1, 2,
3, 4, 5, 6,
7, 8, & 9.
Saxon, therefore, as far as the architecture of this coun¬
try is concerned, is an improper term. All the ancient
structures which are distinguished by the semicircular
.arch may be called Anglo or Anglo-Norman Gothic. It
consists principally of massive columnar piers supporting
semicircular arches, similarly arched doors and windows,
and arches on small columns in relief, against a dead wall,
to ornament it. The pier when round has a rude foliate
or rounded capital, and generally a moulded base, and is va¬
riously ornamented on the surface, being altogether a rude
resemblance of the columns of Roman architecture : it is
dividing Pointed architecture into three styles of three
succeeding periods. The first commences with the esta-
blishment of the pointed arch, and the formation of the
style or manner which accompanies it, in the latter part
of the twelfth century, the time of Henry II. of Eng¬
land; the second arose in the beginning of the fourteenth
century, in the latter part of the reign of Edward I.,
and was itself superseded before that century closed, about
the time of Richard the II., by the third style, which is
the latest, for with it, on the introduction of the Cinque-
cento, Pointed architecture ceased to exist. A difficulty
at times polygonal, and sometimes piers consist of clusters arises- in appropriately naming these three styles, for on
of small round shafts. In doors and windows thin columns
with rude capitals and bases frequently receive the mould¬
ings of the arch; and, when the opening is divided, they
are placed like mull ions, to support the inner arches.
There are examples of this style which are quite plain
in every particular; but it is generally enriched by deep
congeries of mouldings on the arches, and, when there
are no columns, running down the jambs of doors. These
are again frequently carved, and mostly with the zigzag
or chevron ornament: grotesque masks, and rude repre¬
sentations of animals, foliage, and flowers, form also com¬
mon enrichments in Anglo-Gothic architecture.
that point there is no degree of accordance among those
who are best qualified to be considered as authorities.
Mr Rickman calls the first the “ Early English” style,
the second the “ Decorated English,” and the third the
“ Perpendicular English;” to all of which terms Mr Brit¬
ton objects, and, without giving appellations, except to
the first, which he calls the “ Lancet Order of Pointed
Architecture,” suggests that the second might be named
with propriety the “ Triangular Arched,” and the third
the “ Obtuse Arched.” Objecting strongly to the term
“ Order,” used by Mr Britton, we think with him that
the first might be appropriately called the “ Lancet Arch’
This style prevailed down to the reign of Henry II. of style ; but his other distinctions are certainly not more
England, when the pointed arch made its appearance. A defensible than Mr Rickman’s. In the absence, there-
degree of impressive grandeur pervades its productions, fore, of unobjectionable distinctive terms, as the varieties
notwithstanding their clumsiness, arising from the great arise chronologically, we will speak of them as Periods,
simplicity of manner and massiveness of proportion by ^ -r, .7 ^ z.-, ,
which it is distinguished. The best existing specimens i ie ■^nst IJeri°d of Pointed Architecture.
in London are the vestibule of the Inner Temple church, Mr Rickman describes this style as being distinguished Plate
which, moreover, exemplifies the transition; many parts by pointed arches, and long narrow windows without
of the church of St Bartholomew in Smithfield, and the mullions, and a peculiar ornament, which, from its resem- ‘k
chapel of the Tower of London. Exemplifications of the blance to the teeth of a shark, he calls the toothed orna-
style are also to be found in the interiors of Norwich, ment. There is very considerable variety in the forms
Chichester, Gloucester, Canterbury, Worcester, Roches- and proportions of its different examples, as they retain
ter, W inchester, Durham, Peterborough, Oxford, and Here- the massive character of the Anglo-Gothic, or tend to the
ford Cathedrals. According to Mr Rickman, the naves more florid style of the next period. In the former the PI-
of Peterborough and Rochester are the most unmixed sharp lancet arch is found at times, in a series of its nar- 'fr
specimens. Parts, which are easily distinguished, of the row windows, with rude piers between them, occupying
exteriors of many of the same edifices, portions of Lin- the place of the precedent large circular-headed opening;
coin, and the towers of Exeter Cathedrals, Bigod’s Tower andin other places springing from the round col umnar piers Fig-
at Norwich, and the White Power in the Tower of Lon- of the former period. In its more advanced works "’e ^ate
don, afford characteristic external examples of the Anglo- find the same long narrow window systematically arranged,
Gothic style. The most striking castellated remains are singly or triply, with light clustered columns, against the j-jg. i.
ARCHITECTURE.
11 p0jn,ci piers which divide them, receiving the deep congeries of
^ Archi e- mouldings which forms the archivolt. Its columned pier,
J taw too, consists of clustered shafts, generally on a round core,
always forming cylindrical masses, girded at different
heights with slight rings or belts of mouldings. Their
I'fplLXiL capitals consist for the most part of congeries of mould-
1 pig. i ings following the form of the shafts, though rich and
f Plate ( flowering capitals are not uncommon. Moulded bases,
t LXXlI. t00> are generally used, not dissimilar in form to what is
cF'S-1 called the attic base of Italian architecture.
The lancet arch is described from two centres about an
2 acute-angled isosceles triangle in the line of its base, with
2 a radius equal to twice and one third (in some cases more,
2 and in some less) the length of that base, or of the span
the arch is to embrace. This, though the ordinary, is not,
however, the universal form of the arch in the first period;
but the absence of mullions, and in general of tracery,
may almost be considered a criterion: yet foliations or
featherings are not uncommon, especially in doors, and as
enrichments to flat surfaces, though every thing of the
kind certainly indicates an approach to the style of the
succeeding period. Ribs on the angles formed by the in¬
tersections of arches in groined ceilings, not in ramified
tracery, but with bosses at their apices alone, appertain to
works of the first period. These ribs sometimes spring
from corbels, and sometimes from the heads of slight
shafts, which may run uninterruptedly from the floor to
the springing of the arched ceiling, against the walls or
against the columnar piers; and a small cornice or tablet
continuing round them, runs along horizontally to sepa-
r rate the vertical from the vaulted surface. Buttresses in
8 Plate general, of various forms, sometimes in diminishing stages
a LX> 1. and sometimes upright, with acutely gabled heads with-
a % out crockets, but having finials—and flying buttresses in
[ particular—belong to this style. The tablets or cornices,
mouldings, ornaments, and the variety and arrangement
« of niches, must be gathered from examples. The parapet
or battlement is straight and uninterrupted, and is either
plain or ornamented with series of arches or panels with
foliations. Turrets are in some cases square, in others oc¬
tagonal ; but the pinnacles which surmount them are al-
i most always of the latter form, and plain or crocheted, as
the work may be more or less ornate. Towers, in the
style of this period, were generally made to receive that
beautiful characteristic of Pointed architecture, the spire.
This, in the best examples, is octagonal in its plan, and
( of pyramidal elevation, running to a point, or nearly so,
under an angle of about 12°, the angle at the base being
consequently 84°. In some cases the spire is richly crochet¬
ed like the pinnacles; but whether plain or crocheted, it
i is surmounted by a bold finial.
The most perfect structure in this style throughout is
Salisbury Cathedral, which, unlike any other Pointed cathe¬
dral in England, except perhaps that of Bath, was begun
and finished in the same manner; and so excellent an
example is it, that it has been proposed to call the style
of the period the Salisbury style. Not inferior in merit,
and hardly less perfect a model of the same, is Beverley
Minster. That which is of later date in it is easily dis¬
tinguishable ; and being confined to particular parts, it
lordly interferes with the unity of the composition. The
transepts of York Minster are also of the first period, and
so is a great part of Westminster Abbey. The fronts of
Ely, Lincoln, and Peterborough Cathedrals exhibit good
specimens of it. Indeed there is hardly one of all our
Pointed cathedrals which does not partake of this style
in a greater or less degree. It will be most generally
found interwoven with and superimposing the Anglo-
Gothic where that exists, and inferior to, when in con¬
nection with, works of a later period. Many of the mo-
455
nastic structures with which this country abounds pre- Pointed
sent very beautiful specimens of this style also. Among Architec-
other excellent examples of it may be particularized the v^re‘
chapter-houses of Lincoln and Lichfield. Those beauti-
ful monuments which the affection of Edward I. induced
him to raise to the memory of his wife, called the Crosses
of Queen Eleanor, are in the style of the first period,
though they verge on that of the second, and indeed mark
the transition which took place in the latter part of that
king’s reign.
Of the Second Period of Pointed Architecture.
The style of this period, which is thought by many to
be the classic age of Pointed Architecture, is described
by Mr Rickman as being distinguished “ by its large win¬
dows, which have pointed arches divided by mullions, and
the tracery in flowing lines forming circles, arches, and
other figures, not running perpendicularly; its ornaments
numerous and very delicately carved.” Mr Britton says
that “ during this period the Pointed style received its
greatest improvements and that, limiting it to the time
of Edward III., “ the form of the arch then principally
in vogue admitted of an equilateral triangle being pre¬
cisely inscribed between the crowning point of the arch
and its points of springing at the imposts.” The mullions of
this style clearly result from the slender shafts which were
used in that of the first period against the piers dividing
a number of windows. The piers being removed, it be¬
came necessary that an arch should be turned from side
to side, leaving a space to be filled up in the head above
the smaller arches. This was done by repeating and con¬
tinuing their contours, and connecting them by gracefully
flowing lines and foliations. It is indeed but an extension Plate
of the former; for in some of the early examples theB^NII.
mullions are thin columnar shafts having capitals and ^'1S-2&3-
bases, and the head of the arch is generally filled up with
regular figures, such as foliated circles, leaving spandrels
or triangular circular-sided spaces in various parts. It is
in the more advanced works of this period that the tracery Fig. 4&5,
becomes what may be truly called flowing. The mullion an(l Plate
is angular and moulded, and the mouldings run all through
the composition; the jamb or architrave mouldings also lg‘
run through, and for the most part without the inter¬
vention of any horizontal mouldings at the impost or
springing of the arch. Besides the ordinary covering
cornice or drip-stone following the form of the arch, we
find a moulded cornice, generally arranged pediment-wise,
embracing a window or door, having crockets and finials,
and resting on corbels, which are almost always masks.
This may be called an attached canopy. The columnar Plate
piers of this period are nearly square in plan, and areGXXIII.
placed diagonally. They are sometimes composed offclS* 2*
clustered shafts, and sometimes of shafts separated by
deep hollows. Their capitals are either moulded simply
in rather a deep congeries, or with woven foliage under a
moulded abacus. Their bases are a diminishing series of
bold mouldings, supported generally by a vertical-faced
octagonal plinth. The shafts which support the ribs of
the roof or ceiling tracery, in the finest examples of this
style, spring from rich and bold corbels in the angles of the
arches, or the spandrels, immediately above the piers. The
groining ribs do not adhere to the angles of the groins mere¬
ly, but are set more profusely to form tracery; and rich bosses
are put at every intersection. Buttresses of the second pe¬
riod are exceedingly various: on angles they are mostly set
diagonally. They either diminish gradually in heights or Plate^
stories, and finish under the cornice, or they run through LXXIV.
and are surmounted by pinnacles. In some cases the sets- ^
off in diminishing are made simply with an inclined shelf;
in others every set-off is formed with a pediment properly
ARCHITECTURE.
456
Pointed enriched, and the face of the buttress is generally orna-
Architec- mented with blank tracery in panels or niches, r lying
ture* buttresses in this style are also more ornate than those ot
the preceding; indeed in this they became ornaments,
whereas in the former they appear to have been kept out
of sight as much as possible. Parapets are either pierced
or embattled, and a similar variety is maintained in pedi¬
ments. Pinnacles are generally square, but they stand
diagonally with regard to the turret or buttress on which
they are placed, their angles resting on the apices ot the
pediments which surmount the faces of the substructure.
These pinnacles are richly ornamented with crockets and
finials. Spires are less common in the more extensive
works of this period than in the precedent; but in those
of minor importance they are frequent, differing little,
however, from the same object in works of the first period,
except in being more highly enriched. Towers are richly
pinnacled; but the pinnacles rest for the most part on
small turrets rising from the angles of the tower itself,
and seldom from projecting turrets or from the heads of
buttresses, which latter are generally found to die away
below the cornice. The details and enrichments of this
style are too curious and complicated for verbal descrip¬
tion, but they may be gathered from the examples.
We possess no one complete cathedral of the second
period, but almost all our larger Pointed structures pre¬
sent specimens of it in a greater or less degree. Except¬
ing perhaps the upper story or belfries of the towers of
Plate York Minster, which are of the third period, its west
LXXIV. front is a model for this style, and it presents specimens
Pig- of almost all its external peculiarities. The nave of the
same edifice, and the interior of Exeter Cathedral, are
perhaps the finest examples of the second period. The
latter edifice, indeed, has the reputation of presenting a
greater and more pleasing variety of tracery than any
other of the same style. To these may be added the
cathedrals of Lincoln and Ely, both of which contain much
that is valuable. Next to these cathedrals may be placed
Beverley Minster, which is not only a mine of beauty of
the first, but it presents many exquisite specimens of this
period also. The steeple of St Mary’s Church, Oxford,
is a fine example in this style of the combination of tower
and spire. Manv minor works in England, and several
in Scotland, are excellent; particularly much of what re¬
mains of the High Church, Edinburgh, much of the re¬
mains of Elgin Cathedral, and the largest portion of those
of Melrose Abbey, which, it would appear, was not ex¬
celled. when perfect, by any thing in the kingdom.
Of the Third Period of Pointed Architecture.
This is that period of the style commonly known as
florid Gothic. The first authority quoted with regard to
the styles of the two preceding periods calls it the Per¬
pendicular English, and says that this name clearly desig¬
nates it; “ for the mullions of the windows and the orna¬
mental panellings run in perpendicular lines, and form a
complete distinction from the last style.” Mr Britton,
however, insists that the term perpendicular, though per¬
haps proper enough, if the style could be sufficiently dis¬
tinguished by the mullions of the windows and the up¬
right forms and continuity of the panelling over entire
surfaces, “ gives no idea of the increased expansion of the
windows, nor of the gorgeous fan-like tracery of the vault¬
ings, nor of the heraldic description of the enrichments
which peculiarly distinguished this period; neither does
it convey any information of the horizontal lines of the
door-ways, nor of the embattled transoms of the windows,
nor of the vast pendents that constitute such important
features in the third division. ’ Although windows with
tracery in them may be determined as belonging to this
period, by the perpendicular and parallel lines found in the Point
head or arch, and by the use of transoms to divide the Archit
bays into heights, yet the presence of a window of this ture
kind does nothing towards fixing the style of the edifice
generally to which it may belong; for in hundreds of cases j ^yt
this sort of window will be found where it is the onlyp^ 6i
specimen of its age or style in the structure. Other points *
must therefore be attended to.
The simpler arches of this style are, like those of the pre¬
ceding periods, struck from two centres only; the two sides
or halves of the arch are similar segments of a circle whose piate
radius in this case is about three fourths the width of theLXXl
opening. Others are segments of ellipses, and are of course % 1.
struck from four centres ; but some are eccentric curves,
which may be drawn, but cannot be described. Many of
both the latter descriptions are extremely flat or depressed,
the angle at their apex being very obtuse. The ogee or con-fig,^
trusted arch is also found in works of this period, but this
is more common in internal tracery than in external form.
The modes of arranging tracery must be gathered from
examples, for they possess no degree of regularity to ren¬
der it possible to describe them generally in words. Mul¬
lions are richly moulded, and so are the architraves of
both doors and windows; the deep congeries of mould¬
ings forming architraves are not intercepted by horizontal
or impost mouldings, but run through from the head down
the sides or legs. The angular or pedimented canopy to Plate
an arched opening in the style of the second period as-LXXl
sumes in this the form of a contrasted arch; it is corbell-%1
ed and enriched with crockets and finials as in that. Doors,'j™'
however, in this style are peculiar, because whatever theplate
form of the arched head may be, it is inscribed in a square pxx1
frame or canopy, the spandrels being variously enriched.Fig. 1.
Columnar piers of this period are of almost parallelogramicBg-^
form, thinner in the direction of the arches, and generally
plain on the longer sides, but deeply moulded and running
to a thin shaft on the outer edges. These mouldings are
those which enrich the arch, there being no capital of any
kind to intercept them, so that they run, as in windows
and doors, all round the opening. To this, however, there
are exceptions. The thin shaft which is formed on the
outer edge of the pier continues through from floor to
ceiling, to receive the groining ribs ; and it has a thin con¬
geries of mouldings at either end to form base and capi¬
tal. The tracery of the ribs of groined ceilings of this
period is most profuse, and beyond description intricate.
To this also belongs the absurdity called basket groining,
in which the arches are made to spring on one of their
sides from a pendent mass, which, though rich and gor¬
geous in appearance, threatens constant ruin. Corner
buttresses standing diagonally are not so common in this
as in the preceding style: in form, however, they are not
dissimilar, excepting that the sets-off are plain moulded
slopes for the most part, instead of having pedimented or
triangular vertical heads, as in that. Flying buttresses
are, like the style generally, very much enriched, and are
very commonly used. Parapets are variously arranged;
indeed they embrace almost every peculiarity, being either
plain, panelled, pierced, or embattled; and each of the
latter modes is effected by different means. Pinnacles in Fig-f
this style are generally square, but there are examples
of them having a greater number than four sides; in the Fig-
former and most usual case they are sometimes placed
with their sides parallel to those of their pedestals, and
sometimes diagonally: they are of course in every case
highly enriched with crockets and finials. Spires of this
are hardly distinguishable from those of the preceding
period; and towers, of which there are innumerable spe¬
cimens, may be known by the construction of their but¬
tresses, and by the arrangement of the tracery in the heads
ARCHITECTURE.
Ppi ed of their windows, as the windows of towers are generally
Arcfec- contemporaneous with that story, or stage of it at least,
tu • to which they belong. Octagonal or otherwise polygonal
^w turrets at the angles of buildings are not uncommon, and
they generally finish with an embattled parapet. The
pedestals which support the pinnacles on the angles of
towers, and at the heads of buttresses, seldom have pedi-
mented faces, as in the preceding period, but finish with a
corbelled battlement, and not unfrequently send up minor
turrets and pinnacles from its angles.
In the more ornate works of this style the enrichment
of flat surfaces is carried to great excess, and it is gene¬
rally effected by means of panelling. Niches with their
canopies, tabernacles, screens, and stalls, exhibit the most
exuberant profusion of ornament, for the most part effect¬
ed in this manner; but we find, besides, a considerable
variety of ornaments, foliate and heraldic; of the former
the Tudor flower, which is a combination of the roses, is
pleasingly predominant.
The only one of the cathedrals entirely of this period
is that of Bath; but being generally inferior in merit
to many other examples, it need not be cited. Many of
the cathedrals, however, have large portions in this style,
which can hardly be mistaken if the form of the arches,
the arrangement of the tracery, and the mode of enrich¬
ment, be attended to. The finest west fronts to any of
them are possessed by those of Gloucester, Winchester,
and Chester; but that of Beverley Minster is by far the
most perfect and most classic specimen in existence, if we
Pint except the front of Westminster Hall, which is also of
LXT. surpassing merit, and is moreover a classic exemplification
of most of the peculiarities of the style. Taken as sepa¬
rate edifices, the chapels of St George at Windsor, of
Henry VII. at Westminster, and of King’s College at
Cambridge, are the most complete, as they are entirely
and peculiarly of the third period. The central towers
of the archiepiscopal fanes of Canterbury and York, the
tower of Gloucester Cathedral, that of Magdalene College,
Oxford, Boston Tower, and the tower of St Mary Magda¬
lene at Taunton, are singularly excellent examples of the
style. To smaller edifices, those of Wrexham and Gres-
ford in Wales, and of St Neot’s in Huntingdonshire, are
particularly beautiful. Of steeples, that is, towers having
spires superimposed, there are many fine specimens; but
the most perfect, perhaps, in composition are those of
Bloxham in Oxfordshire, and of Louth in Lincolnshire: the
former is most admirable rather in general than in detail.
Many of the monastic ruins throughout the country pre¬
sent excellent specimens of this style also; indeed it is
to ecclesiastical structures we must look for architectural
display in Pointed architecture, as in that of the Egyptians,
Greeks, and Romans. We have just specimens enough
existing of the architecture of the secular structures of
our ancestors to show how inferior it was in merit to that
of the ecclesiastical; and if the castellated mansions of
the nobility, and the palaces of the sovereigns, cannot vie
in excellence with the cloistered cells of the monks, we
may be well assured that ordinary domestic architecture
was of a still more inferior cast.
Elements of Beauty in Architecture.
Simplicity and harmony are the elements of beauty in
architecture; simplicity in the general form* and arrange¬
ment of a subject, and harmony in the collocation and
combination of its various parts. Without these qualities
a structure can never possess either dignity or grace, and
with them it will certainly possess the attractions of both.
The outline, then, most conducive to beauty in architec¬
ture, is that which bounds the most simple forms. 1 hese
are the parallelogramic and pyramidal, in which the lines
vol. in.
457
are straight and uninterrupted throughout their whole Beauty in
length. The ancient monuments of Egypt, of Greece, Architec-
and of Rome, offer the most complete exemplifications of tuie*
this. No other than the long, unbroken line which bounds
the temples of Egypt could produce an effect so grand; PI. LVI.
and no other than the simple, square, and pyramidal
forms, could be productive of so much dignity as they
possess. In the pyramids and obelisks of the same coun¬
try the effect of this simplicity is even more obvious. In
the temples of Greece, again, the same dignified simpli- PI. LIV.
city is still predominant; for although in them the paral¬
lelogram and pyramid are combined, they are not con¬
fused ; their mass consisting of a parallelopipedon whose
ends are surmounted by vertically faced pyramids, con¬
nected by an unbroken line of ridge running parallel to
the horizontal boundaries of the sides. Those of the Ro¬
man monuments which are deficient in simplicity are also
deficient in beauty. Such are the triumphal arches, PI. LXIV.
whose general form is broken by columns and arches Fig. 10 &
which subject themselves to no commanding outline, but11*
are all at the same time prominent features of and ex¬
crescences from the general composition. In the temples
which are on the Greek model it is not so; nor is it so in
the long series of arches in the Roman aqueducts, which
are crowned and connected by commanding lines, unim¬
peded by projections or protuberances of any kind. The
crucial form of the Pointed cathedral may be thought to
detract somewhat from its simplicity, and so much from
its beauty; but it is an aggregation of simple forms, per¬
fectly coherent with the tendency of the leading lines in
the style, which, we have seen, is vertical; and the lines are
therefore not broken by the projected masses of the tran¬
septs, as they would be in the Egyptian and other styles,
the tendency of whose commanding lines is horizontal.
Otherwise the Pointed cathedral is a modification merely
of the form of a Greek temple, with other parallelogramic
forms added to it, as towers, or pyramidal, as spires. The
same principle will be found to pervade the best works of
the Italian school, more or less modified according to its
application.
Next to the straight line is the circular; but the greater
complexity of this latter, and the variety of which it is
capable, render it more subtile, and for the most part less
competent to produce grand and impressive effects, ex¬
cept under peculiar circumstances of situation and combi¬
nation. A cupola such as the cupolas of St. Peter’s atIM.LXIX.
Rome and St Paul’s in London, if placed on its base on
the ground, or even on a low structure, like a large bee¬
hive, would be not merely ineffective, but absolutely ugly ;
and if, in the situations they occupy, the cupolas referred
to were without the diminishing pinnacles above them, to
bring their general outlines within that of the pyramid, it
is a question whether they would possess the attractive
beauty they now do. If St Paul’s be looked at in the
gray twilight of morning or evening, or when a mist ren¬
ders its form indistinct, the impression conveyed by the
mass is that of a lofty pyramid or cone, rising out of the
substruction which the cathedral forms, and running off
to a point in the sky. The superstructure of St Peter’s *
is, as we have seen, more depressed, and less perfectly
formed in this particular; yet nevertheless it may be sub¬
mitted to the same test, and the same or nearly the
same result will follow. Furthermore, let a hemisphere
or an oblate hemispheroid be supposed in the place of
the prolate hemispheroid, as at present, and this reason¬
ing will be rendered more clear; for neither of those
forms, even with the accessories these possess, would be
as beautiful; and without them they would be ungainly
deformities, as is proved by that example on the new
palace in London, on the site of Buckingham House.
458
ARCHITECTURE.
Beauty in The cupola of the London University exemplifies this
Architec- point also; for though its profile is elegant, and its acces-
ture. sorjes are generally good, the composition does not re-
solve itself into a simple form, and the result is far from
being beautiful. ,,
When the circular form is employed cylindncally, the
utmost simplicity is required to be preserved in its hori¬
zontal, as well as in its vertical lines, or the result will be
totally devoid of all architectural beauty. In proof ot
this let the broken and dentilled columnar ordinance
which surrounds the tholobate of St Peter s be compared
with the noble, unbroken peristyle in the corresponding
part of St Paul’s. In the former the cylindrical mass is
studded with a series of minute excrescences of coupled
columns ; and in the latter it forms a grand, beautiful, and
effective compartment of the composition.
The preceding remarks do not of course apply to the
interior of a structure in the same manner; for although
as high a degree of simplicity is required internally as-ex¬
ternally, similar combinations are not necessary, nor are
they indeed always available. A spacious concave, of what¬
ever form its profile may be, so that its plan be a perfect
circle, is one of the grandest works of architecture, and at
the same time one of the most simple, whether it occupy
a compartment of the structure to which it belongs, as in
St Peter’s and St Paul’s, or cover the complete edifice to
PI. LXIV. which it appertains, as in the Pantheon at Rome. In
Pig. 4. such situations it is indeed almost impossible to destroy
its inherent simplicity; and being unconnected with exter¬
nal circumstances, it requires no coherence with any thing
else, being as independent of its substructure as of its ex¬
ternal contour for effect. Irregular and intricate forms,
however, in works of architecture, whether internally or
externally, will be found unpleasing. Few can admire the
Fig. 1 & 2. external effect of the Pantheon, or of the structure in
London called the Colosseum, which has been subjected
to the same arrangement, though certain features in both
may be indisputably good. To these may be added the
church in Langham Place, London, and indeed many
others; but that is an egregious example in point. The
complication of straight and circular in their composition,
and the consequent irregular forms and undefined out¬
lines, totally destroy both simplicity and harmony. The
comparison of an Egyptian obelisk with a monumental
column of the same relative size will afford the strongest
proof of the superiority the more simple form possesses
over the more complicate. None, however, but those who
have visited Rome, in which city alone the comparison
can properly be made, can duly appreciate this evidence;
but London furnishes a contrast almost as much to the
purpose, in the monument on Fish Street Hill, and the
lofty shot tower by the south-west angle of Waterloo
Bridge. They are both of cylindrical form; but the one
is crowned by a square abacus, and the other by a bold
cornice, which follows its own outline. The greater sim¬
plicity and consequent beauty of the latter is such as to
strike the most unobservant.
Not only in general form and outline is simplicity ne¬
cessary to beauty in architecture, but in all its details,
and even in its enrichments, also. In exemplification of
this, a Greek entablature may be compared with one in
the Roman style, in which every thing is sacrificed to
profuse ornament; and the style of ornament in the latter
may again with equal advantage be compared with that
of the age of Louis XIV. of France. In the arrangement
of the parts of a composition, as well as in the composi¬
tion itself, simplicity is essentially necessary to the beauty
of the whole ; every style will afford exemplifications of
PI. LIX. this also, in the comnarison of the mm*e clmnlo wJt-K tlio
Pig.
this also, in the comparison of the more simple with the
more complicate specimens of the same. Compare the
few simple and well-defined parts of a Grecian Ionic en- Beautv
tablature with a Roman or Italian example of that order: Archite
in the latter will be found a complexity and straining at tuiV
effect not at all consistent with beauty and dignity, de- W'
termining the comparison much in favour of the first ;^L3XI
and so in many other cases which might be cited. That
the more simple arrangement of columns at equal dis-Fig. 4.
tances is superior to that in which they are coupled or
placed only alternately equidistant, is clear from the fact
that the latter mode was first proposed, and is only used
to obviate difficulties, and not from choice, except in the
works of the merest pretenders.
Harmony, concord, or fitness—of proportion, of form,
of one part of a composition to another, and in the collo¬
cation of the various enrichments which architecture re¬
quires,—is as necessary to its beauty as simplicity. We do
not speak of the agreement which should exist between
the manner or character of a structure and its application,
for that is purely conventional, and totally independent of
any architectural consideration. The merit or demerit
of a composition is not at all affected by the use to which
the edifice is applied; neither would its front be more
tolerable, nor its cupola less beautiful, if St Peter’s in
Rome were, by the course of events, to become a demo¬
cratic forum instead of a papal basilica; nor is the monu¬
ment of London a more or less elegant object, whether it
be understood to record a triumph or a defeat—the burn¬
ing of the city, or its re-edification. Harmony in archi¬
tecture is that agreement which exists between its various
parts, as in the relation of a column to its entablature and
stylobate, in the accordance of a cornice with the eleva¬
tion it crowns, and in the coherence of one part of a com¬
position with another. It is that which exists in the com¬
mon tendency of the leading lines of a structure; and it
is that which blends the straight and circular in enrich¬
ment or decoration, as in the capital of an Ionic column
whose square and horizontal form is harmoniously adapted
to the vertical lines and cylindrical form of the shaft, by
the intervention of the volutes. An inharmonious combi¬
nation arises out of the collocation of the same voluted
capital with a pilaster or square pier. This quality re¬
quires a judicious arrangement of ornament. That a cer¬
tain degree of enrichment should pervade the whole of a
composition, and not be confined to one part of it—for in¬
stance a Corinthian ordinance, in which the columns are
unfluted and the entablature is quite plain—is inharmoni¬
ous ; for the capitals being masses of rich foliage, are
spots, having nothing to connect them with the rest. A
degree of harmony must exist, too, between the solids and
vacuities of an edifice. An Italian portico, with its thin
and straggling columns, is an inharmonious object, for it
conveys an idea of infirmity and poverty, which is not the
case with one proportioned like the best Greek and Ro¬
man examples. In the front of a house, windows and the
piers between them being too wide or too narrow will af¬
fect its character in this respect. The comparative size
of various portions of the same composition, though they
be in themselves simple and harmonious, may be such that
they shall not be so in combination. The portico of the
London University is of almost unequalled magnificence
and beauty, and the cupola behind and above it is of elegant
form, though deficient in another particular, as we have
already stated; yet they do not harmonize—the one is much
too large for the other, and their forms are incoherent.
Thus harmony has reference to comparative magni¬
tude, strength, decoration, disposition, and proportion.
To acquire a knowledge of all these sufficient to produce
a worthy result, a long course of study and careful obsei-
vation are necessary: but such can only be necessary to
the architect; it is enough for the general student to be
ARCHITECTURE.
459
gonv si- able to appreciate them when present, and to detect their
tic! absence.
Principles of Architectural Composition.
These must be different in the widely differing species
of architecture, whose tendencies in the one are to hori¬
zontal or depressed, and in the other to vertical or upright
lines and forms; the former including all those varieties
which derive from the Greek and Roman modes of de¬
sign, or columnar and circular-arched architecture; and
the latter embracing those which arise out of the pointed
arch, and which we have distinguished by the term
Pointed. Except in the elements of architectural beauty,
which must be the same in all architectural works, there
is no similarity whatever between the principles which
govern composition in the two species. Simplicity of form,
and harmony between the parts, are as essentially neces¬
sary to the one as to the other; but instead of the leading
horizontal lines required by the former, the latter is dis¬
tinguished by the absence of commanding lines having
that tendency, and by the presence of strongly marked
lateral projections and vertically inclined lines. The rec¬
tangular figure formed by the front of a Greek temple,
below the pediment, rests on one of its longer sides as a
base. In a Pointed composition that order is reversed,
and one of the shorter sides becomes the base ; and the
pediment, instead of being a depressed obtuse-angled tri¬
angle, becomes upright and acute-angled; the whole mass,
moreover, follows the change thus described, so that the
same figure, a parallelepiped, is set for horizontal or ver¬
tical composition, as a larger or smaller side is made the
base. This being the case, it will be necessary to treat
of them separately; for rules which apply to the one are
totally inapplicable to the other, and the former, being of
most comifion application, may be taken first. We shall
quote the principles which appear to have actuated the
Greek and Roman architects in the production of their
best works, or rather the principles which those works de-
velope, instead of citing all existing ancient works as au¬
thorities; and determine on those principles how to pro¬
duce similar results in cases of which examples do not
appear in ancient practice. In the same manner, we must
deduce the principles for general composition in the
Pointed style, from those which appear to enter into its
best existing works.
PI.
Fig
PL
Of Horizontal Composition.
Every thing tending to break the continuity of the lead¬
ing horizontal lines in a composition should be avoided.
The advantage of adhering to this, and the disadvantage
'LX. resulting from the breach of it, are clearly exemplified in
the front of the Farnese Palace, and in the flank of St
iIX. Peter’s at Rome. In London, too, the fronts of the Ban¬
queting House at Whitehall, and of Somerset House to
the Strand, offer similar exemplifications of the principle;
the former having both the entablatures and the stylobate
of the upper ordinance broken round every column, which
makes the ordinances mere excrescences, and the latter pre¬
serving the leading lines continuous and unbroken through¬
out, to the manifest advantage of the whole composition.
This applies equally to columned and arcaded ordinances,
and to compositions in which neither is used; and it is as
much opposed to the projection of masses to form wings
and centres, whether shallow or deep, as to the breaking
°f an entablature or stylobate round one or two columns.
Sufficient variety of light and shadow is attainable with¬
out the use of columnar ordinances at all, as the Farnese
Palace evinces. But if, however, it be required to give
a greater degree of importance to an elevation than can
be attained in that manner, it may be produced without Composi-
either attaching or insulating columns the whole extent, tion-
by means of antae and recessed compartments with co-k-^v^'^>'
lumns in them, as on either side of the gates in the north
or Lothbury front of the Bank of England, and on the flanks
of the churches of StPancras and St Martin in London ; but
a mere pilastraded ordinance, or pilasters with an entabla¬
ture and without columns, is bald, tasteless, and unmean¬
ing, as the front of Crockford’s Club-house, in London
also, very clearly shows. In speaking of the Italian style,
we have shown the injudiciousness of putting order above
order, because of the impossibility of maintaining a ra¬
tional arrangement with regard to diminution and inter-
columniation. We made that, too, an objection to the ele¬
vation of the Roman Colosseum ; but the practice is more- PI. LXIY.
over objectionable, because of the repetition of the simi-Fig. 1.
lar parallel lines of the entablatures, similarly projected too,
which destroy the breadth a composition should possess ;
and because the upper and crowning cornice, if in propor¬
tion to its own ordinance, must be disproportioned to the
whole elevation which takes from that member a charac¬
ter of grandeur or meanness, as it may or may not be fit¬
ted to its whole height. This is made very evident by
the opposed fronts of the United Service and Athenaeum
Club-houses in London, the former of which is finished
by the thin shelf-like cornice of a second order, and the
latter by a bold massive crowning cornice in the style of
that of the Farnese Palace. In a similar manner, and for
the same reason, the practice of raising lofty basements
to support columnar ordinances is injudicious ; and this
detracts much from the merit of the front of Somerset
House just referred to, by making the crowning cornice of
less importance than it should be. In St Paul’s this fault
is partially relieved by the somewhat exaggerated size of
the cornice of the upper order, and by the insertion of
cut blocks, in the manner of upright modillions, under it
the whole depth of the frieze. Nothing, again, should be
allowed to superimpose a crowning cornice, except what
may form a part of itself, as antefixae; where, however,
something is absolutely necessary, as on a bridge, a close
simple parapet, as low as it may be conveniently, should
be resorted to. On the principle first developed, porti¬
coes should not be projected from the front of a building,
unless they occupy the whole extent of it, as in a Greek
or Roman temple, and so carry the horizontal lines unbro¬
ken to the flanks; or they should be made distinct and
independent objects, to which the rest of the composition
may be subservient, as in the London University. A porti¬
co should moreover be considerably projected, or the sur¬
face behind it recessed, that the columns may have a back¬
ground of shadow, otherwise it will be poor and inefficient.
Of this the Greek temples offer a favourable exemplifica¬
tion ; and most of our churches, and other modern edifices
which have porticoes to them, prove the correctness of the
principle in the breach of it. Exceptions more or less
favourable certainly exist, whose superior merit is suffi¬
cient to indicate them. A pediment should never be used
unless it is made to embrace the whole of the end or
front to which it is attached. Numberless absurdities
have arisen in Italian architecture from the injudicious
application of this form; so general, indeed, is it, that
the fact of a pediment existing under any circumstance
in a work of that style is almost a sufficient reason for
avoiding a similar use of it. Nothing is more difficult
than to combine straight and circular, or otherwise bend¬
ing lines, with propriety and good taste, and therefore
their collocation, in general composition particularly, should
be seldom attempted. It is when they harshly contrast,
as in circular pediments, and in mixed compositions of
columns or pilasters, with their accessories, and arches and
460
Composi¬
tion.
architecture.
their piers, that the combination is bad; but not so in toe
connection of the arch with its pier, so that the former
be semicircular or semielliptical, and not smaller segments,
in which cases they fall naturally and gracefully together.
The incoherence and inelegance of contrasted straight and
circular forms are very evident in the New Exchange at
Paris, where two tiers of circular-headed windows are seen
within a Corinthian peristyle. Circular prostyles or cyr-
toprostyles should be avoided, as their horizontal lines
cannot be made to harmonize perfectly with any form to
which they may be attached. This however does not apply
to peristyles ; and both the one and the other are exempli¬
fied by the transept porticoes and columned tholobate ot
St Paul’s. The use of coupled columns is so absurd, and
they are confessedly so inelegant, that it seems almost
unnecessary to proscribe them. Suppose apertures, such
as windows, arranged in couples throughout an elevation,
with very narrow and very wide piers alternating, and both
the absurdity and the inelegance become manifest: now,
neither the one nor the other can be eitiier lessened 01
changed by reversing the case, and putting alternately
wide and narrow openings, as in coupled columnar ordi¬
nances. Columns may with propriety be put further apart
when they are attached than when they are insulated,
because the entablature, resting'in part on the wall, is
neither in fact nor in appearance made infirm by the dis¬
tension, as it would be if it rested on the columns alone.
All the parts of the same edifice which come into view,
under any circumstances at the same time, should corre¬
spond ; but insulated and attached columns of the same
ordinance and in the same elevation may, under certain
circumstances, without impropriety be arranged witn a dif¬
ferent intercolumniation.
An arcaded ordinance should be considered as only
more massive than, and differently shaped from, a colum¬
nar, and may therefore be governed by nearly the same
principles. A pier is but a differently shaped and more
massive column, and the archivolt but a succedaneum
for the architrave ; while a bold blocking course, or a com¬
mensurate cornice and frieze, as the composition may be
more or less ornate, will complete the ordinance. Under
this view nothing can be more absurd than to affix columns
or pilasters to the piers of an arcade to support an enta¬
blature, and certainly nothing can be more inharmonious,
from the contrast which arises, as we have just remarked,
between the rectangular lines of the latter, and the in¬
scribed circular lines of the arch, as well as the incon¬
gruity necessarily attending the interspaces of the columns.
In speaking of Greek and Roman architecture, we have
shown why columns should, and why antse and pilasters
should not, be fluted; and have shown also, that a certain
degree of richness or plainness of surface should pervade a
composition, and not be confined to particular parts of it.
It will now be enough to add, that in composing, lights
and shadows should not be scattered on a surface as they
are on the front of the Banqueting House, by broken ordi¬
nances ; nor should either be too much narrowed, as the
light on the corona of a Roman cornice too frequently is,
by the too great projection of the cymatium. It will be
found, moreover, that shadows projected horizontally are
more in coherence with the horizontal style of composi¬
tion, than those which fall laterally, or from a vertically
projecting object.
Columns, Sfc.—The proportions of the columnar orders
will be best sought in the existing examples of the an¬
cients ; and those we give of them afford sufficient va¬
riety. What is deficient in one may be made up from
another; and what appears superfluous in one example
may be omitted, as its omission may appear beneficially
to affect another. The Doric may be adopted from the
Parthenon or the temple of Theseus, as the best existing Compc f
models of the order. If an ungraduated stylobate be tion’ jr
used, which should be avoided if possible, it should not f
exceed one diameter in height. The intercolumniation
should not exceed one triglyph, as in the Greek temples, H 1
though for compositions of a generally less dignified cha¬
racter it may, perhaps, be extended to two. A good mo¬
dern example of the Doric order, in a work of the latter
description, may be seen in the small entrance portico to
the University Club-house in Lqndon. The Ionic example Pi. Li:
from the Erechtheum, which we have given, may be
used as a model for that order, with the same restriction
with regard to the stylobate which is made to the Doric.
Additional depth may with advantage be allowed to the
bed-mould of the cornice, and it may be effected by the
insertion of a dentilled member*, which indeed some of
the ancient Greek (though not Athenian) examples pos¬
sess. The intercolumniation should not be less than one
diameter and a half, nor should it exceed two diameters.
In London this order is admirably applied in the front of
an Episcopal chapel on the east side of North Audley
Street; and this particular example is very correctly co¬
pied on the exterior of the church of St Pancras. The P1.LX1
great inferiority of the Roman examples of the Doric and Ex. 3 i
Ionic orders is too evident to require that what it consists
in should be pointed out, and they are the models of the
Italian. The Greek example of the Corinthian order P!. I,X
might perhaps be improved by making the dentil member Eg-
of the cornice a little shallower, by projecting the corona
rather less, and by correcting the form of some of the
mouldings of the entablature generally. If the columns
be used in a prostyle or other insulate position, they may
with advantage be made half a diameter less in height;
and the intercolumniation also should be made less than
it appears in the original, where the columns are attached.
This example has been well executed in the entrance to
the Philadelpheion or Exeter Hall, in the Strand; but the
pedestals and the attic are blemishes in the composition.
Of the Roman examples of this order, that of the temple PI. L3
of Jupiter Stator is certainly the best. Its greatest fault Ex. 1.
is the too great magnitude of the cornice, of which every
member, except the corona, might advantageously be re¬
stricted one tenth of its height; that which is dentilled
might indeed be reduced one fifth. The projections might
also be diminished in the same proportion, removing the
greater diminution of one fifth in this particular from the
dentilled member to the cymatium, and the ovalo under
it, both of which project by far too much. The three fas-
cias of the architrave are too unequally divided. The
lowest may be made as wide as the middle one, by de¬
ducting their difference from the third or upper one. In
the Tivoli example the architrave is too shallow, and so Ex. 2.
are the dentil band and corona of the cornice; and the
cymatium is both too deep and too much projected. The
cornice would moreover be improved by denticulating the
dentil band, and by enriching the frieze with an ornament
less coarse and less massive. If this example be used in .
a generally ornate composition, some of the mouldings of
the entablature should be enriched. The parts of the
entablature of the temple of Antoninus and Faustina are Ex. 3.
well proportioned to each other. The cornice of this ex¬
ample would be improved by giving additional height to
the dentil band at the expense of the moulding above it,
and by denticulating it also. The cymatium is rather too
shallow, and may be widened out of the moulding under
it; and both should be restricted in their projection at
least one fifth. The capital of this example is poor, and
its abacus is too shallow. The shaft requires fluting, and
one half the depth of the upper fillet of the base might be
added with advantage to the tori and scotia. The cited
ARCHITECTURE.
f example from the portico of the Pantheon has, like the
tC<2n" last mentioned, the parts of its entablature well propor-
tioned to each other. As in the Jupiter Stator example,
'n fX't. the architrave should be more equally divided. The
3'x.4. mouldings, too, separating the fascias, should be made
I ]ess . and the superior moulding, at least of the archi-
C trave, carved, unless the frieze were enriched, and then it
* would not be necessary. In the cornice a fifth or sixth
s should be taken from every member of the bed-mould
a and added to the corona. In the presence of modillions,
t1 however, the dentil band is judiciously kept plain, though
1 the moulding below it would be better if enriched. The
c capital of this example is as faulty as that of Antoninus
J and Faustina, and in the same particulars. The shaft also
! requires fluting, and the base might with advantage be^
made to spread more. The ordinance of the temple of
• wXM tl.Mars Ultor, though the most masculine, is, from its good
L 1. proportions, and the bold character of its foliage, one of
the most excellent of the Roman Corinthian examples.
Most of the entablature being supplied from a not well
i authenticated source, may not be original; but that is of
i no consequence, if it be beautiful. The corona, like that
> member in most Roman entablatures, wants greater depth ;
i and the cymatium perhaps less, and certainly less projec-
I; tion. In this, as in the first-mentioned Roman example,
with modillions there are dentils. This is injudicious;
■ the member would be better plain, as in the Pantheon
ordinance. The architrave, which is authentic, is exceed¬
ingly well proportioned, and the column is fine in all its
parts. These examples all vary in their intercolumnia-
tion, from rather less than one diameter and a half to a
fraction more than two diameters, beyond which propor¬
tions, either less or more, it would not be well to go. A
stylobate to the order might judiciously be adapted from
the Greek; for the stilted effects produced by insulated
pedestals, and even by continuous vertical stylobates, are
injurious to the general appearance of a columnar compo-
sition; and the thin steps in common use detract exceed¬
ingly from its beauty under any circumstances.
There are many varieties of the foliate capital which
may be used with advantage ; one of the least elegant,
however, is that which assumes the distinction ot being
called the Composite order. The example ot it from the
Ex. J arch of Titus is one of the best, if not the best; but it
will be seen, on comparison, to be strikingly inferior to
the Corinthian examples, or those in which the volutes
of the capital are made subservient to the foliage, instead
of being distended into huge mis-shapen knobs. The en¬
tablature, too, is only an exaggerated Corinthian. If it be
wished to use foliate capitals differently composed from
the ordinary, it may be well to preserve the character
and proportions of the entablature the same, or nearly so.
Under any circumstances, however, care should be taken
in composing an entablature, that it have sufficient height,
and yet not be too heavy; that it be sufficiently divided,
and yet not frittered; that the parts have sufficient
breadth, and be not so much projected as to bury all
that is below them in shadow; and that ornament be pro¬
perly distributed, and in sufficient quantity, vyithout over¬
loading the composition with it, as in the ordinance of the
arch of Titus.
If again it be wished, under any circumstances (though
j1'- 1. the practice cannot be recommended), to use human
figures as columns, there appears to be no reason why
' the entablature should be executed without a frieze, as it
is in the example of the Pandroseum; and if a frieze be
inserted, it should be by lessening the other parts, and
not by increasing the whole, as that entablature (taking
it as a model) is quite deep enough in proportion to the
height of the ordinance.
461
Entasis in columns need not be regarded, unless they Composi-
exceed eighteen or twenty feet in height; but it adds ti°n-
much to their beauty, and should not be neglected when^*~v~x*>/
they are above that magnitude. No rule can be given for
its production, but it may be thus described. The shaft,
instead of being the frustrum of a regular cone, is the
frustrum of a cone whose outline is not straight, but
slightly convex; so that if it were perfect, its vertical sec¬
tion would have the form of a very acute pointed arch.
This convexity should, however, be so slight as in the
finished shaft to be hardly perceptible. Its abuse is evi¬
dent in the columns of the east front of the church of St
Paul, Covent Garden, and indeed in some of the less es¬
teemed works of the Gi’eeks themselves. The modes of
fluting in the different orders may be gathered from the
examples. The flutes should be deeper .or shallower, as
the collocation of the ordinance may require a greater or
less depth of shadow on the surface of the columns. The
elliptical or nearly elliptical contour seems to be the
most generally pleasing. The flutes meet in an arris on
columns of the Doric order, and are separated from each
other by alternating fillets in the Ionic and Corinthian.
Antce and Pilasters.—These should seldom be used, ex¬
ternally at least, unless with columns, for their real use is
to connect a columnar ordinance with the walls to which
it is attached; and being, as they are, but slight projec¬
tions from walls for that purpose, nothing can be more
absurd than to give them the features of columns, either
by the application to them of similar capitals and bases,
by diminishing, or by fluting. T he use of antse was right¬
ly understood by the Greeks, but not by the Romans; and
their proper use may be seen in the works of the former.
The examples in London of their judicious application,
most worthy of remark, are in those edifices already men¬
tioned as exhibiting good specimens of the Greek orders,
in the Bank of England, and in the portico only of the
London University. The adaptation in these ot other than
the bold foliage and branching cauliculi of the columnar
capitals in the Corinthian ordinances to the antse caps is
particularly worthy of notice (though they are not ail of
equal merit as compositions), as the Greek remains are
without a regular example of Corinthian antae, atid the
Roman practice is inelegant.
Pediments.—As there is no mode by which the pitch of
a pediment can be determined, it must be left to the taste^
of the designer to be governed or not by the examples of
Greek and Roman antiquity: it may, however, be pre¬
mised of them generally, that those of the former school
are too flat, and those of the latter too steep. The pedi¬
ment of the portico of the London university is admirably
proportioned to the rest of the composition, but its pitch
would be absurdly flat if applied to a tetrastyle portico.
The inclined sides of a pediment are covered by a cornice
similar to that which forms its base, except that all blocks,
modillions, and dentils are omitted* even if the bed-mould
itself be retained, and a cymatium superadded.
Cornices, <^c.—Although a perfect entablature should
not be applied to crown an edifice, except it be in con¬
nection with columns of some sort, or their legitimate re¬
presentatives, piers, yet a single cornice, or a cornice and
frieze, is not so; and it forms the most pleasing termina¬
tion to an elevation in which columns are not used. The
proportion of one or the other may be best found by set-
tino- out a columnar ordinance of the style preferred at
the height of the elevation ; and the size of the cornice or
cornice and frieze thus given will aptly become it. I he
Vumolan or block cornice, in which the frieze is occu¬
pied by cut blocks, is exceedingly effective: it is this
which Sir Christopher Wren has employed in the upper pi. LXX.
entablature of St Raufs, and Vignola himself in the front Fig. 2.
ARCHITECTURE.
462
Composi. of the Villa Guilia. With these cornices rustic quoins
tion. consort very pleasingly, and so they do indeed with all
single cornices which are of a bold character, and all such
• should be so.
Pl.LXVI. Arcades, The most graceful average proportion
for these is, that the opening be twice the width of the
pier, and twice its own width in height to the crown of
the arch. The practice of the Italian school in the com¬
position of arcaded ordinances may be generally followed
with advantage, except in mingling and confusing them
with columnar. The pier is based by a deep square plinth,
and surmounted by a square or moulded cap or impost,
the upper surface of which is the base line of the arch.
In rusticated work the radiating stones of the arch show
their joints, and are cut to a uniform appearance with
the ordinary surface of the wall. In other cases there is
a moulded archivolt, whose width varies from an eighth to
a tenth of the opening of the arch. A dropping keystone
is generally used; but this very much injures the simpli¬
city, and consequently the beauty of the arch, and should
be avoided.
Doors and Windows, &;c.—The most approved propor¬
tion for these apertures, also, is twice their wddth in height.
In an elevation which comprises several tiers or stories, it
is customary to make those of the lowest or ground story
rather less than that proportion in height; those of the
first or principal story rather more; those of the second
somewhat less again; and those of the third (if there be
so many) square or even lower. If, however, the eleva¬
tion consist of but two, the ground story should be the
principal, and its windows of the most importance (if
any difference be made between them at all), those of the
upper story being then less than the stated proportion in
height. The modes of ornamenting doors and windows
are so various, and they depend so much on the coherent
parts of the composition, that it is impossible here to go
into their varieties, or to give particular instructions for
their adaptation. The practice of the Italian school may
in this case also be generally followed, avoiding those
things in it which are injurious, and referring to the Greek
for the details of mouldings and ornament. The applica¬
tion of a columnar ordinance to every door or window,
giving it the effect of a little edifice in relief, exemplified
by the windows of the principal story of the Farnese Pa¬
lace, must be censured as injudicious; and so must pedi¬
ments of all kinds, but particularly those formed with cir¬
cular lines, or lines twisted in any way, or, though right
lined, not meeting in a point at the apex. In basements
or ground stories windows or doors may be lined with
rustic courses with good effect, though the face of the
wall be not rusticated; and if it be so, no other lining is
thought necessary. The windows of a principal story may
be lined with an architrave, either quite straight or re¬
turning in knees at the head, and resting on a continuous
blocking course below. This architrave may be surmount¬
ed by an enriched frieze and cornice, the former bounded
at the ends, and the latter upborne by trusses or consoles,
which may rest on or be affixed to a species of pilaster,
outside the architrave, and parallel to it; if detached sills
are preferred, a shorter and bolder truss may be judicious¬
ly applied below the sill, under the foot of each pilaster,
to complete the composition: the architrave is generally
a sixth or a seventh of the opening in width, and the con ¬
sole and its pilaster about a ninth or tenth. Upon no ac¬
count should i ustics be run through the architrave hnin0,
of a window, as on the flanks of St Martin’s Church in
London. A series of circular-headed windows conjoined,
as in the earlier works of the Venetian school, is produc¬
tive of a pleasing effect; but the large circular-headed,
with two conjoined smaller rectangular windows, found in
the later works of the Italian school, and called Venetian, Coni
is radically inelegant; and there is such a one in the tio
east end of the structure last mentioned. Blank windows '•’V
should be recurred to as seldom as possible; and when
they cannot be avoided, they should have sash-frames and
sashes as if they were real w indows, otherwise they give a
maimed effect to an elevation.
Niches.—There are very few cases in which these do
not act injuriously on a composition, from the difficulty of
making them cohere with the other parts: the usual
mode in Italian practice is to give them the effect of win¬
dows, which cannot be approved of. Internally they may
be used with much better effect than on exteriors. If a
niche is in tended to receive a statue, it should have a cir¬
cular head; if a vase, it will perhaps be better straight:
the plan of a niche is semicircular.
Parapets.—The pierced parapet or balustrade is not in¬
elegant when the forms of which it is composed are sim¬
ple and chaste, as piers; but the close continuous parapet
is generally preferable, because of its greater simplicity,
and its accordance with the principles developed in the
most classic works of architecture. The parapet of a pro¬
jected balcony, to give an appearance of lightness, may
perhaps be better pierced; but if a stereobate continue
straight through a window without projection, it should
remain close and uncut, unless there exist some special
reason for wishing to make the window appear so much
higher.
Balconies.—These, whether continuous or broken to
every window, act for the most part injuriously in a com¬
position. In the former case they cannot be kept sufficient¬
ly under not to appear of too much importance; and in
the latter they have the effect of a broken cornice or en¬
tablature. In both cases, when a balcony is above the eye,
it destroys the proportion of the windows opening on it,
by intercepting more or less of their height.
Proportion and Arrangement of Rooms.—Whatever the
length of a room may be, it will not be disagreeably pro¬
portioned if its height and breadth are the same; and if
the length may be limited, once and a half the breadth is
the most pleasing. Galleries, of course, will be much
longer than that proportion ; and corridors will necessarily
be narrower than they are high. Entrance-halls should
be cubical, regularly polygonal, or circular. Access should
be given to a room by the end; it should be lighted on
one side, and the fire-place may be at the other end, or
on the other side: if the former, there should be two
doors, or one and the appearance of another, that the fire¬
place may not be immediately opposite to a door. Many
things, however, from localities and otherwise, constantly
occur to make it absolutely impossible to attend to such
suggestions as these. In halls and saloons not command¬
ing a pleasing view, the windows may be advantageously
placed above the usual level, for agreeable effect, for light,
and for ventilation. In rooms lighted from above, as the
Pantheon in Rome is, a columnar ordinance may be judi¬
ciously adapted; but otherwise columns and their acces¬
sories can seldom be well disposed internally.
Chimneys.—If a chimney be in the end of a room, it
should be similaidy proportioned, the height and breadth
of its opening corresponding with the height and breadth
of the room; if it be on a side, it should be somewhat
wider than it is high; if the room be longer than the
sesquialteral proportion, it should have two fire-places,
either at the two ends or equidistant from the centre ot
one of the two sides. The chimney-piece should be bold
and massive, not frittered into small parts and much mould¬
ed ; it may, however, have its vertical faces enriched with
great advantage.
Ceilings.—The ceiling of a room should be nearly plain,
ARCHITECTURE.
Comi ii- but it may rest on a bold and enriched cornice, not com-
tio;. posed like an external cornice, as it is differently lighted,
'^v^/ but with deep covings instead of broad flat surfaces. Such
cornices are highly susceptible of ornament, and they may
have additional effect given to them by means of colour.
In large rooms the area of the ceiling may be pleasingly
contracted, and so made to appear lighter, by coving the
angles altogether, and thus bringing the cornice on which
it rests lower down on the walls. This mode of arrange¬
ment is used, too, in the small rooms of a lofty story, to
take off from their too great height. The horizontal sur¬
face of a ceiling may be treated like a large panel, with
broad borders and slight sinkings ; or, if it be very large
and lofty, coffering or panelling all over, with moulded
or painted ornaments, will produce an agreeable effect.
Domed ceilings should be coffered, especially when they
are lighted from above; but if the light be from below,
as in St Paul’s and St Peter’s Cathedrals, ribbing is far
better. Heavy cumbrous masses of foliage in a ceiling
should be avoided; frets, guiloches, and arabesque orna¬
ments, are the best suited enrichments for a ceiling on
which ornament is necessary.
Stairs.—In a structure whose principal apartments are
on the ground floor, the staircase is a secondary considera¬
tion, and should be secluded; but where they are above
the level of the entrance door, it becomes an important
part of the interior, and should be of immediate and easy
access. The rise of a step should not be more than six
inches, and the tread not less than twelve. In a square
staircase winders should not be used; and in no case
should there be more than ten or twelve flyers without a
quarter or half space, both to prevent fatigue in ascending,
and to avoid even the appearance of danger in the de¬
scent. Winding staircases are less convenient and less
pleasing in effect than those which are square and with¬
out winders. Much room may be saved, however, where
it is of consequence, by using the former. Handrails
should follow the character of the staircases to which
they are attached ; but a somewhat square form, with the
sides or edges moulded, should be given to them under
all circumstances, because of its simplicity, as well as the
greater degree of firmness or solidity which the whole
composition derives from it, both in effect and in appear¬
ance, than can be acquired for it otherwise. The hand¬
rail and balusters of an in-door staircase is indeed but the
parapet of an external flight of steps or of a terrace, exe¬
cuted with more lightness and a greater degree of deli¬
cacy because of their location. The balustrading, also,
should therefore be characterized by boldness and sim¬
plicity, though it is indeed a difficult thing to compose
with propriety, because of its inclination, and the want of
parallelism between the graduating base formed by the
ends of the steps and the hanging level of the coping or
handrail. The first step of a staircase has a voluted or
curtail end (or ends if it be insulated, as in a staircase
with a double returning flight) supporting a column or
newel, on which the voluted or scrolled end of the hand¬
rail rests. The steps of a staircase are wrought with
moulded nosings, which are returned at the exposed ends ;
the under surface is either cut straight and parallel to the
inclination of the flight, or moulded to form a pleasing ob¬
ject when seen from below.
Mouldings and Ornament.—The Greek examples offer
the most beautiful forms for mouldings, and the Grecian
mode of enriching them is unsurpassed for beauty and effi¬
ciency. By adhering to them, and observing the manner
m which they are produced and combined, it will not be
difficult to produce and combine mouldings in sufficient
variety for every purpose.
For ornament the Roman examples may vie with the
Greek; but in composing or adapting, it is necessary to Composi-
avoid alike the tendency to too great luxuriance in the don.
one, and to poverty in the other. The remains of Her-
culaneum and Pompeii have furnished us with a great
deal of ornament that is new and beautiful; and much
that is excellent may be found on the earlier architectural
and sculptural monuments of Italy of the middle ages.
It should nevertheless be always borne in mind that the
object in architectural enrichment is not to show the or¬
nament, but to enrich the surface, by producing an effec¬
tive and pleasing variety of light and shade ; but still, al¬
though the ornament should be a secondary consideration,
it will develope itself, and should therefore be of elegant
form and composition, as w ell as the means of producing
a good effect on the architecture to which it is attached.
Of Vertical or Pointed Composition.
The towers of Westminster Abbey are an excellent
practical illustration of the essential difference which
exists between the horizontal and vertical styles of archi¬
tectural composition. In general form they belong to
the Pointed style, and in so far cohere with the structure
generally; but the running lines of the buttresses, if their
angle piers may be so called, are constantly intercepted by
transverse cornices ; and all the details are strangely in dis¬
cordance with the character derived from the pointed arch.
Buttresses in a Pointed composition must not be con¬
sidered simply as buttresses, or supports to the angles, or
sides of a structure, any more than a cornice in horizon¬
tal composition may be thought only necessary to cover
or protect the wall on which it rests. That these were
the uses for which they were severally applied originally, *
cannot perhaps be doubted; but although they may be
useful as such, we must now consider them as aids to ar¬
chitectural effect. Buttresses, then, are of the same use
in the vertical style that cornices are in the horizontal—
to give character to an elevation, by throwing a mass of
shadow, to relieve it of the monotony necessarily attend¬
ant on a flat surface, however it may be pierced or en¬
riched. The sides of the buttresses should be either
quite perpendicular the whole height they have to run,
or be slightly diminished, if the wall behind them dimi¬
nishes, in lengths and not by inclined lines. Their faces
also must run up vertically to the sets-off, and these should
be in the same inclined line, and that line pointing to the
apex of their pinnacles, when pinnacles surmount them.
Indeed it cannot be too strongly enforced that there should
be a constant tendency in the outlines of compositions in
this style to meet, although the surfaces be themselves so
generally perpendicular; and the more acute the angle
under which they incline, the more graceful and becoming
the style the result will be. The commanding lines of every
part of a composition should lead through from its summit
to the base. Thus, a spire or pinnacle should rest on a tower
or turret whose angles are not interrupted, but nevef on
a merely flat wall, however it may be faced with but¬
tresses to give an apparent projection. Neither should
low porches be projected from the face of a structure, fox-
such can only have the effect of excrescences, and tend to
injure a composition ; nor should external doors be made
but in places where the harmony of the composition is
not injured by them as in-egular apertures. Internally,
square forms are seldom used; but piers consist of clustered
cylindrical shafts, and thin shafts of the same form, lofty,
and uninterrupted by crossing lines, act as pilasters. On
these, capped with deeply inflected congeries of mould¬
ings or foliage for the former, and lighter ones made con¬
tinuous and breaking round them for the latter, rest the
arches and arched ceilings. Flat surfaces are susceptible
of high enrichment by means of tracei-y and panelling ;
464 * A R C H I T
Glossary, mouldings are enriched, not by carving on them, but by
V’—' rounding out foliage and other ornament in covings and
other deep inflections. Corbels should not be substituted
for shafts to support arches when it can be avoided; but
they have a pleasing effect as supports to the dripstone 01
canopy of a door or window; and indeed there are many
other situations in which they are almost necessary, but
they should always be considered as succedaneous, and
not as necessary to a composition. _ .....
To avoid glaring inconsistencies in composing, it will
be well to adhere generally to the style of some particu¬
lar period, and to employ the proportions and enrichments,
as well as the forms, peculiar to it ; but, nevertheless, a
more ornate may superimpose a plainer part, so that the
difference be not violent. Windows of the second period
may be placed over an arched composition of the first,
and appear naturally to result from it; but the transition
would be so great from the first to the third, as to make
the result inharmonious. It need not however be denied,
to those who feel themselves competent to use the mate¬
rials with good taste and propriety, to select matter from
examples of the various periods, and make compositions
not exactly in the style of any of them. With a clear
perception of the principles of the style generally, which
we have endeavoured to point out, and a practical ac-
Errata P. 421, 1st col. note, for PI. lxxi. read lxxiv. ; p. 423,5
E C T U R E.
quaintance with the classic exemplars of it, such may Gfe t
certainly be produced; and they may as certainly be A
adapted to all the purposes to which any species of archi¬
tecture can be applied.
Rules for practice might be made to infinity, but they
are unnecessary in this case, there being no authorized
modern practice, like that of the Italian school in horizon¬
tal composition, to counteract. It is but to use the forms,
proportions, decorations, and enrichments, and follow the
mode of combination, which appear in the examples: these,
with constant reference to the principles we have attempt¬
ed to develope, will be the surest and safest guides in
composing and arranging any subject. They are, too, so
rife with materials for general purposes, that few cases
can occur in which there need be any difficulty in finding
parallels. Buttresses, piers, shafts, arches, pediments,
parapets, turrets, pinnacles, windows, doors, niches, ceil¬
ings, tablets, with mouldings and ornaments in great
profusion,—indeed almost every thing that can be re¬
quired in practice,—appear in existing works of the style;
preventing the necessity of determining from the mode of
procedure in one case how we should act in another, as
the comparative paucity of materials in the Greek and
Roman remains rendered it necessary to do in developing
the horizontal style. (h. h.)
d col. line 31, for Gothic read Goth; p. 435, note,/or p. 331 read 416.
GLOSSARY OF NAMES AND TERMS USED IN ARCHITECTURE.1
Abaciscus (diminutive of Abacus, q. v.). This term is
applied to the chequers or squares of a tessellated pave¬
ment.
Abacus (Gr. aCag, a square tile or table). The rectan¬
gular and equilateral tablet covering the ovalo of the
capital of the Doric column, and on which the super¬
imposed entablature rests, is called the abacus; and
from it the similar part (though differently shaped) of
all capitals is distinguished by the same term. Abacus
means the same thing, but is opposed in application to
Plinth, q. v. See also Plate LXVI. fig. 1.
Acroterium (Gr. axgurrieiov, the summit or vertex), a
statue or ornament of any kind placed on the apex of a
pediment. The term is often incorrectly restricted to
the plinth, which forms the podium merely for the acro¬
terium. The statue of the saint on the apex of the
pediment of the western front'of St Paul’s is an acrote¬
rium ; the other statues may be called acroteral figures.
Ajuphiprostyle (Gr. a/xp/, around or about, and pro¬
style, q. v.). A temple with a portico at each end is said
to be an amphiprostyle. This term would be more cor¬
rectly applied to a structure having projecting porticoes
on all its sides, especially if it be equilateral like the
Bourse or Exchange at Paris, allowing no distinction of
fitmks or wings to make it peripteral. See Plate LIX.
fig. 3 and 4, and Description, page 472.
Annulet (Lat. annulus, a ring). This teian is applied
to the small fillets or bands which encircle the lower
part of the Doric capital immediately above the neck
or trachelium.
Antje (probably from the Gr. ccmog, or some other com¬
pound of the preposition am, for, or opposite to ; it
has no singular), the pier-formed ends of the walls of
a building, as in the portico of a Greek temple. A
portico is said to be in antis when columns stand be¬
tween antes, as in the temple of Theseus, supposing the
peristyle or surrounding columns removed. PlateLVIII.
fig. 1, 2, and 3.
ANTEFixiE (Lat. ante, before, and jixus, fixed), upright
blocks with an ornamented face placed at regular inter¬
vals on a cornice. Antefixee were originally adapted to
close and hide the lower ends of the joints of the co¬
vering tiles on the roof of a temple as they appear in the
examples. Plate LVII. fig. 1, 2, and 4; and Plate LIX.
fig. 3.
Apophyge (Gr. afto^vyri, a flying off), the lowest part
of the shaft of an Ionic or Corinthian column, or the
highest member of its base if the column be considered
as a whole. The apophyge is the inverted cavetto or
concave sweep, on the upper edge of which the cylin¬
drical shaft rests. Plate LXVI. fig. 1.
Apteral (Gr. a priv. and vrregov, a wing), a temple with¬
out columns on the flanks or sides. The Greek Ionic
temple, Plate LIX., is apteral.
Ar^ostyle (Gr. aga/og, rare or weak, and crvXog, a co¬
lumn), a wide intercolumniation. (See Eustyle.) The
space assigned to this term is four diameters.
Ar^osystyle (compounded of arceostyle and systyle,
q. v.). This term is used to express the arrangement
attendant on coupled columns, as in the western front
of St Paul’s Cathedral. Plate LXVIII. fig. 1.
Arcade, a series of arches.
Arch (Lat. arcus, a bow), a construction of separate or
distinct blocks or masses of any hard material, cut
wedge-wise, and arranged in a bowed form, so as to
bear from end to end horizontally, or across an open¬
ing, though abutting or being supported only at the
ends.
Architrave (Gr. ag^, chief, and Lat. trabs, a beam))
the chief beam,—that part of the entablature which
rests immediately on the heads of the columns, and is
surmounted by the frieze: it is also called the episty-
lium or epistyle. Plate LXVI. fig. 1. The moulded
enrichment on the sides and head of a door or window
is called an architrave.
Archivolt. This term is a contraction of the Italian
1 Ihose marked thus 4 are either entirely, or almost entirely, peculiar to Pointed Architecture.
ARCHITECTURE.
(jl0S3.v. architrave voltato. It is applied to the architrave
moulding on the face of an arch, and following its con¬
tour.
Amus, the sharp edge or angle in which two sides ox-
surfaces meet.
Astragal (Gr. asrgaya'kog, a vertebral joint), a con¬
vex moulding. This term is generally applied to small
mouldings, and torus to large ones of tlxe same form.
(See Torus.)
Attic, a low story above an entablature, or above a
cornice which limits the height of the main part of an
elevation. The etymology of this term is unsettled:
probably the upper range of columns in a Greek hypie-
thral temple (see Plate LVII. fig. I) was called ara^ov,
from having no coherent wall; whence the Latin atticum,
and its application to a story superimposing the general
ordinance. Otherwise such a thing is unknown in
Greek architecture; but it is very common in both
Homan and Italian practice. What is here termed the
tholobate in St Peter’s and St Paul’s cathedrals are
generally termed attics.
Baluster, a small column or pier supporting the coping
in a pierced parapet: the parapet itself when pierced is
hence called a balustrade.
Band or Tacnia, nearly synonymous with Fillet, q. v.
This term is, howevex-, most generally applied to that
listel in the Doric entablature which separates the
frieze from the architrave, and connects the lower parts
of the triglyphs.
Base (Gr. taa/g, from the verb to bear). The congeries
of mouldings generally placed under the shaft of an
Ionic or Corinthian column is called its base. Plate
LXVI. fig. 1. The term is applied also to the lowest
part of a pedestal or stylobate; to the vertical moulded
fittings which go round walls on the floor; and gene¬
rally to every thing that is put lowest, for any thing to
rest on.
Batter (Fr. battre, to beat). Building over in projecting
courses, like inverted steps, is termed battering, beat¬
ing, or corbelling over.
f Battlement, a pierced or machicolated parapet.
f Bay. The space between the mullions of a window, be¬
tween piers, and between the principal beams of a roof,
j floor, or ceiling, is a bay.
Bead, a small cylindrical moulding of frequent use.
Plate LXI.
Bed-mould, the congex-ies of mouldings whicn is under
the projecting part of almost every cornice, and of
which indeed it is a part. Plate LXVI. fig. 1.
Blocking-course, a deep but slightly projecting course
in an elevation, to act as cornice to an arcade, or to
separate a basement from a superior story. (See
String-course.)
f Boss, a sculptured knob which is placed on the inter¬
sections uf ribs in groined ceilings.
f Buttress, the projected piers against the angles of
towers, and against the ordinary piers of walls, to
strengthen them, and receive the outward thrust of the
inner transverse arches.
Cabling. The flutes of columns are said to be cabled
when they are partly occupied by solid convex masses,
or appear to be refilled with cylinders after they had
been formed.
f Canopy, a covering or hood, the enriched projecting
head to a niche or tabernacle. The tablet or drip-stone,
whether straight or cii’cular, over the heads of doors or
windows, if enriched, is called a canopy
Capital, Cap (Gr. xspaAjj, the head), the spreading,
vol.in.
465
moulded, voluted, foliate, or otherwise enriched head Glossary,
of a column. Plate LXVI. fig. 1. The term cap is
applied, in contradistinction,to the congeries of mould¬
ings which forms the head of a pier or pilaster.
Caryatides. Human female figures used as piers, co¬
lumns, or supports, are called Caryatides; and, adjec-
tively, Caryatic is applied to the human figure general¬
ly, when used in the manner of Caryatides. Plate LX.
fig. 4 and 6.
Cassoon (Ital.), a deep panel or coffer in a soffit or ceil¬
ing. This term is often written, after the French cais¬
son, whereas we derive it directly from the Italian
cassone, the augmentative of cassa, a chest or coffer.
Cathetus (Gr. xcikrog, a perpendicular line). The eye
of the volute is so tex-med because its position is deter¬
mined, in an Ionic or voluted capital, by a line let down
from the point in which the volute generates.
Cauliculus (Lat. a stalk or stem), the inner scrolls or
tendrils of the Corinthian capital are called Cauliculi.
It is not uncommon, however, to apply this term to the
larger scrolls or volutes of the same also. Plate LXVI.
fig. 1.
Cavetto (Ital. cavare, to dig out), a moulding whose
form is a simple concave, and impending. Plate LXI.
Cella (Lat.), the cell or interior of a Cleithral temple.
The Greek term is Naos, q. v.
Chamfer. An edge or arris taken off equally on the two
sides which form it, leaves what is called a chamfer, or
a chamfered edge. If the arris be taken off more on
one side than the other, it is said to be splayed or be¬
velled.
j- Cinquefoil, tracery in five foliations or featherings.
The windows in the towers of Westminster Hall, Plate
LXXV., are cinquefoiled.
Cleithral (vide Cleithros). This is used of a covered
Greek temple, in contradistinction to Hypcethral, which
designates one that is uncovered.
Cleithros (Gr. xXuDgog, an inclosed or shut up place). A
temple whose roof completely covers or incloses it is a
Cleithros. Plate LVIII. fig. 1, 2, 3; and Plate LIX.
fig. 1, 2, 3, and 4.
Coffer, a deep panel in a ceiling.
Column (Lat. columnd), a tapering cylindrical mass,
placed vertically on a level stylobate, in some cases
with a spreading congeries of mouldings called a base,
and having always at its upper and smaller end a di¬
lating mass called a capital. Columns are either insu¬
lated or attached. They are said to be attached or
engaged when they form part of a wall, projecting one
half or more, but not the whole of their substance.
Plate LIX. fig. 1 exhibits insulated, and fig. 2 attached
columns. See also Plate LXVI. fig. 1.
Consol or Console, a bracket or truss, generally with
scrolls, or volutes, at the two ends, of unequal size and
contrasted, but connected by a flowing line from the
back of the upper one to the inner convolving face
of the lower.
Coping, the covering course or cornice of a wall or para¬
pet. The term coping is generally applied to a plain,
slightly projected, covering course, and cornice to a
larger moulded coping.
■f Corbel, a knob, boss, or consol, projecting from a ver¬
tical face, to act as a prop or support. Its jutting or
overhanging has induced the application of the term
to describe the projection of one thing over another.
Cornice (Gr. xoguvig, the highest part, that which is
placed last on a building), the highest part of an en¬
tablature—that which rests on the frieze. Plate LXVI.
fig. 1. The term cornice is very generally applied to
any bold congeries of mouldings occupying the highest
3 N
466 ARCHITECTURE.
Glossary. place in a composition, whether external or internal. A
plain covering to a wall or parapet is called a coping, q. v.
Corona (vide Cornice). This term is applied to the
deep vertical face of the projected part of the cornice
between the bed-mould and the covering mouldings.
Plate LXVI. fig. I. . J
j* Crocket (probably from the old English word crok, a
curl), an ornament of foliage or animals running up
the back of a pediment, arch, pinnacle, or spire, from
the corbels below to the finial above, in which latter
the crockets on both sides appear to merge. Plate
LXXV. fig. 3 and 5. In the earlier examples the crocket
is a mere curl, or bent tendril, with an enriched end.
Cupola (Ital. cupo, concave, profound), a spherical or
spheroidal covering to a building, or to any part of it.
Plate LXIV. fig. 2, 3, and 4; Plate LXIX.; and Plate
LXXIV. fig. 2.
f Cusp (Lat. cuspis, a spear), the points in which the
foliations of tracery finish. These are sometimes them¬
selves enriched, and are sometimes plain.
Cyclostylar (Gr. xu?cAo;, a circle, and ffruXos, a column).
A structure composed of a circular range of columns
without a core is cyclostylar, for with a core the range
would be a peristyle. This is the species of edifice
falsely called by Vitruvius Monopteral. (See Monop-
teros.)
Cyma (Gr. a wave), the name of a moulding of
very frequent use. It is a simple, waved line, concave
at one end and convex at the other, like an Italic f. In
that manner it is called a cyma-recta; but if the con¬
vexity appear above, and the concavity below on the
right hand, it is then a cyma-reversa. Plate LXI.
Cyrtostyle (Gr. xugro;, convex, and tfruAo;, a column),
a circular projecting portico. Such are those to the
transept entrances to St Paul’s cathedral, Plate LXIX.
fig. 1.
Dado or Die, the vertical face of an insulated pedestal,
between the base and cornice or surbase. It is ex¬
tended also to the similar part of all stereobates which
are arranged like pedestals in Roman and Italian archi¬
tecture.
Decastyle (Gr. Sexa, ten, and aniXos, a column), a por¬
tico of ten columns in front. (See note to the term
Hexastyle.) The portico to the London University
is of this description; more particularly described, it is
deca-prostyle and recessed.
Dentil (Lat. dens, a tooth). The cogged or toothed
member, so common in the bed-mould of a Corinthian
entablature, is said to be dentilled; and each cog or
tooth is called a dentil. Plate LXVI. fig. 1.
Design. Architects apply this term to what is vulgarly
called a plan, intending by it the scheme or design of
a building in all its parts, the term p/an having a dis¬
tinct application to a technical portion of the design.
(See Plan.) The plans, elevations, sections, and what¬
ever other drawings may be necessary for an edifice,
exhibit the design.
Detail. As used by architects, detail means the small¬
er parts into which a composition may be divided. It
is applied generally to mouldings and other enrich¬
ments, and again to their minutiae.
Diameter (superior and inferior). The greater diameter
of the shaft of a column is technically termed its infe¬
rior, because it is that of the lower end; and the lesser,
that of the upper end, its superior diameter.
Diastyle (Gr. §/a, through, and ffruXog, a column), a spa¬
cious intercolumniation, to which three diameters are as¬
signed. ( Vide Eustyle.)
Dipteral. (See Dipteros.)
Dipteros (Gr. dig, twice, and vrmv, a wing), a double Gloss
winged temple. The Greeks are said to have con-
structed temples with two ranges of columns allround,
which were called dipteroi. A portico projecting two
columns and their interspaces is of dipteral or pseudo¬
dipteral arrangement. See description of fig. 3, Plate
LVIII. page 472.
Distyle (Gr. dig, twice, and aruXog, a column), a portico
of two columns. This term is not generally applied
to the mere porch with two columns, but to describe a
portico with two columns in antis. The elevation of
the pronaos of the hexastyle peripteral temple, Plate
LVIII. fig. 2, exhibits an example of distyle in antis.
Ditriglyph (Gr. dig, twice, and triglyph, q. v.), an in¬
tercolumniation in the Doric order, of two triglyphs.
(See Monotriglyph.)
Dodecastyle (Gr. dudextx, twelve, and <rru\og, a column),
a portico of twelve columns in front. (See note to
Hexastyle.) There is no portico of this description
in London at present. The lower one of the west front
of St Paul’s Cathedral (Plate LXVIIL) is of twelve co¬
lumns, but they are coupled, making the arrangement
pseudo-dodecastyle. (See Pseudo-Prostyle.) The
Chamber of Deputies in Paris has a true dodecastyle.
Dome (Gr. dou/ia, a structure of any kind; whence the
Latin domus, a house or temple), a cupola or inverted
cup on a building. The application of this term to its
generally received purpose is from the Italian custom
of calling an archiepiscopal church, by way of emi¬
nence, II duomo, the temple ; for to one of that rank,
the cathedral of Florence, the cupola was first applied
in modern practice. The Italians themselves never call
a cupola a dome : it is on this side the Alps the mistake
has arisen, from the circumstance, it would appear, that
the Italians use the term with reference to those struc¬
tures whose most distinguishing feature is the cupola,
tholus, or (as we now call it) dome. (See Cupola.)
j- Dripstone, the moulding or cornice which acts as a
canopy to doors and windows. Horizontal running
mouldings are sometimes called tablets and sometimes
dripstones.
Drops. (See Guttje.)
Echinus (Gr. z'/jvog, an egg), a moulding of eccentric
curve, which (when it is carved) being generally cut
into the forms of eggs and anchors alternating, the
moulding is called by the name of the more conspicu¬
ous. It is the same as Ovalo, q. v.
Elevation, the front, ox facade as the French term it, ofa
structure. A geometrical drawing of the external up¬
right parts of a building. Architects speak of front,
back-front, and side or end elevations.
Entablature or Intablature (Lat.m, upon, an&tabula,
a tablet). The superimposed horizontal mass in a co¬
lumnar ordinance, which rests upon the tablet or abacus
of a column, is so called. It is conventionally compos¬
ed of three parts, architrave, frieze, and cornice, q-v.
Plate LXVI. fig. 1.
Entasis (Gr. twasig, a stretching or swelling). Columns
are said to have entasis when they do not diminish re¬
gularly, but in a curved line. (See page 461.)
Epistylium or Epistyle (Gr. jtt/, upon, and tfruAoc, a
column). This term may with propriety be applied to
the whole entablature, with which it is synonymous;
but it is restricted in use to the architrave or lowest
member of the entablature.
Escape, a term sometimes used for the apophyge of a
column. (See Apophyge.)
Eustyle (Gr. to, well, and arvkog, a column), a species
of intercolumniation, to which a proportion of two dia-
Glossy-
Wy**^
ARCHITECTURE.
467
meters and a quarter is assigned. This term, together
with the others of similar import,—pycnostyle, systyle,
diastyle, and armostyle,—referring to the distances of
columns from one another in composition, is from Vi¬
truvius, who assigns to each the space it is to express.
It will be seen, however, by reference to them indivi¬
dually, that the words themselves, though perhaps suf¬
ficiently applicable, convey no idea of an exactly de¬
fined space, and by reference to the columnar struc¬
tures of the ancients, that no attention was paid by
them to such limitations. It follows, then, that the
proportions assigned to each are purely conventional,
and may or may not be attended to without vitiating
the power of applying the terms. Eustyle means the
best or most beautiful arrangement; but as the effect
of a columnar composition depends on many things be¬
sides the diameter of the columns, the same proportion¬
ed intercolumniation would look well or ill, according
to those other circumstances; so that the limitation of
eustyle to two diameters and a quarter is absurd, and
so it is in the case of the other similar terms. With
Doric intercolumniation it is different, as may be seen
by reference to the word Monotriglyph.
FA9ADE. (See Elevation.)
Fascia (Lat. a band). The narrow vertical bands or
broad fillets into which the architraves of Corinthian
and Ionic entablatures are divided, are called fascia; or
fascias; and the term is generally applied to any simi¬
lar member in architecture.
\ Featherings. (See Foliations.)
Fillet, a narrow vertical band or listel, of frequent use
in congeries of mouldings, to separate and combine
them, and also to give breadth and firmness to the
upper edge of a crowning cyma or cavetto, as in an
external cornice. The narrow- slips or breadths between
the flutes of Corinthian and Ionic columns are also call¬
ed fillets.
f Finial (Lat.Jinis, the end). This term is equivalent
to the Greek Acroterium. It is applied to the carved
apex of pediments, piers, pinnacles, and canopies.
Flute, a concave channel. Columns whose shafts are
channelled are said to be fluted, and the flutes are col¬
lectively called flutings.
f Foliations or Featherings, small arches meeting in
points or cusps, which are plain or enriched. They are
used as an enrichment in tracery, and are distinguish¬
ed as trefoils, qua trefoils, and cinquefoils, as the case
may be.
Frieze (Ital. fregio, from the Lat. phrygionius, enriched
or embroidered), that portion of an entablature between
the cornice above and the architrave below. Plate
LXVI. fig. 1. It derives its name from being the reci¬
pient of the sculptured enrichments either of foliage or
figures which may be relevant to the object of the
structure. The frieze is also called the zodphorus, q. v.
Frontispiece, the front or principal elevation of a struc¬
ture. This term, however, is generally restricted in
application to a decorated entrance.
Gable. When a roof is not hipped or returned on itself
at the ends, its ends are stopped by carrying up the
walls under them in the triangular form of the roof it¬
self. This is called the gable, or, indeed, the pediment.
The latter term, however, is restricted to the ornamen¬
tal and ornamented gable; and gable itself is applied Glossary,
to a plain triangular end.
Grading (Ital. dim. of gmdus, a step). Architects fre¬
quently use the plural of this term, gradini, and to gra-
dinate, instead of the English, steps, and to graduate,
perhaps without sufficient reason, though they find
them useful to distinguish what they intend from the
meaning of the latter words in their ordinary accepta¬
tion.
Groining. In vaulting or arching over from insulated
piers, the cross vaults meet in angles, and lead to a
common centre or apex. This is called groining.
Guiloche or Guilochos (Gr. yotov, a member, and
a snare). An interlaced ornament like network, used
most frequently to enrich the torus. Plate LXI.
Guttle (Lat. drops). The small cylindrical drops used
to enrich the mutules and regulae of the Doric entabla¬
ture are so called.
Helix (Gr. sX/^, a wreath or ringlet), used synonymous¬
ly with Cauliculus, q. v. It forms in the plural He¬
lices.
Hemiglyph (Gr. half, and yXupjj, an incision or
channel). The half-channels, or rather chamfered
edges, of a triglyph tablet, may be so called. The two
hemiglyphs are included to make the third channel,
and complete the triglyph. (See Triglyph.)
Hexastyle (Gr. six, and (fruXog, a column). A por¬
tico of six columns in front1 is of this description. Most
of the churches in London which have porticoes have
hexa-prostyles. (See Prostyle.)
HYPiETHRAL. (See Hypa;thros.)
Hypaethros (Gr. vvo, under, and a/^a, the air), a
temple open to the air, or uncovered. The Greeks fre¬
quently made the temples of the supreme divinities
hypaethral. For instance, those of Jupiter Olympius at
Agrigentum in Sicily, of Neptune at Psestum, and of
Minerva Parthenon at Athens, are all of this descrip¬
tion. The term may be the more easily understood by
supposing the roof removed from over the nave of a
church in which columns or piers go up from the floor
to the ceiling, leaving the aisles still covered. In that
case it would be hypsethral, after the manner of the
Greek hypaethros. The Pantheon in Rome having an
opening in the centre of the dome, is thereby rendered
hypsethral. See Plates LVII. and LXIV. fig. 4 and 5.
Hypogea (Gr. i«ro, upon, and y>j, the earth). Construc¬
tions under the surface of the earth, or into the sides of
a hill or mountain, are hypogea.
Hypotrachelium (Gr. fwro, upon, and rga^Xog, the neck),
the part forming the junction of the shaft with the
capital of a column; the neck of the capital itself. In
some styles it is a projecting fillet or moulding, and in
others, as the Doric, it is composed of a channel or
groove, and sometimes of more than one. Plate LXVI.
fig. 1.
Jamb, the side-post or lining of a door-way or other
aperture. The jambs of a window outside the frame
are called reveals.
Ichnography (Gr. r/wi, a footstep or track, and ygafjj,
a description or representation). A plan, or the repre¬
sentation of the site of an object on a horizontal plane,
is its ichnography. The term plan (q. v.) is, however,
much more frequently used than this.
1 The words “ in front” are used to prevent the mistake which might arise from a supposition that all the columns ^portico
should be counted to designate it. The porticoes of the churches of St Martin in the t iclds, and St Ma y- - , >
instance, have eight columns each, but are hexastyle, there being but six in their iront rows.
468
ARCHITECTURE.
Glossary. Impost (Lat. impositus, laid upon). The horizontal con-
geries of mouldings forming the capital of a pier, or edge
pilaster, which has to support one leg of an arch, is call¬
ed the impost; sometimes, and more conveniently, this
term is used for the pilaster itself, when its capital is
called the impost cap or impost mouldings.
Intercolumniation (Lat. inter, between, and column,
q. v.). The distance from column to column, the clear
space between columns, is called the intercolumniation.
f Label, the level moulding or dripstone over a door
or window, common in the later Pointed works. It is
generally turned down at the ends at right angles, and
slightly returned again horizontally and outwards.
Lacunar (Lat.), a panelled or coffered ceiling or soffit.
The panels or cassoons of a ceiling are more classically
called lacunaria.
f Lantern (Lat. lanlema), a turret raised above a roof
or tower, and very much pierced, the better to trans-
• mit light. In modern practice this term is generally
applied to any raised part in a roof or ceiling, contain¬
ing vertical windows, but covered in horizontally.
Metope (Gr. ptrocn, a middle space), the square recess
between the triglyphs in a Doric frieze. It is sometimes
occupied by sculptures. Plates LVII. and LVIII. fig. 4.
Mezzanine (Ital. mezzanino, dim. of mezzo, the middle),
a low story between two lofty ones. It is called by the
French entresol, or inter-story.
Modillion (Lat. modulus, a measure of proportion), so
called because of its arrangement in regulated distances;
the enriched block or horizontal bracket generally
found under the cornice of the Corinthian entablature.
Plate LXVI. fig. 1. Less ornamented, it is sometimes
used in the Ionic. See also Mutule.
Module (Lat. modulus, d modus, a measure or rule). This
is a term which has been generally used by architects
in determining the relative proportions of the various
parts of a columnar ordinance. The semidiameter of
the column is the module, which being divided into
thirty parts called minutes, any part of the composition
is said to be of so many modules and minutes, or minutes
alone, in height, breadth, or projection. The whole
diameter is now generally preferred as a modus, it being
a better rule of proportion than its half.
Monopteral. (See Monopteros.)
Monopteros (Gr. fiovog, one, or single, and rrrssov, awing).
This term is incorrectly used by Vitruvius to describe
a temple composed of a circular range of columns sup¬
porting a tholus, cupola, or dome, but without walls.
(See Peripteral.) Such an edifice would be more
correctly designated as CyclostyJar, q. v.
Monotriglyph (Gr./Aoroj, one, or single, and trigb/ph, q. v.).
The intercolumniations of the Doric order are determin¬
ed by the number of triglyphs which intervene, instead
of the number of diameters of the column, as in other
cases; and this term designates the ordinary interco¬
lumniation of one triglyph. Plate LVIII. fig. 1.
Mouldings, eccentric curves of various kinds, intended
to enrich and ornament, by producing light and shade,
and obviating the monotony attendant on many flat
and angular surfaces. They may be variously carved
to increase their efficiency. The most usual forms of
mouldings are called the cyma-recta and reversa,
cavetto, scotia, torus, astragal or bead, and the echinus
or ovalo, q. v. Plate LXI. In Pointed architecture,
mouldings are not limited either to those names or to
the forms they are intended to designate, nor indeed is
any other style, except by absurd custom and authority.
f Mullion, the columnar vertical bar used to divide a
window into breadths ; the trunk out of which tracery GIo$
flows.
Mutule (Lat. mutulus, a stay or bracket), the rect¬
angular impending blocks under the corona of the Doric
cornice, from which guttae or drops depend. Mutule is
equivalent to modillion, but the latter term is applied
more particularly to enriched blocks or brackets, such
as those of Ionic and Corinthian entablatures.
Naos (Gr. mog, a temple). This term is sometimes used
instead of the Latin Celia, as applied to the interior;
strictly, however, it means the body of the edifice itself,
and not merely its interior or cell.
Newel, the solid or hollow column or cylinder which bears
up the handrail of a staircase at the foot and in the most
material parts. It means also the core or hollow, as the
case may be, about which a circular staircase winds.
Niche, a concave recess in a wall, with a straight or
circular head. Niches are generally made to receive
statues, vases, &c.
Octastyle (Gr. oTcrw, eight, and grubog, a column). A por¬
tico of eight columns in front. (See note to Hexastyle.)
There is no portico in London of this description at pre¬
sent, though the upper one of the west front of St Paul’s
(Plate LXVIII.) is of eight columns ; but they are
coupled, making the arrangement tetrastyle. It may
indeed be called a pseudo-octa-prostyle. (See Pseudo¬
prostyle.)
Ogee, the vulgar name for the Cyma, q. v.
Opisthodomus (Gr. ovigAs’j, behind, and oo/uog, a house or
other edifice), the part behind a Greek temple corre¬
sponding with the Pronaos before it. (See Pronaos.)
Order. A column with its entablature and stylobate is
so called. (Plate LXVI. fig. 1.) The term is the result
of the dogmatic laws deduced from the writings of Vi¬
truvius, and has been exclusively applied to those ar¬
rangements which they were thought to warrant.
Ordinance, a composition of some particular order or
style. It need not, however, be restricted to a columnar
composition, for it will apply to any species which is
subjected to conventional rules for its arrangement.
Orthography (Gr. oo8og, straight or true, and a
description or representation). A geometrical elevation
of a building or other object, in which it is represent¬
ed as it actually exists, or may exist, and not perspec-
tively, or as it would appear, is called its orthography.
Orthostyle (Gr. ogQog, straight or true, and ervXog, a
column), any straight range of columns. This is a
term suggested to designate what is generally but im¬
properly called a peristyle, q. v.; that is, columns in
a straight row or range, but not forming a portico.
Ovalo (Ital.), egg-formed (see Echinus). This is the
name most commonly applied to the moulding which
appears to have originated in the moulded head of the
Doric column, and, with an abacus, forming its capital.
Panel, a compartment with raised margins, moulded
or otherwise. Deep panels in a ceiling are called Cas¬
soons and Lacunaria, q. v.
Parapet (Ital. parapetto, against the breast, or breast-
high), the low breast-high wall which is used to front
terraces and balconies, to flank bridges, &c. The most
common application of the term in this country is to so
much of the external walls of a house as stands above
the level gutters of the roof behind.
Parastas (Gr. vctoagrag, standing before), an antas or
end pilaster. This is the Greek term for which the
Latin antae is generally used, and it has the same mean¬
ing. (See Ant^;.)
Glossy-
ARCHITECTURE.
469
Pedestal (Gr. mu;, a foot, and ffruXog, a column). An
insulated stylobate is for the most part so called. The
term is, moreover, generally applied to any parallelo-
gramic or cylindrical mass used as the basement ot any
single object, as a statue or vase.
Pediment, that part of a portico which rises above its
entablature to cover the end of the roof, whose trian¬
gular form it takes. The cornice of the entablature,
or its corona and part of the bed-mould only, with the
addition of a cymatium, bounds its inclined sides, and
joins in an obtuse angle at the apex. In Pointed archi¬
tecture, however, the angle of a pediment is for the
most part acute.
+ Pendent (Lat. pendens, nanging). In some of the
later works of the Pointed style, large masses depend
from enriched ceilings, and appear to be formed by the
other legs of intersecting arches: these are called pen¬
dents. They also occur in canopies. See Plate LXXV.
fig. 1, 8, 9, 11, and 12.
Peiubolus (Gr. msi, around or about, and CaX/.w, to gird
or throw around), an inclosure. Any inclosed space
is a peribolus; but the term is applied more particu¬
larly to the sacred inclosure about a temple. The wall
forming the inclosure is also called the peribolus.
Periptekal. (See Peripteros.)
Peripteros (Gr. mpj, around or about, and cmgov, a wing).
A temple or other structure with the columns of its
end, prostyles or porticoes, returned on its sides or
wings, and one intercolumniation distant from the walls.
Almost all the Doric temples of the Greeks were pe¬
ripteral. The term is, however, incorrectly applied by
Vitruvius to peristylar structures, though it is clear that
a perfectly round building, such as he describes to be
peripteral, cannot be said to be winged or to have wings.
Peristylar, having a peristyle. (See Peristyle.)
Peristyle (Gr. mp, around or about, and <srvKog, a co¬
lumn), a range of columns encircling an edifice, such
as that which surrounds the cylindrical drum under the
cupola of St Paul’s. The columns of a Greek perip¬
teral temple form a peristyle also, the former being a
circular and the latter a quadrilateral peristyle, ihe
same term is generally but incorrectly applied to a
range of columns in almost any situation when they do
not form a portico. (See Orthostyle.)
Pier. The solid parts of a wall between windows, and
between openings generally, are called piers. Ihe term
is also applied to masses of brickwork or masonry,
which are insulated to form sunoorts to gates or to
carry arches.
Pilaster (Lat. pila, a pillar, and the Ital. augmentative
astro, which indicates an inferior qualit3,), an inferior
sort of column or pillar; a projection from or against
a pier, having the form and decorations ot antse, when
used correctly; but too frequently they have capitals,
like those of columns, assigned them.
Pillar (Lat. pila, and Ital. piliere), a columnar mass
of no particular form. Columns are vulgarly called
pillars; but architects make a distinction, restricting
this term to such pillars as do not come within the de¬
scription of a column. (See Column.)
Pillowed. A sw ollen or rounded frieze is said to be
pillowed or pulvinated.
f Pinnacle, the slender tapering head of a turret or
buttress. A small spire, or the head of a spire or
steeple.
Plan, a horizontal geometrical section of the walls of
a building; or indications, on a horizontal plane, of the
relative positions of the walls and partitions, with the
various openings, such as w indows and doors,—recesses
and projections, as chimneys and chimney-breasts,
columns, pilasters, &c. This term is often incorrectly Glossary
used in the sense of Design, q. v.
Planceer is sometimes used in the same sense as soffit,
but incorrectly, as it is from the French plancher, to
board or floor. It is more particularly applied to the
soffit of the corona in a cornice.
Plinth (Gr. ‘Trkiv&a;, a square tile). In the Roman orders
the lowest member of the base of a column is square
and vertically faced; this is called a plinth.
Polytriglyph (Gr. mku;, many, and triglyph, q. v.).
An intercolumniation in the Doric order of more than
two triglyphs. (See Monotriglyph and Ditri¬
glyph.)
Portico (an Italicism of the Lat. Portions), an open
space before the door or other entrance to any build¬
ing, fronted with columns. A portico is distinguished
as prostyde, or in antis, as it may project from or recede
within the building, and is designated with either of
these terms by the number of columns its front may
consist of. (See Distyle, Tetrastyle, Hexastyle,
OcTASTYLE, &C.)
Porticus (Lat. See Portico). In an amphiprostylar or
peripteral temple, this term is used to distinguish the
portico at the entrance from that behind, which is
called the posticum.
Posticum (Lat.). A portico behind a temple. (See
Porticus and Portico.)
Pronaos (Gr. wgo, before, and vao;, a temple). The inner
portico of a temple, or the space between the porticus,
or outer portico, and the door opening into the cella.
This is a conventional use of the term; for, strictly, the
pronaos is the portico itself.
pROPYLiEUM (Gr. ego, before, and cruXtj, a portal), any
structure or structures forming the entrance to the pe¬
ribolus of a temple; also the space lying between the
entrance and the temple. In common usage this term,
in the plural (propylsea), is almost restricted to tue en¬
trance to the Acropolis of Athens, which is known by
it as a name.
Prostyle (Gr. tfgo, before, and <fru\o£, a column). A
portico in which the columns project from the building
to which it is attached is called a prostyle. It is tau-
tologous to say a prostyle portico,—a prostyle is a por¬
tico. Custom, however, seems to warrant the impro¬
priety, for the word portico is always superadded. In
determining the number of columns of which a portico
consists, the Greek numerals are prefixed to the term
Style, q. v., and prostyle is repeated. It would be
more concise, and, at the least, equally correct, to put
the numeral before prostyle, and say tetra-prostyle,
hexa-prostyle, &c. instead of tetrastyle-prostyle, &c.;
as the custom is; that mode is adopted in this article
throughout.
Pseudo-dipteral (Gr. -^eudr,;, false, anu dipteral, q. v.),
false double-winged. When the inner row of columns
of a dipteral arrangement is omitted, and the space
from the wall of the building to the columns is pre¬
served of the consequent double projection, it is pseudo¬
dipteral. The portico of the London University is
pseudo-dipterally arranged, the returning columns on
the ends or sides not being carried through behind
those in front. .
Pseudo-p-eripteral (Gr. 'vtyufojs, false, and peripteral,
o. v.), false-winged. A temple having the columns
on its flanks attached to the walls, instead of being ar¬
ranged as in a peripteros, is said to be pseudo-peripteral.
Pseudo-prostyle (Gr. styles, false, and prostyle, q. v.).
This is a term not in general use, but is suggested to
designate a portico projecting less than the space trom
one column to another, as the western porticoes to bt
470
ARCHITECTURE.
Glossary. Paul’s Cathedral, and the portico to the East India
House, in London; but that they are recessed also, and
therefore may be described as pseudo-prostyle and re¬
cessed. The front of Trinity Church in the new road,
near the Regent’s Park, in London also, presents a
mere pseudo-prostyle.
Pulvinated (Lat. pulvinus, a cushion or bolster), a
term used to express the swelling or bolstering of the
frieze which is found in some of the inferior works of
the Roman school, and is common in Italian practice.
It is used indifferently with pillowed.
Pycnostyle (Gr. cruxvoj, dense, and aruXos, a column),
columns thickly set. The space or intercolumniation
assigned to this term is one diameter and a half. (See
Eustyle.)
f Quatre-foil, tracery in four foliations or featherings;
but applicable only to circular or square panels, and
not to arches.
Quoin (Lat. ancon, an elbow or corner, whence the Fr.
coin), a corner-stone. The stones which are made
to project from the regular surface of the walls at the
angles of a building are technically called quoins. The
front of the Farnese Palace exemplifies them. (See
Plate LXX.)
Regula (Lat.), a rule or square. The short fillet or rect¬
angular block, under the taenia, on the architrave of the
Doric entablature, is so called.
f Rose or Catherine-wheel Window, the large cir¬
cular window filled with various tracery, which is com¬
mon in the upper part of transept fronts in churches
and cathedrals. Plate LXXII. fig. 1.
Scotia (Gr. axona, shadow or darkness), a concave
moulding, most commonly used in bases, which projects
a deeper shadow on itself than any other form would
possess in an underview position. It is like a reversed
ovalo, or rather what the mould of an ovalo would pre¬
sent. Plate LXI.
Scroll, synonymous with volute. The term scroll is
commonly applied to the more ordinary purposes, while
volute is generally restricted to the scrolls of the Ionic
capital.
Section, a drawing showing the internal heights of the
various parts of a building. It supposes it to be cut
through entirely, so as to exhibit the walls, the heights
of the internal doors, and other apertures; the heights
of the stories, thicknesses of the floors, &c. It is one
of the species of drawings necessary to the exhibition
of a Design, q. v.
Shaft. The body or tapering cylindrical mass of a co¬
lumn, from the base below to the capital above, is so
called. Plate LXVI. fig. 1.
Sill or Sole (Lat. solum, a threshold, whence the Fr.
semi). The horizontal base of a door or window-frame
is called its sill, though in practice a technical distinc¬
tion is made between the inner or wooden base of the
windovv-frame and the stone base on which it rests,
t le latter being called the sill of the window, and the
ormer that of its frame. This term is not restricted
o the bases of apertures; the lower horizontal part of
framed partition is called its sill. It is often incor¬
rectly written all.
S°f™ (Ita1, s^tta’ a ceiling), the inverted horizontal
ace of any thing. The horizontal face of an entabla-
?s hsr<fnfflTg Tl and °pe/ between’ the columns,
is its soffit. The underface of an arch, where its thick¬
ness is seen, is its soffit.
Spandrel. The unoccupied angles, or rather the ex¬
cluded triangles, of a square, described about a circle, Gio
are called spandrels; whence almost any triangular W,
space is designated by the same term. b '
f Spire, the tapering mass which forms the summit of a
steeple.
Steeple. This term is used in contradistinction to tower
the latter being upright, or nearly so, and terminating
almost abruptly, or with pinnacles, and the steeple rum
ning to a point with sides converging from the base up¬
wards, or from a certain height only.
Stele (Gr. a cippus or small monument). The or¬
naments on the ridge of a Greek temple, answering to
the antefixas on the summit of the flank entablatures
are thus designated.
^ Stereos ate (Gr. ffrtgtos, firm or solid, and £a<n$, a base
or fulciment), a basement. It is sought to make a
distinction between this term and Stylobate, q. v., by
restricting the latter to its real import, and applying
stereobate to a basement in the absence of columns.
Stoa (Gr. croa, a portico). This is the Greek equivalent
for the Latin porticus and the Italo-English portico,
q. v.
String or String-course, a narrow, vertical-faced, and
slightly projecting course in an elevation. If window¬
sills are made continuous, they form a string-course;
but if this course is made thicker or deeper than ordi¬
nary window-sills, it becomes a blocking-course.
Style (Gr. cruXog, a column). The term style is of very
constant use in the composition of architectural names
and distinctions, and in those compositions it is not to
be understood in its ordinary and almost unlimited ap¬
plication, but in its simple and original meaning,—a
column. It is, however, not used in that sense unless in
composition ; but in its ordinary acceptation it is applied
to the varieties of architecture, as the Greek and Ro¬
man styles, &c.
Stylobate (Gr. truXog, a column, and Gatr/g, a base or
fulciment), a basement to columns. (See Stereobate.)
Stylobate is synonymous with pedestal, but is applied
to a continued and unbroken substructure or basement
to columns, while the latter term is confined to insu¬
lated supports.
Surbase (Lat. super, whence the Fr. sur, above or upon,
and base, q. v.), an upper base. This term is applied
to what, in the fittings of a room, is familiarly called the
chair-rail. It is also used to designate the cornice of a
pedestal or stereobate, and is separated from the base
by the dado or die.
Systyle (Gr. m, together with, and arvXog, a column),
columns rather thickly set. An intercolumniation to
which two diameters are assigned. (See Eustyle.)
f Tabernacle, a canopied recess or niche. The rich or¬
namental tracery forming the canopy, &c. to a taber¬
nacle, is called tabernacle-work: it is common in the
stalls and screens of cathedrals, and in them is general¬
ly open or pierced through.
f Tablet. Projecting mouldings, or moulded strings in
the Pointed style, are better described as tablets than
as cornices.
Taenia (Lat.) a band. (See Band.)
Terminal. Figures of which the upper parts only, or
perhaps the head and shoulders alone, are carved, the
rest running into a parallelepiped, and sometimes into
a diminishing pedestal, with feet indicated below, or
even without them, are called terminal figures.
Tetrastoon (Gr. rsrja, four, and arou, a portico). An
atrium or rectangular court-yard, having a colonnade
or projected orthostyle on every side, is called a tetra-
stoon.
architecture.
De< ip. Tetrastyle (Gr. rsr^a, four, and GrvXog, a column), a
Uoj-of portico of four columns in front. (See note to Hexa-
Plsis. STYLE.)
Tholobate (Gr. 9oXog, a dome or cupola, and Cadig, a
base or substructure), that on which a dome or cupola
rests. This is a term not in general use, but not the less
of useful application. What is generally termed the
attic above the peristyle and under the cupola of St
Paul’s, would be correctly designated the tholobate. A
tholobate of a different description, and one to which
no other name can well be applied, is the circular sub¬
structure to the cupola of the London University.
Tholus or Tholos (Gr.), a dome or cupola, or any round
edifice. This is the only term used by Greek writers
that can be supposed to apply to the conical chambers
which approach, in internal form, to that of the modern
cupola or dome, and is therefore made the Greek equi¬
valent for those terms.
Torus (Lat.), a protuberance or swelling, a moulding
whose form is convex, and generally nearly approaches
a semicircle. It is most frequently used in bases, and
is for the most part the lowest moulding in a base.
Plate LXI.
Tower, a circular, square, or polygonal structure, with
upright or slightly converging sides, running to a height
equal to or greater than its diameter or base, and ter¬
minating abruptly or in horizontal lines. A tower may
be flanked by buttresses whose pinnacles surmount it,
and be superimposed by a turret, lantern, or spire.
f Tracery. The transoms, mullions, and interlaced or
flowing continuations of the latter, with their foliations
in windows, on doors, panels, and in tabernacle-work,
are so called. The ribs on groined ceilings, and almost
all eccentric moulded enrichments, come under the
same denomination.
Trachelium (Gr. rga^riXog, the neck). In Doric and
Ionic columns there is generally a short space inter¬
vening the hypotrachelium and the mass of the capital,
which may be called the trachelium or neck.
471
f Transom, the horizontal bar used to divide a mullioned Descrip-
window into heights; the straight and horizontal parts tions of
of tracery. 1 Plates.
f Trefoil, tracery in three foliations or featherings.
Triglyph (Gr. rgs/j, three, and yAup?j, an incision or
channel). The vertically channelled tablets of the
Doric frieze are called triglyphs, because of the three
angular channels in them, two perfect and one divided;
the two chamfered angles or hemiglyphs being reckon¬
ed as one. The square sunk spaces between the tri¬
glyphs on a frieze are called metopes,
f Turret, a small tower, or a tower of small base in
proportion to its height. Turrets are sometimes placed
on the angles of towers; but in the later works of the
style they are attached to the angles of structures in¬
stead of buttresses, and they run up above their height
in lieu of pinnacles.
Tympanum, the triangular recessed space inclosed by the
cornice which bounds a pediment. The Greeks some¬
times placed sculptures representing subjects in con¬
nection with the purposes of the edifice, in the tym¬
pana of temples.
Vault, an arched ceiling or roof. A vault is, indeed, a
laterally conjoined series of arches. The arch of a
bridge is, strictly speaking, a vault. Intersecting vaults
are said to be groined. (See Groining.)
Volute (Lat. volutum, d volvo, rolling up or over, con¬
volving). The convolved or spiral ornament which
forms the characteristic of the Ionic capital is so called.
The common English term is scroll, q. v. Volute,
scroll, helix, and cauliculus, are used indifferently for
the angular horns of the Corinthian capital.
Zoophorus (Gr. an animal, and psow, to bear). This
term is used in the same sense as frieze, and is so call¬
ed because that part of the entablature is made the re¬
ceptacle of sculptures which are frequently composed
of various animals.
DESCRIPTIONS AND EXPLANATIONS OF THE PLATES.
Plate LIV. The view of the Parthenon in its present state
is from an original drawing made on the spot in the year
1821, by Mr W. W. Jenkins. It consequently exhibits
the appearance of the splendid ruin before the disasters
of the late revolution befell it, as the restored view, un¬
der the same aspect, does of the structure in its origi¬
nal state. This is introduced as a frontispiece to the
subject, as being an acknowledged master-work of archi¬
tecture, as well as to enable the reader the better to
understand the details of the style of which it is an ex¬
ample, and the composition of that class of structures
of which it may be reckoned the principal.
Plate LV. This plate exhibits the varieties of columns
and columnar composition which the ancient architec¬
ture of various countries presents, and is intended to
elucidate their presumed derivation from the single
pillar of the earliest records; together with specimens
of ancient modes of structure.
Fig. 1 presents an example of the single pillar or
stone of memorial, the Monolithon ; fig. 2 of the Bili-
thon, the cromlech of the Celtic nations; fig. 3 of the
Trilithon, an example afforded by Stonehenge; and fig.
4 exhibits the immediately succeeding arrangement of
pillars, with a continuous entablature.
Fig. 5 shows the flank of the portico of the temple at
Amada in Nubia, consisting of square piers or pillars as
in fig* 4, and a cylindrical column, which is evidently
formed of a similar pillar by working off its angles, the
abacus and plinth remaining of the same size and form
of which the pillars are.
Fig. 6, pillars with a plain entablature as in fig. 4,
from the Rhamesseion at Thebes. The statues placed
before the pillars most probably gave rise to the use of
such figures to support an entablature, which these
have the appearance of doing when seen in front.
Fig. 7, an early Egyptian columnar composition, from
Thebes also. In this, as in the example at Amada, the
square abacus shows the form and size of the original
pillar out of which the singular bulbous column has
been sculptured.
Fig. 8, piers of one of the cavern temples of Ellora.
These likewise exhibit the tendency to the cylindrical
form, and may be assumed as an example of the style
of architectural columnar composition at the time they
were executed.
Fig. 9, ancient Hindoo columnar piers, in the Mokun-
dra Pass, from Colonel Tod’s (unpublished) second
volume of the Annals of Rajast'han, and by his kind
permission. The similarity in character which exists
between these and the piers at Ellora in the preced¬
ing example, tends to strengthen the remark accom¬
panying them, and affords proof of their contemporane¬
ousness.
Fig. 10, Doric columns and their architrave from the
472
Descrip¬
tions of
Plates.
ARCHITECTURE.
ruins at Corinth, being the earliest known example of
their style. . ...
Fig. 11, ancient Persian columns from Persepolis, in
front5 and in profile, the latter showing the mode m
which they were probably made to receive an cntab a-
ture, though a distinguished oriental traveller asserts
that the capitals are wrought on the backs in such a
manner as to render it improbable that they were ever
intended to have any thing placed on them.
Fig. 12, columns in front of the rock sculptures at
Mundore, in Marwar, from Colonel Tod’s first volume.
Fig. 13, from the ruins of Bheems Chlori, also in the
Mokundra pass, from Colonel Tod s unpublished volume.
These present another variety of Hindoo columnar com¬
position of early date, though later, it is probable,, than
the example, fig. 9, supra. Figs. 14 and 16 exhibit tne
modes of structure described in the text at page 414;
and fig. 15 is a view of the entrance to the great pyra¬
mid at Memphis from Denon and shows the mode of
its structure*
Plate LVI. An example of the Egyptian style, sufficiently
explained at pp. 410, 432, et seq.
Plate EVIL A Greek Doric octastyle, peripteral, and hy-
pmthral temple, with the details of the Parthenon. The
plan (fig. 3) is that of the Parthenon (vide Plate LIV.)
slightly modified, the better to include the class to
which it belongs. In the Parthenon the opisthodomus
has six columns, as in the pronaos, and not four in antis
as here laid down: this, however, exhibits the ordinary
mode of arrangement. The internal columns are ar¬
ranged in this plan as they are generally found in other
similar structures; and the pedestal for the statue of
the divinity is placed in its most probable position.
Fig. 1 shows part of the flank of the temple and the
internal composition of the hypaethral cella with its
upper range of columns or attic, of the inner chamber
or treasury, and of the opisthodomus and posticum:
much of this, however, is necessarily taken at a venture,
because of the imperfection of the remains of the Gre¬
cian edifices.
Fig. 2 exhibits an elevation of the opisthodomus be¬
hind the outer range of the nortico, not according to
the Parthenon, but in antis.
Fig. 3 is the plan. In front, on the left-hand side, is
the entrance porticus; behind this is the pronaos;
within the pronaos is the hypsethral naos or cella, the
middle space between the columns being open; the
spaces between the columns and the walls on either side
are covered; doors (these are not generally laid down
to the Parthenon, but are assumed as probable) lead to
the inner chamber, said to be the treasury,—this is by
some called the opisthodomus, into which it opens, and
the opisthodomus stands in the same relation to the
posticum that the pronaos does to the porticus.
Fig. 4 is the external order of the Parthenon; fig. 5
the profile of its corona to a larger scale, to show its de¬
tail ; fig. 6 a half-capital of the same, enlarged also
with its annulets larger still.
Fig. 9 is the order of the pronaos ; fig. 8 the profile of
its corona enlarged; fig. 7 its capital enlarged, with
the annulets still larger.
Fig. 10 the antae cap enlarged; and fig. 12 a half-plan
of a column of the Parthenon, showing the contour of
its flutes. ( Vide page 437 et seq.)
Plate LVIII. A Greek Doric hexastyle, peripteral, and
cleithral temple, with the details of the temple of The¬
seus at Athens
Fig. 1, front elevation of the temple.
Fig. 2, section behind the outer range of the portico,
showing the elevation of the pronaos.
Fig. 3, plan of the temple. The arrangement of the best
porticus here (to the left) is pseudo-dipteral; a space equal tion
to two intercolumniations and the intervening column
being left between the external range and the front of ^
the pronaos,—the projection of the posticum is irregular.
Fig. 4, the external order of the temple of Theseus,
with a half-plan of the column ; fig. 5, the profile of the
corona enlarged; fig. 6, half the capital enlarged; fig.
7, half the capital of the order of the pronaos enlarged
also ; fig. 9, the antae, with profiles of the outer and inner
entablatures of the pronaos,—this shows also the ar¬
rangement of the ceilings.
Fig. 10, enlarged profile of the antae cap.
Fig. 11, inverted plan of part of the ceilings of the
porticus and pronaos, showing the arrangement of the
coffers, lacunae, or cassoons.
Fig. 12, inverted plan of the planceer of the cornice,
showing the form and arrangement of the mutules of
the external entablature.
Fig. 13 is a plan of the triglyphs of the same on an
external angle.
Figs. 8 and 14 are enlarged plans of the flutings of
the columns, to show their contours. ( Vide p. 437 etseq.)
Plate LIX. A Greek Ionic hexa-prostyle apteral temple,
with details of the temple of Erechtheus at Athens.
Fig. 1, elevation of the portico.
Fig. 2, rear elevation of the temple, showing an at¬
tached tetrastyle in antis, with windows as they exist
in that of the temple of Erechtheus.
Fig. 3, flank elevation. The dotted projection to the
right, of the posticum, indicates the amphiprostylar ar¬
rangement, which is shown on the plan fig. 4 also, and
in the same manner.
Fig. 5, the order of the temple of Erechtneus, except
the two lowest steps of the stylobate, which maybe
easily supplied, to a larger scale, with indications of the
carved mouldings, &c.
Figs. 6, 7, and 8 are enlarged profiles of those parts
of the entablature which are immediately behind and
above them.
Fig. 10, the antoe of the same example, showing the
ornament which enriches its necking, and runs along the
flank of the edifice ; fig. 11, profile of the antae cap en¬
larged.
Fig. 12, flank elevation of tne capital; all the vertical
beads in this are carved. Fig. 13. transverse section of
the capital.
Fig. 14, half the longitudinal section of the capital-
F’ig. 15, an inverted plan of the capital, showing the
arrangement of the flutings.
Fig. 16, an inverted plan of one of the angular capi¬
tals. ( Vide p. 439 et seq.)
Fig. 9, the Ionic volute, enlarged to show the mode
of striking it, and the contour of its face.
The point at which the volute shall commence, its
height, and the diameter of its eye, must be given or
assumed; then, “ from either end of the whole height
of the spiral, cut off the diameter of the given circle
(o — o); divide the remainder into as many equal
parts as there are to be revolutions in the spiral (this
example is of three revolutions), and divide each of
those parts again into four others, so that the remain¬
der or difference between the given circle and the
height will be divided into four times the number of
revolutions (making in this case twelve) ; then take hall
the number of these parts and one part more (seven), to¬
gether with half the diameter of the eye (o — o), and
set it from the top of the perpendicular downwards, it
will give the centre of the volute; take half of one ol
the parts, and set it from the centre, cutting the per-
f-ft
I *
ARCHITECTURE.
p. pendicular or height of the volute upwards; through
)f that point draw a horizontal line; take half of one of
p. ^ie parts, and set it on each side of the perpendicular,
on the horizontal line; from these two points draw
diagonals to the centre (refer to the larger diagram to
the right of the volute) ; through the centre draw
another line parallel to the horizontal line; through the
upper end of each diagonal draw lines parallel to the
perpendicular, cutting the horizontal line that passes
through the centre into two equal parts; divide each
of those parts into as many equal parts as you intend
to have revolutions (three). If the volute is intended
to be on the left hand (as this is), divide the part next
to the centre on that side into two equal parts, but for
the right hand volute on the contrary; from the point
of bisection draw two lines parallel to the diagonals
downwards; then through each of the divisions on the
line which passes through the centre draw lines parallel
to the perpendicular, cutting the diagonals at both ends
of these perpendicular lines; then join the opposite
points of each diagonal by horizontal lines, and the
centres will be completed upon each angle of the fret.
Begin at the right hand on the upper centre, extend
the compass to the height of the perpendicular, and
describe the quadrant of a circle to the left hand; then
set the compass on the next centre on the left hand,
and extend the other leg of the compass to the end of
the quadrant, where you left off in the last quadrant;
go the same way round to the next centre, and proceed
in this manner till you arrive at the last quadrant,
which ought to touch the given circle on the upper
side upon the perpendicular. Lastly, with one leg of
the compasses on the centre of the spiral, and the other
foot extended to the distance that the last quadrant
cuts the perpendicular, describe a circle, and the spiral
will be completed.” (Nicholson’s Principles, &c. vol. ii.
p. 23.) To complete the volute as in fig. 5, this pro¬
cess should be repeated for every line indicated at the
point of springing in fig. 9, the height of course altering
to every one but the eye of the volute, and the point
of springing remaining the same.
Plate LX. Fig. 1 the elevation, fig. 2 the plan, and fig. 3
the details, of the order of the Choragic Monument of
Lysicrates at Athens. ( Vide p. 440.)
Fig. 4 presents the elevation, and fig. 5 the plan, of
the Caryatic prostyle, which is attached to the flanks
of the temple of Erechtheus at Athens.
Fig. 6 shows the detail of the hands and feet of the
figure, and of the entablature and stereobate of the
same. ( Vide p. 441.)
Plate LXI. contains Greek and Roman mouldings, with
their usual enrichments, all drawn from ancient ex¬
amples, and detached profiles of them all, together
with two examples of Greek and one of Roman orna¬
ment. The specimen of Greek ornament on the left
hand of the centre is from the neck of the antm-cap
of the tetrastyle portico on the flank of the temple of
Erechtheus, generally known as that of Minerva Polias;
and the other half of the same is the enrichment of the
neck of the antae of the temple of Erechtheus itself,
as shown in Plate L1X. figs. 3 and 10. The Roman
specimen of ornament is that of the frieze of the temple
of Antoninus and Faustina in Rome. ( Vide Plate LXII.
Ex. 3, and p. 441 and 451.)
Plate LXII. Four Roman examples of the Corinthian
order. Ex. 1 is that of the temple of Jupiter Stator in
Rome; Ex. 2 is that of the temple of Vesta at Tivoli
{vide Plate LXIV. fig. 9) ; Ex. 3 is that of the temple of
Antoninus and Faustina in Rome {vide Plate LXIV.
%s. 6,7, and 8); and Ex. 4 is the example of the porti-
vol. in.
473
co of the Pantheon in Rome {vide Plate LXIV. figs. 2, Descrip.
3, 4, and 5). To every example fig. 1 shows the de- tions of
tails enlarged, the shafts being cut away; and fig. 2 TEtes.
the elevation of the column and entablature. In every
case, also, the distance from the inner surface of the
column fig. 2 to the vertical line dividing the examples
is one half the intercolumniation at which that example
is composed. ( Vide p. 447 et seq.)
Plate LXIII. Examples of the Roman orders. Ex. 1
is the Corinthian of the temple of Mars Ultor; Ex. 2
the Composite of the arch of Titus {vide Plate LXIV.
fig. 11) ; Ex. 3 the Ionic of the temple of Fortuna Viri-
lis {vide Plate LXIV. fig. 12) ; and Ex. 4 the Doric of the
Theatre of Marcellus, completed from that of the Co¬
losseum. All of these are in Rome. Figs. 1, as in
Plate LXII., show the entablatures, capitals, and bases,
&c. at an enlarged scale; and figs. 2 the complete ele¬
vation of each order, except their stylobates, some of
which are not ascertained, and those which are may
be obtained from the structures they are referred to in
Plate LXIV. ( Vide p. 447 et seq.)
Plate LXIV. Elevations, plans, and sections of sundry Ro¬
man edifices, all drawn to the same scale.
Fig. 1 is a longitudinal elevation of the Colosseum.
( Vide p. 443.)
Fig. 2 is the front elevation, fig. 3 the flank eleva¬
tion, fig. 4 a section, and fig. 5 the plan, of the Pan¬
theon. The dotted lines before the recess opposite the
entrance, fig. 5, show the places the outstanding co¬
lumns originally occupied. ( Vide p. 443 and 444.)
Fig. 6 is the front elevation, fig. 7 the plan, and fig.
8 the flank elevation, of the temple of Antoninus and
Faustina: of this the front steps and stylobate are re¬
storations. ( Vide p. 443, and PI. LXII. Ex. 3.)
Fig. 9 is the plan and elevation of the temple of
Vesta at Tivoli; of this the antefixae and roof are resto¬
rations. ( Vide PI. LXII. Ex. 2.)
Fig. 10 is the plan and elevation of the triumphal
arch of Septimius Severus. ( Vide p. 443.)
Fig. 11 is a plan and elevation of the arch of Titus.
( Vide id sup. and PI. LXIII. Ex. 2.)
Fig. 12 is a plan and elevation of the temple of For¬
tuna Virilis. ( Vide p. 443, and PI. LXIII. Ex. 3.)
Plate LXV. Plans, sections, elevations, &c. of Roman
mansions from Pompeii.
Fig. 1 is a plan of one of the most extensive and most
regular of the domestic structures of Pompeii, with its
immediate vicinage ; it is known as the house of Pansa.
The following nomenclature is generally that of Sir
William Gcll:—1, The entrance or recessed porch ; 2,
the vestibule; 3, the cavaedium or atrium; 4, the com-
pluvium or well for receiving the rain from the roof
covering this part of the house {vide fig. 2) ; 5, penaria,
or perhaps cubicula; 6, alae or wings; 7, tablinum
or parlour; 8, pinacotheca, or perhaps the library; 9,
a passage from the first to the second atrium without
passing through the tablinum; 10, cubiculum or bed¬
chamber ; 11, peristylium or oicus—the house ; 12, im-
pluvium {vide sup. in 4, et fig. 2) ; 13, exhedrse or aim—in
these the siesta was taken—they were also used for con¬
versation; 14, cellae familiaricae; 15, triclinium—here
couches and seats were placed, and company received;
16, lararium or receptacle for the family gods; 17, cu¬
biculum ; 18, hall to the gynaeceum or women’s apart¬
ment ; 19, the gynaeceum—this is believed by some
to be a distinct house, and not a part of that of Pansa ;
20, porticus or pergula; 21, hortus or garden; 22, a
passage from the oicus to the pergula and garden, to
avoid the necessity of passing through the triclinium;
23, kitchen; 24, store-room or larder; 25, an open court,
474
Descrip,
tions of
Plates.
ARCHITECTURE.
communicating with the street by a doorway. This
comprehends the whole of the apartments, &c. appro¬
priated to domestic use—the residence ; the other por¬
tions of the edifice are distinct from it. 26 is another
smaller house; 27, a passage leading to the house of
Pansa from the street on the right-hand side; all the
places marked 28 are shops open to the street, as shown
in the elevation, fig. 3 ; the rooms marked 29 are stoie-
rooms to the shops into which they open ; 30 is a bake¬
house, in which the mills, &c. are indicated as they
exist; 31 is the oven; in the angle of the two adjoin¬
ing streets on the left hand (32) is the shop of a seller
of wine and hot drinks; 33 is a fountain. The walls in¬
dicated on the other sides of the streets surrounding
the house, &c. of Pansa are the fronts of shops and of
some private houses, &c.
Fig. 2 is a section through the house of Pansa from
the street to the garden, showing the manner in which
it is probable the roofs, &c. were arranged.
Fig. 3 is the probable elevation of the entrance front
of this mansion, though the sketch (fig. 4) of part of
the same in its present state shows how slight the evi¬
dence for it is.
Fig. 5 is an outline of the side of a room, with the
ornaments, &c. with which it is decorated. This is an
average specimen; many were much plainer, and some
were more enriched.
Fig. 6 is the plan of an ordinary sized house in one
of the private streets of Pompeii: the uses of the va¬
rious parts may be generally gathered from those of
the similar portions of the house of Pansa. The word
Salve, printed across the threshold, is there wrought
in mosaic.
Fig. 7 presents the presumed arrangement of the
roofs, &c. of this house in section.
Fig. 8 is the elevation of it towards the street. This
absolutely cannot have been better than it appears
here, and must have been the ordinary average appear¬
ance of the street fronts of Pompeian houses. ( Vide
p. 445 et seq.')
Plate LXVI. Fig. 1, an example to show how the term
order is applied, and to what parts of it the various
technical terms are applied, or are intended to indicate.
Figs. 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6, are the orders of the Italo-
Vitruvian school as arranged by Palladio; fig. 2, the
Tuscan; fig. 3, the Doric; fig. 4, the Ionic; fig. 5, the
Corinthian ; and fig. 6, the Composite. ( Vide p. 451.)
Plate LXVII. Varieties of Italian composition from exist¬
ing structures in Italy and elsewhere, in the Italian style.
Figs. 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5, are windows of various form
and arrangement.
Figs. 6, 7, 8, and 9, are doors of various composition,
with plans to show their arrangement and ichnographic
projections, &c.
Figs. 10, 11, 12, and 13, are arches and arcades, rus¬
ticated and with columns, &c. The plans show their
forms and ichnographic projections. ( Vide p. 452 et seq.)
Plate LXVIII. Front elevations alone of the fronts of St
Paul’s in London and St Peter’s in Rome. These two
structures exhibit many of the peculiarities of the eccle¬
siastical architecture of the Italian school. In this
plate their comparative magnitude has not been attend¬
ed to; they are drawn to different scales to bring them
more nearly of the same size, so as to render the con¬
trast more effective. ( Vide p. 426 and 429.)
Plate LXIX. Flank elevations of St Peter’s and St Paul’s,
drawn to the same scale,’ to show their comparative mag¬
nitude, and to enable the reader to judge of their respec¬
tive merits, as well as to elucidate observations which
will be found in the text passim. ( Vide p. 429, &c.)
Plate LXX. Elevations of three esteemed Italian mansions. Deso
The merit of this (the principal) elevation of the Farnese tions
Palace is divided between Antonio Sangallo and M. A.
Buonaroti. The villa Giulia, near Rome, is esteemed ''"'Y
one of the best works of Giacomo Barozzi da Vignola;
and the villa Capra near Vicenza, by Palladio, is, by the
admirers of his style, considered the most perfect of his
works. ( Vide p. 426, 429, 452, 453, &c.)
Plate LXXI. A series of arches in the Gothic and Pointed
styles, from various structures in England. It exhibits
the advance of the circular arch from the plainness ex¬
hibited in figs. 1 and 2, to the richer and more complicate
arrangements of those examples which follow, until the
ingrafting and gradual advance of the pointed arch.
This first appears in fig. 10. Fig. 12 shows the substi¬
tution of the latter for the circular of fig. 9 in a similar
composition. Fig. 13 exhibits the pointed arch on
Gothic pillars or columns; and fig. 14 the perfected
pointed arch with the clustered shafts which become
identified with the Pointed style. ( Vide p. 453 et seq.)
Plate LXXII. the elevation of the south transept of
Beverley Minster. This affords a perfect and beautiful
example of external composition of the first period of
Pointed architecture. The presence of the circular
arch embracing the pointed arches of the doorway,
and composing with others, shows how gradual the ad¬
vance of the new style was; the upper part of the
front showing also how completely it was already sys¬
tematized when the circular arch was not yet quite dis¬
carded. The plan of this front shows the various ich¬
nographic projections, and the arrangement of the clus¬
tered shafts of the doors and windows. Fig. 2 is a
niche in front of, and fig. 3 a pinnacle to, one of the
buttresses of the nave of the same edifice : these are of
the second period. Figs. 4, 5, 6, 7, and 8, are windows
from various edifices, showing the gradual advance from
the plain lancet arch of the Beverley Minster transept
to the arch the most elaborately enriched with tracery.
Fig. 4 is but a modification of the composition of the
doorways of fig. 1, as that is of figs. 9 and 12, Plate
LXXI.; and the advance from that may be almost
termed natural.
Plate LXXIII. Fig. 1 is a sectional compartment of the
nave of Lincoln Cathedral; it exhibits the mode of in¬
ternal composition peculiar to the style of the first
period; tending, however, to the transition, it will be
observed, in many particulars, and as a comparison of it
with the adjacent example, of the next period, will more
clearly show.
Fig. 2 is a similar sectional compartment of the choir of
Lincoln Cathedral, exemplifying the internal composition
of the second period of the Pointed style; the plans of the
shafts to both examples show their forms and arrange¬
ment. The subjects of the three last plates are drawn
entirely, by his kind permission, from Mr Britton’s
Chronological History of Ecclesiastical Architecture.
Plate LXXIV., the front of York Minster, exemplifies the
external composition of the second period, as that of
Beverley Minster transept (Plate LXXII. fig. 1) does
that of the first period; and the difference will be ren¬
dered very clear by comparing them. The upper part
of the towers of the front of York Minster, however, it
must be remembered {vide p. 456), are of the third
period, and so is the central tower which appears in the
distance between them.
The front of Pisa Cathedral is here introduced in
contrast with that of York Minster, to show the striking
difference which exists between the real Gothic archi¬
tecture of Italy and the Pointed style which supersed¬
ed it so completely, in this country particularly, and to
ARC
rip. elucidate our observations to that effect at page 419
titj of et seq. The cupola which appears behind and in the
F tes distance is surrounded at the base by pointed arches and
pinnacles, all of which are evidently of much later date
^ ^ than the Gothic front.
Plate LXXV. Fig. 1 is an elevation of Westminster Hall.
It exemplifies the style of external composition of the
third period. It was selected because of the variety of
matter it contains elucidatory of the period to which it
belongs particularly, and of the Pointed style generally.
The door, windows, and canopied tabernacles on the
second story of the towers are peculiar ; the lower ta¬
bernacles are more general, and the pinnacles, crockets,
corbels, tablets, &c. may also be taken in exemplifica¬
tion of such things in the style generally.
Fig. 2 is a plan of the front, showing the ribs of the
groined entrance, the ichnographic projections of the
tabernacles, &c.
Fig. 3 is one of the flying buttresses of the flank of
the edifice.
ARC
475
Fig. 4 is a spandrel of the entrance porch enlarged. Descrip.
F ig. 5, crockets of the gable running from the towers tions of
to the crowning turret, enlarged. Plates
Fig- 6, part of the head of one of the upper windows * , ^ .
of the towers, enlarged.
Fig. 7, a foliated heraldic panel from under the pe¬
destals of the lower tabernacles or niches of the front,
enlarged.
Fig. 8, canopies and pinnacles, &c. of the lower taber¬
nacles, enlarged ; the buttresses on which they rest are
also shown at large in intercepted lengths.
Fig. 9, an enriched foliate pendent of the foregoing
example, marked a, at a still larger scale.
Fig. 10, one of the pedestals for the reception of
statues within the niches or tabernacles, enlarged.
Fig. 11, part of one of the canopies, &c. of the tower
tabernacles, enlarged.
Fig. 12, one of the foliate pendents, marked b, of the
foregoing ; and fig. 13 the corbel, marked c, of the same,
at a still larger scale.
ARCHITRICLINUS, in Antiquity, the master or di¬
rector of a feast, charged with the order and economy of
it, the covering and uncovering of the tables, the com¬
mand of the servants, and the like. The architriclinus
was sometimes called servus tricliniarcha, and by the
Greeks crgoymffrTjs, i. e. prcegustator or foretaster. Potter
also takes the architriclinus for the same with the sym-
posiarcha.
ARCHIVE, or Archives, a chamber or apartment
wherein the records, charters, and other papers and evi¬
dences, of a state, house, or community, are preserved, to
be consulted occasionally. Thus, we say, the archives of a
college, of a monastery, &c.
ARCHIVIST, or Archivista, a keeper of an archive.
Under the emperors the archivist was an officer of great
dignity, held equal to the proconsuls, vested with the
quality of a count, styled clarissimus, and exempted from
all public offices and taxes. Among the ancient Greeks
and Persians, the trust was committed to none but men of
the first rank; among the Franks, the clergy, being the
only men of letters, kept the office among themselves.
ARCHLUTE, or Arcii.euto, a long and large lute,
having its bass strings lengthened after the manner of
the theorbo, and each row doubled, either with a little
octave or a unison. It is used by the Italians for playing
a thorough bass.
ARCHMARSHAL, the grand marshal of the empire,
a dignity belonging to the elector of Saxony.
ARCHONS, in Grecian History, were magistrates ap¬
pointed after the death of Codrus. They were chosen
from the most illustrious families till the time of Aristides,
who got a law passed, by which it was enacted, that, in
electing these magistrates, less regard should be paid to
birth than to merit.
The tribunal of the archons was composed of nine offi¬
cers. The first was properly the archon, by whose name
the year of his administration was distinguished. The
title of the second was king, that of the third polemar-
chus; to these were added six ihesmothetae. These magis¬
trates, elected by the scrutiny of beans, were obliged to
prove before their respective tribes that they had sprung,
both in their father’s and their mother’s side, for three de¬
scents, from citizens of Athens. They were likewise to
prove that they were attached to the worship of Apollo,
the tutelary god of their country; that they had in their
house an altar consecrated to Apollo; and that they had
been respectfully obedient to their parents,—an important
and sacred part of their character, which promised that
they would be faithful servants to their country. They
were likewise to prove that they had served in a military
capacity the number of years which the republic required
of every citizen; and this qualification gave the state ex¬
perienced officers, for they were not allowed to quit the
army till they were 40 years old. Their fortune, too, of
which they were to inform those before whom they were
examined, was a warrant for their fidelity.
After the commissioners who were appointed to inquire
into their character and other requisites had made a re¬
port of them, they were then to swear that they would
maintain the laws, which obligation if they neglected,
they engaged to send to Delphi a statue of the weight of
their bodies. According to a law of Solon, if an archon
got drunk, he was condemned to pay a heavy fine, and
sometimes even punished with death. Such magistrates
as the Athenian archons were well entitled to respect.
Hence it was eternal infamy to insult them; and hence
Demosthenes observed, that to treat the thesmothetse
with disrespect, was to show disrespect to the public.
Another qualification indispensably required of the se¬
cond officer of this tribunal, who was called the king, was,
that he had married the daughter of an Athenian citizen,
and that he had espoused her a virgin. This was exacted
of him, says Demosthenes, because part of his duty was
to sacrifice to the gods jointly with his wife, who, instead
of appeasing, would have irritated them, if she had not
possessed both these honours.
When any obscurity occurred in the laws relative to
religion and the worship of the gods, the interpretation
was submitted to the tribunal of the archons. They were
the principal officers, not only in civil, but likewise in sa¬
cred matters, and especially in the mysteries of Bacchus.
The archons, however, who were surnamed eponymi, were
chiefly employed in civil affairs; yet they presided at the
great feasts, and held the first rank there. Hence they
are sometimes styled jorzcsfo.
Archon is also applied by some authors to divers offi¬
cers, both civil and religious, under the eastern or Greek
empire.
ARCHONTICI, in Ecclesiastical History, a branch of
Valentinians who maintained that the world was not creat¬
ed by God, but by angels called Archontes.
ARCHPRIEST, or Archpresbyter, a priest or presby-
476 ARC
Archytas ter established in some dioceses, with a pre-eminence over
II the rest. Anciently the archpriest was the first person
after the bishop: he was seated next to him in the church,
and in his absence acted as his vicar in all spiritual matters.
In the sixth century there were several archpriests in the
same diocese, from which period some believe them to have
been called deans. In the ninth century there were two
kinds of cures or parishes ; the smaller governed by simple
priests, and the baptismal churches by archpriests, who,
besides the immediate concern of the cure, had the in¬
spection of the other inferior priests, and gave an account
of them to the bishop, who governed the chief or cathedral
church in person. Archpresbyters still exist in the Greek
church, who are invested with most of the functions and
privileges of chorepiscopi or rural deans.
ARCHYTAS of Tarentum was a Pythagorean philo¬
sopher, well skilled in mathematics and geography. He
lived in the time of Plato, and, according to report, inter-
pos'ed his influence with Dionysius the tyrant, in order to
save the life of that philosopher. According to this date,
it would appear that Jamblichus is mistaken when he
asserts that he was a hearer of Pythagoras; and the tes¬
timony of a writer mentioned by Photius would seem
more worthy of credit, that he was the eighth successive
preceptor of the Pythagorean school. So eminent were
his military talents, that, in opposition to an express law
of his country, that no man should be chosen more than
once the general of its armies, he was elevated to that
station no less than seven times. He taught that there
is nothing so destructive to man as pleasure; that virtue
is to be pursued for its own merit, and that every extreme
is incompatible with it. Aristotle, according to some,
was indebted to Archytas for his general heads of arrange¬
ment entitled his Ten Categories. By discovering the
duplication of the cube by means of the conic sections, and
the method of finding two mean proportionals between
two given lines, he displayed his great knowledge in mathe¬
matics. Archytas is reported to have invented several curi¬
ous hydraulic machines, and his genius is likewise honoured
with the invention of the screw and crane. He perished
in a shipwreck, and his body was found on the Apulian
coast,—an occurrence commemorated in one of Horace’s
Odes. A treatise on the Categories, bearing his name, was
published by J. Camerarius at Leipsic, in 8vo, in 1564.
Certain Fragments, also ascribed to him, were published
by J. Gramm at Copenhagen, in 4to, in 1707.
ARCIS-SUR-AUBE, an arrondissement in the depart¬
ment of the Aube, in France, extending over 499 square
miles, or 319,360 acres, and containing four cantons, 90
communes, and 33,260 inhabitants.—The capital of the
arrondissement is of the same name, containing 366 houses,
and 2500 inhabitants, who carry on some manufactures of
cotton and of hosiery, and have a considerable trade in
corn by means of the river Aube, on whose left bank it
is situated. Long. 4. 14. E. Lat. 48. 30. N.
ARCO, a strong town and castle in the Trentin, be¬
longing to the house of Austria. It stands on the river
Sarca, near the northern extremity of the lake Garda.
Long. 10. 48. E. Lat. 45. 52. N.
ARGON, J. C. E. Le Michaud d’, a French engineer
and military writer of eminence, and memorable as the
inventor ot the floating batteries employed against Gib¬
raltar, was born at Pontarlier in the year 1733. He was
originally destined for the church; ‘but, instead of Em¬
ploying himself in the studies suited to that profession,
he became wholly engrossed with plans of fortifications,
and was at length admitted, with the consent of his pa-
j ents, into the corps of engineers. He distinguished
himself at several sieges during the seven years’ war \ and
had acquired so much reputation by his professional ser-
A R C
viqes and by his writings, that he was specially employed Arco
to assist in the last grand effort made by France and ||
Spain for the reduction of Gibraltar in 1782. It was about
this period that he projected the famous floating batteries;
an invention which inspired the combined armies with the
greatest hopes of success, and which at first occasioned
no small degree of alarm in the British garrison. “ The
battering ships,” says Drinkwater, in his interesting ac¬
count of this memorable siege, “ were found to be no less
formidable than they had been represented. Our heaviest
shells often rebounded from their tops, whilst the 32
pound shot seemed incapable of making any visible im¬
pression upon their hulls. Frequently we flattered our¬
selves they were on fire ; but no sooner did the smoke
appear than, with the most persevering intrepidity, men
were observed applying water, from their engines within,
to those places whence the smoke issued.” Of the ultimate
fate of these expensive and formidable engines of attack
all British readers must be sufficiently informed. Not
one of the whole ten escaped destruction from the bombs
and red-hot balls poured upon them from the garrison.
M. d’Arqon, however, published a memoir to show that his
batteries were wilfully exposed to destruction through the
envy and jealousy which the contrivance had excited
among the Spaniards; and this statement seems to have
obtained the general concurrence of his countrymen. But
projectors do not readily admit *any inadequacy in their
schemes; nor will a vain-glorious people, who have been
foiled in war, ever ascribe their disgrace to the superior
skill or constancy of their enemy.
M. d’Arcon appeared in the capacity of a general in
the first years of the Revolution ; and, in particular, was
employed in the invasion of Holland, where, in 1793, he
besieged and took several fortified places. He soon after¬
wards withdrew or was driven from public life, and re¬
mained in retirement till 1799, when he was made a mem¬
ber of the Conservative Senate by Buonaparte. He died
the following year, aged sixty-seven. He was a member
of the Institute, and author of the following works:—1,
Reflexions d’un Ingenieur, en reponse a un Tacticien, 1773,
12mo; 2, Correspondance sur 1’Art de la Guerre, entre
un Colonel de Dragons et un Capitaine dTnfanterie, 1774,
8vo; 3, Defense d’un Systeme de Guei’re Nationale,
&c. 1779, 8vo; 4, Memoires pour servir a 1’Histoire du
Siege de Gibraltar, 1783, 8vo; 5, Considerations sur
ITnfluence du Genie de Vauban dans la Balance des Forces
de I’Etat, 1786, 8vo; 6, Examen detaille de 1’importante
Question de fUtilitedes Places Fortes et Retranchements,
1789, 8vo ; 7, De la Force Militaire Consideree dans ses
Rapports Conservateurs, 1790, 8vo;8, Considerations Mili-
taires et Politiques sur les Fortifications, 1795, 8vo. This
work was published at the expense of the government,
and contains a sort of digest of all his observations and
opinions on militai'y subjects.—See Biographic Modeme,
tome i., and Biographic Universelle, tome ii.
ARGON A, a strong town situated on the island of
Rugen in the Baltic. It stood on a high promontory,
with the east, north, and south sides defended by steep
and lofty precipices, and the west by a wall 50 feet high,
proportionably thick, and secured by a deep and broad
ditch. It was, however, taken and ruined in 1168, by
Yaldemar, king of Denmark.
ARCOS de la Fronteka, a Spanish town in Anda¬
lusia, between Ronda and Santa Maria. It is situated on
the banks of the river Guadalette, celebrated for that de¬
cisive battle of three days’ continuance, by the event ol
which the crown of the Gothic kings of Spain was trans¬
ferred to the Arabian invaders. It contains two parish
churches, seven monasteries, 2500 houses, and 12,000 in¬
habitants. Long. 5. 55. W. Lat. 36. 39. N.
I Aft
Arc ms.
ARC
A R D
477
ARCOT, a large district of Hindostan, under the pre¬
sidency of Madras, to which it was transferred in 1801,
being previously an independent state. It is now divided
into north and south, and, since 1809, when an improved
mode of management was introduced, the condition of the
country has been greatly ameliorated under the British
administration. The limits of northern Arcot, though
they are not very exactly defined, may be stated to be,
on the north Cuddapah and Nellore; southern Arcot on
the south; the district of Chingleput and the sea on the
east; and Balaghaut of Cuddapah on the west. It is wa¬
tered by the river Palar, and the chief towns are Arcot,
Wallajanagur, Vellore, and Tripetty. Southern Arcot has
the northern division of Arcot for its boundary on the
north; Tanjore and Trichinopoly on the south; on the east
the Chingleput district and the sea; and Salem and the
Balaghaut Carnatic on the west. The principal trading
ports are Cudalore and Porto Novo. The population of
both these districts amounted, according to returns re¬
ceived in 1822, to 1,347,312 persons.
Arcot, a city of Hindostan, and formerly the capital of
the Carnatic, situated on the south side of the river Palar,
which has a channel half a mile in breadth; but, except
during the season of the rains, is nearly dry. The town
is extensive, and is built round a large fort, of which the
principal defences were destroyed more than twenty years
ago, and its area is now under cultivation. The town
is defended from the inundations of the river when it is
swollen by the rains by the remaining ramparts of the fort,
which on that side are kept in good repair. It is inclosed
by walls, and contains the former palace of the nabobs of
Arcot, which, with the exception of a gateway still entire,
is in ruins; a handsome Mahometan mosque, and four or
five other well-built religious edifices of the Mahometans,
and numerous tombs. Arcot is supposed to have been
the capital of the Sorm, or the Soramundalum of Ptolemy,
whence by an easy derivation Coromandel; but the pre¬
sent town is entirely of modern date. The Mogul armies,
after they had captured Gingee, found the situation so
unhealthy that they were forced to remove to the plains
of Arcot, and began to build the present town about the
year 171G. The nabob of Arcot, Anwanud Been, being
killed in battle in 1749, the place was taken by his com¬
petitor, who was supported by the French. In 1751 it
was retaken by Colonel Clive with 500 troops, from a gar¬
rison of 1100 men; and here that gallant soldier main¬
tained himself for fifty days against the attacks of the
French and their Indian allies, who were finally compelled
to raise the siege. It was afterwards taken by the French,
but was recaptured in 1760 by Colonel Coote, after the
battle of Wandewash. Hyder Ali gained possession of it
for a time after he had defeated the British under Colonel
Baillie in 1780. Travelling distance, 217 miles E. of Se-
ringapatam, 73’W. of Madras, 1070 S. W. of Calcutta, and
1277 S. of Delhi. Long. 79. 22. E. Lat. 12. 52. N.
ARCTIC, in Astronomy, an epithet given to the north
pole, or the pole raised above our horizon. It is called
the arctic pole, on occasion of the constellation of the
little bear, in Greek called aexros, the last star in the tail
oi which nearly points out the north pole.
Arctic Circle is a lesser circle of the sphere, parallel
to the equator, and 23° 30' distant from the north pole;
from whence its name. This, and its opposite, the ant¬
arctic, are called the two polar circles, and may be con¬
ceived to be described by the motion of the poles of the
ecliptic round the poles of the equator or of the world.
ARCTURUS, in Astronomy, a fixed star of the first
magnitude, in the constellation Arctophylax, or Bootes.
Hie word is formed of agxrog, bear, and ouga, tail, bears
tail, as being very near it.
ARCY, Patrick d’, member of the Academy of Arcy
Sciences of Paris, a general officer in the French army, 11
Chevalier of the order of St Louis, &c. was born in Ire- A|^gbl!
land in 1725. His parents, in consequence of their at-
tachment to the house of Stuart, left Ireland, and settled
in France. He studied mathematics with distinguished
success under Clairaut the elder, and had for his fellow-
student the celebrated Clairaut the son. He obtained a
commission in the French army; and, in 1746, was em¬
barked in the expedition which was intended to make a
descent into Scotland. He was made prisoner, and was
treated like other prisoners of war, no notice being taken
of his having been born a British subject. He continued
attached to the house of Stuart during the whole of his life.
In 1760 he published his Essay on Artillery. To esti¬
mate the force of the explosion of gunpowder he employ¬
ed a cannon suspended so that the arc of vibration de¬
scribed by it on its being fired was a measure of the force
of explosion. To measure the initial velocity of a pro¬
jectile, he used Robins’s machine. Robins showed that
when the velocity of a projectile is great, the resistance
opposed by the air is not in proportion to the square of
the velocity, as is the case when the velocity is small.
D’Arcy made experiments with a view of ascertaining
this law, but without success. Flis work contains an ac¬
count of experiments made by him to determine the most
advantageous length of cannon. He published a paper
on hydraulic machines in 1754, where he treats of the
maximum of effect of water-wheels. He also published
a paper concerning the duration of the impression of light
on the retina. He found that the revolution of a lumi¬
nous point must be rapid, so as to be performed in ^ of
a second at the least, in order to produce the appearance
of a continued luminous circle.
He was of a handsome figure, and passed much of his
time in the gay world. A short time before his death he
married a young lady, his niece, and took the title of
Count. Although attached to the house of Stuart, and
therefore inimical to the English government, yet he ad¬
mired the national character of the English, and was at¬
tentive to English travellers. He died in 1779, and was
succeeded at the academy by the Abb5 Bossut.
ARDAMON, or Ardama, in Antiquity, a vessel of
water placed at the door of a person deceased till the
time of burial, as a token that the family was in mourn¬
ing, and to serve to sprinkle and purify persons as they
came out of the house.
ARDATOW, a circle of the Russian government of
Nishegorod, between long. 41. 37. and 43. 24. E. and lat.
54. 57. and 55. 44. N. It is ivatered by the rivers Tescha,
Lemela, and some smaller streams, consists of gentle hills,
and is abundantly wooded. The arable land is small, but
it produces much cattle, flax, and wood; and the chief
iron-works of the province are within this circle, but much
of the ore is brought from Valdimir. The inhabitants
are about 95,000, of whom 7798 are slaves of the crown,
and 17,659 belong to individual nobles. It contains one
city and ten parishes with churches. The capital of the
circle is of the same name. It is situated on the river
Lemela, has one church, 152 houses, and 906 inhabitants.
It is in long. 42. 55. E. and lat. 55. 10. N.
ARDEBIL, or Ardebeel, a town of Persia, in the pro¬
vince of Azerbijan, on a river which runs into the Aras
or Araxes. It is situated on the southern side of the de¬
sert plain of Ardebil, which is 60 miles in length by 40 in
breadth. The town contains about 500 or 600 families,
and appears to have been built from some former city. It
is surrounded by a ruinous wall of mud, flanked with
towers in a like state of decay. It has a fort, which is a
regular square, with bastions at the corners, fortified ac-
478 A R D
Ardelan cording to the European fashion. The only objects of
il interest are the tombs of Sheik Suffee, the ancestor of the
Suffanean kings, and his descendants. It is still held in
veneration as having been the residence of that royal prince.
ARDELAN, a province of Persia, which forms the
eastern division of Kurdistan. It extends in length 200
miles from the little river Sharook to the Turkish dis¬
trict of Zohaub, and it is nearly 160 miles in breadth.
It is divided from the plain of Hamadan by a small range
of hills, and its western boundary is 100 miles beyond
Senna, the capital, which is situated in long. 40. E. and
lat. 35. 12. N. 60 miles from Hamadan. From the Sha¬
rook, which separates the province from Azerbijan, to
Senna, the country presents either a succession of hills
clustered together, and heaped upon each other, or great
table-lands covered with the flocks and tents of wander¬
ing shepherds, who pass the summer here, and migrate in
the winter to the vicinity of Bagdad. The soil in the
valleys or glens, which are narrow strips at the foot of
the mountains, is fertile, and yields abundance of wheat
and barley. The oil plant is everywhere cultivated, and
also tobacco, though in small quantities. The deep val¬
ley in which the capital is situated is well cultivated, and
interspersed with orchards of fruit-trees. The mountains
to the west are covered with forests of oak, which pro¬
duce fine timber, and abundance of gall-nuts, which are
exported to India, while the oak is floated down the Tab
into the Tigris. The inhabitants, and other pastoral and
rude tribes, make little use of the natural advantages of
the country, being addicted to war, cruelty, and rapine.
There is another tribe of shepherds named Gheshkee, who
are most expert and daring robbers. These tribes are
under the government of a powerful chief, who pays an
annual tribute to Persia, but is in all other respects in¬
dependent. He rules over his vassals with the most abso¬
lute power, but is said to govern rather like a patriarch
than a tyrant.
ARDEN, the common name of forests among the Celtae.
It is written Arduen by Caesar and Tacitus in speaking of
the forest in Gaul. Arduen, Ardven, or Arden, then,
means a considerable wood.
ARDENBURG, a town of the Netherlands, in Dutch
Flanders, and formerly the most considerable in that
country ; but it has been dismantled by the Dutch. Long.
3. 30. E. Lat. 51. 16. N.
ARDENNE, a forest in France, formerly of vast ex¬
tent. At present it extends from Thionville, near the
country of Liege, to Doncherry and Sedan, on the con¬
fines of Champagne.
ARDENNES, a department of France, formed out of
a part of the ancient forest of the same name. It is
bounded by the Netherlands and the department of the
Meuse on the north and east, by the department of the
Aine on the west, and that of the Marne on the south.
The extent is 1,142,720 acres, and the population 258,896.
It is divided into five arrondissements. It produces wood
from its forests, breeds much cattle, grows some medium
wine, and obtains coals, iron, and slate.
ARDENTES, among middle-age writers, an appellation
given to those afflicted with the ignis sacer, or erysipelas.
Ihey were so called from their appearing as if scorched or
burned with the disease. The abbey of St Genevieve at
Paris is said to have received the name of Domus Arden-
tium because great numbers were cured of that distemper
at the shrine of this saint in the reign of Louis VI.
ARDES, a town of hranee, in Lower Auvergne, and
now in the department of Puy de Dome. It serves as a
mart for the commodities and trade between Upper and
Lower Auvergne. Long. 3. 10. E. Lat. 45. 22. N.
ARDFERT, a town of Ireland, in the county of Kerry,
ARE
of which it was formerly the capital, though it is now a Ard(
ruinous and decayed village. It had at one time a uni- |;
versity, and was a bishop’s see; but it is now united to Ar<
that of Limerick. Here are several religious edifices •
and a pillar tower, which stood near the cathedral, and
was one of the loftiest and finest in the kingdom. It fell
in 1771. Four miles N. W. of Tralee.
ARDOYE, a market-town, w ith 6150 inhabitants, on the
river Drybeke, in the arrondissement of Bruges and pro¬
vince of West Flanders, in the kingdom of the Netherlands.
ARDRAH, a considerable town, capital of a territory
of the same name, situated on the Slave Coast of Africa.
It lies about twenty-five miles inland, on the interior
shore of a lake nearly 60 miles in length and from 3
to 12 in breadth, agreeably diversified with numerous
islands. The surrounding country is fertile and beauti¬
ful, abounding in the tropical products of sugar-cane,
cotton, maize, and fine indigo. Ardrah, with all this
coast, was in 1724 conquered and dreadfully desolated
by the king of Dahomey, to whom, in 1772, it still con¬
tinued subject, and had only imperfectly regained its
prosperity. Since that time the preponderance acquired
by the kingdom of Eyeo or Yarriba, lately visited by
Clapperton, has rescued it from this yoke ; and it forms
now nearly an independent republic, under the protection
of that state. The internal constitution is nearly demo¬
cratic, though there are some great merchants who pos¬
sess considerable influence. The people are industrious,
manufacturing cloth both from cotton and grass, and work¬
ing with some skill in iron and leather. The population
is reckoned by Adams at nearly 10,000, among whom, to
his surprise, he found a number of Mahometans who
had come from Houssa, with which there is a pretty di¬
rect communication through Eyeo. They have intro¬
duced the use of horses as domestic animals, and of milk
as an article of diet, neither of which is known on any
other part of the coast. The market, held every sixth
day, presents a crowded and busy scene, at which are
exhibited the manufactures of Europe, particularly of
Manchester and Silesia, mingled with the calicoes of In¬
dia, and with cloths and dyed leather brought from the
interior countries; also tobacco from Brazil, coral, beads,
&c. Several of the merchants possess considerable wealth,
and imitate in a good measure the European dress, furni¬
ture, and mode of living. Long. 3. 42. E. Lat. 6. 26. N.
ARDRES, a town of France, in Lower Picardy. Here
was an interview between Francis I. and Henry VIII.
king of England in 1520. It is eight miles south of Ca¬
lais. Long. 2. 0. E. Lat. 50. 35. N.
ARDROSSAN, a sea-port and parish of Scotland, in
the county of Ayr, which has been of late years laid out
on a regular plan, and with commodious buildings, and is
now a sea-bathing resort. It has a safe and spacious har¬
bour. Population of the parish 3105.
ARDSISCH, or Argisch, a circle in the province of
Wallachia, now comprehending within it the circle of
Lowwishta. It lies to the south of the Carpathian Moun¬
tains, through which, by the pass of Rothe Thurm, there
is a way into Hungary. The circle contains two cities,
two market-towns, and 202 villages and hamlets. The
chief city, Ardisch, which was once the seat of the gover¬
nors of the country, is fast decaying; but it still contains
six churches, a large and beautiful monastery, and the
ruins of the ancient palace of the sovereigns.
AREA, in general, denotes any plain surface whereon
we walk, &c. The word is Latin, importing more proper¬
ly a threshing floor ; and is derived from arere to be dry.
Area, in Architecture, denotes the space or site of
ground on which an edifice, stands. It is also used for
inner courts and other inclosed spaces.
ARE
Ar Area, in Geometry, denotes the superficial content of
II any figure. Thus, if a figure, e. g. a field, be in form of
Arensm^’a square, and its side be 40 feet long, its area is said to
i,e J600 square feet; or it contains 1600 little squares,
each a foot every way.
AREBO, a considerable town of Benin, in Africa, on
the river Formosa. Both the English and Dutch once
held factories there, which they have now abandoned.
Long. 5. 8. W. Lat. 5. 58. N.
AREMBERG, a small town of Germany, in the circle
of Westphalia, defended by a castle. It is the capital of
a county of the same name, and was erected into a prin¬
cipality by the emperor Maximilian II. in favour of John
de Ligne, lord of Barbazon, who took the name of Arem-
berg. It is seated on the river Aer. Long. 6. 44. E.
Lat. 50. 27. N.
ARENA, in Homan Antiquity, a place where the gladi¬
ators fought; so called from its being always strewed with
sand to conceal from the view of the people the blood spilt
in the combat. Nero is said to have strewed the arena
with gold dust.
ARENARII, in Antiquity, gladiators who combated
with beasts in the arena or amphitheatre. The arenarii
were slaves of the lowest rank ; so that, though manumit¬
ted, they were not capable of being Roman citizens. They
were the same with what were otherwise called Bestiarii.
ARENARIUM, in ecclesiastical writers, denotes a ce¬
metery or burying ground. The arenaria were properly a
kind of pits or holes under ground, in which the ancient
Christians not only buried their dead, but held their reli¬
gious assemblies in times of persecution.
ARENSBERG, one of the governments (regierungs-
bezirk) into which the Prussian province of Westphalia is
divided. It is subdivided into 14 portions called circles
(kreis). It comprises within its limits part of the ancient
duchy of Westphalia, the county of Mark, with Dort¬
mund, the city of Lippstadt, the principality of Siegen,
and the lordships of Witgenstein-Besleburg, Witgenstein-
Witgenstein, and Hohen-Limburg. It extends over 3060
square miles, or 1,958,400 acres. The cities and towns
are 74, the villages 1119. The inhabitants amounted in
the year 1817 to 380,182, of whom 202,766 were Protes¬
tants, 178,826 Catholics, 3489 Jews, and 101 Menonites.
Arensbeug, one of the circles into which the govern¬
ment of the same name is divided. It contains 32,352
inhabitants, in six cities, 12 towns, and 105 villages. In
the northern part it is mountainous and woody; the rest
of the circle has a loamy but stony soil, which produces
rye, potatoes, and flax. It has little trade except in wood
and wood-wares; but the females occupy themselves in
spinning.
Arensberg, the capital of the government and circle
of the same name. It was formerly a flourishing place,
hut has much declined. It is almost surrounded by the
river Ruhr. It has 245 houses and 2623 inhabitants.
ARENSBURG, a circle in the Russian government of
Livonia, comprehending the islands of Oesel, Moen, Ruh-
na, and several smaller ones, in the Gulf of Riga in the
Baltic Sea. The surface of these islands is 2176 square
miles, and, in spite of a rigorous climate, theyT are mode¬
rately fertile, producing rye, buck-wheat, flax, hemp, to¬
bacco, potatoes, turnips, and other vegetables, where the
land is manured with sea-weed, which abounds on the
shores. The cattle, both for the dairy and the butcher,
are good ; and there are some sheep, which yield fine wool.
Ihe island of Arensburg is well watered, though it has no
Ti™r> But several brooks and lakes. The inhabitants in
792 were 34,256, and we have no later notices of these
wands. The island of Arensburg alone is far more po¬
pulous than all the others, and contains one city, 12 church
are 479
parishes, and 161 farms. The people speak a peculiar Arens,
dialect or (jrerman, and adhere to the Lutheran profession walde
of religion. The capital of the circle is a city of the same H
name, on the south-east side of the island of Oesel, in a Aretin-
small bay, visited yearly by about 40 vessels of easy bur-'k-*"V-'V^
den. It is ill built, with wooden houses, has 2 churches,
1 public school, 194 dwellings, and 1390 inhabitants. It
is in long. 22. 22. 15. E. and lat. 58. 15. 45. N.
ARENSWALDE, a circle in the government of Frank¬
fort, and province of Pomerania, in Prussia. Its extent is
472 square miles, or 302,080 acres, and the population
amounted in 1817 to 20,705 persons. It has a number of
small lakes, which yield good fish. The corn land pro¬
duces some rye, and the inhabitants are also employed in
rearing and feeding cattle; but their means of subsistence
is chiefly derived from the extensive woods with which it
abounds.
Arenswalde, the chief town of the circle of the same
name in Prussia. It contains 474 houses, and 2875 inha¬
bitants, who find some employment in weaving cloth, and
some in distilleries.
Arenz de Mar, a town of Spain, on the sea-shore, in
the province of Catalonia. It contains 3500 inhabitants,
and has manufactories for cotton, silk, woollen goods, and
stockings. There is a yard for building ships, and a forge
for casting anchors.
AREOLA, among anatomists, the coloured circle sur¬
rounding the nipple of the breast.
AREOPAGUS, a sovereign tribunal at Athens, famous
for the justice and impartiality of its decrees, to which the
gods themselves are said to have submitted their differ¬
ences. See the article Attica.
ARE17EUS of Cappadocia, a Greek physician of the
sect of the Pneumatists, who, according to some, lived in the
reign of Augustus; according to others, under Trajan or
Adrian. He wrote several treatises, in the Ionian dialect,
on acute diseases and other medicinal subjects, some of
which are still extant. The best edition of his works is
that of Boerhaave, in Greek and Latin, with notes, printed
in 1731; that printed at Oxford in 1723, in folio, is also
much esteemed.
ARETHUSA, the daughter of Nereus and Doris, and
the companion of Diana, who changed her into a fountain
to deliver her from the pursuit of her lover Alpheus.
Arethusa, a celebrated fountain near the city of Sy¬
racuse, in Sicily, famous for the quantity of its waters, and
the number of fishes it contained. Many fables were in¬
vented by the ancients concerning this fountain. They
had also a notion that the river Alpheus ran under or
through the waters of the sea, without mixing with them,
from Peloponnesus to Sicily. Mr Brydone informs us
that it still continues to send forth an immense quantity of
water, rising at once to the size of a river, but is entirely
abandoned by the fishes it formerly contained in such
plenty. Mr Swinburne describes this once famous fountain
as a large pool of water near the quay, defended from the
sea by a wall, and almost hidden by houses on every other
side. The water is not salt, but brackish, and fit for no
purpose but washing linen. “ Such,” says he, “ is the cele¬
brated fountain of Arethusa, whose soft, poetical name is
known to every reader.”
ARETIN, Guido, famous for his musical improvements,
lived in the 13th century. He was a native of Arezzo, a
city in Tuscany ; and having been taught the practice of
music in his youth, and being probably retained as a choris¬
ter in the service of the Benedictine monastery founded in
that city, he became a monk professed, and a brother of
the order of St Benedict.
In this retirement he seems to have devoted himself to
the study of music, particularly the system of the ancients.
480
Aretin.
ARE
and, above all, to reform their method of notation. _ The
difficulties that attended the instruction of youth in the
church offices were so great, that, as he himself says, ten
years were generally consumed barely in acquiring the
knowledge of the plain song; and this consideration in¬
duced him to labour after some amendment—some method
that might facilitate instruction, and enable those employ¬
ed in the choral office to perform the duties of it in a cor¬
rect and decent manner. Were we to credit those legen¬
dary accounts that are extant in old monkish manuscripts,
we should believe he was assisted in his pious intention
by immediate communications from heaven. Some speak
of the invention of the syllables as the effect of inspira¬
tion ; and Guido himself seems to have been of the same
opinion, by his saying it was revealed to him by the Lord,
or, as some interpret his words, in a dream. Graver his-
torians say, that being at vespers in the chapel of his mo¬
nastery, it happened that one of the offices appointed foi
that day was the hymn to St John,—
UT queant laxis RE.sonare fibris
Mira gcstorum FAmuli tuorum
SOLvc pullutls LAbiis reatum,
Sancte Joannes.
During the performance of the hymn, he remarked the
iteration of the words, and the frequent returns of ut, re,
MI, FA, SOL, LA. He observed likewise a dissimilarity be¬
tween the closeness of the syllable mi and broad open
sound of fa, which, he thought, could not fail to impress
upon the mind a lasting idea of their congruity; and im¬
mediately conceived a thought of applying these six syl¬
lables to perfect an improvement either then actually
made by him, or under consideration, viz. that of convert¬
ing the ancient tetrachords into hexachords.
Struck with the discovery, he retired to his study, and
having perfected his system, began to introduce it into
practice. The persons to whom he communicated it were
the brethren of his own monastery, from whom it met
with but a cold reception, which he ascribed to envy.
However, his interest with the abbot, and his employment
in the chapel, gave him an opportunity of trying the effi¬
cacy of his method on the boys who were training up for
the choral service, and it exceeded the most sanguine ex¬
pectation. “ To the admiration of all,” says Cardinal Ba-
ronius, “ a boy thereby learnt, in a few months, what no
man, though of great ingenuity, could before that attain
in several years.”
The fame of Guido’s invention soon spread abroad, and
his method of instruction was adopted by the clergy of
other countries. We are told by Kircher, that Herman-
nus, bishop of Hamburg, and Elviricus, bishop of Osna-
burg, made use of it; and by the authors of the Histoire
Litteraire de la France, that it was received in that coun¬
try, and taught in all the monasteries in the kingdom. It is
certain that the reputation of his great skill in music had
excited in the pope a desire to see and converse with
him; of which, and of his going to Rome for that pur¬
pose, and the reception he met with from the pontiff, he
himself has given a circumstantial account in the epistle
hereafter mentioned.
It seems that John XX., or, as some writers compute,
the nineteenth pope of that name, having heard of the
fame of Guido’s school, and conceiving a desire to see
him, sent three messengers to invite him to Rome. Upon
their arrival, it was resolved by the brethren of the mo¬
nastery that he should go thither attended by Grimaldo
the abbot, and Peter the chief of the canons of the church
of Arezzo. Arriving at Rome, he was presented to the
holy father, and by him received with great kindness.
The pope had several conversations with him, in all which
he interrogated him as to his knowledge in music; and
ARE
upon sight of an antiphonary which Guido had brought Aretlr
witli him, marked with the syllables agreeable to his new
invention, the pope looked upon it as a kind of prodigy,
and ruminating on the doctrines delivered by Guido, would
not stir from his seat till he had learned perfectly to sing
off a verse; upon which he declared that he could not
have believed the efficacy of the method, if he had not
been convinced by the experiment he had himself made
of it. The pope would have detained him at Rome; but
labouring under a bodily disorder, and fearing an injury
to his health from the air of the place, and the heats of
the summer, which was then approaching, Guido left that
city upon a promise to revisit it, and explain to his holi¬
ness the principles of his new system. On his return
homewards he made a visit to the abbot of Pomposa, a
town in the duchy of Ferrara, who was very earnest to
have Guido settle in the monastery of that place; to
which invitation, it seems, he yielded, being, as he says,
desirous of rendering so great a monastery still more fa¬
mous by his studies there.
Here it was that he composed a tract on music, entitled
Micrologus, i. e. a short discourse, which he dedicated
to Theobald, bishop of Arezzo ; and finished, as he him¬
self at the end of it tells us, under the pontificate of
John XX., and in the 34th year of his age. Vossius speaks
also of another musical treatise written by him, and dedi¬
cated to the same person.
Most of the authors who have taken occasion to men¬
tion Guido, speak of the Micrologus as containing the sum
of his doctrine; but it is in a small tract, entitled Argu-
mentum novi Cantus inveniendi, that his declaration of his
use of the syllables, with their several mutations, and in
short his whole doctrine of solmisation, is to be found.
This tract makes part of an epistle to a very dear and in¬
timate friend of Guido, whom he addresses thus, “ Bea-
tissimo atque dulcissimo fratri Michaieli,” at whose re¬
quest the tract itself seems to have been composed.
Whether Guido was the author of any other tracts is
not easy to determine. It nowhere appears that any of
his works were ever printed, except that Baronins, in his
Annales Ecclesiastici, tom. xi. p. 73, has given at length
the epistle from him to his friend Michael of Pomposa,
and that to Theobald, bishop of Arezzo, prefixed to the
Micrologus; and yet the writers on music speak of the
Micrologus as of a book in the hands of every one. Mar¬
tini cites several manuscripts of Guido; namely, two in
the Ambrosian library at Milan, the one written about the
twelfth century, the other less ancient; another among
the archives of the chapter of Pistoja, a city in Tuscany;
and a third in the Medico-Laurenziano library at Florence,
of the fifteenth century: these are clearly the Micrologus.
Of the epistle to Michael of Pomposa, together with the
Argumentum novi Cantus inveniendi, he mentions only
one, which, he says, is somewhere at Ratisbon. Of the
several tracts above mentioned, the last excepted, a ma¬
nuscript is extant in the library of Baliol college in Ox¬
ford.
Aretin, Leonard, one of the most learned men of the
fifteenth century, was secretary to the republic of Flo¬
rence, and translated from the Greek into Latin some of
the Lives of Plutarch, and Aristotle’s Ethics. He also
composed three books of the Punic war, that may serve
as a supplement to those wanting in Livy ; the history ol
the transactions in Italyr during his time ; that of ancient
Greece; that of the Goths; that of the republic of Flo¬
rence ; and many other books. He died in 1443, aged 74.
Aretin, Francis, a man of great reading, and well ac¬
quainted with the Greek language. He translated into
Latin the Commentaries of St Chrysostom upon St John,
and about 20 homilies of the same father; he also trans-
A R E
,Aj-in' lated the Letters of Phalaris into Latin, and wrote a
treatise De Balneis Puteolanis. He studied at Sienna
Are:50. about the year 1443, and afterwards taught law there
^ w;th such reputation that they called him the Prince of
Subtleties. He taught also in the university of Pisa, and
in that of Ferrara.
Aretin, Peter, a native of Arezzo, who lived in the
16th century. He was famous for his satirical writings ;
and was so bold as to carry his invectives even against
sovereigns, and from thence got the title of the Scourge
of Princes. Francis I., the emperor Charles V., most of
the princes of Italy, several cardinals, and many noble¬
men, courted his friendship by presents, either because
they liked his compositions, or perhaps from an apprehen¬
sion of falling under the lash of his satire. Aretin became
so insolent, that he is said to have got a medal struck, on
one side of which he is represented, with these words, II
divino Aretino ; and on the reverse, sitting upon a throne,
receiving the presents of princes, with these words, Iprin-
cipi tributati da popoli, tributano il servidor loro. Some
imagine that he gave himself the title of Divine, signify¬
ing thereby that he performed the functions of a god upon
earth, by the thunderbolts with which he struck the heads
of the highest personages. He used to boast that his
lampoons did more service to the world than sermons;
and it was said of him, that he had subjected more princes
by his pen than the greatest had ever done by their arms.
Aretin wrote many irreligious and obscene pieces; such
are his dialogues, called Ragionamenti. There is likewise
imputed to him another very obscene performance, De om¬
nibus Veneris schematibus. “ It was about the year 1525
(says M. Chevillier, Origine de tlmprimerie de Paris, p. 224)
that Julio Romano, the most famous painter of Italy, in¬
stigated by the enemy of the salvation of mankind, invent¬
ed drawings to engrave 20 plates ; the subjects are so im¬
modest that I dare only name them. Peter Aretin com¬
posed sonnets for each figure. George Vasari, who relates
this in his Lives of the Painters, says he does not know
which would be the greatest impurity, to cast one’s eyes
upon the drawings of Julio, or to dip into the verses of Are¬
tin.” Some say that Aretin changed his libertine principles ;
but however this may be, it is certain that he composed
several theological or pious pieces. He wrote a paraphrase
on the penitential psalms, and another on Genesis; the
Life of the Virgin Mary, and that of St Catharine of Si¬
enna, and of St Thomas Aquinas. His familiar Letters
have been collected, and published in 6 vols. 8vo, Paris,
1609. He was author likewise of various poetical pieces,
among which is a tragedy on the subject of the Horatii,
possessed of considerable merit. He died in the year
1556, at the age of 65.
ARETOLOGI, in Antiquity, a sort of philosophers,
chiefly of the Cynic or Stoic school, who frequented the
tables of great men, and entertained them in their ban¬
quets with disputations on virtue, vice, and other popular
topics. These are sometimes also denominated Circula-
tores Philosophi.
AREVALO, a town of Spain, in Old Castile, situated
at the junction of the river Adaja with the Arevalillo.
Lat. 41. 3. 57. N. and long. 4. 7. 57. W. It contains two
magazines for corn, and has 1600 houses and 4500 in¬
habitants.
AREZZO, a city of Italy, in Tuscany, seated in the
territory of Florence, on the declivity of a hill that over¬
looks the neighbouring plain, between the Citta di Cas-
telli and Florence. It is a bishop’s see, subordinate only
to the pope, and has two collegiate churches, 15 parishes,
18 religious houses, and four hospitals. It was at one
time famous for a kind of earthenware much esteemed by
the Romans. It afterwards fell greatly into decay, until
vol. in.
A R G 481
Cosmo de’ Medici took it under his protection, since Argea
which it has been recovering gradually. It is famed II
for being the birthplace of Maecenas, of Petrarch, and 0fArgentum.
Guido Aretin, the great improver of musical notation. A
popular insurrection broke out here against the French
general Macdonald, in his retreat from Naples to Upper
Italy in 1799. 25 miles E.N.E. of Sienna, and 34 S.E, of
Florence. Long. 11. 50. E. Lat. 43. 28. N.
ARGEA, or Argoei, in Roman Antiquity, thirty human
figures made of rushes, thrown annually by the priests or
vestals into the Tiber on the day of the ides of May.
ARGELES, an arrondissement in the department of
the Upper Pyrenees, in France, extending over 594 square
miles, or 380,160 acres. It is divided into five cantons, and
subdivided into 102 communes, with 36,912 inhabitants.—
The chief city of the arrondissement is of the same name.
It is situated in the beautiful valley of Lovedan, on the
banks of the Save d’Auzun, with 860 inhabitants.
ARGENCES, a town of France, in Lower Normandy,
now the department of Calvados, on the river Meance.
Long. 0. 10. W. Lat. 49. 15. N.
ARGENT, the common French word for silver. It is
used in heraldry to signify purity, beauty, and gentleness.
ARGENTAC, a town of France, in the Limousin, on
the river Dordogne. Long. 2. 3. E. Lat. 45. 5. N.
ARGENTAN, an arrondissement in the department of
the Orne, in France, extending over 737 square miles, or
470,630 acres. It comprehends 11 cantons, divided into
248 communes, with 115,512 inhabitants.—The chief city
of the arrondissement is of the same name. It is situated
on an elevation in a beautiful plain, through which the
Orne runs. It contains 6195 inhabitants, who make
thread-lace of a fine quality, some linen goods, and leather.
Around it many feathers are collected from flocks of
geese, kept with that object. Long. 0. 3. E. Lat. 48.
44. N.
ARGENTARIUS is frequently used in Roman writers
for a money-changer or banker. The argentarii were ca¬
pitalists, who made a profit either by the changing or
lending of money at interest. They had their tabernce
or offices in the forum Romanum, built there as early as
the reign of L. Tarquinius Priscus.
ARGENTEUIL, a town in the arrondissement of Ver¬
sailles and department of the Seine, on the right bank of
the river. It contains 4524 inhabitants. The vicinity
yields some wine and abundance of culinary vegetables,
and near it are some extensive quarries of gypsum.
ARGENTIERA, a small island in the Archipelago,
near Milo. It is about 18 miles in compass, and is full
of mountains, producing nothing but barley, cotton, and
a few grapes. Long. 23. 10. E. Lat. 36. 50. N.
ARGENTIERE, L’, an arrondissement in the depart¬
ment of the Ardeche, in France, extending over 716
square miles, or 458,240 acres, divided into 10 cantons,
and again into 104 communes, with 84,909 inhabitants.—
The capital of the arrondissement is a city of the same
name. It is in a deep valley, in which silk-mills are
turned by a stream that runs through it. It contains 390
houses and 1706 inhabitants.
ARGENTINES, a deity worshipped by the ancients
as the god of silver coin; as iEsculanus, whom they made
his father, was the god of brass money, which was in use
before silver.
ARGENTON, a town of France, divided into two by
the river Creuse. Here was formerly a castle, but it was
demolished by Louis XIV. Long. 1. 38. E. Lat. 40. 30. N.
ARGENTUM Album, in our old customs, silver coin,
or pieces of bullion that anciently passed for money.
Argentum Dei, Gods penny, anciently signified ear¬
nest money, or money given to bind a bargain ; in some
A R G
places called erles or ailes, and by the civilians and ca¬
nonists arrhce.
ARGIMNA, a town of Armenia, in the pacbalic of
Diarbekir, on the bead waters of the ligris, 40 miles
north-west from Diarbekir. It is situated on a lofty
mountain, and such is the declivity of the ground, that
the houses appear to be piled one above another; and in
winter the torrents rush down the streets with such vio¬
lence as to render them impassable. The town is popu¬
lous, but wretchedly built, and is remarkable for the quan¬
tity of wine and brandy made in its vicinity.
AHGISH, or Argisch, the ancient Arzes, a town of
Armenia, in the government of Van, situated on the north¬
west side of the lake Van, three days’ journey from the
town of that name. It contains 6000 inhabitants.
ARGO, in Antiquity, a ship or vessel celebrated among
the poets, being that wherein the Argonauts, of whom
Jason was the chief, made their expedition in quest of
the golden fleece. Jason having happily accomplished
his enterprise, consecrated the ship Argo to Neptune, or,
as others say, to Minerva, in the isthmus of Corinth,
where, they add, it did not remain long before it was
translated into heaven, and made a constellation.
ARGONAUTS, a company of illustrious Greeks who
embarked along with Jason in the ship Argo. “ The de¬
signs of the Argonauts,” says Dr Gillies, in his History of
Greece, “ are veiled under the allegorical, or at least doubt¬
ful, phrase of carrying off the golden fleece ; which, though
easily explained, if we admit the report that the inhabi¬
tants of the eastern banks of the Euxine extended fleeces
of wool in order to collect the golden particles which
were carried down by the torrents from Mount Caucasus,
is yet described in such various language by ancient wri¬
ters, that almost every modem who examines the subject
thinks himself entitled to offer, by way of explanation,
some new conjecture of his own. But in opposition to the
most approved of these conjectures, we may venture to
affirm that the voyage to Colchis was not undertaken with
a view to establish extensive plans of commerce, or to
search for mines of gold, far less to learn the imaginary
art of converting other substances into that precious me¬
tal ; all such motives supposing a degree of speculation
and refinement unknown in that age to the gallant but
uninstructed youth of Thessaly. The real object of the
expedition rpay be discovered by its consequences. The
Argonauts fought, conquered, and plundered; they set¬
tled a colony on the shores of the Euxine, and carried
into Greece a daughter of the king of Colchis, the cele¬
brated Medea, a princess of Egyptian extraction, whose
crimes and enchantments are condemned to eternal in¬
famy in the immortal lines of Euripides.”
Argonauts of St Nicholas was the name of a military
order instituted by Charles III., king of Naples, in the
year 1382, for the advancement of navigation, or, as some
say, merely for preserving amity among the nobles. They
wore a collar of shells inclosed in a silver crescent,
whence hung a ship with this device, Non credo tempori,
I do not trust time. Hence these Argonaut knights
came to be called knights of the shell. They received the
order of St Basil, archbishop of Naples, and held their as¬
semblies in the church of St Nicholas their patron.
ARGOS, an ancient name of Peloponnesus, from Argos,
one of the kings.
Several ancient cities bore the name of Argos, parti¬
cularly the capital of Argolis or Argeia.
A R G
ARGUIN, a small island in a bay of the same name, Ar
situated on the western coast of Africa, near the southern
termination of the Great Desert. Major Rennell supposes M.
it to be the island to which the ancients, and particularly
Hanno, gave the name of Cerne. The Portuguese early J
formed a settlement there, and even made it for some
time the principal point from which they attempted to
penetrate into the interior; but the extensive deserts by
which it was bordered were very unfavourable for this ob¬
ject, and the banks of the Senegal have been found more
advantageous in every respect. The shores round Arguin,
however, abound with valuable turtle, and the sea affords
a considerable supply of stock fish. Long. 16. 20. W.
Lat. 20. 23. N.
ARGUN, Argan, or Ergon, a river of Tartary, in the
country of the Mongols, which rises from a lake called
Dalai, or Koulon-nor, situated in long. 119. 14. E. and
lat. 49. N. It is considered to be the original source of
the Amur, and by the treaty of Nertschinsk, concluded
in 1690, is established as the mutual boundary between the
Chinese and Russian empires, from its source to its mouth.
4RGUNSK0I, a town and fortress of Siberia, in the
government of Irkutsk, on the west bank of the above
river, 162 miles from its mouth. It was first built in 1682,
on the opposite side of the river, but was removed to its
present site in consequence of the treaty of Nertschinsk.
It carries on a considerable trade, but is situated in an
extremely cold and inhospitable country. In the neigh¬
bourhood are valuable silver mines, and fine gold is fre¬
quently extracted from the ore. 177 miles east of Nerts¬
chinsk.
ARGUS, in fabulous history, was the son of Aristor,
and had 100 eyes, 50 of which were always open. Juno
made choice of him to guard lo, whom Jupiter had trans¬
formed into a white heifer; but Jupiter, pitying lo for
being so closely confined, sent Mercury, who with his
flute charmed Argus to sleep, sealed up his eyes with his
caduceus, and then cut off his head; when Juno, to re¬
ward his fidelity, turned him into a peacock, and placed
his eyes in his tail.
Argus-shell, a species of porcelain shell, beautifully va¬
riegated with spots, resembling in some measure those in
a peacock’s tail.
ARGUTliE, witty and acute sayings, which commonly
signify something further than the mere words at first
sight seem to import. j
ARGYLESHIRE or Argyllshire, an extensive coun¬
ty in the west of Scotland, is usually described under two
great divisions,—the mainland, and such of the Western
Islands as are politically attached to it. It is of the for¬
mer only that we propose to give some account at present,
referring to the article Hebrides for the islands noted
below,1 which form a part of this county.
The mainland of Argyleshire, situate between 55° 21'Boui >fS
and 57° north latitude, and between 1° 22' and 3° 25' ofanii(
longitude west from Edinburgh, is bounded on the north
by Inverness-shire, on the east by the counties of Perth
and Dumbarton, on the south by the Irish Sea, and on
the west by the Atlantic Ocean; the Frith of Clyde,
which separates it from the shire of Renfrew, forming its
boundary on the south-east. Its greatest length, from the
Mull of Kintyre on the s:>uth to the point of Ardnamur-
chan on the north, is. 115 miles; its breadth above 68;
and from the windings of the numerous bays and creeks
with which the land is everywhere indented, it is suppos-
1 Fhose of the first rate are Islay, Mull, and Jura; of the second, Gigha and Cara, Colonsay, Lismore, Tyree, Coll, Ulva and
Gometra, Kerreray, Luing, Sell or Saoil ; and of the third, Scarba, Lunga, Shuna, Icolmkill or Iona, Eisdale, Inch Kenneth, Stana,
Monk, Rum, and Cannay.
ARGYLESHIRE.
483
An/le- ed to have more than 600 miles of sea-coast. The main-
i^l JL. land of Argyleshire is divided into 35 parishes, nine of
n which are united, reducing the number to 26: two in
part belong to Inverness-shire, and onty one is altoge¬
ther inland. The extent of this part of the county is
equal to about one thirteenth part of the whole of Scot¬
land, the land comprehending 2200 square miles, and the
lakes 60.
si L„nai The general features of the country are varied and strik-
des^)- ing in a high degree, consisting of lofty mountains, deep
t[on glens, and inlets of the sea entering far into the land.
Towards the northern parts it assumes the wild and sa¬
vage grandeur so peculiarly characteristic of the Highlands
of Scotland. Mountains piled on mountains in magnifi¬
cent disorder present a sublime, but, in an agricultural
point of view, a very unpromising prospect; yet in the
most barren districts the hills supply pasture for sheep
in considerable numbers ; and on the valleys and low
grounds are raised oats, here or big, and potatoes, part of
which latter produce is exported. Some qf the moun¬
tains are among the loftiest in Scotland, particularly Ben
Cruachan, which rises 3390 feet above the level of the
sea; and on the borders towards the counties of Perth
and Dumbarton, the mountains contiguous to Ben Lomond
are little inferior to it in height. The inlets of the sea are
very numerous. Amongst others are Loch Fine, Loch
Etive, Loch Welford, Loch Linnhe, Loch Leven, &c.
The district of Kintyre enters into the north channel, and
is almost divided from the mainland at the narrow isthmus
of Tarbat. The district of Cowal is also nearly peninsu-
lated by Loch Long on the one side and Loch Fine on the
other. The interior parts of the county are interspersed
with a great number of small fresh-water lakes. A bar¬
renness of soil and scanty vegetation prevail chiefly on
the summits of the higher mountains, which exhibit great
masses of stratified rocks or groups in a columnar form.
Some of the glens are covered with large fragments of
these which have been precipitated from the impending
cliffs, and consequently afford but scanty pasturage ; how¬
ever, the greater part of them yield good grass. Others
of them exhibit miles of fertility, verdure, and cultivation,
particularly Glendarual, the most prolific valley of the
county. Formerly Argyleshire was interspersed writh
numerous woods, which, uniting with the lofty mountains,
formed the most romantic scenery. But these have been
almost all cut down or destroyed to make way for the in¬
troduction of sheep; and planting has not, except in a few
instances, been carried to any considerable extent. The
late duke of Argyle planted very extensively in the
neighbourhood of Inverary, and several other gentlemen
have followed his example ; nevertheless, one of the most
striking features in the aspect of the county is its want
of wood. Remains of ancient forests are still very exten¬
sive in various places ; and these consist chiefly of oaks,
ashes, pines, and birches. The level of the country to¬
wards the southern parts descends the nearest to an equa¬
lity with that of the sea. The elevation of the country is
highest towards the interior parts of the counties of Perth
and Inverness.
I he fallow-deer, which formerly abounded in the woods
and on the mountains, are now only to be seen in the pre¬
serves of a few gentlemen ; but forest deer are still found
in considerable numbers in Glenetive and in Mull. Roes
are pretty numerous in the northern parts of the county,
and moor game are also found in abundance. The black-
cattle, which in former times ran wild on the mountains, are
now entirely confined to the low grounds, where their
young are fed in winter by the proprietors. Fish are not
at all so abundant as is generally supposed; for although
"kite fish are taken in considerable numbers, particularly
in the neighbourhood of Campbeltown, still the quantity is Argyle-
small compared with what is taken on other parts of the sllire-
Scotish coast; and Loch Fine is the only inlet of the sea
distinguished for its herring-fishery. There are valuable
metals to be found in this county, such as copper, lead,
and iron; and also some minerals, particularly strontian.
The only crops cultivated to any extent in the main-Agricul-
land of Argyleshire are here or big, oats, and potatoes.ture and
Wheat is raised near Campbeltown, and in other parts ofstate °*
Kintyre ; but the quantity is very small, the climate beingI)roi3erC^'
too wet and variable for its successful cultivation. But
the management of potatoes in this district is equal to
that of any other part of Scotland, and great quantities
are annually exported from it. Turnips and sown grasses
are pretty common in the southern, and, among the larger
farmers, in the northern districts. Clovers are also frequent;
but notwithstanding that these and other green crops are
better adapted to the climate than grain, they have not
yet come into extensive culture. The principal object in
the culture of big is the supply of the distilleries. The
great body of the inhabitants live almost exclusively on
oatmeal and potatoes, of the former of which they have
been in the practice of importing about 20,000 bolls (of
140 lbs.) annually. The progress of agriculture in this
county has been greatly retarded, both by the nature of
the land and the political condition of the people. .Out
of 1,408,000 acres, only 125,000 are arable ; and these are
scattered unconnected over a broad and broken surface,
on the sides of hills, or in valleys between rocky emi¬
nences, particularly in the northern districts. Another
obstacle to improvement will be found in the remains of
the feudal system. This county is peopled with a few
great proprietors, and a numerous small tenantry, servile
in their habits to their superiors, ignorant and indolent in
their character, and in their domestic economy presenting
all the repulsive features of poverty. Of the valued rent,
taken in 1751, of the mainland, with four small islands,
amounting to L.9924. 8s. Id., almost a fourth belongs to
two proprietors. This valuation was considered to be
equal to the half of the real rent at that period, after de¬
ducting all public burdens; but in 1798, when the agri¬
cultural survey of the county was published, the gross
rental had risen to L.89,000, collected from upwards of
2700 tenants; and in 1811 the rent of the whole county,
of which the islands might produce about a fifth, amounted
to L.192,073. 14s. 2d. for the lands, and for the houses to
L.5208. 18s. lOd. But the most important obstacles to
agricultural improvement are inefficient draining, the want
of leases, the high rack-rents that are generally exacted,
and the system of letting farms to small tenants, who pos¬
sess the grass in common, and have “ rig about” of the
arable land, which they exchange with each other every
second year. But Kintyre must be an exception from the
remarks upon the county in general. In that district agri¬
culture is more encouraged, and consequently more pros¬
perous. Indeed it cannot be denied that the county
throughout has been considerably improved, but certainly
not to the extent of its resources; and it is to be hoped
that the frequent transference of landed property which
has taken place within the last fifty years, and the ex¬
ample and encouragement of the late duke of Argyle,
the greatest landholder in it, cannot fail to extend a more
beneficial system of rural economy. It may be remarked,
that of late years considerable numbers of the inhabitants,
and those not of the poorest class, have emigrated to
America.
Cattle were long the principal source of the revenue Cattle ami
of the landholders and tenantry of Argyleshire; and the sheep,
native breed, which has been improved of late by more
careful treatment, is well known to be equal, if not supe-
484
Argyle- rior, to any other race of cattle in the kingdom,
shire, number in 1798 was computed at upwards of 50,000, and
they are understood to have increased considerably since ;
for though they are now excluded from the more elevated
tracts, which are better occupied by sheep, the improved
management of the lower grounds, small as it is compared
with what it might be, has, upon the whole, enlarged the
means of their subsistence. These cattle are sent from
the country in a store condition, commonly when about
three years old, and fatted on the pastures of the south,
the greater number for the consumption of England. Dairy
husbandry is practised to some extent in the southern
parts of Kintyre, where there is a large proportion of ara¬
ble land; but it cannot be extended to the inland and
more mountainous districts of the county.
Until the middle of last century, the only sheep in Ar-
gyleshire were of the small native race, and their number
was inconsiderable; but these have entirely disappeared,
and we do not know that there is a single animal of the
breed to be found, except in the most distant islands of
the Hebrides. The black-faced is the species that is now
almost universally reared. About the period above refer¬
red to, coarse-woolled heath sheep were introduced into
the higher and more barren districts; and as it was soon
discovered that the scanty herbage of these gloomy moun¬
tains could be converted into a much greater quantity of
mutton than of beef, besides yielding a valuable article
of manufacture, these hardy animals soon spread over ex¬
tensive regions, upon which cattle could barely subsist in
the summer months; and the income of the landed pro¬
prietors and of the public was accordingly augmented in
proportion. At present probably two fifths of the whole
rent of land paid in the county arises from the produce of
the sheep-farm. Notwithstanding the outcry of ignorance,
and the more mischievous speculations of mistaken phi¬
lanthropy, the introduction of this species of live stock,
now increased to about 300,000, has not had the effect of
diminishing the population of Argyleshire.
In this division of the county there is a considerable ex¬
tent of natural coppice-wood, probably near 40,000 acres,
which are cut periodically, commonly every 19 or 20
years, and at one time the returns were at the rate of
about 20s. per acre annually; but the value of this ar¬
ticle has of late greatly diminished. Very extensive plan¬
tations have been formed by the duke of Argyle and other
proprietors. Those of his Grace are reckoned to contain
2,000,000 of trees, worth 4s. each, amounting to the enor¬
mous sum of L.400,000.
Fisheries. The great extent of sea-coast which Argyleshire pos¬
sesses, and the nature of the county, penetrated as it is
in almost every direction by arms of the sea, and traversed
by extensive lakes, afford ample facilities for the prosecu¬
tion of fisheries; but, either from the unproductiveness of
the waters, or the want of vigour and perseverance in the
fishermen, with the exception of those of Loch Fine, the
fisheries have neither been extensive nor lucrative. The
white-fishing especially has been neglected. Enterprising
fishermen might certainly greatly increase the produce in
this branch, which would be of essential benefit to the in¬
habitants of so ungenial a territory. In Loch Fine alone,
in the years 1794 and 1795, the herrings caught were
computed to be worth more than L.89,000 (Smith’s Sur-
vey, 1798); but the fisheries there have of late years
greatly fallen off.
Minerals. The mainland of Argyleshire is principally composed
of primitive rocks, which in some quarters are skirted
and intermixed with those of the transition class, while
flcetz rocks occur very sparingly. No volcanic rocks have
hitherto been met with in the mainland of Argyleshire,
but those of an alluvial nature abound everywhere. The
primitive and transition rocks are stratified, and the gene- Arevl
ral direction of the strata is from north-east to south-west, stee,
The primitive rocks are granite, gneiss, mica slate, clay^V
slate, limestone, porphyry, sienite, trap, and quartz roc^.
The transition rocks are greywacke, greywacke slate, clay
slate, trap, and quartz; and the floetz rocks are red sand¬
stone, conglomerate, and rocks of the coal formation. The
islands off the coast of Argyleshire afford highly interest¬
ing examples of rocks of the different classes: Isla and
Jura, of the primitive and transition rocks ; Mull, of floetz
and primitive rocks; Staffa, Rum, and Canny, of floetz
rocks; and Coll, Tyree, and Iona, of primitive rocks.
Coal has been wrought for many years near Campbell-
town in Kintyre, and lead at Strontian in Sunart; and be¬
sides the slate quarries of Easdale, an island belonging to
this county, others have been opened at Ballachelish in
Appin, and on the islands of Belnahua, Luing, Seil, and
Kerrara.
Manufactures have made little progress in this district,Manuft,
and no attempts to establish them upon a large scale have toes,
yet been successful. Mr Dale endeavoured to extend to
it some branches of the cotton manufacture, which failed,
it is said, from want of water-carriage; but a number of
weavers in Campbeltown and its neighbourhood have
been employed for some time in working cottons from
Glasgow. The late duke of Argyle established a woollen
manufactory near Inverary, which languished for some
time, and was finally abandoned many years ago. There
is a bleachfield in Kintyre, a tannery at Campbeltown, and
another at Oban, which, however, has not been wrought
for several years ; and there are iron-works in Upper Lorn,
belonging to an English company, who bring the ore
thither chiefly for the sake of the charcoal which the woods
afford. The manufacture of kelp from sea-weed, to the
extent of 800 tons annually, is none of the least profitable
branches of industry; and that of their scanty crops of
grain into ardent spirits, certainly the most pernicious.
The commerce of Argyleshire is also very limited, itsComrae
exports consisting chiefly of raw produce: sheep, cattle,
and fish, format least two thirds of the whole; and slates,
oak bark, and kelp, constitute nearly the remainder. The
imports are almost confined to the supply of necessaries,
principally oatmeal and flour, and such articles of luxury
as habit has rendered scarcely less indispensable.
Thus, notwithstanding its natural advantages, this county
is far from being characteristic either of wealth or indus¬
try. It was expected that the Crinan Canal, which was
cut across the peninsula of Kintyre, at an expense of
L.140,000, shortening the voyage from the West High¬
land and Hebridean ports to the river Clyde about 200
miles, would cause an influx of wealth to the county; but
neither it nor the Caledonian Canal, which gives access
from the county to the German Ocean, has answered the
expectations of the projectors, or contributed in any emi¬
nent degree to the prosperity of Argyleshire. Indeed,
but for steam navigation, both would have been nearly
useless ; and even with that accessory, there is no adequate
return for the vast sums expended on them.
This county still contains many ancient monuments,Histor
which display the warlike spirit of its former inhabitants.
In the course of the eighth and ninth centuries it was
conquered, along with the neighbouring isles, by the Danes
and Norwegians. For five or six centuries it continued
under the dominion of Norway, and during that period
was under the direct administration of feudal chieftains,
generally of Norwegian extraction, who each maintained
an almost independent government. Along with the
Hebridean isles, all the western parts of Argyle became
the conquest of the Scotish monarchs in the 14th cen¬
tury. Some time after, Macdonald, the representative of
ARGYLESHIRE.
Their
A R I
f,f Ar k- this region, obtained leave from the Scotish crown to
^ 9: -e hold his possessions as a feudatory to that kingdom ; but,
from his turbulent spirit, he and his family were engaged
>' g A nine- jn perpetual rebellions, which were at last punished by
t}je forfeiture of their estates, which, along with their
titles, were bestowed on the Campbells; and these have
ever since retained them in peace and loyalty, beloved
and honoured by their country. The county of Argyle
gives the title of Duke and Dari to the chief of this family,
who likewise enjoys several other important posts under
the crown. His vassals are so numerous, that in former
A R 'I 485
times he could on occasion bring 3000 or 4000 fighting Argyle-
men into the field. This clan is numerous in Argyleshire, sh>re
and there are a great number of castles and seats belong- . JI
ing to gentlemen who hold of the duke, and boast them-
selves descended from his family.
The county sends one member to parliament; it is also
the seat of a provincial synod. It contains two royal
boroughs and 49 parishes.
The population of the whole county, as taken under
the last population acts of 1811 and 1821, will be seen from
the following tables.
1811.
DISTRICTS.
Argyle..
Cowal...
Islay 
Kintyre.
Lorn 
Mull 
HOUSES.
2702
1212
2636
2959
2721
3010
15240
By how
many
Families
occupied.
3720
1276
2687
3733
2845
3107
17368
3
76
44
1162
62
353
24
1721
Families
chiefly em¬
ployed in
Agricul¬
ture.
OCCUPATIONS.
1568
789
1284
1074
1064
2642
8421
Families
chiefly em¬
ployed in
Trade, Ma¬
nufactures,
or Handi¬
craft.
545
329
615
924
752
254
3419
All other
Families not
comprised
in the two
preceding
classes.
1607
158
788
1735
1029
211
5528
Males.
7729
3318
6814
8404
6462
7948
40675
Females.
7908
3569
7348
9882
7317
8886
44910
Total of
Persons.
15637
6887
14162
18286
13779
16834
85585
1821.
DISTRICTS.
Argyle...
Cowal...
Islay 
Kintyre.
Lorn 
Mull 
HOUSES.
IW
a
M
By hoi
many
Families
occupied.
2966
1327
2892
2823
2827
3224
16059
3343
1402
3122
4014
3091
3337
18309
^ -3
C -O
c3 a;
.ri
a
3 *2
Ph 3
43
40
48
57
141
1040
1369
Families
chiefly eim
ployed in
Agricul¬
ture.
OCCUPATIONS.
1887
501
2246
869
1246
2240
8989
Families
chiefly em¬
ployed in
Trade, Ma¬
nufactures,
or Handi¬
craft.
504
372
447
895
826
424
3468
All other
Families not
comprised
in the two
preceding
classes.
952
529
429
2250
1019
673
5852
Males.
8648
3874
8476
9584
7584
9339
47505
Females.
8802
3858
8517
10814
7686
9864
49541
Total of
Persons.
17450
7732
16993
20668
15270
19203
97316
ARGYRASPIDES, or Argyroaspides, in Antiquity,
persons armed with silver bucklers, or bucklers silvered.
ARIADN7EA, in Grecian Antiquity, two festivals at
Naxos, in honour of two women named Ariadne. One of
them being the daughter of King Minos, they had, in the
solemnity dedicated to her, a show of sorrow and mourn¬
ing ; and, in memory of her being left by Theseus near
the time of child-birth, it was usual for a young man to lie
down and counterfeit all the agonies of a woman in labour.
This festival is said to have been first instituted by Theseus,
to atone for his ingratitude to that princess.—The other
Ariadne was thought to be of a gay and sprightly temper,
and therefore her festival was observed with music and
other expressions of mirth and joy.
ARIADNE, daughter of Minos, king of Crete. Theseus
being sent to destroy the Minotaur, Ariadne was so taken
with him, that, as a testimony of her love, she gave Theseus
a clue of thread to guide him out of the labyrinth. Theseus,
having killed the Minotaur, carried off the Athenians he
had relieved, together with Ariadne, whom, however, he
afterwards forsook.
ARIANCOOPAN, a small town of Hindostan, on the
sea-coast of the Carnatic, which in 1748 was taken by
Admiral Boscawen. The fortifications have long disappear¬
ed ; and the place still belongs to the French, who have a
church here, and resort to it on festival days. 3 miles
south of Pondicherry. Long. 79. 52. E. Lat. 11. 54. N.
ARIANO, a city of the Principato-Ultra in Naples, with
10 churches and convents, and 11,718 inhabitants.
ARIANS, followers of Arius, a presbyter of the church
of Alexandria about the year 315, who maintained that
the Son of God was totally and essentially distinct from
the Father; that he was the first and noblest of those
beings whom God had created, the instrument by whose
486 . A R I
Arias subordinate operation he formed the universe, and there-
II fore inferior to the Father both in nature and dignity,
Arion. also, that the Holy Ghost was not God, but created by
v^-'-.^^/the power of the Son. Ihe Arians owned that the Son
was the Word, but denied that the Word was eternal.
They held that Christ had nothing of man in him but the
flesh, to which the Aoyoj or Word was joined, which was
the same as the soul in us. The appellation of Avian has
been indiscriminately applied in more modern times to
all those who consider Jesus Christ as inferior and subor¬
dinate to the Father, and whose sentiments cannot be
supposed to coincide exactly with those of the ancient
Arians. Mr Whiston was one of the first divines who re¬
vived this controversy in the beginning of the ISth cen¬
tury. He wras followed by Dr Clarke, who published his
famous book entitled The Scripture Doctrine of the Tri¬
nity, in consequence of which he was reproached with the
title of Semi-Avian. Dr Waterland, who has been charged
with verging towards Tritheism, was one of his principal
adversaries. The history of this controversy may be found
in a work entitled An Account of all the considerable Books
and Pamphlets that have been wrote on either side, in the Con¬
troversy concerning the Trinity, from, the Year 1712/ in
which also is contained an Account of the Pamphlets written
this last year on each side by the Dissenters, to the end of the
year 1719; published in London in 1720.
ARIAS Montanus, a learned Spanish divine, employ¬
ed by Philip II. of Spain to publish another edition of the
Bible after that of Cardinal Ximenes, which he finished
with applause, and died at Seville in 1598.
AR1CINA, in Mythology, a surname of Diana, under
which appellation she was honoured in the forest Aricine,
so called from Aricia, a princess of the blood-royal of
Athens.
AR1ENZO, a city of Naples, in the province of Lavoro.
It stands on a hill, with an ancient castle overlooking it,
contains seven parish churches, an hospital, and 10,770
inhabitants, including the populous suburbs.
ARIES, in Astronomy, a constellation of fixed stars
drawn on the globe in the figure of a ram. It is the first
of the twelve signs of the zodiac, from which a twelfth
part of the ecliptic takes its denomination.
ARIMANIUS, the evil god of the ancient Persians.
The Persian magi held two principles—a good demon or
god, and an evil one; the first the author of all good, and
the other of all evil: the former they supposed to be re¬
presented by light, and the latter by darkness, as their
truest symbols. The good principle they named Yezad
or Yesdan, and Ormozd or Hormizda, which the Greeks
wrote Oromasdes; and the evil demon they called Ahri-
man, and the Greeks Arimanius. Some of the magians
held both these principles to have been from all eternity;
but this sect was reputed heterodox, the original doctrine
being that the good principle only was eternal, and the
other created.
ARIOLI, in Antiquity, a kind of prophets or religious
conjurers, who, by abominable prayers and horrible sacri¬
fices at the altars of idols, procured answers to their ques¬
tions concerning future events. Isid. Orig. lib. viii. cap.
9. These are also called harioli, and their operation hario-
lation. Sometimes they were denominated aruspices or
haruspices. The arioli were distinguished by a slovenly
dress, disorderly and matted beards, hair, &c.
_ ARION, an excellent musician and poet, inventor of
dithyrambics. Periander entertained him at his court,
where, getting an estate, and returning to Corinth, the
sailors, in order to possess themselves of his money, threw
him into the sea, when, according to the poets, a dolphin,
charmed with his music, took him on her back and carried
him safe to shore.
A R I
Arion, an admirable horse, much more famous in Arion
poetic history than Bucephalus in that of Alexander. H
Authors speak variously of his origin, though they agree vAriostn
in giving him a divine one. His production is most com-
monly ascribed to Neptune. This god, according to some,
raised him out of the ground by a stroke of his trident;
according to others, he begot him upon the body of the
fury Erinnys; according to others, upon that of Ceres,
whom he ravished in the form of a horse, she having pre¬
viously assumed the form of a mare to elude his pursuit.
This horse was nursed by the Nereids; and being some¬
times yoked with the sea-horses of Neptune to the chariot
of this god, he drew him with incredible swiftness through
the sea. He had this singularity in him, that his right
feet resembled those of a man. Neptune gave him to
Capreus, king of Haliartus. Capreus made a present of
him to Hercules, who mounted him when he took the city
of Elis, gained the prize with him in the race against
Cygnus, the son of Mars, near Trcecena, and at last made
a present of him to Adrastus. It is under this last mas¬
ter that Arion has signalized himself the most: he won
the prize at the Nemean games, which the princes who
went to besiege Thebes instituted in honour of Archemo-
rus; and was the cause that Adrastus did not perish in
this famous expedition, as all the other chiefs did.
ARIOSTO, Lodovico, one of the greatest poets of
Italy, was born at Reggio in Lombardy, on the 8th day
of September 1474. His father was Niccolo Ariosto, com¬
mander of the citadel of Reggio, and his mother Daria
Malaguzzi of that city, where the family still exists. He
showed a strong inclination to poetry from his earliest
years, but was obliged by his father to study the law—a
pursuit in which he lost five of the best years of his life.
Having obtained liberty to follow his inclination, he ap¬
plied himself to literature ; and he intended to peruse the
classics under Gregorio da Spoleti. But after having had
the benefit of this learned man’s instructions for a short
time, during which he read the best Latin authors, he
was deprived of it, Gregorio having gone to France as
tutor of Prince Sforza; and he thus lost the opportunity of
learning Greek, as he intended. His father dying soon
after, he was compelled to forego his literary occupations
to undertake the management of the family, whose attairs
were embarrassed, and to provide for the subsistence and
education of his nine brothers and sisters, one of whom
was a cripple. He, however, wrote some comedies in
prose, and some lyrical pieces, about this time; and was
then appointed one of the gentlemen of the cardinal
Ippolito of Este. This prince usurped the character of
a patron of literature, whilst the only reward which the
poet received for having dedicated to him the Orlando
Furioso, was the question, Where did you find so many
stories, Master Ludovic ? The poet himself tells us that
the cardinal was ungrateful; deplores the time which he
spent under his yoke; and adds, that if he received some
miserable pension, it was not to reward him for his poetry,
which that prelate despised, but to make some just com¬
pensation for the poet’s running like a messenger, with
risk of life, at his eminence’s pleasure. Nor was even this
miserable pittance regularly paid during the period that
the poet enjoyed it. The cardinal went to Hungary in
1518, and wished Ariosto to accompany him. I he poet
excused himself, pleading ill health, his love of study, the
care of his private affairs, and the age of his mother, whom
it would have been disgraceful to leave. His excuses were
not received, and even an interview denied to him. Ariosto
then boldly said, that if his eminence thought to have
bought a slave by assigning him the scanty pension oi
seventy-five crowns a year, he was mistaken, and that he
might withdraw his boon, which it seems that prelate cud.
A R I
. ^0. Alfonso, duke of Ferrara, then received Ariosto among
his courtiers, which was an act of pure justice, that poet
having distinguished himself as a diplomatist, chiefly on
being sent twice to Rome as ambassador to the Pope
Giulio II. The fatigue of one of these hurried journeys
brought upon him a complaint from which he never reco¬
vered; and on his second mission he was nearly killed by
orders of that violent pope, at that time much enraged
against the duke of Ferrara. On account of the war, his
salary of only 84 crowns a year was suspended, and with¬
drawn altogether after the peace; in consequence of which
Ariosto asked the duke either to provide for him, or to
allow him to go to seek employment elsewhere. A pro¬
vince belonging to that sovereign, situated on the wildest
heights of the Apennines, being then without a governor,
Ariosto was sent thither in that character, and remained
there for three years. This was not a sinecure. The
province was distracted by factions and banditti, the go¬
vernor had not the requisite means to enforce his autho¬
rity, and the duke did not support his minister as he
ought. Yet it is said that Ariosto’s government satisfied
both his sovereign and the people confided to his care;
and a story is added of his having fallen in, when walking
out alone, with a party of banditti, whose chief apologized
to the governor for not having immediately shown to him
that respect which his rank required.
Although he was dissatisfied with his office, he would
not accept an embassy to Pope Clement VIL, which the
secretary of the duke offered him; and spent the remain¬
der of his life at Ferrara, writing comedies, superintending
their performance, as well as the construction of a theatre,
and correcting his Orlando Furioso, of which the com¬
plete edition was published only in 1532. Fie died of a
consumption on the 6th of June 1533.
That he w^as honoured and respected by the first men of
his age is a fact; that most of the princes of Italy showed
him great partiality is equally true; but they limited
their patronage to kind words. It is not known that he
ever received any substantial mark of their love for litera¬
ture : he lived and died poor. He proudly wrote, on the
entrance of a house built by himself,
Parva, sed apta mihi, seel nulli obnoxia, sed non
Sordida, parta meo sed tamen aere donius;
which serves to show the incorrectness of the assertion of
flatterers, followed by Tiraboschi, that the duke of Fer¬
rara built that house for him. The only one who seems
to have given any thing to Ariosto as a reward for his
poetical talent is the marquess del Vasto, w*ho assigned
him an annuity of one hundred crowns on the revenues of
Casteleone in Lombardy; but it was only paid, if ever,
from the end of 1531. That he was crowned as poet by
Charles V. seems untrue, although a diploma may have
been issued to that effect by the emperor.
I he character of Ariosto seems to have been fully and
justly delineated by Gabrielle, his brother :—
Ornabat pietas et grata niodestia Vatem,
San eta tides, dictique memor, munitaque recto
Justitia, et nullo patientia victa labore,
Ft constans virtus animi, et dementia mitis,
Ambitione procul pulsa, fastusque tumore.
His satires, in which we see him before us such as he
''as, show that there was no flattery in this portrait,
f rom these compositions (the interest of which is only
equalled by the elegance as well as naivete of the poetry,
an the shrewdness of observation of human nature which
>e poet displays), we are highly pleased with a noble
sentiment of independence displayed by Ariosto. He
seems to have been very fond, and even jealous, of his
11 1 eity. He was, moreover, of a changeable disposition,
A R I 487 •
which he very frankly confesses in his Latin verses, as Ariosto,
well as m the satires.
Hoc dim ingenio vitales hausimus auras
Multa cito ut placeant, displicitura brevi.
Non in amore modo mens haec, sed in omnibus impar
Ipsa sibi longa non retinenda mora.
Hence he never would bind himself, either by goino- into
orders or marrying, till towards the end of his life, "when
he married Alessandra, widow of Tito Strozzi. He had
no issue by her, although he left two natural sons by differ¬
ent mothers.
His Latin poems do not perhaps deserve to be noticed,
because, in the age of Flaminio, Vida, Fracastoro, and San-
nazzaro, and from a poet like Ariosto, we have a right
to expect better things. His lyrical compositions show a
poet, although they do not seem worthy of Ariosto. His
comedies, of which he wrote four, besides one which he
left unfinished, are avowedly imitated from Plautus and
leicntius; and although natives may admire in them
the elegan.ee of the diction, the liveliness of the dialogue,
and the novelty of some scenes, few will feel interest
either in the subject or in the characters, and none will
approve the immoral passages with which they are disfi¬
gured—a fault more to be reproached to the audience
and the patrons of theatrical representations in those days
than to the poet. J
Of all the works of Ariosto, however, the most sol'd
and best known monument of his fame is his poem the
Orlando Furioso, the extraordinary merits of which have
cast into oblivion the numberless romance poems which
inundated Italy during the 15th, 16th, and 17th cen¬
turies.
I he popularity which a poem, now shamefully neglect¬
ed, the Orlando Innamorato, by Bojardo, enjoyed in Ari¬
osto’s time, cannot be well conceived, now that the en¬
thusiasm of the Crusades, and the interest which was at¬
tached to a war against the Moslems, are no longer felt.
Bojardo wrote and read his poem at the court of Ferrara,
but died before he was able to finish it. Many poets un¬
dertook the difficult task of completing that magnificent
work ; but it was reserved to Ariosto both to finish and
to surpass his original. Bojardo did not perhaps yield to
Ariosto either in vigour or in richness of imagination,
but he lived in a less refined age, and died before he was
able to put a finishing hand to that part of the poem
which he had written yielding to the impulse of his exu¬
berant fancy ; but Ariosto united to a powerful imagina¬
tion a refined taste and an elegant mind. He began to
write his poem about 1503; and after having consulted
the first men of the age of Leo X., he published it in 1516,
in only 40 cantos; and up to the moment of his death
never ceased to correct and improve both the subject and
the sty le. It is in this latter quality that he excels, and
for which Italians gave him the name o\' I)ivino Lodovico.
When jesting he never forgets that he was a gentleman ;
W'hen attempting pathetic descriptions or narratives, he
searches the reader’s deepest feelings. In his machinery
he displays a vivacity of fancy with which no other poet
can vie ; but he never lets his fancy carry him so far as
to omit to employ, with an art peculiar to him, those sim¬
ple and natural pencil-strokes with which he gives to the
most extraordinary feats a colour of reality which conci¬
liates our reason without undeceiving our bewildered
imagination. The death of Zerbino, the complaints of
Isabella, the effects of discord among the Saracens, the
flight of Astolfo to the moon, the passion which causes
Orlando’s madness, teem with beauties of every species.
It is to be observed that the supposition that the poem
of Ariosto is not connected throughout is utterly unfound¬
ed ; there is a connection which, with a little attention,
488
A R I
Aripo will become evident. The love of Ruggero and Brada-
II mante forms the main subject of the Furioso ; and every
Aristides. t 0f ;t> except some episodes, depends upon this sub-
'—ject. The poem ends with the marriage of these two
personages. v”. f
ARIPO, a town on the western coast ot the island or
Ceylon, at the mouth of the river Sarunda. To the east
of this town is a bank, where they fish for pearls. Tong.
80.25. E. Lat. 8.42. N. , r .
ARISTiEUS, son of Apollo and Cyrene, whom, tor the
many services he had rendered to mankind by his know¬
ledge of all profitable arts, the gods placed among the stars.
ARISTANDER, a famous soothsayer under Alexander
the Great, over whom he gained a wonderful influence by
the good success of his art. He had already had the
same employment at the court of King Philip ; and it was
he who explained better than his brethren the dream that
this prince had after having married Olympias.
ARISTARCHUS, a Grecian philosopher of Samos, one
of the first who maintained that the earth revolves round
the sun. He was the contemporary of Cleanthes, the
successor of Zeno. The opinion ascribed to him with re¬
spect to the motion of the earth is not to be found in his
only existing work, namely his Treatise of the Greatness
and Distance of the Sun and Moon. It was first published
at Venice in 1498 ; and has been reprinted at Oxford, both
separately and in the 3d volume of Wallis s works.
Aristarchus, a celebrated grammarian, much esteem¬
ed by Ptolemy Philometer, who committed to him the
education of his son. He applied himself chiefly to criti¬
cism, and made a revisal of Homer s poems, but in too
magisterial a way; for such verses as he did not like he
treated as spurious. He commented on other poets.
Cicero and Horace made use of his name to express a very
rigid critic.
ARISTIDES, surnamed the Just, one of the most cele¬
brated characters of his age for purity and integrity, and
contemporary with Themistocles, was the son ot Lysima-
chus, a man of middle rank, and born at Athens. His
dispositions and temper from his youth all conjoined in an¬
ticipating that greatness to which he afterwards rose.
To a firm, resolute, and placid temper, he likewise added
a great contempt of dissimulation, and an utter abhorrence
of every thing dishonourable. He began very early to
meditate on subjects of government, and applied to his
studies with the greatest assiduity. He imbibed a strong
predilection for oligarchy upon becoming acquainted with
the laws of Lycurgus, which excited his admiration, and
gave him a distaste of the unlimited democracy then esta¬
blished in his native city. On the other hand, Themisto¬
cles favoured democracy; and even when at school he is
said to have been his constant antagonist on that point.
A perpetual opposition to one another in all political points
was the consequence of this difference of opinion, when
their abilities raised them to several important stations in
thq state. It is related, that one day having firmly op¬
posed a proposal of Themistocles in the assembly, which
in his own conscience he knew to be right, on coming out
he exclaimed, “ The affairs of the Athenians will never
prosper till they throw both of us into the barathrum"
(the dungeon for condemned criminals).
Aristides was present at the battle of Marathon, fought
B. c. 490, and was next in cominand among the Athenians
to Miltiades ; and there, upon that general’s proposing to
come to battle as soon as possible, he seconded his motion
with the utmost vigour. In the field he distinguished him¬
self by his intrepidity, valour, and generosity ; and being
left after the battle to secure the spoils, he executed his
trust with honour and fidelity, bringing all to the public
account, reserving nothing for himself. He was elected
A R I
to the important office of chief magistrate the year follow- Aris j,
ing; but, by the art of Themistocles, the high authority^
he had attained by his merits was at length converted into
an accusation against him, and he was accordingly banish¬
ed by the ostracism,—a mild but often unjust measure in
the policy of the Athenian state, for getting a temporary
relief from the presence of any political influence by which
they thought their independence might be injured. As
the Persians were meditating a new invasion of Greece,
he employed himself in his exile in encouraging the Greeks
to defend their liberties against the invaders. The Athe¬
nians immediately, upon the approach of Xerxes, recalled
Aristides, whose absence they began sincerely to regret,
along with their other exiles. At this critical moment,
upon his return, he suspended all political animosities;
and upon understanding that it was the design of Themis¬
tocles to fight the Persian navy in the Straits of Salamis,
he waited on him in private, proposed an oblivion of all
past circumstances, extolled his intentions, and gave him
his sincere promise to do the utmost in his power towards
effecting his designs. Themistocles, some time after the
battle of Salamis, acquainted the Athenians that he had
formed a scheme which, although it was of such a nature
as forbade his public avowal of it to them, was of inesti¬
mable advantage to the state. They immediately ordered
that he should communicate it to Aristides. It was a
project for consuming thewhole confederate fleetof Greece
by fire, except their own ships ; and thus the entire sway
of the sea would be left to the Athenian navy. Aristides
reported that nothing could be more unjust, and at the
same time nothing more advantageous, than the scheme
of Themistocles. Upon this report the people immediate¬
ly determined to drop any further thought of it. Aristides,
before the battle of Plataea, was of considerable service in
persuading his countrymen, who were elated with their
former successes, to submit to the superior power of the
Spartans, and in preserving peace and amity between the
confederate forces. He acquitted himself with great
valour and resolution in the engagement, and was appoint¬
ed after the victory to determine a very dangerous dis¬
pute concerning the honour of the day, which he confer¬
red upon the Plataeans, giving up the claim of the Atheni¬
ans, the Lacedemonians following his example. Upon the
rebuilding of Athens, he was the first person to promote
a law which divided the administration among the citizens
at large, and enjoined that the archons or chief magis¬
trates should be elected out of the whole body of the
people, who had so deservedly merited the favour of the
state.
Aristides, upon the continuation of the war with the
Persians, was sent, along with Cimon the son of Miltiades,
to take the command of the Athenian forces in the con¬
federate army. Their humility and meekness, compared
with the haughty domineering temper of Pausanias, so en¬
gaged the rest of the allies, that the superiority of rank
was conferred upon Athens, with the j.oint concurrence
of the other states. The nomination of Aristides to lay
an equal assessment upon all the states for the purpose of
defraying the expense of the war, was a signal proof of
the high idea all Greece had of his integrity and justice.
The wisdom and impartiality with which he performed
this commission gave universal satisfaction. He obliged
all the confederates, after this affair was terminated,
solemnly to swear to all the articles of association. The
advice which he afterwards gave the Athenians to extend
their own territories beyond their proper limits, must cer¬
tainly have proceeded from some very pressing necessity,
when he thus drew down the consequences of the perjury
upon his own head. Aristides, on Themistocles’s falling
under the displeasure of the ruling party, would not con-
A R I
. deJ cur jn a capital prosecution of him ; and instead of tri-
umphing over an old enemy, he always spoke of him after
Arisi PuS*his banishment with the highest respect.
This great man died about 407 years b. c., according to
some at Athens, at an advanced age; others say at Pon-
tus, where he was transacting public business. He was
buried at the public expense, his daughters received por¬
tions out of the public treasury, and an estate in land was
bestowed on his son Lysimachus, in gratitude for the
signal services Aristides had done his country.
Aristides, JEliiis, a celebrated orator, born in Mysia
about 129 years before the Christian era. The best edi¬
tion of his works is that of Oxford, printed in Greek and
Latin, in two volumes quarto.
ARisxiDES,apaintercontemporary with Apelles, flourish¬
ed at Thebes about the 122d Olympiad. He was the first,
according to Pliny, who expressed character and passion,
but he was not remarkable for softness of colouring.
ARISTIPPUS, the founder of the Cyrenaic sect of
philosophy, was the son of Aretades, and born at Cyrene
in Libya. He flourished about the 96th Olympiad. The
great reputation of Socrates induced him to leave his own
country and remove to Athens, that he might have the
satisfaction of hearing his discourses. He was chiefly de¬
lighted with those discourses of Socrates that related the
most to pleasure, which he asserted to be the ultimate
end in which all happiness consists. His manner of life
was agreeable to his opinion, for he indulged himself ex¬
tremely in all sorts of luxuries. Though he had a good
estate, yet he was the only one of the disciples of Socrates
whd took money for teaching. Upon his leaving Socrates
he went to iEgir.a, as Athenaeus informs us, where he
lived with more freedom and luxury than before. Socrates
sent frequent exhortations to him in order to reclaim him,
but all in vain; and with the same view he wrote that
discourse which we find in Xenophon. Here Aristippus
became acquainted with Lai's, the famous courtesan of
Corinth, for whose sake he took a voyage to that city.
He continued at iEgina till the death of Socrates, as ap¬
pears from Plato’s Pheedo, and the epistle which he wrote
upon that occasion. He returned at last into his own
country, Cyrene, where he professed philosophy, and in¬
stituted a sect which, as we observed above, was called
the Cyrenaic, from the place, and by some writers the
Hedonic or voluptuous, from its doctrines.
We have many apophthegms of his preserved. To one
who asked him, what his son would be the better for being
a scholar, “ If for nothing else,” said he, “ yet for this
alone, that when he comes into the theatre one stone
will not sit upon another.” When a certain person recom¬
mended his son to him, he demanded 500 drachmas; and
upon the father’s replying that he could buy a slave for
that sum, “ Do so,” said he, “ and then you will be master
of a couple.” Being reproached because, having a suit of
law depending, he fee’d a lawyer to plead for him, “ Just
so,” said he, “ when I have a great supper to make I always
hire a cook.” Being asked what was the difference be¬
tween a wise man and a fool, he replied, “ Send both of
them together naked to those who are acquainted with
neither of them, and then you will know.” Being re¬
proached for going from Socrates to Dionysius, he replied,
“ That he went to Socrates when he wanted serious in¬
struction, and to Dionysius for diversion.” Having re¬
ceived money of Dionysius, at the same time that Plato
accepted a book only, and being reproached £br it, “ 1 he
reason is plain,” says he, “ I want money and Plato wants
books.” Being cast by shipwreck ashore on the island of
Rhodes, and perceiving mathematical schemes and dia¬
grams drawn upon the ground, he said, “ Courage, friends ;
for I see the footsteps of men.”
vol. in.
A R I
469
Having visited Dionysius the Sicilian tyrant, and lived Aristo
a long time at his court, his daughter Arete sent to him . II
to desire his presence at Cyrene in order to take care 0f^nstopha-
her affairs, since she was in danger of being oppressed by
the magistrates ; but he fell sick in his return home, and
died at Lipara. With regard to his principal opinions,
like Socrates, he rejected the sciences as they were then
taught, and pretended that logic alone was sufficient to
teach truth and fix its bounds. He asserted that plea¬
sure and pain were the criterions by which we were
to be determined; that these alone made up all our pas¬
sions ; that the first produced all the soft emotions, and
the latter all the violent ones. The assemblage of all
pleasures, he asserted, made true happiness, and that the
best way to attain this was to enjoy the present moments.
He wrote a great many books, but none of them has
been preserved. It has been shown by M. Luzac, in
his Lectiones Atticce, that he was not the author of the
treatise on the Luxury of the Ancients, frequently ascrib¬
ed to him; nor of the Epistles given as his in the Socra-
tic collection of Leo Allatius.
ARISTO, a Stoic philosopher, the disciple of Zeno,
flourished about 290 years before the Christian era. He
differed but little from his master Zeno. He rejected
logic as of no use, and natural philosophy as being above
the reach of the human understanding. It is said that
being bald, the sun burnt his head; and that this caused
his death.
ARISTOCRACY, a form of government by which the
supreme power is vested in the principal persons of the
state. The word is derived from agurrog, optimus, and
xganu, impero, I govern. See the article Government.
S ARISTOGITON, a famous Athenian, who, with Har-
modius, killed Hipparchus, tyrant of Athens, about 513
years before the Christian era. The Athenians erected a
statue to him.
ARISTOPHANES, a celebrated comic poet of Athens.
He was contemporary with Plato, Socrates, and Euripides;
and most of his plays were written during the Peloponne¬
sian war. His imagination was warm and lively, and his
genius particularly turned to raillery. He had also great
spirit and resolution, and was a declared enemy to slavery,
and to all those who wanted to oppress their country.
The Athenians suffered themselves in his time to be go¬
verned by men who had no other views than to make
themselves masters of the commonwealth. Aristophanes
exposed the designs of these men with great wit and
severity upon the stage. Cleon was the first whom he
attacked, in his comedy of the Equites ; and as there was
not one of the comedians who would venture to personate
a man of his great authority, Aristophanes played the
character himself, and with so much success, that the
Athenians obliged Cleon to pay a fine of five talents,
which were given to the poet. He described the affairs
of the Athenians in so exact a manner that his comedies
are a faithful history of that people. For this reason,
when Dionysius, king of Syracuse, desired to learn the
state and language of Athens, Plato sent him the comedies
of Aristophanes. He wrote above 50 comedies, but there
are only 11 extant which are perfect; these are, Plutus,
the Clouds, the Frogs, Equites, the Acharnenses, the
Wasps, Peace, the Birds, the Ecclesiazusae or Female
Orators, the Thesmophosiazusae or Priestesses of Ceres,
and Lysistrata. The Clouds, which he wrote in ridicule
of Socrates, is the most celebrated of all his comedies.
Having conceived some aversion to the poet Euripides,
Aristophanes satirizes him in several of his plays, parti¬
cularly in his Frogs and his Thesmophosiazusae. He wrote
his Peace in the 10th year of the Peloponnesian war,
when a treaty of 50 years was concluded between the
3 Q
490 A R I
Aristo- Athenians and the Lacedemonians, though it continued
phanes but seven years. The Acharnenses was written after the
. II death of Pericles and the loss of the battle in Sicily, in
order to dissuade the people from intrusting the safety
of the commonwealth to such generals as Lamachus.
Soon after he represented his Birds, by which he admo¬
nished the Athenians to fortify Decelaea, which he calls
by a fictitious name, Nephelococcygia. The Vespae, or
Wasps, was written after another loss in Sicily, which the
Athenians suffered from the misconduct of Chares. He
wrote the Lysistrata when all Greece was involved in war;
in which comedy the women are introduced debating upon
the affairs of the commonwealth, when they come to a
resolution not to go to bed with their husbands till a
peace should be concluded. His Plutus, and other come¬
dies of that kind, were written after the magistrates had
given orders that no person should be exposed by name
upon the stage. He invented a peculiar kind of verse,
which was called by his name, and is mentioned by Cicero
in his Brutus; and Suidas says that he also was the in¬
ventor of the tetrameter and octameter verse.
Aristophanes was greatly admired among the ancients,
especially for the true Attic elegance of his style. The
time of his death is unknown; but it is certain that
he was living after the expulsion of the tyrants by Thra-
sybulus, whom he mentions in his Plutus and other co¬
medies.
A R I
There have been many editions of the works of Aristo-Aristot
phanes. The editio princeps, printed by Aldus at Venice |]
in 1498, in folio, is a rare and beautiful volume. The Arislotl
best edition is that of Brunck, printed at Strasburg in
1781-3, in 4 vols. 8vo, and reprinted at Oxford in 1810.
Nicodemus Frischin, a German, famous for his classical
knowledge in the 16th century, translated Plutus, the
Clouds, the Frogs, the Equites, and the Acharnenses, into
Latin verse. Quintus Septimus Florens rendered into
Latin verse the Wasps, the Peace, and Lysistrata; but his
translation is full of obsolete words and phrases. Madame
Dacier published, at Paris, in 1692, a French version of
Plutus and of the Clouds, with critical notes, and an exa¬
mination of them according to the rules of the theatre.
Mr Lewis Theobald likewise translated these two co¬
medies into English, and published them with remarks.
Mr Cumberland gave a translation of the Clouds in his
Observer, accompanied with an able view of the life and
genius of the author. A translation of the greater part of
Aristophanes, with introductions of considerable length,
has been published by Mr Mitchell, in 2 vols. 8vo, Lond.
1820-22.
ARISTOTELIA, in Antiquity, annual feasts celebrated
by the citizens of Stagyra, in honour of Aristotle, who was
born there; and in gratitude for his having procured from
Alexander the rebuilding and repeopling of that city,
which had been demolished by king Philip.
A R I S T
The power of philosophy in fixing an impression of it¬
self on the world, appears, when attentively viewed, no less
than that evidenced in successful exertions of civil or mili¬
tary talents. Put there is a striking difference in the com¬
parative interest excited by the philosopher himself, and
the distinguished statesman or general. The personal
fortunes of the philosopher are not connected with the
effects of his philosophy. He has passed away from the
eyes of men, when his powerful agency begins to be per¬
ceived; whereas the statesman and the commander of
armies are implicated in the very effects which they pro¬
duce on the world, and the history which tells of their
policy or their conquests assumes almost the character of
their biographies.
This contrast is strongly displayed in the instance of
the particular philosopher whose life we would now re¬
trace. At this day, after the lapse of twenty-one centu¬
ries from its first appearance, we are experiencing the
powrer of Aristotle’s philosophy, in, its effects on language
and literature, and even on theology ; and yet little satis¬
factory information can be obtained from antiquity re¬
specting the philosopher himself. No account of him
appears to have been given until his celebrity had attract¬
ed envy as well as admiration; so that we are compelled
to receive with suspicion every thing beyond the simple
detail of a few facts.
Stageirus,1 a city of the Thracian Chersonese, a Greek
colony originally from the island of Andros, and after¬
wards from Chalcis, was the birth-place of Aristotle. His
father was Nicomachus, physician to Amyntas, king of
Macedonia; his mother Phasstis: both being of Chalci-
uian descent. . His family referred its origin to Machaon,
son of Esculapius; probably from the hereditary profes-
O T L E.
sion of medicine by which it was distinguished.2 The date
of his birth is b. c. 384.
Being left an orphan in early youth, Aristotle quitted
Stageirus for Atarneus in Mysia, the residence of Proxe-
nus, the friend to whose guardianship he was committed.
Here he continued until his seventeenth year, when he
repaired to the great university of the world at that time
—the school of Plato at Athens. Different accounts are
given of the commencement of his application to philoso¬
phy. By one it is ascribed to a direction of the Pythian
oracle.3 Others state that philosophy was a last resource
with him, when other schemes of life had failed; that,
having exhausted a’ large patrimony, he became a military
adventurer, and after that a seller of drugs; until at
length, on accidentally entering the school of Plato, he
received a sudden impulse to the studies of his future life.
These last statements, however, are not reconcilable with
the period of youth at which his discipleship to Plato be¬
gan ; nor are they quite consistent with the alleged fact,
that his mind had been from the first trained to philoso¬
phical pursuits by his father Nicomachus.4
We can readily suppose that the extraordinary talent
for science, and laborious devotion to it, which his mature
age developed, would give some indications of themselves
in his earlier years. Hence the expressions attributed to
Plato, complimenting him as “ the intellect of the school,”
and “ the reader,” and comparing his ardour and forward¬
ness to the spirit of a restive colt.5
He remained at Athens, a hearer of Plato, twenty
years; leaving it only on the death of that philosopher,
b. c. 348, and then returning to Atarneus. Disappoint¬
ment at not succeeding to the chair of Plato in the aca¬
demy, has been assigned as the reason of his departure.
’ a}S° Stageira and Stageiri. We have the authority of Herodotus and Thucydides for Stageirus.
. T r /\\ , e ‘ . dristot.; Dionys. Hahcar. lie Dcmosth. et Aristot. ; Ammon, in Aristot. » Ammon, m Aristot
a tv1S , er fsJcorriachus has the reputation of being the author of some philosophical works.
Diog. Laert. in Aristot.; Ammon, in Aristot.; AElian. Var. Hist. iy. 9.
ARISTOTLE.
otle. All that appears, however, is, that he left Athens in com-
plianee with an invitation from Hermeias,1 who, having
been his fellow-disciple in the school of Plato, had esta¬
blished himself at that time in independence against the
king of Persia, as tyrant of Atarneus and its neighbour¬
hood. Here he spent the following three years of his
life, when the unhappy end of his friend Hermeias, who
fell a sacrifice to his ambition, and was executed as a rebel
against Persia, compelled him to seek a refuge for him¬
self by flight to Mitylene. Nor did he in this extremity
forget the ties of friendship which had connected him
with the unfortunate tyrant of Atarneus. To support the
fallen family, he married Pythias, the adopted daughter,
but variously described both as the sister and as the
niece,2 of Hermeias.
From Mitylene he proceeded into Macedonia to the
court of Philip, and entered on a new scene of exertion,
as the preceptor of the future sovereign of the mightiest
kingdom of the world—Alexander the Great, at that
time a youth of fourteen years of age. The call to such
an office argues the high reputation already attained by
Aristotle for philosophy, though it is not improbable that
his first introduction to the Macedonian court was through
the interest and favour enjoyed there by his father Nico-
machus. At what time, indeed, his care of the youthful
prince commenced, it is not possible exactly to determine.
A letter is extant, addressed by Philip to Aristotle, which
would imply that the charge of the prince’s education
had been committed to the philosopher from the birth of
Alexander. This is also far more probable than that the
charge should have been postponed until the prince had
reached his fourteenth year, the period at which the actual
residence of Aristotle at Pella is dated. Philip states in
that letter that “ a son is born to him; that he is grateful
to the gods, but not so much for the birth of the boy, as
that he was born in the time of Aristotle; trusting that,
being nurtured and trained up by the philosopher, he
would be a worthy successor to his father’s glory and the
conduct of affairs.”3 It is certainly very possible that a
plan of education proposed by Aristotle may have been
carried on by others, until the more especial care of the in¬
tellectual powers demanded his personal instructions. The
reception of the philosopher by the royal family was most
friendly and honourable to him. The high estimation in
which he was held was shown in the influence he pos¬
sessed at the Macedonian court. Philip, it is said, gave
him liberal supplies of money to enable him to pursue
his philosophical labours.4 He was most happy in the
admiration and affection of his pupil. Alexander valued
his instructions as those of a second parent, observing
that “ he was no less indebted to Aristotle than to his fa¬
ther, since it was through his father indeed that he lived,
but through Aristotle that he lived well.”5
It would be interesting to know what particular method
was pursued by Aristotle in the education of Alexander;
but we have no exact information on this point. It ap-
491
peais certain, however, that he made the cultivation of a Aristotle,
taste for literature the great principle of his instructions;
and this would be in conformity with the plan of educa¬
tion proposed in his treatise of politics. He is known, in¬
deed, to have made a new collection of the Iliad express¬
ly for the use of Alexander, and to have composed for
him a treatise On a Kingdom, not extant among his works.
And how deeply the youthful king had imbibed the Ho¬
meric spirit in the discipline of his early years, was evi¬
denced in his after-life, by the heroism with which his ac¬
tions were conceived, and the poetry, if we may so express
it, which mingled with the realities of his eventful his¬
tory. The circumstances alone, that the Iliad was con¬
stantly at the pillow of Alexander during his expeditions,
and was treasured by him with extraordinary care in the
precious casket of the spoils of Darius,6 are characteristic
ot the tone of mind which his preceptor’s instructions had,
if not formed, at least strengthened and improved. Nor
is it inconsistent with this ultimate effect, that Aristotle
should have communicated to his royal pupil the abstruse
doctrines of his philosophy. And that he did so, we have
evidence in Alexander’s complaint, in a letter to Aristotle,
of the publication of the secret wisdom in which he had
himself been disciplined; and in the reply from Aristotle,
“ that the books alluded to were as if they had not been
published, since without his oral instruction they would
be unintelligible.”7 Plutarch, indeed, attributes to Aris¬
totle’s instructions the fondness for medical study and
practice remarkable in Alexander.8
A life of such premature exertion as that of Alexander
left comparatively little time for the mere business of
philosophical instruction. Succeeding to the throne of
his father at the age of 20, he was from that time im¬
mersed in affairs of policy and war; and even previously,
he had been forwardly engaged in the services of the
field, as also for a short interval in the conduct of the go¬
vernment. Still the society of Aristotle appears to have
been cherished by him, so that the philosopher continued
a resident at the court for two years after the accession
of Alexander; leaving Macedonia only on the occasion of
Alexander’s setting out on his Asiatic campaigns, b. c.
334.9 It is probable that Aristotle was indisposed to the
hurry and restlessness of military expeditions, and longed
for a repose more congenial to his taste in the philosophic
bowers of the suburbs of Athens; and circumstances had
prepared the way for the separation. For though Alex¬
ander, it seems, never entirely lost his respect for his pre¬
ceptor, the cordiality of their intercourse had in some
measure abated. A commencement of alienation in the
feelings of Alexander had been evidenced.10 Aristotle, ac¬
cordingly, embraced the opportunity then offered of re¬
turning to Athens; and Callisthenes of Olynthus, his re¬
lative and pupil, supplied his place among the party of
philosophers by whom the king was accompanied in the
Asiatic expedition.
IT was fortunate for science that the intercourse be-
1 Commonly called Hermeias the eunuch.
2 Aristippus, according to Laertius, says it was the mistress of Hermeias that Aristotle married.
3 Aulus Gellius, Noct. Att. ix. 3. The genuineness of the letter has been doubted, but without sufficient reason, if the only ground
of doubting it is, that it could not have been received by Aristotle at Mitylene.
4 Lilian. Var. Hist. iv. 19. The statement of Hermippus (Diog. Laert. in Aristot.), that Aristotle served in the capacity of am¬
bassador from the Athenians to Philip, seems inconsistent with other established facts of his life.
5 Plutarch in Alex. Diog. Laertius in Aristot. attributes to Aristotle himself a general expression to the same effect.
' Plutarch in Alex, whence it obtained the name of “ the Iliad,” «* mu vufirixos, “ of the casket.”
’ Plutarch in Alex. Aulus Gellius, Noct. Att. xx. 5. This literary jealousy on the part of Alexander appears also from a passage
of Aristotle, where, writing to Alexander (Rhet. ad Alex. 1), he says, “ you have charged me in your letter that no other person should
receive this book.” 8 Plutarch in Alex.
9 Ammonius, in his Life of Aristotle, asserts that Aristotle accompanied Alexander into Asia, and conferred with the Brahmans,
where he composed “ the two hundred and fiftv Polities.” How much credit may be attached to this author, appears from his mak¬
ing Aristotle a disciple of Socrates for three years, whereas Socrates had been dead sixteen years before the birth of Aristotle.
10 Plutarch in Alex.
492 A R I S T
Aristotle, tween the king and the philosopher was not broken off by
their separation. The conquests of Alexander presented
singular opportunities for a collection of observations on
natural history. Under the superintendence, accordingly,
of Aristotle, some thousands of persons, it is said, were
employed in making inquiries on the subject throughout
Asia and in Greece: and we have still valuable fruits of
these inquiries, in a History of Animals, in ten books,
extant among the works of Aristotle ; though this history
must be but a small part of the fifty volumes to which
Pliny says it extended.1
In the absence, however, of Aristotle, an event oc¬
curred which had the effect of exciting most unjust sur¬
mises against him, and involving him in unmerited dis¬
grace with Alexander. A conspiracy was formed against
the life of the king by some noble youths who attended
on his person. The conspirators were detected and pu¬
nished ; but the chief blame of the whole affair rested on
Callisthenes, to whom the education of the young men
had been especially committed, and under whose sanction,
accordingly, they were conceived to have acted in their
traitorous designs. The imputation was the more credi¬
ble, as Callisthenes had distinguished himself for his op¬
position to the adulation of the courtiers, and the rude
freedom with which, in spite of the admonitions of Aris¬
totle,2 he asserted his democratic principles. How far
he was really guilty may admit a doubt. A pretext at
least was afforded for the removal of an obnoxious in¬
dividual ; and Callisthenes was imprisoned, and died a
violent death. His connection with Aristotle gave a plea
for extending the charge to Aristotle himself; who, it
is represented, became so fearful of the result to him¬
self, after the death of Callisthenes, as to have been ac¬
tually instrumental to the murder of the king. He is
stated to have sent a very subtle poison, called Stygian
water, in a mule’s hoof, the only material impregnable to
it, to Antipater, and thus to have occasioned the death
of the king.3 The account itself is sufficiently refuted
by the real state of the case, which shows that Alexander
fell a sacrifice to his intense exertions in an unhealthy cli¬
mate. It was probably propagated by the rival sophists
who surrounded the person of Alexander; and to the
same source may be ascribed the first estrangement of
the king, and his increased aversion to the philosopher in
consequence of the affair of Callisthenes. Alexander point¬
edly showed his increased dislike, by sending a present of
money to Xenocrates; thus placing that philosopher, as
well as Anaximenes, whom he also now more particularly
noticed, in triumphant contrast with Aristotle, as the ob¬
jects of his patronage.4
In the mean time Aristotle was pursuing his proper
path of exertion at Athens as a lecturer in philosophy, in
his own school of the Lyceum. There is no good reason
for supposing that he was actuated in forming a separate
O T L E.
school, as some have asserted, by contemptuous opposition Aristotl
to Xenocrates, or jealousy of the rhetorical fame of Iso-
crates.5 His own fame already stood sufficiently high.
Numbers resorted to him for instruction. In the morning
and evening of each day he was thronged with hearers;
the morning class consisting of his more intimate and pe¬
culiar disciples, the evening class of hearers of a more
general description. The distinction of these two classes
corresponds with the difference between his “ acroamatic”
and his “ exoteric” philosophy. The application of these
terms to the writings of Aristotle has been much contro¬
verted. The most simple account of their difference ap¬
pears to be, that the acroamatic or esoteric were more of
text-books, notices of various points of philosophy to be
filled up by the previous knowledge of the learner and
the explanations of the philosopher, as lectures address¬
ed to his own proper class; the exoteric were more ela¬
borate and popular disquisitions, more expanded in the
reasonings, more diffuse in the matter.6 His disciples
obtained the appellation of Peripatetics; but the reason
of this is also controverted. Perhaps, like some other
party-names, it was originally given in contempt.7
The reputation of Aristotle at length rose to a danger¬
ous popularity. The intolerant spirit of paganism viewed
with suspicion the spread of philosophical doctrines, as
tending to unsettle the existing government through their
effect on the vulgar superstition. This had been striking¬
ly shown at Athens not long before the birth of Aristotle
in the fate of Socrates.8 In the case of Aristotle there
were enemies watching to apply the policy of the state to
the cruel purposes which their envy had suggested. For
twelve years, it seems, no opportunity of attack presented
itself; since he continued his philosophical labours at
Athens for that time. Probably the name of Alexander
had been itself a shelter to him against their malice.
But the alienation of the royal favour gave an opening to
their designs; and, on the death of Alexander, b. c. 323,
he became the marked object of persecution. Through the
agency of the hierophant Eurymedon, with whom was as¬
sociated a powerful citizen, by name Hemophilus, a direct
accusation of impiety was brought against him before the
court of Areopagus. He was charged with introducing
doctrines adverse to the religion of Greece.9 It was al¬
leged that he had paid divine honours both to Herraeias
and Pythias ; to the former by a hymn in praise of his
virtue, to the latter by celebrating her memory (for she
was now dead) with the Eleusinian rites,10 and to both
by statues of them erected at Delphi. He saw that
he had no chance of a favourable hearing against so for¬
midable a conspiracy, and that his death was fully de¬
termined by his enemies, knowing too well the malignant
sycophancy11 which domineered at Athens. Instead, there¬
fore, of confronting the charge, he made his escape to
Chaleis, alleging to his friends, in allusion to the death ot
1 Plin. viii. ig. boi oy^d, bljjow §il Ta errielnoD Jl .'^lirnffi g/imving aid 'ibi f dstats
2 Aristotle is said expressly to have cautioned Callisthenes in the words of Thetis to Achilles {Iliad, xviii. 95):
fAd, rtxos, uroiou. It ayogiviH.
“ Brief life, my son, is destined for such words.” ■
And generally to have admonished him to converse, either very seldom, or else most complaisantly, with the king. Valer. Maxim,
vu. 2. Diog. Laert. in Aristot.
3 Arrian. Exp. Alex. vii. 27.; Plin. xxx. IG ; Xiphilin. in Caracalla; Q,u. Curtins, viii. 6; Brucker, Hist. Crit. Philos, in Aristot.
4 ^!°&- Laert. in Aristot. ; Brucker, Hist. Crit. Philos, in Xenocrat. vol. i. p. 734.
8 Laert. in Aristot.; Cicero, Tuse. Qu. i. 4; Orator, iii. 35; Quinctil. Inst. Orat. iii. 1.
6 Aulus Gellius, Nod. Att. xx. 5 ; Plutarch in Alex.
’ Lm practice of teaching in walking was not peculiar to Aristotle (yElian. Var. Hist. i. 19 ; Diog. Laert. iii. 11; Brucker, Hist-
Crit. Philosoph. vol. i. p. 738). Indeed the term ripfrurov was applied to “ discussion” before the time of Aristotle. Aristophanes
uses it humorously in Ran. 940, 951, in this sense. The custom appears to have been for the hearers to sit at the lectures of the phi¬
losophers- Cleon, in Thuc. iii. 38, compares the assembly to “ persons sitting spectators of sophists.”
8 . . ' tol raodw itrnus u ni 9 ®ee Origen. con. Cels. i. p. 52, ii. p. 68.
10 The profanation of the mysteries was not an unknown occurrence at Athens. See Time. vi. 28, Gl.
AV ell described by him in a line from Homer, Oy%vn iw yvpairxii, cokoi S’ isn trvxu, comparing it, with allusion to the etymo¬
logy of the word, to the perpetual fruitage of the gardens of Alcinous.
ARISTOTLE.
Ar otle. Socrates, “ that he was unwilling to involve the Athenians
a second crime against philosophy.”1 *
He did not long survive his retreat to Chalcis—little
more, probably, than a year. He was then advanced in
life, and broken with bodily infirmities as well as with de¬
jection of spirit. On the approach of death, he declared
his wish, it is said, with regard to his successor at the
Lyceum. Theophrastus of Lesbos and Menedemus of
Rhodes were the most conspicuous candidates for that
honour; but the dying philosopher, avoiding a pointed
rejection of either, delicately intimated his preference of
Theophrastus by calling for cups of Lesbian and Rhodian
wine, and, when he had tasted them, simply observing,
fjdm o AioZioi, the Lesbian is the sweeter? The expression
was the more appropriate, as sweetness was the charac¬
teristic of the eloquence of Theophrastus.
The mode of his death is variously related. One ac¬
count is, that he died from vexation at not being able to
explain the current of the Euripus.3 Another story, less
incredible than this, asserts that he drank aconite, in an¬
ticipation of the judgment of the Areopagus.4 The only
probable account is, that he died from a natural decay of
the powers of the stomach, his constitution being worn
out by excessive watching and study. How exhaustless
his application of mind was, may be judged from the anec¬
dote related of him, that in composing himself to rest,
he used to hold a brass ball in his hand in such a way,
that the noise of its falling into a basin underneath it
might awaken him from his slumbers.5 Another anecdote
to the same effect is, that on some occasion of sickness,
he observed to the physician prescribing for him, “ Treat
me not as you would a driver of oxen or a digger, but
tell me the cause, and you will find me obedient.”6
His fellow-citizens showed great respect to his memory.
They conveyed his body to Stageirus, and erected a
shrine and altar over his tomb. In gratitude also for the
restoration of their city, effected through his interest with
the Macedonian court, and the new code of laws which
he had been permitted to frame for them, they instituted
a festival called Aristoteleia, and gave the name of Sta-
geirite to the month in which the festival was held. Plu¬
tarch says that even in his time they showed the stone
seats and shaded walks of the philosopher.7 The grant
of a gymnasium had been among the advantages which
he had obtained for his native city.
Aristotle was twice married. After the death of Py¬
thias, by whom he had a daughter of the same name, he
married Herpyllis, a fellow-citizen. By Herpyllis he had
a son, Nicomachus, who became a disciple of Theophras¬
tus, but died in battle at an early age.8 He adopted also
as a son, Nicanor, the son of Proxenus, the friend of his
youth, and by the directions of his will gave his daughter
Pythias to him in marriage. Pythias, by hfer third husband
Metrodorus, had a son named after the philosopher.
In his extant will we have a pleasing evidence of his
amiable concern for his surviving family. It contains af¬
fectionate provisions, not only for his wife and children,
493
but even for his slaves; expressly enjoining that no one of Aristotle,
those who had served him should be sold, but that each
should be freed on attaining manhood, according to his
deserts.9
The fondness of the Greeks for apophthegm has handed
down some reputed sayings of the philosopher, the genu¬
ineness of which, however, is extremely questionable, from
their want either of spirit or of originality. The following,
if true, would throw some light on his character. On
being reproached for giving alms to a worthless person,
his answer is said to have been, “ It was not the disposi¬
tion, but the man, that I pitied;” on hearing that he had
been reviled by some one, “ When I am absent, he may
even scourge me;” to a talkative person, asking him
whether he had not exhausted him with trifling, “ No,
indeed, for I have not been attending to you.”10
In body, Aristotle, if we may believe the accounts of
his person, was deficient in the requisite symmetry. He
is described as having slender legs and little eyes. To
these defects were added a feeble voice and hesitating
utterance.11 Unlike philosophers in general of that age,
he attended to the ornament of his person. His hair was
shorn; he wore several rings; and was elegant through¬
out in his dress.12 His health was infirm; but he sus¬
tained it by habits of temperance, and by that medical
skill which he possessed in an eminent degree, so as to
protract his life to the 63d year, b. c. 322.
Of his moral qualities, the zeal of philosophical rivalry
has transmitted the most discordant accounts. Some have
been as extravagant in their praises as others have been in
their censures. By some, his patriotism, his affection for
his friends, and reverence for his preceptor Plato13—his
moderation, and modesty, and love of truth—have been
held up to admiration. By others, again, no crime has
been thought too bad to be imputed to him. He has
been stigmatized as a parasite, as gluttonous, effeminate,
sordid,14 ungrateful, impious. Among his faults, too, have
been mentioned a sneering cast of countenance, and an
impertinent loquacity. In particular, he has been ac¬
cused of assailing Plato with captious questions, and for¬
cing the old man, then in his 80th year, to retire to the
privacy of his garden.15 Whilst, however, the circum¬
stances in which he lived, exalted as he was by the fa¬
vour of kings, and by eminence in philosophy, afford a
strong presumption that the. dark side of the picture has
at least been overcharged,16 we have a more decisive evi¬
dence to the truth of the favourable representations of
his character in the temper and spirit of his extant writ¬
ings. Throughout these, there is a candour, and manliness,
and love of truth, strikingly discernible ; not professedly
set forth, but interwoven with the texture of his discus¬
sions, and rather betrayed unconsciously than demanding
to be recognized. His ethical writings, especially, breathe
a pure morality, such as we find in no antecedent philoso¬
pher ; a morality also avowedly practical, and by which
he would have stood self-condemned had his own conduct
been at variance with it.
1 Diog. Laert. in Arlstot.; Ammon, in Aristot.; Origen. con. Cels. i. p. 51. edit. Cantab.; -Mian. Var. Hut. iii. 36; Athenseus, xv. 16.
* Aulus Gellius, Noct. Att. xiii. 5. r. .
‘ Justin Martyr, Coll, ad G-raec.; Greg. Nagianz. Orat. iii. p. 79 ; Bayle, Diet. art. Atistot. note z.
4 Hesych. in Aristot.; Suidas, Fabric. Bill. Gr. voL ii. p. 109 ; Diog. Laert. in Aristot. g ./Elian Var Hist ix 23.
7 Plufarch in AlexJ^' 8 Aristocles apud Euseb. Prccp. Ev. xv. 2. . _ 9 Dl°g. Laert. in Amtof.
10 Diog. Laert. in Aristot. The same author mentions an instance of Aristotle’s foiling the cynic Diogenes in some premedi-
fated witticism, and gives some expressions by which Aristotle characterized certain philosophers, such as calling Socrates a short¬
lived tyranny.” The point of these passages, at any rate, escapes the modern reader. ^ # ' T aert . iElian< Var_ Hist, gj. 19.
“ S^oS^TSSan altar to Plato, inscribing it to him as ^man whom for ^ even mpi^w^ be ^ofahe.”
SHr ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ USed " Aristocl^apud^useb. Pray- Ac. xv. 2.
494
ARISTOTLE’S PHILOSOPHY.
Aristotle’s Account of the Writings of Aristotle, and reception of his
Philoso- Philosophy.
phy.
preservation of the original writings of Aristotle is
a curious fact in literary history. Whilst the philosopher
distributed his other property to his surviving family, he
left the more precious bequest of his writings to Theo¬
phrastus, his favourite disciple and successor in the Ly¬
ceum. By Theophrastus they were bequeathed to Ne-
leus, by whom they were conveyed from Greece into Asia
Minor, to the city of Scepsis, where he resided. The
heirs of Neleus, to whom they next descended, were pri¬
vate individuals, not philosophers by profession, who were
only anxious for the safe custody of their literary treasure.
The magnificence of kings had then begun to display it¬
self in the collection of libraries, and the works of genius
were sought out with an eager and lavish curiosity. It
was a taste happy for the cause of literature; to which,
perhaps, the example of Alexander’s noble fondness for
every thing connected with intellectual energy had prin¬
cipally led. Aristotle himself, indeed, is said to have been
the first to form a library.1 * He was the first, probably, to
form one on an extensive scale. The Scepsians, into
whose hands his works had now fallen, fearful of the lite¬
rary rapacity of the kings of Pergamos, resorted to the
selfish expedient of secreting the writings under ground.
The volumes remained in this concealment until at length
their very existence seems to have been forgotten; and
they would thus have been lost to the world, but for the
accidental discovery of them after the lapse of 130 years.
His philosophy had been traditionally propagated, for we
hear of Peripatetics at this time. Portions, indeed, of his
works probably had continued in circulation among the
disciples of the Lyceum, serving in some measure as a re¬
cord of the principles of the sect. Much may have been
preserved from memory, for we have little notion now of
the impression made by viva voce instruction, when it was
the only channel of knowledge to the generality. A peri¬
patetic philosopher, accordingly, Apellicon of Teos, whom
Strabo, however, characterizes as a lover of books rather
than a philosopher—<pi\o&&\og [laXkov q (piXotJofo^—pur¬
chased the recovered volumes, and effectually retrieved
them for the world. He employed several copyists in
transcribing them, himself superintending the task. Un¬
fortunately, much was irreparably lost, the writings being
mouldered with the dampness of the place in which they
had so long been deposited. In addition to these damages
of time, they were now further impaired by misdirected
endeavours to restore the effaced text of the author.
The works of Aristotle thus, through the care and the
wealth of Apellicon, found their way back to Athens, their
proper soil, though no longer perfect as the author had
left them. Here they remained until the spoliation of
the city by Sylla. The library of Apellicon was a tempt-
ing object of plunder to the Romans, who were now awa¬
kened to the value of literature ; and Aristotle’s works ac¬
cordingly were carried away to Rome amidst the other
rich spoils. At Rome they experienced a better fortune. Aristotle
Tyrannic, a learned Greek, who had been a prisoner of war Philoso
to Lucullus, and was then enjoying the freedom granted to Pty
him as a resident at Rome, was the principal instrument
in their future publication. Obtaining access to the library
of Sylla, he made additional copies of the writings. His la¬
bours were followed by Andronicus the Rhodian, who at
length edited the works of Aristotle, at a distance of near¬
ly 300 years from the time when they were composed.3
Meanwhile other sects in philosophy had sprung up,
and engaged the attention of the world. The Stoics and
the Epicureans, among others, had formed their respec¬
tive parties. Platonism had obtained permanent establish¬
ment at Alexandria. The disciples of Aristotle, on the
contrary, had to struggle against the disadvantage of the
loss of the authoritative records of their master’s philoso¬
phy. When, however, these records were fully published,
they were studied with extraordinary eagerness. A mul¬
titude of commentators arose, who exercised a profound
ingenuity in explaining the genuine sense of the philoso¬
pher. As Aristotle himself by his personal teaching had
transcended the fame of his contemporaries, so his philo¬
sophy rose up from its long sleep to triumph over every
other that had previously engaged the public mind. Pla¬
tonism, indeed, modified as it was by Ammonius and his
successors, continued to be fostered in the early ages of
the Christian church, in consequence of the theological
cast which it had assumed, and its facility of accommo¬
dation to Christian truth. But in the progress of the
church, when Christianity demanded to be maintained,
not so much by accession from the ranks of paganism, as
by controversial ability within its own pale, a more exact
method of philosophy was required. Here, then, the
philosophy of Aristotle asserted its pre-eminence.
But it was only a partial Aristotelian philosophy that
was at first established. His dialectical treatises had
been studied during the ascendancy of Platonism, for
their use in arming the disputant with subtle distinctions,
and enabling him accurately to state his peculiar notions
in theology. The same occasion still existed for the
acuteness of the expert dialectician, even after the de¬
cline of Platonism, in the state of theological controver¬
sies. It was still, therefore, chiefly as a dialectical philo¬
sopher, through the several treatises which pass under
the name of the Organon, that Aristotle was known
throughout Christendom. In western Europe, indeed,
the cloud of ignorance which had covered the lands with
thick darkness, limited the attainments even of the learned
to a narrow field. The original language of Aristotle’s
philosophy was gradually almost forgotten, and the gene¬
rality were restricted to such parts of his writings as were
translated by the happier talent and industry of the few,
who shone as luminaries in the night of the middle ages.
The peculiar exigencies of the times, probably the taste
of the learned themselves, led to the translation in par¬
ticular of the dialectical treatises. The treatise on the
Categories appears to have been the one principally known
1 Strabo, xiii.
* Ib\d. xiii. p. 609. Aristocles in Euseb. Prcep. Ev. xv. 2, speaks of Apellicon as the author of some writings on Aristotle.
Plutarch vn Sylla; Bayle’s Diet, art- Tyrannic, note 13; Brucker, Hist. Crit. Philos. x6\.. i. p. 799. Andronicus flourished about
b. c. 60. The rise ot philosophy at Rome was contemporary with him. Cicero in Tusc. Qu. i. 1, says, “ Philosophia jacuit usque ad
nostrum aetatem.” He speaks, too, in Fin. iii. 3, of finding “ commentarios quosdam Aristotelios,” in the villa of Lucullus. Athenseus,
i. p. 3, says the books ot Aristotle were sold by Neleus to Ptolemy Philadelphus, and conveyed into the Alexandrian library. This
may also be true of detached portions of Aristotle’s works, or copies of such portions.
ARISTOTLE’S
An (tie’s among Christians. Nor were these translations always
PI dso- made from the original Greek; but, on the contrary, were
1Y- in most instances versions of versions. For its knowledge
0f Greek literature, western Europe was indebted to
Arabic civilization. The Arabians had, together with
their conquests in Spain, imported their knowledge of the
Greek philosophy, the seeds of which had been scattered
in the East by the learning of the Nestorian Christians.
Translations had been made into Arabic, of the Greek
authors, and among these, of Aristotle. Jews at the
same period were resident in great numbers in Andalusia,
tlie principal seat of Arabic literature; and these, by
their commercial intercourse with Christians and Maho¬
metans, served as a channel through which the Greek
philosophy was carried on from the Spanish Arabians to
the Christians of the West. For the purpose of commu¬
nication, the Arabic versions of Aristotle were translated
into Latin, the universal language of early European lite¬
rature ; and thus was the foundation laid of that scholas¬
tic philosophy, through which the dominion of Aristotle
was afterwards extended over Europe.
But the occupation of Constantinople by the Latins, in
the beginning of the 13th century, was the opening of a
new era in the literary history of Europe. Greater faci¬
lities were afforded by this event for the knowledge of
the Greek language ; and Aristotle began to be no longer
known chiefly as a logician. His physical, metaphysi¬
cal, and moral treatises were more extensively explored
and studied; though at first objection was made- to the
physics by the papal authority. He was thenceforth
fully recognized under the title of Princeps Philosophorum.
His dialectic, indeed, maintained its ascendancy in the
scholastic philosophy; but it was not applied exclusively, as
at first, to theology. It was carried into those new subjects
of inquiry which the extended knowledge of his writings
had introduced to the learned. The spirit of disputatious
subtilty, which, in the beginnings of the scholastic philo¬
sophy, had displayed itself in the quarrels between the
Nominalists and Realists, afterwards found employment
in the application of logical principles to speculations in
physics and metaphysics. At the same time theology
became more and more corrupted by the refinements of
systematic exposition, until at length the accumulated
mass of error became too evident to be borne, and,
among other causes, produced a re-action in the reforma¬
tion of the church.1
The abuse of the Aristotelian philosophy, thus mischie¬
vously shown, tended greatly to shake the empire wdiich
it had held over the minds of men. Had Luther stood
alone in the work of reform, Aristotle would have been
altogether banished from the schools of the reformed.
But his roughness of hand was tempered in this point, as
in others, by the milder spirit of Melanchthon.
Melanchthon, though he had too deep an acquaintance
with classical literature not to feel the charm of Plato’s
writings, yet justly vindicated the superiority of Aristotle’s
philosophy as a discipline of the mind. He was therefore
instrumental in supporting the dominion of Aristotle in
the schools, whilst he rejected the errors to which the
peripatetic philosophy had falsely administered.2 After¬
wards the disputes among Protestants themselves served
to perpetuate the re-established philosophy of Aristotle,
and, from the same cause as before, the subtilties of his
PHILOSOPHY. 495
Dialectic and Metaphysics were studied rather than the Aristotle’s
more practical parts of his system. Thus, even after the Phdoso-
labours of Bacon in dispelling the mists which the Aris- Ph^
totelian philosophy, such as it descended through the
doctors of the scholastic ages, had diffused, Aristotle’s
works continued to be read and taught in Protestant uni¬
versities. His philosophy, during an empire of centuries,
had occupied so many posts in the field of literature, that
no system, however great an improvement, could at once •
displace it; for we find even Bacon himself, in the pro¬
cess of counteracting it, and introducing his own method,
compelled to use a phraseology founded on the dogmas
of the scholastic creed.
It is then of great importance to examine the system
of Aristotle in its authentic records. Such an examina¬
tion will convince us that the philosopher is not to be
censured for that depravation of philosophy to which he
was made subservient; but that, had his system been
rightly understood, and pursued in the spirit of its au¬
thor, the schoolmen could never have found in it just
ground for the extravagances into which they deviated.
We are compelled, indeed, to take our estimate of it from
such imperfect relics as time has spared to us out of a
far greater mass of his original writings.3 Fortunately,
however, those relics include a great variety of treatises,
affording a specimen at least of his mode of philosophizing
in every department of science.
State of Philosophy before Aristotle. General Character of
his Philosophy.
Aristotle was the first philosopher who really separated
the different sciences, and constituted them into detached
systems, each on its proper principles. Before his time
philosophy had existed as a vast undigested scheme of
speculative wisdom, fluctuating in its form and character
according to the circumstances and the genius of its lead- •
ing professors.
Thus the two great fountains of Grecian science—
the Italic school, founded by Pythagoras—the Ionic,
by Thales—were both in their principle mathematical;
though, when we look to their actual results, as they were
moulded by their respective masters, the Italic may be
characterized as the Ethical school, the Ionic as the Phy¬
sical. Both appear to have been drawn from the same
parent-source of Egyptian civilization and knowledge.
That mystic combination of mathematical, physical, and
moral truth exhibited in the theological philosophy of
Egypt, found a kindred spirit in Pythagoras. Hence that
solemn religious light shed over his speculations. Ma¬
thematical truth was the basis of his system. He made
numbers the elements of all existing things; the objects
of the physical world being conceived by him to be
“ imitations,” or “ representations,” of the abstract na¬
tures of numbers.4 But the system, as a whole, was a
mysterious contemplation of the universe, addressed to
the moral and devotional feelings of man. Thales was a
philosopher of a much more simple cast. Like Pythago¬
ras, he was devoted to mathematical study. He is said
to have instructed the Egyptians how to measure the
height of their pyramids by means of the shadows; and
several of the theorems of the elements of Euclid are at¬
tributed to him. But he did not, like Pythagoras, fad
into the error of confounding and blending the facts of
1 Roger Bacon, Opus Mams, parti, p. 13, 19, ed. Jebb, Lond.; Lewis’s Life of Wicklijfc; Lewis’s Life of Bishop Pecoek ;Mos.
beim’s Ecclcs. Hist. vol. ii. p. 21C, 218, Lond. 1823; Regge’s Life of Bishop Grosseteste; llcchcrches Critiques sur l Age et l Unginc aes
Truduct. Lat. (TAristote, par M. Jpurdain, p. 1C, 81, 94, Paris, 1819. , 9o9
2 Melanchthbn in Aristot. et Platon, ii. p. 370, iii. p. 351; Bayle’s Did. art. Melanchthon, note k.; Brucker, Hist. Cnt. Phil. iv. p. 202.
3 Diog. Laert. in Aristot. •Trap.vXucTu fiiSxux.
4 Metaph. i. C, ii. p. 848, Du Val. Metaph. xii. 3. p. 974.
496 ARISTOTLE’S
Aristotle’s natural philosophy with the abstract truths of science.
Philoso- According to him, it was sufficient to show that water
phj; f might be regarded as the primary element of all things.
He sought no deeper cause in any speculation concerning
the mode in which this element subsisted. The succes¬
sors of Pythagoras and Thales variously modified the
theories of those great masters. The physical philosophy,
however, of Thales, as the more simple and intelligible,
and probably also from the greater intercourse of Greece
with its Asiatic colonies than with its Italian, more espe¬
cially prevailed in Greece ; until we find feocrates, who had
been the disciple of Archelaus of that school, complaining
that the concerns of human life had been abandoned for
the subtil ties of physics. In the hands of Socrates philo¬
sophy resumed its moral complexion. Had it devolved on
Xenophon to take the lead as the successor and inter¬
preter of Socrates, things would probably have continued
in this course, and ethical science would henceforth have
triumphed in the Grecian schools. But the genius of
Plato succeeded to the rich patrimony of the Socratic
philosophy : and Plato was not one, whose ambition could
be content with less than the reputation of founding a
school, or whose imagination could be tied down to the
realities of human life.1 The mystical theory of numbers
taught by Pythagoras must have possessed a powerful
charm for such a mind as that of Plato : at the same
time his power of eloquent discussion found its own field
of exertion, in speculation on those moral truths with
which the lessons of Socrates had inspired him. He had
also been a hearer of Cratylus,2 and through him had
been instructed in the theory of the “ perpetual flux” of
nature, the favourite doctrine of Heraclitus. Plato ac¬
cordingly applied himself to the combination of these va¬
rious systems. The theory of Pythagoras was to be re¬
tained consistently with the perpetual change of all ex-
* isting things according to Heraclitus, and with the im¬
mutability of nature implied in the Socratic definitions.
Definitions could not apply to any perceptible objects, if
it were allowed that all such objects were constantly
changing; nor could numbers sufficiently account for that
immense variety of objects which the universe presented.
There must therefore be some existences, independent of
the perceptible universe, to serve as the objects of defini¬
tions ; and there must be also an infinity of various archi-
types, corresponding to the various classes of external ob¬
jects. Hence he devised his doctrine of udy, or ideas;
a doctrine naturally suggested to an imaginative mind, by
the fixedness and universality of the terms of language,
as contrasted with the perpetual variation of the course
of nature. To these abstract natures he assigned a real
being, as objects of intellectual apprehension alone, ac¬
counting for the existence of sensible objects from their
“ participation” of these intellectual universals. Thus he
raised a structure of physical philosophy on a basis of
metaphysics and logic conjointly; or, in other words, phi¬
losophy, in its passage through the school of Plato, had
been invested with a dialectical character. Dialectic, the
science, according to Plato, which speculates on these uni¬
versals of the intellectual world, was held forth to the
student in wisdom as the dominant philosophy, the con¬
summation and end of all sciences.3
Such was the state of philosophy when Aristotle began
PHILOSOPHY.
to teach, and in which he had himself been trained: butArisu
it was not a system in which his penetrating mind could Phil
rest satisfied. He thought too deeply and accurately, not Ph
to discover that this cardinal doctrine4 of Platonism, the ^
doctrine of ideas, specious as it was, was only a sha¬
dowy representation of the real objects of philosophy;®
and that, in order to rest the sciences on a sure basis, a
more exact analysis of the principles of human knowledge
was required. He accordingly addressed himself to the
task of developing a really intellectual system of nature, in
the stead of that imaginary intellectual system which the
enthusiasm of Plato had created.
He found the different sciences separated from their
roots, and vegetating only as stunted branches on a stock
of dialectic unnatural to them. Even dialectic itself, in
this state of things, was neglected. Its proper nature
was unknown in that conjunction of logic and meta¬
physics which had usurped its name; and its relation to
the other sciences was misapprehended. In overthrowing
the doctrine of ideas, therefore, he had to make an entire
reform of philosophy. And, in fact, he did appear no less
as a reformer of the ancient philosophy, than Bacon was
of the scholastic system. In each case, idols were en¬
throned in the niches and shrines of the temple of science;
and the hand of the reformer was required to cast them
down and break them in pieces. If indeed we impartially
consider the case, we shall find that Aristotle was animat¬
ed by the same spirit which dictated the method of the
inductive philosophy, and that his reform was directed to
the same points. It was his object, as well as Bacon’s,
to recall men, from their unprofitable flight to universals,
to the real course of nature; and to direct them in the
discovery of sure principles of science.
He was the first, accordingly, to exhibit a particular
science drawn out into its proper system. There was,
for instance, a great deal of logical and of moral truth
scattered through the writings of Plato; but there was no
regular statement of the principles either of logical or
moral science, no distinct collection of the proper facts
of those sciences, until the treatises of the Organon and
the Nicomachean Ethics of Aristotle appeared. We may
easily conceive the arduousness and importance of this
service in the cause of philosophy. For any reformer to
have fully carried it into effect in every science, we may
indeed pronounce to be impossible. And we shall not
wonder, therefore, that in some instances he should have
failed, or have merely indicated the proper path of in¬
quiry.
It was not indeed to be expected, that one trained in
the dialectical philosophy of Plato should have emerged
at once from the prejudices imposed by that system.
Aristotle, though professedly opposed to the realism in¬
volved in Plato’s doctrine of ideas, yet betrays the power
of language over his own speculations, by the importance
which he attributes to abstract conceptions as the foun¬
dations of scientific truth. It is a delusion, which the
simple attention to the phraseology of one language (and
there is no evidence that Aristotle knew any other lan¬
guage but his own) is apt to produce. In the analysis ol
the terms, we lose sight of the merely arbitrary connec¬
tion between the terms and the objects designated by
them, and suppose that we have penetrated into the
Aristotle (Rhet. ii. 23) mentions that Aristippus, alluding to Plato’s ambitious manner of expression on some point of philo¬
sophy, remarked, akXa ^nv iy cvhv roiourov, “ our friend, at any rate (meaning Socrates), has nothing of the kind.” (
2 Cratylus found fault with his master Heraclitus for saying that “ a man had never been twice on the same river; for no one,
he^said, “ had ever been even once.” {Metaph. iv. 5.) This was but a natural extension of the doctrine of Heraclitus.
Af ovv ooKU'troi, iQnv lyw, u; Qa/yzo; this b ^ bfuv iwaviu KutrScu, xai ovxir uXka rourou paShtpM avars/iv
tvinS-urS-ai, a.xx ixllv tiAdj ra rm p.a.'Snp.u.rcav i E/toiy (Plato, Republ. vi. p. 400, ed. Ilekker.)
4 Ta 'St xttyetXaiov xcu to xvgog r>is xixaruvo;, oti^imus, b Tip tm* tor,rut Siaruhs. (Atticus Platonic, apud Euseb. Prcep. Evan. XV. C. Id.)
6 Ta yag uStt xcupru' rtpritrpa?a. yoto urn. (Aristot. Anal. Post. i. C. 22.)
ARISTOTLE’S PHILOSOPHY.
v ie’s nature of the thing, when we have only explored the
rh so- philosophical meaning of the term. Thus Aristotle, whilst
p ■ he rejected the Platonic ideas, still conceived that there
were universal principles in nature, in the knowledge of
which true science consisted. He differed at the same
time essentially from Plato in his view of these universals.
Plato regarded the ideas as causes of the existence of sen¬
sible objects; whereas Aristotle considers the universals
of which his philosophy treats, as causes of our knowledge
of nature. Aristotle did not allow that these universals
had in themselves any physical reality independent of the
human mind, but he conceived that they pointed to the
real internal nature of existing things.
Philosophy, accordingly, under his hands, stripped of
its metaphysical mysticism, assumed a logical aspect. The
foundations of science were laid in definitions of those es¬
sential natures which he conceived to be the substrata of
universals ; and from these definitions the particular truths
of the sciences were to be deduced as a series of conse¬
quences.
From this view of the nature of science, it followed
that he should employ induction, rather to determine no¬
tions, than to arrive at general principles, such as in mo¬
dem philosophy are denominated Laws of Nature. In or¬
der to discover an universal principle, on which a system
of science might be raised, it was necessary to state ex¬
actly that conception of the mind which belonged exclu¬
sively to any particular class of objects. The stating such
a conception was, in the phraseology of Aristotle, the as¬
signing of the Aoyog of the ouova, or the giving a definition
of the object as it really existed. A notion of this kind
required an accurate analysis of thought. Every notion
common to other objects was to be rejected; and after
the rejection of these, that which remained exclusively
appropriate to the object under consideration, was to be
assumed as the proper universal by which its real nature
was denoted. The process was not dissimilar to that by
which the truths of modern science are elicited, except that
the induction of Aristotle terminated in universals ; where¬
as the induction of Bacon terminates in general principles ;
—such principles being the utmost that can be obtained
from outward observation of objects. It is precisely in¬
deed in this point that the great difference consists be¬
tween the science of Aristotle and that of Bacon. Aristotle,
for example, inquires into the nature of light, and endea¬
vours to define it exactly as it differs from all other na¬
tures. This definition is an expression of that universal
on which the whole nature of light is conceived to de¬
pend. A modern philosopher pursuing the method of
Bacon, examines facts concerning it, and, distinguishing
those which really belong to it from those which do not,
concludes from the remainder some general affirmative
respecting it. A modern philosopher often draws a con¬
clusion as to the nature of a thing; as when he infers
that light is material, or that the soul is immaterial. But
then he does not hold such inferences as universals in the
sense of Aristotle, nor does he employ them to interpret
the facts of a Science. He acquiesces in such conclusions
as ultimate principles. He finds, for example, the facts
belonging to the falling of bodies on the earth’s surface,
and to the revolutions of the heavens, coincident in the
same general law. He pronounces, therefore, that the
principle signified by. the term gravity, whatever its na¬
ture may be, is the same in both classes of facts. His
conclusions at the same time in Natural Philosophy are
independent of this assumption, as these wrould not be af¬
fected though the principle of gravitation were proved to
497
be different in the two cases. If you overthrow, on the Aristotle’*
other hand, a speculative doctrine of the ancient physics, Philoso-
all the conclusions fall to the ground. ’ phy.
We shall wonder the less at the peculiar complexion of
Aristotle’s philosophy, when we observe that even modern
philosophers have been by no means exempt from the
realism which language tends to suggest, and which might
almost be termed the original sin of the human under¬
standing.
Such, then, according to Aristotle, was the character of
philosophy, so far as it was purely theoretic. It furnish¬
ed the mind with the means of contemplating nature sure¬
ly and steadily, amidst the variety of phenomena which
external objects presented, by fixing it on universal prin¬
ciples, eternal and unchangeable.
But this was not the only view which he took of phi¬
losophy. He did not limit it to contemplation alone.
He regarded it further as ministering to human life un¬
der two other distinct points of view—as it was pro¬
ductive of some effect, and as it instructed us for ac¬
tion. Thus, he distributed philosophy in general into
three branches: Isif, Theoretic, 2c?, Efficient, 3rf, Prac¬
tical ; including under Theoretic, Physics, Mathema¬
tics, Theology, or the Prime Philosophy, or the science
more familiarly known by the name of Metaphysics;
under Efficient, what we commonly term the arts, as
Dialectic or Logic, Rhetoric, Poetics; under Practi¬
cal, the moral sciences, as Ethics and Politics. Whilst,
then, in order to a purely theoretic philosophy, he consis¬
tently endeavoured to present to the mind the primary
elements of thought, attending rather to the order of hu¬
man reason than to the phenomena of nature, he had a
different aim in the two other branches of philosophy, and
pursued a different method. In these, his aim was to en¬
able the student to realize some effect, or to attain some
good; in Efficient Philosophy, to lay before the mind
those principles which constitute the arts; in Practical,
those principles by which the goods of human life are at¬
tained by individuals or societies. Thus, in both these
branches his object was precisely what Bacon’s was in the
whole method of his philosophy—to increase human power
by increasing human knowledge. And he has according¬
ly adopted, in pursuing them, the same inductive method
which Bacon has formally explored in the Novum Orga-
num. We find him in these strictly attending to experi¬
ence—deducing his speculative principles from facts, and
pointing out their application to the realities of the arts and
of human life. Under the term indeed, which we
commonly translate art, he comprised much more than is
understood by art. Chemistry, for instance, might justly
be referred to this branch of philosophy, so far as its prin¬
ciples are applicable to the production of any effect. In
fact, it corresponds more nearly with science, in the ac¬
ceptation of the word science by Bacon, or to what is
commonly understood by the term “ applied sciences;”
for Aristotle himself expressly asserts it to be the result
of experience—observing, that memory of particular events
is the foundation of experience, and that from several ex¬
periences art is produced.1
So also, in his practical philosophy he directs us not to
seek a speculative certainty of principles, but to be satis¬
fied with such as result from the experience of human
life. He further even cautions us against treating this
department in the a priori method of his theoretic philo¬
sophy, in remarking that the doctrine of universal good
was an useless speculation in that kind of inquiry.2 Had
he viewed Natural Philosophy in its application to the
vol. in.
1 Mctaph. i. 1 ; Amlyt. Post. ii. last chap.
3 R
Mag. Mor. i. 1; Eth. Nic. i. G.
498
ARISTOTLE’S PHILOSOPHY.
Aristotle’s arts, he would surely have introduced the inductive me-
Philoso- thod there also; and in truth he has done so, so far as
t phj- particular departments of nature are explored in his writ-
ings in order to particular arts. But his works professed¬
ly treating of Natural Philosophy belong to a higher spe¬
culation, according to his estimate, than those which con¬
cern human life. He conceived the things of the mate¬
rial world to be endued with an unoriginated and inde¬
structible nature, and therefore the eternal objects of scien¬
tific truth,1 whilst every thing belonging to man was
temporary and variable. TLhe former, therefore, were not
satisfactorily investigated until they were referred to their
ultimate fixed principles ; but of the latter it was sufficient
to obtain such knowledge as the contingency of the ob¬
jects admitted. He perceived, from his accurate and ex¬
tensive knowledge of human nature, that there was no
ground for that realism in morals which the more uniform
aspect of the physical world tended to inculcate. The
immense variety of objects to which the appellation of
“ goods” was applied, impressed on his acute mind the
conviction, that there was no one fixed and invariable prin¬
ciple implied by that term; and that the philosophy of
moral subjects, accordingly, was to be sought simply in an
observation of facts, without endeavouring to trace them
to some further principle.2
It will illustrate this arrangement of the sciences to
look to the Theory of Causation, or the classes into which
the ancient philosophy distributed the several principles
of scientific truth. Now, the classes of such principles as¬
signed by Aristotle are, 1st, the Material, or that class
which comprehends all those cases in which the inquiry
is, out of what a given effect has originated. From the
analogy which this class has to the wood, or stone, or any
actual material, out of which any work of nature or art is
produced, the name “ material” has been currently given
to the class. But it is not commonly so termed by Aris¬
totle, whose description of it is more precise and philoso¬
phical.3 Unfortunately, the adoption of the term “ ma¬
terial” has been the source of great misunderstanding
of Aristotle’s doctrine. It has been supposed to imply
that inquiries coming under this head refer to something
physically existing, some real object, as wood or stone;
whereas, according to Aristotle, it is simply a view of
antecedents, that is, of those principles whose priority is
implied in any given fact.4 The material cause, then, is
properly an intellectual clas's of principles—one method
of analysis, by which the mind simplifies to its own view
the variety of existing objects.
The second class of causes is that to which all inquiries
belong, which respect the proper characteristic nature of
a thing. To this Aristotle gives the name of ahog, form
or exemplar.5 It corresponds with what are termed in
modern philosophy “ laws of nature.” According to Aris¬
totle, and to the spirit of the ancient philosophy in gene¬
ral, it is the abstract essence or being of a thing,—that
primary nature of it on which all its properties might be
conceived to depend. Bacon, indeed, has retained the
scholastic name “ form” in his philosophy, and applied it
to denote the generalizations of his philosophy ;6—a gene¬
ral fact, from its excluding all merely accidental circum¬
stances, being in a manner the proper form of the parti- Art ^
cular facts from which it is deduced.
The third class of causes comprehends all inquiries into ,
the motive or efficient principles of a thing. It differs
from the material cause—which it resembles so far as it is
an investigation of antecedents—in its reference to such
antecedents only as are the means in order to an effect.
We may contemplate a given effect as such, and not simply
as a mere event; and in that case should inquire into the
power by which it was produced, or the Motive Cause. It
is to this class that the term cause7 is popularly applied,
by analogy from the works of human art, in which we are
able to discern the connection between means and results.
Aristotle, however, did not suppose that we could discern
any such connection in nature; not intending more by
this class than those principles of the mind under which
all effects, as such, might be arranged.
The fourth class in the ancient theory of Causation is,
what in the language of the schoolmen has obtained the
appellation of the Final Cause, or, to express it more after
the mind of Aristotle, inquiries directed to the perfect
nature or tendency of any existing thing. For example,
when wre appeal from virtue militant in the world to virtue
triumphant in heaven, and derive precepts of duty from
this ultimate view of virtue, or of the end to which it is
tending, we argue from a final cause in the sense of Aris¬
totle : so, again, when it is contended that the eye was
formed for seeing, because its nature is perfected in the
act of seeing; or, in general, whenever it is inferred that
such is the nature of a thing, because it is best that it
should be so. According to modern views, design is al¬
ways implied in a final cause. In Aristotle, it is a philo¬
sophical view of an intrinsic tendency in nature, analogous
to the effect of design.
The division of philosophy adopted by Aristotle cor¬
responds with this division of causes. Physical science,
as concerned about objects, of which one appears the re¬
sult of another, or rather of which one is found to be pro¬
duced after another, is an investigation of material causes.
The inquiry is into the law of that continuation and suc¬
cession observed in the natural world,—what the antece¬
dents are in this course,—what the ultimate principles, to
which the mind may carry its analysis of the succession of
natural events.
Metaphysics and mathematics, as employed about no¬
tions of the mind, are sciences belonging to the formal
Cause. They endeavour to draw forth that secret philo¬
sophy by which the mind administers the world of its own
ideas ; and, in this process, to arrive at those ultimate ab¬
stractions, into which all other principles may be resolved,
as into their ultimate forms ; metaphysics and mathema¬
tics differing only so far as mathematics consider ideas of
quantity exclusively, whereas metaphysics embrace all
our abstract notions.
Dialectic and the arts in general are inquiries into mo¬
tive causes, since it is by the arts that human power is
exerted in producing certain effects. The principles of
rhetoric, for instance, are the means by which the effect
of persuasion is produced. In order to produce any effect,
we must observe w hat acts, w hat moves, what influences
1 Analyt. Post. i. c. 8; Ethic. Nic. vi. 7.
2 He has been, on this account, very inadvertently accused by Brucker (Hist. Cr. Phil. voL i. p. 835) of scepticism in morals, in¬
stead of being commended for his truly philosophical view of the science.
3 Nat. Ausc. ii. c. 3. TO ov ynnircu n ivuvec^oyrtis, ii. C. 7- Analyt. Post. ii. C. 11, p. 170, Du Val. ra rout oiruv avayKn raur’ tuxi.
* The premises of a syllogism accordingly are the material cause of the conclusion.
s Thus he terms it also Nat. Ausc. ii. 2, Du Val. i. p. 330, the pattern, as it were, of the thing, or its archetype, m
the mind.
6 Bacon, Nov. Org. ii. 2. _ ,
7 The word cause is indeed, as has been often pointed out, only a verbal generalization of the different principles to which it»
here applied. The Greek word amav is nearer the truth.
11
ARISTOTLE’S
Thtretic not simply what precedes or follows—in the course of na-
^ PM>so- ture; and a study of this kind constitutes what Aristotle
I 1 '• calls efficient philosophy.
’ The final cause is the science of human actions, or
practical philosophy. Actions, being the exertions of
inward principles towards some end, cannot rightly be
judged of as to their nature, by the view of them merely
as effects, but must be considered in their tendency. A
compassionate action, for example, may in its actual effect
be productive of evil; but we cannot estimate the nature
of the action from this result, but must further inquire
whether the result was coincident or not with the effect
intended ; that is, we must inquire into its final cause.1
But though this is the appropriate classification of the
principles of the several sciences, it does not follow that
any particular science is restricted to one particular mode
of speculation.2 The several kinds of causes are all em¬
ployed as modes of analysis under the same head of philo¬
sophy.3 As all philosophy indeed ultimately refers to the
principles of the human mind, so far every science is a
speculation of the formal cause. In Aristotle’s system of
physics, the doctrine of final causes occupies in fact the
principal place, instead of being employed, as in modern
philosophy, in subordination to the inquiry into the ma¬
terial cause.
Theoretic Philosophy.
Physics, Mathematics, Metaphysics.
In proceeding to examine in detail the several sciences
included in this threefold division of philosophy, and con¬
tained in the extant writings of Aristotle, those which he
has classed under the head of theoretic philosophy, as
being the only proper sciences in his view, naturally come
first to be considered. These, as we have observed, are
physics, metaphysics, and mathematics.
There is the less occasion for considering these three
sciences distinctly, as Aristotle in his treatises of them has
not strictly maintained their separation, but has often
blended their different principles in the same discussion.
In this department of philosophy, he receded less from
the dialectical system of Plato, and felt the influence of
that system attracting him into its vortex. As Plato, by
drawing off the attention of the philosophical inquirer
from nature itself to the ideas of his intellectual world,
was led to confound all the sciences in one philosophical
reverie; so Aristotle, in the theoretic branch of his philo-
sophy, looking to the ultimate principles of the sciences
as they exist in the human mind, rather than to the phe¬
nomena of each, overlooked their real differences in his
mode of treating them. The ground of this promiscuous
discussion is to be found in that classification which he
adopts of the objects of these three sciences.4 They are
all, in his view, conversant about ra ovra, or things that
are; differing in the mode in which they abstract the
notion of Being from existing things. The science which
considers Being in union with matter, or as it is evidenced
under those variations which the material world pre¬
sents, is physics. That which considers Being as it is con¬
ceived separate from the variations of the material world,
though not (probably, he observes) abstracted from matter,
PHILOSOPHY.
is mathematics. Lastly, that to which the name of meta¬
physics has been given by his commentators, but to which
Aristotle himself assigns the name of theology, or the First
philosophy, is the science which considers Being separat¬
ed both from the variations of the material world and al¬
together from matter. It appears, therefore, that the ob¬
jects of his inquiry in each of these three sciences were
ultimately the same. He is engaged in all—in investigat¬
ing those universal principles under which he conceives
all existing things are arranged by the mind. For this is
the meaning of Being in his philosophy. It stands for any
of those conceptions of the mind by which the various
natures or properties of existing things are denoted. The
sciences, accordingly, not differing fundamentally in his
view, he was naturally, though very erroneously, led to
combine them in speculation.
Hence the abortive and futile character of his physical
philosophy. Instead of looking to the phenomena of the
material w orld, he was employed in deducing consequences
from metaphysical and mathematical data ; arguing from
the mere abstract notions of the mind to the realities of
external nature. Thus, instead of being an investigation
of the laws of nature, it was an airy fabric of speculative
reasoning from assumed principles. Whilst he thought
that he was delivering incontrovertible truths of physical
science, he was only analyzing the connections of the no¬
tions of the human mind, and arranging them under their
appropriate terms. No other method, indeed, is open to
the philosopher, who would penetrate the veil of the actual
phenomena, and establish a certainty of science beyond
the concessions of nature, but to resort to abstract defini¬
tions. These being once laid down, the truths of science
follow by necessary connection; for they are then the
mere development of general assertions into the particulars
implied in them. But, as it thus appears, the certainty
and necessity of the conclusions are simply the consistency
with our original meaning. It is absurd to suppose them
otherwise, because this would be equivalent to asserting
that our meaning was not what we asserted it to be. Aris¬
totle indeed himself allows, that truth of fact and truth of
science are not mutually implied in each other. “ Impos¬
sible and possible, and falsehood and truth,” he observes,
“ are either hypothetical—as it is impossible for a triangle
to have two right angles if this is so, and the diameter
of a square is commensurate with its side if this is so—or
absolute. But absolute falsehood and absolute impossibili¬
ty are not the same ; since, for one not standing to say
he is standing, is false, but not impossible; and for a
harper not singing to say he is singing, is false but not
impossible ; but to stand and sit at once, or for the dia¬
meter to be commensurate, is not only false, but impos¬
sible.”5 Still he perversely sought to unite both kinds of
truth in his physical inquiries ; and in the vain attempt,
lost sight of the absolute truth contained in the facts pre¬
sented to his observation.
The first portion of his physical philosophy, contained
in the treatise entitled Natural Auscultations, is devoted
to inquiries into the principles of the science; in order to
ascertain those fundamental conceptions of the several ob¬
jects of the science, from which all conclusions concern-
The same principle applies to the arts also, so far as the skill in any art is exerted in action. We then judge of the art so ex¬
emplified by its tendency to produce the proper effect; of the wisdom, for instance, of the politician by the adaptation of his counsels
o the welfare of his country—not simply by their result, which may accidentally be untoward.
, Ausc. ii. 7, vru 'hi atriai rirraois, trift xatruv m (pLU/txn 6/sivaC xat iif ‘7TK.tras avayuf ro hta n, arratutru, (putrtxu;, rnv iXr.v, ro ilhos, ra xnir,trav,
r> j 'mm ra Tg‘oa t/s ra l» ’rroWaxti’ x. r. X.
, . Lius an action may be analysed into the affection exerted in it (the material or physical cause), the moral choice of the agent
(the motive cause), the end to which it tends (the final cause), the definition of the virtue to which it belongs (the formal cause); and
>et the science of the action is fundamentally an inquiry into the final cause,
t Y1* ani! xiii. chap. 1, 3, and 4. See also Nat. Ausc. ii. c. 2.
■Or Carlo, i. 12, p. 443, Du Val. Also Metaph. xiii. 5 ; and v. c. 12.
499
Theoretic
Philoso-
500 ARISTOTLE’S PHILOSOPHY.
Theoretic ing them were, in the a 'priori spirit of his physical phi- principles in which the peculiai constitution of the thing Theor
Philoso- losophy, to be deduced. Agreeably to this order of in- is found to consist, and which are therefore referred to Philo
phy* quiry, he sets out with discussing the question, whe- the head of form, there are evidently other principles . P*1)’
^tiggg principles should be ultimately referred to one which remain the same in all vaiiations of form. The J ^
or more than one, and laying down his own doctrine of actual nature of the physical objects remains unchanged:
three principles, to which he gives the denomination of, and the notion, therefore, by which that nature is repre-
1. matter, 2. form, 3. privation. These are the well- sented to the human mind, must be respected, in assigning
known principles, of which so perverse a use has been a cause for the physical constitution of a thing; as being an
made by the schoolmen, and which have consequently antecedent out of which it proceeded. To this notion, or
occasioned much undue censure of the Aristotelian sys- class of principles by which the ultimate common nature
tern of physics. That system, indeed, is sufficiently con- of different objects is denoted, Aristotle applies the name
demned in its a 'priori character, but is guiltless of the of uXtj, or matter; this notion being analogous to the stuff
absurdity which the scholastic refinements have cast or substance of which different works of human art are
upon it. These three principles are nothing more than constructed, as marble or brass is the material of which
general conceptions of the mind, as it endeavours to class different statues are made.3
the various objects of the sensible universe, and to refer Now, beyond these it is impossible to proceed in the
the succession of events without itself to some ultimate philosophy of physical existence. _ They comprise, in fact,
unchanging views within itself. It has been already the wdiole of modern investigations in physics, though
explained what is meant by a material cause, the ou or these last have been prosecuted in an order exactly
uXjj of Aristotle. These principles, then, are only different the reverse of that of Aristotle. These have ended
modifications of this cause. They are antecedents, or no- wdiere he began : but they have had these several prin-
tions at which the mind ultimately arrives, in an analysis ciples in view. That abscissio injiniti, prosecuted in the
of its complex notions of natural objects; and therefore inductive method of philosophy, is analogous to the “ pri-
antecedents, because they must be presupposed in every vation” of Aristotle’s system. It is a continued process
contemplation of the natural world. The terms by which of separating from any subject under examination, of those
they are denoted are merely analogical. Aristotle, pro- natures or principles which do not constitute the proper
ceeding on a principle of the Pythagorean school,—indeed nature of the subject, and thus gradually narrowing the
the common doctrine of philosophers before him,1—argues inquiry more and more, until we have at last obtained
that, as contraries cannot generate contraries, there must some ultimate fact, the proper nature of the thing. This
be at least two opposite classes of principles. In the ultimate fact, accordingly, Bacon terms the form of the
changes observed in the course of the world, one object is thing, adopting that expression to denote the law or
succeeded by another; something has passed away, some- principle by which it exists. It is the result, we ob-
thing is protluced. Two fundamental notions, therefore, serve, which remains to be affirmed, after rejecting and
are involved in every contemplation of nature, and these excluding other principles ; or, to speak in analogical lan-
are expressed by the terms Form and Privation; imper- guage, after the subject has been deprived of all those
fectly characterizing these subtile abstractions, though forms in which its proper nature does not consist. Again,
shadowing them out justly, so far as the relation denoted Bacon directs that a collection be made of all those “ in-
corresponds with that between the present form of any stantice,” instances, to which the form in question seems
material object and the previous forms now superseded by to belong. These instances, so far as they agree in this
it. For example, a statue is a form now constituted in respect, correspond with the material principle of Aris-
the stead of that infinite multiplicity of figures of which totle. They exhibit that common nature, in some one form
the marble or brass in its unmoulded state was susceptible, of which the particular nature sought must be found,
and of which it is, as it were, “ deprived,” in the very act Aristotle, of course, did not conceive of these principles
of producing the statue. The very analogy, however, is according to the view of them here given. The design of
apt to induce us to suppose that there is something real his inquiry is, by an analysis of nature, as that term is ap-
implied by the terms form and privation in the language plied in physics, to obtain those fundamental notions to
of Aristotle. Hence the ridicule with which the state- which all the various notions involved in the speculation
ment of privation as a physical principle is commonly re- of nature might ultimately be referred. For he explains
ceived. But if rightly understood, it holds a just and im- things that have their being by nature to be such as have
portant place in the physical philosophy of Aristotle; in themselves a principle of motion and rest, as contrast-
and to see the proper nature of it, it should be observed, ed with works of art, the principle of which is in the artist.4
that it applies no less to immaterial objects than to mate- Aristotle’s object, accordingly, is to examine this inherent
rial.2 For instance, if we look at man physically, we ob- principle of motion and rest, which is the nature of a
serve that he is capable of moral improvement. Suppos- thing, and to show how it operates in producing the va-
ing him, then, civilized and improved beyond his ordinary rious forms observed in the world around us. His error
state, we perceive in such a case a transition from a state was not unlike that of one who should profess to give an
of barbarism to a state of culture. The state of culture, account of visible objects solely from what they appear to
then, is the form of which Aristotle speaks ; the state of the eye, and who should accordingly describe such objects
barbarism, which may be in infinite varieties of form, the as flat surfaces, variously shaded and coloured, from
privation. Or, a person becomes healthy from being dis- this view of the object of natural philosophy, he was led
eased : health is the form superinduced, the privation is to account for the processes of generation and corruption,
of every species of disease. But besides those principles and the changes which occur in bodies by alteration, in-
which aie excluded in the physical constitution of any crease and decrease, local motion, mixture. Consequently,
thing, and so referred to the head of privation,—and those he states his ultimate principles of matter, form, and priva-
j vw" ^ ^ 2 Metaph- vii. 7 and 11 ; xiv. c. 8; •zoXXa, Lxnv p. 1003, Du Val.
1 a -' use. 1. o, H « vvroitsifAivYi (puns) itfurrYiTV) xctrex, u.va,\oyta.v' gj$ ya,^ ttoos a.v'fcpta.vra. xccXnog, yj Kpig x,Xivr,v£u\ov9 mroos to uXXo n rcuv i%ovTW
^ 4 ^ XCtl TO CtfAO^OV VTQlV X&C&ilV TrjV fX,Op<pYlV* XTCOg CCVT9J <T£0; ovcrtxv xotl TO Toli Ti, ytcu To ov.
j ojtrng ty’Jcricog Tivos xui atrtag too ximiktScu kou iv m voroc^it ^rpMTtktg xotQ* auro, xat {jly) xttTCt truftGi*%****
C ap.i. Xlll. c. 5 did to Tcgt tcx. ifcovra iv ccvTotg agfayiv xwnvsoig xut arcca’iug rtv tqv (piunxx stcco’uv uvui vr^aypcLTiioiv* Also Dc Ccelo, i. C- 2.
r ;
ARISTOTLE’S PHILOSOPHY.
501
Ti retie tion, as generalizations of those latent processes by which
p oso. physical effects are produced, rather than as principles by
it. which the investigation of nature must be guided. Hence
the perverse application of his physical philosophy in the
middle ages to work transmutations in nature. The la¬
bours of the alchemists were nothing else but a practical
realism founded on the intellectual principles of the phi¬
losopher.1
The discovery of the principle to which the denomi¬
nation of form is assigned, is, in Aristotle’s system, as in
Bacon’s, the ultimate point of physical inquiry. The in¬
vestigation of the principles of matter and privation is
in order to the discovery of the form; which is thus the
rsAos or completion of the process of nature. That prin¬
ciple of self-motion which, according to Aristotle, is the
object of physics, is then traced to its effect on the thing
produced, and we have obtained the oi/<r/a2 or proper being
of the thing.
From this view of the principle of form, as the result
of a self-working power in nature, results the peculiar
character of Aristotle’s physical philosophy. He thought
it evident, from such facts as the provident care shown
by spiders, ants, and other animals, and the service of
the leaves of plants in protecting the fruit, that nature
intrinsically possessed this power of 'working certain
ends.3 The form, then, of every physical object being
the attainment of such an end, and the form also consti¬
tuting the being or nature of the object, occasion was fur¬
nished for speculating a priori from the supposed perfec¬
tion, or view of what was best, in any thing, to the form
or law in which its nature consisted. This mode of spe¬
culation was embodied in those maxims of ancient philo¬
sophy, that “ nature does nothing in vain that “ nature
always works the best that the case admits; that “ nothing
by nature is imperfect. ”4 The consequence was, that the
very point to be ultimately investigated was assumed at
the outset of the inquiry, and all the subsequent steps
were merely hypothetical. And thus it is that Aristotle
expressly asserts the necessity which belongs to physical
facts to be hypothetical—dependent, that is, on the as¬
sumption of the end pursued by nature, in like manner
as the conclusions in mathematics are dependent on the
assumption of definitions.5
It is curious to observe the traces of such a doctrine
in different systems of philosophy, as they appear under
different modifications. In some of the older theories, we
find indications of it in the hypothesis of two opposing
principles, as love and enmity, by which it was proposed
to solve those appearances in nature which were adverse
to the notion of the tendency of nature to the best. In
the systems of Parmenides and of Hesiod, love and desire—
in that of Anaxagoras, intellect—were the expressions of
this tendency. In the philosophy of Plato, it was evi¬
denced in the rejection of the material world from the
class of permanent and real existences; this doctrine
being a ready transition from the notion, which attributed
the physical constitution of things to their dependence
on some ultimate principles. Modern deists have argued
in the same way, when they have rejected an account of Theoretic
things alleged to have proceeded from the Author of na- Philoso-
ture, because these things did not correspond with what Phy-
they had determined to be “ best” in nature.6 In Aristotle, V^jr~T'w'
on the contrary, it was shown in the opinion of the eter¬
nity of the material world; for the perfection of nature
consisting in those ultimate forms to which it is tending,
the existence of the material world has been always ne¬
cessary as a condition in order to the end.7
The great doctrine of the ancient physics, that “ nothing
could be produced out of nothing,”8 required no distinct
consideration according to the theory of Aristotle. In¬
quiring into nature simply as a principle of motion, he was
only called upon to show how those changes which took
place in the material world might be satisfactorily account¬
ed for. It was no part of his philosophy to demonstrate
that any particular material, or combination of materials,
was employed in the laboratory of nature for effecting
her productions and transmutations. All he assumes is,
that some material or other is employed in every instance
of a physical object, to effect that perfect constitution of
it in which its “ form” consists. It is not indeed a phy¬
sical object, unless it is conceived in conjunction with
“ matterbut provided it has “ matter,”—that is, has
a nature capable of affecting the external senses,—what
particular kind of matter it may have, is irrelevant to his
inquiry.9 For example, whether water or air must pre-exist
in the production of ether, is not the point with which
he is concerned. It is enough that there is in every physi¬
cal effect a principle of motion operating. It follows, from
the existence of such a principle, that there must be
some “ matter otherwise the material effect—the effect
cognizable by the senses—would not have been produced.
The analogous inquiry in his system is, which are the
prior principles in the order of transition, so that from
the presence or absence of these the constitution of any
particular body results ? What are those which never pass
into each other, and which may therefore be regarded as
elementary principles of motion ?
Hence his detailed investigation of Motion, considered
in the technical sense in which the term is employed in
his philosophy, as it is exhibited in physical changes of
place, or quantity, or quality; generation and corruption;
the action and passion of bodies; and mixture. Hence also
his discussion in his physics of questions which, in mo¬
dern philosophy, are more properly regarded as the pro¬
vince of the metaphysician; as the nature of infinity,
time, and place: all which, however, belong to his in¬
quiry, as implied in the various processes of motion.
A speculative difficulty, however, occurred to him in
the prosecution of this physical theory, like that which
perplexed the material philosophers in respect to the pre¬
existence of matter. Fie had to account for the produc¬
tion by motion of a form not previously existing.16 This
he explained by the subtile distinction between potential
and actual being. This, in fact, is his analysis of motion.
He states it to be an exertion in act of that intrinsic effi¬
cacy which is in a thing to produce a paiticular form.
1 The doctrine of transubstantiation is wholly built on, and maintained by, an Aristotelian philosophy of this kind. The remark
will readily be extended to other refinements of scholastic theology.
; vrrrc/.t TOI*
» Nat. Ausc. L?Jp. 9. « See Bishop ButJs Analogy, tntrod. p. 9; also Origen. con. Cels. n. p. 102, ed. Cantab.
’ In Ccrf , ii. cap. I, he speaks of the eternity of the universe as the only opinion consistent: W ™
* Metaph.xn\. cap. G, Toy., e* ^ ™ ^ ^
^ Dr Gen. ct Cor. i. cap. 3, T, S* irtgu ™ «« ™
10 Nat. A use. iii.; Dc Gen et Cor. i. cap. 3.
502
ARISTOTLE’S PHILOSOPHY.
Theoretic He considers this power of working ends in nature, as
Philoso- analogous to the skill of a physician1 working his own
PhJ- cure. Nature, which is thus in his view as an animation
or life2 of all existing things, realizes in herself those prin¬
ciples, which were previously inherent in her constitution,
and are then developed, when an actual effect is found to
take place. Nothing, therefore, is produced, in his sys¬
tem, which was not before in existence. What already
existed potentially, is simply produced into actual being,
and manifested to our perception in some physical ob¬
ject.3 To describe it in terms of modern philosophy,
we should say it was a transition from metaphysical
existence to physical; from an object of the mind only,
cognizable by the internal principles of our constitution,
to an object of the external senses ;—the mind perceiving
the principle of motion as a principle,—the senses giving
us the primary impression of the principle moving or ope¬
rating on matter.
This doctrine of potential being, transmitted through
the scholastic philosophy, and through that perverted to
realism, has given occasion to represent a coincidence on
this point in the system of Aristotle with the ideal the¬
ory of Plato, the very part of Plato’s philosophy which
Aristotle most directly opposed. But it should be ob¬
served, that the forms of which Aristotle speaks, are not,
like the ideas of Plato, constituent of physical objects.
They are the philosophy of nature considered as an in¬
stinctive principle of motion—general principles under
which the mind classes the operations of physical power,
analogously to its own external operations.
Leaving, then, the question as to the material itself, of
which physical objects are composed, untouched, Aristo¬
tle examines what principles reject and exclude one ano¬
ther in the various changes of the material world. For
these are the causes of the transitions of one nature in¬
to another, and of generation and corruption: the pre¬
sence of one involving the privation of all those forms of
matter dependent on the presence of the other. What
these mutually excluding principles are, he decides by a re¬
ference to the sense of touch; that being the proper evi¬
dence to us of the existence of body : since, though sight
may give us the first notices of the existence of a material
thing, it does not inform us of the material nature of the
thing; which we infer from the resistance to the sense of
touch. Accordingly, Aristotle explains what is sensible
to be what is tangible.4 The contrarieties then ascer¬
tained by touch, and which account therefore for all the
different forms of matter, are hot and cold, dry and moist;
the first two as active principles, the last two as passive.
The touch, indeed, informs us of other contrarieties, but
they are all reducible to these four heads, with the excep¬
tion of light and heavy. rIhese last are excluded from the
class of physical principles; since, though Aristotle, in
common with other ancient philosophers, held them to be
positive and absolute natures, he found, that they could
not act on each other, and therefore could not effect any
physical change. As hot and cold cannot co-exist, nor
can moist and dry, these four principles admit only of
four combinations, and the effect of each combination is
a different element. The combination of hot and dry
18 , ; •^ot moist, air; of cold and dry, earth ;
of cold and moist, water. Any one of these elements
may pass into another5 by the privation of one of the
combined principles: since then, the contrary principle, The
which had been only excluded by the presence of its con- Philoso
trary, combines with the remaining one; e. g. water is phy.
transformed into air, by the privation of cold, and the con-
sequent combination of hot with the moist which re¬
mains ; or both principles combined may be superseded
by the two opposites, as when fire and water may be
changed into each other. Thus there is a subordination
of principles wherever the principle of motion is exerted
in act. First, thei’e must be matter, that is, a principle
susceptible of the contrarieties; then the contrarieties •
and last of all the material elements themselves.6 When
the change effected involves an entire change of the ma¬
terial from which it proceeds, the process is that of gene¬
ration and corruption ; but when the change is simply
in the affections of some existing body, as when the same
person from being unmusical becomes musical, or the
food of an animal is converted into its substance, the pro¬
cess is that of alteration.7
Thus does Aristotle account for all the changes which
take place in the world immediately about us. Whether
we observe things produced altered in their sensible qua¬
lities, or in bulk, or in place (and to one or the other of
these every physical effect may be inferred), the changes
observed may be traced to the operation of a principle
which is either one of these four already mentioned, or
some modification of them ; for all the intermediate princi¬
ples between two contrarieties are to be regarded as con¬
trary, and capable therefore of effecting physical changes
in the same manner as the extremes.
But the changes which occur immediately in the world
around us, constituted, in the view of the ancient philo¬
sopher, a very inferior part of the objects of physical
science. The luminaries of the celestial world were re¬
garded by Aristotle as superior to man himself, and the
study of their laws as a higher employment of the intel¬
lect than the philosophy of human life.8 Besides, how¬
ever, the intrinsic excellence of this branch of physics,
it demanded his attention from its necessary connection
with the full development.of his theory of motion. All
the other physical changes, it appears, imply local change,
which may therefore be inferred to be prior to every
other.9 Further, to keep up the constant succession of
generation and corruption which is carried on in the world,
there must be some principle ever in actual being; and
the revolution of the heavenly bodies continuing inces¬
santly, exhibits a principle of local motion adequate to
this effect. Aristotle, accordingly, was led to philoso¬
phize on the motions of the heavens, in order to trace up
the propagation of motion in this lower world, through its
successive impulses, to the prime mover. This being dis¬
covered, his philosophy of nature is then completed, since
nature is then fully explored according to his analysis as
a principle of motion and rest.
His whole astronomy is dependent on those speculative
notions w hich he had adopted, of lightness and heaviness,
as intrinsic and absolute properties of bodies. He con¬
siders lightness the same as positive tendency upwards,
and heaviness as positive tendency downwards. But
this view implied that there were certain fixed points, the
extremes to which these qualities of bodies tended, and
in which they naturally rested as they naturally possessed
either lightness or heaviness. Each of the material ele-
2 Ihirt C,aPA-8’ }^u''kiera oritv Tt; nx.Tgivri uvros iuvroV rovvw yao se/xgy y civffi;.
a 1°*, V}}}- caP- L Oiov r,s ovrx roi; <$»<ru cuneruai vcarty.
a Ibid. vni. cap. 14. Du Val, vol. i. p. 414.
4 De Gen. et Cor. ii. c. 2. g „ c
7 Ibid f 'c I’ ^ V^V ‘r,ylt Ta” *iuf**r*>'’ ato-Snruv, aX/.a -ratmj* su xuoiarw, aXX’ au /xir lyayrtuciut, x. t. X.
Lth, Nic, vi. c. 7* 8 Metaph. iii. c. 2, p. 860 ; Mag. Mot. i. c. 35.
M
ARISTOTLE’S
')'!,(retie ments, accordingly, had its proper place in the universe,
j’lnso- corresponding to the degree of lightness or heaviness
]/. which he conceived them to possess, absolutely in them-
se]ves, and relatively to each other. Fire he placed in the
extreme point upwards, earth in the lowest; air next to
fire, and water next to earth. Each of these elements,
therefore, he argued, as naturally tending either upwards
or downwards, moved in a straight line, and could not
consequently move naturally in a circle. Hence the earth
must be at rest, and therefore be the centre of the uni¬
verse. For if it revolved round the sun, as the Pythago¬
reans thought, it would be moving unnaturally, and there¬
fore could not move eternally. Hence, also, no revolving
body could consist of any of the four material elements.
It must be some other material, to which circular motion
was as natural, as rectilineal motion is to earth or fire.
On the ground of such speculative notions Aristotle
proceeded in constructing his system of the universe; in
opposition to the more enlightened researches of the Py¬
thagorean astronomy, and the records of Egyptian and
Babylonian1 observations on the heavens. In some in¬
stances, indeed, his view was more correct. He admits
the spherical2 form of the earth, from the evidence of lu¬
nar eclipses, in which he had remarked that it always ex¬
hibits a curved outline; and infers its magnitude to be not
very great,3 from the variation of horizon consequent on a
little variation of our position on its surface.4 * But, in ac¬
knowledging these facts, he was influenced by their ac¬
cordance with his speculations a 'priori, as he rejected
or misinterpreted other facts from their repugnance to
these speculations. For the spherical form of the earth re¬
sulted from his theory of gravity. It was the effect of
the tendency of all the particles of the earth to the low¬
est point; this lowest point being a centre of the two op¬
posite hemispheres of the heavens. For, that the whole
heavens were spherical, he supposed a necessary conse¬
quence of the perfection belonging to them, a solid being
the most perfect mathematical dimension. The tendency,
consequently, of all the particles of the earth to the lowest
point, was a tendency towards a middle; or this lowest
point would be a centre round which the earth would ad¬
just itself in a spherical mass.
The reason assigned by Aristotle for the revolutions of
the heavens, as appears, then, is precisely opposite to that
of modern philosophy. He conceived revolution to be
performed, not in consequence of a tendency to the
centre, but of the absence of any such tendency in the
revolving body. Revolution and gravity are, according
to him, contradictory terms. The motions of the several
heavenly bodies result from their being carried round by
spheres, which consist of this revolving element. That
they do not revolve in themselves he considers to be
evident from the fact that the moon always presents the
PHILOSOPHY. 503
same side towards us.J They are incapable indeed of Theoretic
motion in themselves, he argues, in being spherical, na- Fhiloso-
ture seeming purposely to have denied them all power
of motion in giving them the form least apt for motion.6 *
They revolve, therefore, from being bound in revolving
spheres, the first in order of which is that in which the
fixed stars are placed, and then the several planets, five
in number, the sun, and next to the earth the moon;'
and to account for the apparent irregularities in the mo¬
tions of the heavenly bodies, he supposes, following the
theory of Eudoxus,8 that there were as many additional
spheres employed in,the revolutions of each body as it
appeared to have different motions.
The oblique motion of the sun, viewed in connection
with the successive renewals and decays of nature, as he
approaches or recedes from the earth, suggested the most
ready link for connecting the phenomena of the earth
with those of the heavens. It is, accordingly, to the revo¬
lution of the sphere of the sun, that Aristotle ascribes the
continuation of generation and corruption in unbroken
series, and the consequent perpetuity of being in the
world around us. It might be supposed that generation
and corruption would be carried on at equal intervals:
but the unequal temperament of material things prevents
such a uniformity; and occasions that variety of duration,
which we observe in different things within the sphere of
the moon, or the limits of nature properly so called.9
Still, however, it remained to be explained what it was
that imparted to the sphere of the sun, as well as to the
several other spheres, their principle of motion. To every
thing that is itself moved there must be a mover: and
the successive motions, therefore, as communicated from
sphere to sphere, must be traced up to some ultimate
principle, itself unmoved, in which they originate.
Here, then, we discern the close connection of Aris¬
totle’s physics with his metaphysics; and at the same
time the ground of his applying to the latter science the
designation of theology. The several spheres of the hea¬
vens, differing in element from the bodies of this lower
world, and pursuing their unceasing and immortal revo¬
lutions, presented a distinct class of ouova/, beings, or sub¬
stances, to the speculation of the philosopher. To ascer¬
tain that in which they moved and had their being, was
an inquiry, with regard to them, analogous to his inves¬
tigation of the principle of motion in the natural world.
This principle of motion to these celestial substances
would be being itself, or the very vital energy itself in
which they had their being.10 At the same time, in ex¬
ploring this primary being, he would be tracing those
general principles, by which the mind held together the
various objects of physical contemplation, to one ultimate
law or master-principle, in which, as in a single theorem,
all the truths of science should be comprised.11
1 He Ccelo, ii. 12, uv voXXa; ititfTut vri^i iKcurrou rut a-ar^ut. Also Mctaph. i. 1. Herodot. Enterp. 109.
a He speaks of it in Meteor, ii. c. 5, p. 502, as shaped like a tympanum.
s Mathematicians, he says, had computed its circumference to be 400,000 stades, or about 40,000 miles.
4 Hence, he observes, “ those who supposed the region about the columns of Hercules conjoined with that of India, and the sea
to be thus one mass, seem to conceive what is not very incredible, alleging, as they did, in evidence of their conclusion, that elephants
were found at both extremities.” (De Cae.lo, ii. 14, p. 471.) „ ,,,, .. ,,
s Dc Ccelo, ii. 9. . * n‘ H* .
’ The Pythagoreans connected with this notion the beautiful fancy of the music of the spheres. Aristotle expresses his admira¬
tion of the thought, but denies its possibility. The stars move with the'spheres, he says, like the parts of a ship with the ship, and
therefore can make no sound. (De Caelo, ii. 9.) ,, , . _ ,
8 Mctaph. xiv. c. 8. Eudoxus assigned fifty-five spheres on the whole; or, deducting those added to the sun and moon, forty-
seven. Aristotle only states this as what may reasonably be thought; leaving, he says, the assertion of its necessity to others more
confident, than himself, p. 1003, Du Yal. Eudoxus of Cnidus went into Egypt about 368 n. e. and introduced the regular
astronomy from Egypt into Greece. Aristotle gives him the high praise of recommending his view ot pleasure as the c ne gooc, y
the distinguished morality of his life. (Eth.Nic.x..2.) . „ 7 . n n
9 De Gen. et Cor. ii. c. 10. > ° Nat. Ausc. viii. c. 4, 5, 6, 8; De Ccelo, i. c. 9 ; Metaph. xiv. c. 6 and 7-
a 11 Metaph. iii, 2, h p.it yao a^iKurarn, xou nyifiOiiKurarrii xai n fooXas ovS’ cttruTU* ras aXXas i-rnrmpas ’Sixaiot, b rou . iXoo, kcu
fxyttS-to niuvT'c.
504 ARISTOTLE’S
Theoretic This intimate connection of theology with metaphysics,
Philoso- in the ancient philosophy, was a natural consequence or
Phy- the separation which heathenism established between
theology and religion. In the civilized states of antiquity,
religion was pursued only as a matter of policy, and not
as a rule of life to the individual. Whatever was the es¬
tablished creed of the state, it was the recognized duty
of the good citizen to support as established.1 2 Not in¬
volving any question of truth or falsehood in the particu¬
lar creed adopted, it readily admitted of any additions of
superstition not repugnant to the laws and manners of
the state, but imperiously rejected all questioning of the
principle itself, that the established religion must be prac¬
tically adopted.11 It may be said to have been the great
principle of their religion, that it should be no question of
truth and falsehood. The religious feelings of the human
heart were thus unnerved. Their strength was spent in
showy pomps or cumbrous ceremonies, if they were not
corrupted by demoralizing orgies. In this state of things,
the better and wiser part of men were driven into a me¬
taphysical religion. They could not acquiesce in the
views of the Deity conveyed in the popular superstitions;
and the subject could not but recur to them in the rea¬
sonings of their hearts, as soliciting earnest inquiry. They
searched for God, accordingly, not seeking what to do, but
what to know. Whatever the truth concerning him might
be, it was not to be expressed in any acts of adoration.
Though the whole world might be found his temple, he
was not to be the Holiness of their shrines. Though the
heavens were telling of his glory, and the stars were sing¬
ing together for joy at his presence, yet no praise was to
ascend to him in the perfumes of their altars, or the me¬
lodies of their choral hymns. Thus, devotion being ba¬
nished from the heart, reared a tabernacle for itself in the
wilderness of a theological philosophy; and thus Socrates
and Plato, and Aristotle and Cicero, and other illuminated
sages of heathenism, continued, without hypocrisy, pro¬
fessors of the established religion, whilst they sought a
purer knowledge of God in the thoughtful abstractions of
their own intellect.
Looking, then, at the admirable order of the heavenly
bodies, the philosopher saw, in their unvarying regularity,
the immutable and eternal nature of the great principle
on which their motions depended. He did not, it seems,
attribute to them a proper divinity in themselves; for he
refers their perpetuity of motion to the ultimate principle
PHILOSOPHY.
or First Mover, the Deity of his system. But he speaks as Thee c
if they possessed a divine nature, calling them divine Thil'
bodies, and applying to them the term aiung or ceons; |
which name, he says, was uttered by the ancients with '1
a divine meaning.3 He also says expressly that we must
think of them as partaking of life and action. He must
be supposed, however, by such expressions, to be giving
only an analogical description of the perfection, in which
they display the efficacy of the First Great Principle. Con¬
trasted with the unstable things of the earth, they evi¬
dence the principle of motion perpetually operating with¬
out interruption; whereas the successions of generations
and corruptions about the earth only approximate to the j
unbroken perpetuity of the heavenly motions. We ought
indeed to interpret in the same manner his ascription of
power to nature as a principle of motion. It seems as if
he was excluding the agency of the Deity; but in truth
he is only analyzing one mode of the operation of the First
Principle. For he thinks that all things attain the good of
their nature, so far as they have something divine actuat¬
ing them. It is this divinity in them which is the primary
source of all perceptions of pleasure ;4 the indistinct ap¬
prehension of which he supposes to be the motive of ex¬
ertion in all things that are capable of action, though they
may be unconscious of its being so.5 Flence it has been
maintained, that the doctrine of Aristotle differed but lit¬
tle from the pantheism of Spinoza.6 The operations of
nature, then, as well as the revolving spheres of the hea¬
vens, are divine, inasmuch as they illustrate more or less
perfectly the animating principle of all motion,—the ope¬
ration of Deity itself. At the same time, it must be ob¬
served, there is no notion of the Deity inculcated as the
Creator and Governor of the Universe. It is simply as
the Life of the Universe—-the Intellect—the Energy—as
what gives excellence, and perfection, and joy to the whole
system—that his philosophy explores the Deity. It is, in
short, pure Being, abstracted from all matter, and there¬
fore only negatively defined as without parts or magni¬
tude, impassible, invariable, and eternal. But whilst his
system included no providence,7 it has the merit of ex¬
cluding the operation of chance and accident. These, he
observes, are not capable of being causes of any thing;
they are merely descriptions of what takes place con¬
trary to some presupposed design, or some tendency in
nature.8
In his metaphysics, properly so called, he considers this
1 See Xenophon’s Memorab. iv. c. 4. The great rule of piety inculcated by Socrates is, voXua;. See also Polyb. vi. 56.
2 In Topic, i. 11, Aristotle says that there are some who are not to be argued with; and mentioning such as require punishment
rather than argument, he instances in those who question, “whether one ought to honour the gods,” p. 187, Lu Val. See also
Eudem. i. c. 3.
3 De (ivlo, i. 9, p. 446, Lu "V al; rouro Tobvopa. S-siag iQB-iyxrai vrscoot tojv ctgfcaiwv, h. t. x. JMetdph. xiv. 8. p. 1003, 44 It has been
handed down by primitive and ancient men, left in the figure of fable, both that these are gods, and that the divinity encompasses
universal nature; but all else has been fabulously associated in order to influence with the multitude, and for its use in respect to
the laws and expediency. For they say that these are of human form, and like some of the other animals, and other corresponding
things, such as those that have been mentioned : Of which accounts should one separately take this only, that they held the first
beings to be gods, he might consider it to have been divinely expressed; and as probably each art and philosophy has been often dis¬
covered to the utmost and again lost, so also that these their opinions, like relics, have survived up to the present time. Now our
hereditary opinion, and that derived from the primitive men, is so far only manifest to us.”
4 Eth. Nic. vii. C. 13, ‘rxvra. 'yag <puirti t%ti ti S-itov, x. r. X.
5 Ibid. X. 3, iffu; Ss xai iv rot; tpauXot;, x. r. X. ; also, Metaph. xiv. 7, p- 1000, Lu Val ; Polit. vii. 3, #XoXy ymo ay 0 Bio; txoi xaXus, *«<
vit; o xotrfio;, x. r. x. ; also Dc Cxlo, i. 9. In De Anim. i. 3, he substitutes 44 the Leity,” where, according to his usual mode of speak-
mg, he would say “ nature,” xatroty' ix^nv rov 9iov, x. r. x. p. 625, Lu Val.
s See Bayle’s Diet, article Aristotle.
rhere is a passage in his Ethic. Nicom. x. 8, in which he alludes to the supposition of a divine superintendence, iortfjaXua; but he
there evidently makes the appeal rhetorically, to recommend that cultivation of the intellect in which he places man’s highest happi-
_ A further evidence of this is, his speaking of gads in the plural in that passage. At any rate, the superintendence here spoken
of, is distinct wom what we mean by providence, as he does not suppose it extended over the bad as well as the good. In his Magna
Moraha,\i. c. 8 (Du V al, vol. ii. p. 185), he argues that the superintendence and benevolence of the Leity cannot be supposed the same
as good toi tune, swru^/a, because it is not reasonable that the Leity should superintend, tTiuiXurBai, over the bad; and we observe the
bad sometimes fortunate.
Ihis view of Chance agrees with the remark in Thucydides, that 44 we are accustomed to charge Fortune with whatever happens
Xoyov, out of the course of reason,” book i. chap. 140. Aristotle has expressed the same in his Rhetoric, i. c. o, »*« Js *<*< ruv*»ia
Xoyov ccyaBav atria rv^n.
ARISTOTLE’S PHILOSOPHY. 505
.rhe, tic First Principle strictly in a metaphysical point of view, loses that nature in proportion as it is conceived in any Theoretic
Wo- His professed object here is, to inquire into “ Being so far actual form of physical being. Pfailoso-
pi forth as it is Being, and the general properties belong- Hence, in the science of metaphysics, the proper if not PhT-
}ng to it as such.”1 Having traced the changes which oc- the only substance, or ouata, is the form or abstract na- '"‘"Y'**''
cur about the earth to a fixed principle, he had presented ture of things.3 This, as explained by Aristotle, is the
(me unchangeable .point of view in which the human mind exemplar or representation in the mind of a thing as it
might contemplate the vast and restless variety of physical exists in nature. As, then, the primary substances in
objects. It remained for him, then, to examine this ultimate nature are the things themselves as they are found and
principle in itself, and its various applications, or properties, observed in nature, so the primary substances in the world
as he describes them, as the foundation of all science. of the mind are those abstract forms by which the truth
His employing the term “ Being” so definitely, gives and reality of things are there shadowed out. The sci-
the appearance of his being engaged in the investigation ence of metaphysics, then, is strictly conversant about
of realities here; just as, in his physics, he appears to be these abstract forms, just as natural philosophy is conver-
describing secret processes of nature rather than philoso- sant about external objects of which the senses give us
phizing on the course of nature. Hence we might be in- information.
duced to think, that in reading the metaphysics of Aris- The object, then, of Aristotle in his metaphysics, is to
totle we are exploring the mysteries of ontology. The explain the nature of those general principles, by which
expressions indeed of Aristotle, and perhaps his example the mind represents to itself the objects without it as they
in some parts of his metaphysics, afforded occasion to the really are; which principles are thus the foundations of all
ontology of the schools. Aristotle, however, is not to be philosophical truth. Hence, in the technical language of
charged with the realism and absurdity of that system, ancient philosophy, he describes this science as the science
These may be traced chiefly to a circumstance already of First Causes—the First Philosophy—or by the general
adverted to—the introduction of Aristotle’s philosophy title of Philosophy. But a science such as this is pre-
into the western church by the medium of Latin transla- cisely what modern writers have designated by the Philo-
tion. The term ouo'/a, by which he denotes existence in sophy of the Human Mind, though they have differed from
the abstract, as distinct from any object of which it is Aristotle in their mode of investigation: they having di-
affirmed, having been rendered in Latin by substantia; rected their attention principally to the operations of the
it came to be supposed, that the natures or principles re- mind, whilst he has confined himself, in this department
presented by the term had a real subsistence. Thus the at least of his philosophy, to the objects about which the
doctrine of Aristotle respecting Being, was understood in mind is conversant.
a sense precisely the reverse of that which the philoso- In his inquiry into these principles, Aristotle had to
pher himself intended. The analogy on which the ap- encounter two extremes of opinion maintained by philo-
plication of the term substantia to metaphysical subjects sophers before him—the doctrine of Protagoras, Empe-
was founded, became obscured by the actual force of the docles, and others, who held that there was no fixed stand-
term itself. Instead of its being regarded as denoting ard of such principles in nature, but that every thing was
only a relation between our conceptions corresponding to relative to human perception; and the ideal theory of
that between a thing supported and what supports it, the Plato, which, by the hypothesis of self-existent universal,^
idea was suggested of a reality, or even of a material na- introduced a subtile materialism into the philosophy ot
ture, as implied by the term. mind.
Rightly, however, to understand Aristotle’s notion of He points out the practical absurdity of the former
Being, as it is the object of metaphysics, we should dis- opinion, according to which contradictories were equally
tinguish between Being, as it is in nature generally, and as true, and every proposition was equally true and equally
it is in the human mind in particular. For it is in this false—by asking,4 “ why a man walks to Megara, and
last sense that it must be understood, when it is stated, does not remain still, thinking that he is walking; why
that Being abstracted from all objects whatsoever, is the he does not step down a well or a precipice, as it may hap-
object of the universal science: since there is no other pen, the first thing in the morning, but uses caution, as
sense, in which a Being which is not in any thing can be not equally convinced that the falling in is a good, and
conceived, but as it is the pure object of intellect, or is in not a good ?’ ° Again, that men do not regard all notions
the intellect solely. Looking, then, at nature at large, we as equally true, is plain, he observes, fi om this, that . no
must apply Being, in its first and proper sense, to individual one who may have supposed himself during the nigl1^
objects really existing; and in a secondary sense, to the at Athens, when he was in Libya, walks to the Odeum,
attributes of such: because, the first notion of Being in He refutes, however, this sceptical doctrine more expi ess-
nature is suggested by the actual existence of the object; ly> by distinguishing between the reality of things as t ley
and our next notions result from the operations of our exist absolutely or relatively to our perceptions. n,er^
minds about the object already presupposed in existence, may be no reality of Being, either m things perceived or
But the case is different, when the objects whose being in the perceptions, these being affections of the perci-
we are considering, are objects of intellect in themselves, pient power. But it is impossible that there should not
Here the abstract notions of things are the first in order :2 really exist some subject-things which produce the percep-
these are, relatively to the mind, the realities about which tion, and are independent of perception.. Whereas t lose
it is engaged; whereas the actual objects in nature are, in who make being dependent on perception, by asserting
this point of view, the secondary beings. The reason is, that whatever appeals is true, imp y t at not ling won t
that an object of the mind, as such, exists in its proper exist if there were no living creatures.7 Hence it appears
nature when it is entirely abstracted from all matter, but that Aristotle virtually admits the distinction mat e y
1 Nat. Ausc. ii. G, 7, 8; Mctaph. xiii. 8. , , , ,
1 Mctaph. xiii. c. 4, r„vat vrouTw umkhum wern/w rourm aw, cvc* <r« vxcku^«. tar,,, *>■'*■ * ‘T5<Y
3 Ibid. vii. 5. IbuL }V- C- 5*
4 Ibid. iv. c. 4; Du Val ii. p. 876. * 1V* 4’ 5‘ ^ . .
7 Ibid. iv. 5, pi, cu, pnn roc carSvrcc u,ta, pr,n roc cci&npara, rov MrSavopmv ‘rouro tan' ro 3s res vvo .U/i*** p*
taut a roiu tjjv kzi a.,iu aiaB-^aius, ahjtctro,.
VOL. III. 15 S
506
ARISTOTLE’S PHILOSOPHY.
Theoretic modern metaphysicians between the primary and secon-
Philoso- dary qualities of matter. He affirms, that whilst we have
v Pty' ideas of things without us which are simply our own per-
1 ceptions, or acts of the perceiving mind, there must also
be some really existing natures without us on which these
perceptions are founded.
The ideal theory of Plato tended to the same scepti¬
cism as the doctrine of these elder philosophers, but on a
different principle. Plato destroyed all the certainty of
our knowledge, by fixing the objects of it entirely out of
the range of human intellect, and teaching men to aban¬
don nature and experience in the pursuit of imaginary be¬
ings—the ideas, or archetypes of the beings of the sen¬
sible world. He established in his system other beings
separate from nature as the objects of philosophy, whilst
his predecessors denied that there were any proper ob¬
jects founded in nature. But both he and they equally
removed all grounds of conviction from the mind of man.
Aristotle, accordingly, strenuously combats the doctrine
of ideas as adverse to all sound speculation. He loses no
opportunity, in the course of his discussions, of alluding to
it and x-efuting it.1 He considers it as overthrowing all
science, by multiplying, instead of reducing to certain de¬
finite principles, the variety of the objects of contempla¬
tion. “ It is like,” he says, “ any one wishing to reckon,
but who, thinking himself unable when he had less, should
make more, and then reckon.”2
The ideal theory was, as we have before remarked, a
modification of the Pythagorean theory of numbers, or a
mixture of logical and mathematical truth. Hence the
importance assigned by Plato to mathematics, as intro¬
ductory to the philosophy of ideas. The theory of Py¬
thagoras was, it seems, purely mathematical. What he
called numbers, appear to have been imaginary limits to
which, as to their ultimate ratios, he referred the propor¬
tions observed in the universe. Plato proceeded a step
further, and endeavoured to realize these ultimate natures
by the help of the abstractions of language; but still re¬
tained so much of the mathematical conception of them,
as to make the science of them dependent on the know¬
ledge of mathematics; describing the objects of mathe¬
matics as intermediate to the ideas and sensible objects.3
Aristotle shows, then, in opposition both to the Pythago¬
reans and to Plato, that there are no such principles as
numbers really existent in nature as primary and consti¬
tuent elements of things.
There is no point, in fact, on which Aristotle has spoken
more plainly and decisively, than on the non-existence of
univeisals. It is to individuals alone that he allows a real
existence.4 He remarks, that when any principle is as¬
serted of several things, it is by analogy; as in fact there
are distinct principles in each distinct thing; “ for what
belongs to each thing, is the principle of whatever be¬
longs to each. J Ihus, “ whilst the universal man is the
principle of man, Peleus is the father of Achilles—your
own father of yourself.” In things generically distinct,
as colours and sounds, the principles differ, but are the
same by analogy. In things specifically the same, the
principles differ, not in species, but as they are distinct in
each individual; e. g. the matter, the form, and the mov¬
ing power, are distinct in this and that man; but in the
general principle, ™ xaSoAoa Xoya;, they are the same. So
cleaily has he laid it down, that none but individuals have
a real existence, and that all other beings are relations. Theoi
or results of the operation of our minds about individuals. Philc
In extending our survey to the several subjects includ- l)hJ
ed in the metaphysics of Aristotle, we must remember i'
that the science of which he is treating had hitherto
been blended with logic under the general name of dia¬
lectic. It was hardly to be expected, therefore, that Aris-
totle, in making the separation, should altogether forget
the prejudice wliich had united them. Nor must we won¬
der, therefore, that much of the work should be employ¬
ed in discussing the meaning of terms, and in observations
addressed rather to the disputant in words, than to the
inquirer into the principles of philosophy. But we should
be too hasty in judgment, if we condemned such discus¬
sions as foreign to the purpose of the metaphysician. The
accurate examination of the notions expressed by such
terms as being, oneness, sameness, contrariety, power, is
illustrative of the connections of our ideas; for these
terms are not dependent on the peculiarities of any one
language, but are uniform characters of human thought.
It is a curious and important inquiry, accordingly, to as¬
certain that connection of ideas of which these terms are
the general expressions; to trace, e. g. all the various modes
of thought to which we apply the term contrariety, or
which we characterize under the general description of
qualities.
The inquiry into the mind, considered in itself as a
principle of life and thought, forms, as we have already
hinted, no part of Aristotle’s metaphysics. In his philo¬
sophy such an inquiry belongs to physics, since he re¬
gards mind as a principle connected with matter. This
inquiry he has prosecuted in a Treatise On the Soul, and
in several smaller treatises On the Parts and Motions of
Animals, On Perception, On the Duration of Life, Youth
and Old Age, Life and Death, Respiration, Memory, Sleep
and Waking, and Dreaming ; to which may be added also
the book On Physiognomy, and his larger work the Trea¬
tise on Animals, which, though properly a work of natural
history, is also illustrative of the nature of Soul, considered
as the living principle in all animated beings. In these
several works, it may be observed on the whole, there is
less of mere speculation, and a more open display of that
power of real philosophy, the dvm/iig avaXvr.mri, which he so
eminently possessed. We find him stating and examining
facts,6 drawing from them conclusions in the spirit of a
modern inquirer, and at the same time with the severe
accuracy of his own method.
The ingenuity of the ancient philosophers was exhaust¬
ed in attempting to assign the nature of the soul or living
principle. There was no one of the elements, except earth,
which did not find its advocate in some theory of the soul.
It was represented also as a combination of all elements,
or as blood, or intrinsic motion, or a harmony and con¬
junction of contraries. Aristotle, pursuing the system of
his physics, wisely avoids endeavouring to refer the soul
to any particular class of material objects, explaining the
nature of it, as it is an instance of the union of the two
principles, matter and form, in a common result. It is an
instance of the principle of matter, so far as there must be
an organized body susceptible of life in every thing that
lives. It is an instance of the principle of form, so far as
that nature, in which the life of the creature consists, is
perfectly developed in the animated body. His definition,
tarch adv. Colotem. J ’ Analyt' Post‘ u 8’ 19 5 £th- n c. 4 ; Metaph. xii. 4, 5; Atticus apud Euseb. Prccp. Evcmg. xv. c. 13; Flu-
Metaph. i. c. 7, and xi. c. 4.
Catcg. c. 5 ; Metaph. vii. c. 13; Anal. Post. i. 31.
He speaks of this part of his philosophy as an inouirv • t i < r, * %
i i O' “a an inquiry , r>jv r>js 'pv^s irrogiav. De Amm. i. 1
3 See Plato de Repiib. vii.; Aristot. Metaph. xii.
I
ARISTOTLE’S
^■Tpretic accordingly, maintains the distinctness of body and soul1
p 080- as two principles combined, without defining what the
y. soul Is in itself. He illustrates their union by the ana-
logy of the eye and the sight.2 There must be the eye
in order to sight; but the eye, though perfect in its struc¬
ture, is not an eye unless the principle of sight be super-
added to it.
Thus, considering the principle of life as distinct from
the organized system in which it is evidenced, he proceeds
to inquire into its peculiar laws, by examining the mode of
its operation. He divides its mode of operation into five
classes, according to the objects about which it is exercis¬
ed. It is, 1st, a principle of nutrition, in which respect it
is common to vegetables and animals ; 2dly, of perception ;
3d(?/, of appetites and affections; Stilly, of intellect; bthly,
of locomotion. Wherever there is perception, there are
also, he states, appetites and affections ;3 and consequent¬
ly all these modes of operation of the living principle are
evidenced in brutes, with the exception of intellect, which
belongs to man exclusively.
His observations on perception are highly important,
as tending to show the existence of living powers in ani¬
mals, distinct from the organs by which those powers are
displayed. He affirms that there is always a medium in¬
terposed between the perceiving power and the object
perceived,—appealing to the sense of sight. Sight, he ob¬
serves, is not produced by placing the object on the eye,
nor yet can be produced by the object itself at a distance,
and consequently must result from something intervening
between the eye and the object, so as to make an impres¬
sion from the object on the eye. He mistook, indeed, the
nature of this medium, conceiving light to be the active
development of the abstract nature of transparency in
some body, as in air or water,4 and not material or capa¬
ble of motion.5 But the conclusion itself is just; and it
shows that the eye6 perceives only as an instrument of
communication with external objects to an internal power
of the soul. The senses which appear to militate with
this conclusion are those of touch and taste, which seem
to be produced immediately, without any interposed me¬
dium. But there is no reason, he argues, to conclude the
flesh to be the feeling power in itself7 because it acts in¬
stantaneously ; for an artificial membrane spread over the
body would produce the like instantaneous effect: and
supposing the air to grow all around us, we should in like
manner have immediate perception of all objects of sense,
and thus appear to have perceptions of sight, and hearing,
and smelling, by one sense.
Perception, then, according to Aristotle, is the power
of the soul to receive immaterial impressions from mate¬
rial objects, as the wax receives impressions of a seal with¬
out the brass or gold of which the seal is made. The
impressions thus received he regards as the basis of all
our knowledge, insomuch that a creature destitute of
perception would be incapable of understanding and learn¬
ing. Touch8 is the sense indispensable to existence, and
PHILOSOPHY. 507
the only one so indispensable. All the other senses, he Theoretic
says, have been added for the good and perfection of the Thiloso-
animal—rou so svsxa. The sensations are distinct, however, Ph'V'
from the ideas of the mind. The sensations in them-
selves are never delusive,—the same thing is always sweet
or always bitter; but they may be followed by different
ideas in different minds. To a sick person, what is natu¬
rally sweet may seem bitter, or, from accidental position
with respect to the spectator, an object may appear dif¬
ferent from what it is; as, for example, the apparent dia¬
meter of the sun. To the ideas thus formed immediate¬
ly from perception, Aristotle gives the name of phantasms;
and the power of perception thus modified he calls phan-
tasia or imagination.9 The delusiveness sometimes at¬
tributed to the senses themselves originates in this facul¬
ty of imagination consequent on sensation. Together
with memory, it constitutes the whole intellectual nature
of brutes. In man it furnishes the first notices in order
to the operation of his intellect. By the operation of the
intellect on these notices the first simple ideas are form¬
ed, from which the mind proceeds to its complex and
general notions.
In considering the nature of the intellect, Aristotle in¬
troduces an important distinction between the mere capa¬
city or faculty of knowledge, and the actual knowledge
possessed by the mind; that is, between the intellect and
the principles of the intellect. He employs the well-
known illustration of “ a writing tablet in which nothing
is actually written,” to distinguish the thinking faculty in
itself from the thoughts with which it is furnished. But
he does not suppose, as this illustration might suggest,
that ideas are objects distinct from the mind itself. Where
the object of thought is itself immaterial, as when the
mind is reflecting on itself, there, he observes, the think¬
ing power and the object of thought are the same.10 He
conceives, however, that the mind is capable of existing
without thinking,11 and consequently does not resolve the
whole understanding of man into consciousness. Hence,
according to him, whilst the passive intellect, or the mind
as it consists of principles with which the senses have fur¬
nished it, perishes, the active intellect, the power itself
by which we think, exists in its proper nature when sepa¬
rate, and is immortal and eternal.12
It may be perceived, from this view of Aristotle’s Theory
of the Soul, how far he acknowledged the immortality of
man. So far as the nature of man is purely intellectual,
he conceived it capable of existing separately from matter,
and in some sense divine; but so far as it consisted of
affections, which he describes as "koyoi evuXo/, principles in
matter, he regarded it as mortal and necessarily perishable
with the body. He pronounces nothing of the nature of
that immortality which he thus attributes to the intel¬
lect, speaking of it in a rhetorical manner rather than
with the precision of philosophy. At any rate, as only
asserting an immortality of such an abstract and undefin¬
ed nature, he seems not unjustly to have been represented
1 De Anim. ii. 2, rovro u*cXu/*Uvo!J<n,, eh Scku f*nrt anv tupares i/va/, r, (el* y*l> evK im, te>fia.re;
<i t(, r. x. p. C33, Du Val. Evra^s/av appellat novo nomine, quasi quandam continuatam motionem et perennem. (Cicero,
Tusc. Qu. i.)
3 De Anim. ii. 1, u yue »v 5 o(ti^aXu.o; gaiov, «v xuru *i\i ri o-^is, *• r. X. p. 631. .. e
3 Ibid. ii. 3, * s’ ^lxu, revrV^ rS *. r. X. p. 633. De Ammal Motione, c. 10 he compares the operation of
the soul on the different parts of the body of animals, to a well-ordered state, in which the various offices are regularly administered,
without requiring the presence of the monarch on each occasion. (P. 709, Du Y al.) , ..
4 De Aiiim. ii. c. 7> ^ Ss svrsXivs/a rou hoctyavovs (p*>$ to-n, p. 639. De Sensu et Sensil. c. 2. # e 7**m# 11* c*.
6 The eye, he savs afterwards, sees only, » hafavts, so far forth as it is transparent, no otherwise ian wa er or air* ( c
Sensil. p. 664, Du Val.) . . J n. c. 11, p. 644.
s He considers natural talent as connected with the delicacy of this sense. {De Anim. n. c. J, p. 64 .)
9 Ibid. iii. c. 3 and 4 ; Metaph. iv. c. 5. The term imagination must here be understood in the most general sense.
I 0 Ibid. iii. C. 5, tori piv yxg rav avsv vXtts re aure urn re voevv Kelt re veevpsve*, p* 653.
II Ibid. rev Si [in an votiv re cunev lirva’xurrsav, p. 653.
12 Ibid. iii. 6.
508
ARISTOTLE’S PHILOSOPHY.
Efficient as opposed to Plato on the doctrine of the immortality of
Philoso- the soul.1
 , As Aristotle included under Physics animate as well as
inanimate nature, he has carried the historical part of his
natural philosophy into both these departments. We
have already mentioned his History of Animals, the pre¬
cious relic of an extensive work, for which the materials
were furnished to him by the conquests and the magnifi¬
cence of Alexander. This fact alone excites an interest
in favour of the work; and this interest is fully sustained
by the varietj' of curious information contained in it re¬
specting the structure and the habits of animals, indicat¬
ing a power of the most minute observation.2 He is said
also to have written a work on Comparative Anatomy.
There are extant among his works further illustrations of
the animal economy, in treatises on the motion, the walk¬
ing, the parts, and the generation of animals. In inani¬
mate nature he has explored the causes of meteors, comets,
earthquakes, of the rainbow, and other phenomena of the
atmosphere, in a work on Meteorology. He has also sepa¬
rately discussed the nature of colours, and of the objects
of hearing.
To this catalogue must be added two works which do
not strictly fall under either department of nature, The
Problems, containing queries chiefly on subjects belong¬
ing to Natural Philosophy, with brief answers,—a curious
work, illustrative of his vast reach of observation, and his
extraordinary sagacity in searching out the reasons of
things; and a tract against the doctrines of Xenophanes,
Zeno the Eleatic,3 and Gorgias.4
In mathematics he has left very little comparatively.
The only treatises under this head are, The Mechanical
Questions, and a book on Indivisible Lines; both very
inconsiderable works in themselves. But he had been
trained in the school of Plato, whose threshold was not to
be passed by the uninitiated in geometry; and had at¬
tained a perfect skill in the method of mathematical in¬
vestigation then known. -We do not want indeed more
abundant proof of this, than is to be gathered from pas¬
sages in his Physics, in which we find him often esta¬
blishing conclusions by steps of mathematical demonstra¬
tion.
Efficient Philosophy.
Dialectic.
Aristotle, we have remarked, was the first to separate
the proper science of Dialectic from that confusion with
Physics and Metaphysics in which it had been entangled
and perverted. In doing this he laid the foundation of a
sound and practical logic. There was a basis of truth,
he saw, in the doctrine of Plato, which referred our know¬
ledge of all sensible objects to certain abstract universal
natures, the objects of pure intellect. But he saw also
that Plato had entirely overthrown the right application
of the doctrine, by imputing to these universal a real
being; and, instead of treating them as the causes simply
of our knowledge, identifying them with the actual ele¬
ments or grounds of existing things. Having stated, Efficic
therefore, the proper nature of these universal to be that Philo*
of conceptions of the. mind, by which it represents to it- phy.
self things as they really are, and in this sense speculated i'"
on them abstractedly in the Metaphysics, he further con¬
siders them, in the treatises of the Organon, as they are
employed dialectically, or are subservient to the commu¬
nication of knowledge between man and man. There was
indeed another view of the application of these universal,
and prior to that of their employment in discourse, which
remained to be considered/ This was their use in ena¬
bling the mind to connect the phenomena of nature, or
as they are properly the causes of our knowledge. But
the state of philosophy in his time did not lead him to
such an investigation. It was reserved for an age of more
diffused civilization, and the adventurous genius of Bacon,
to display the principles of that analysis by which the
mind arrives at general principles, and obtains a real
science of nature. The practice of colloquial discussion
on questions of philosophy, recommended as it was by the
instructiveness and interest of the conversations of So¬
crates, attracted the attention of the Greek philosophers
to the mode of establishing conviction by deductions from
admitted principles. Aristotle, accordingly, in elucidating
the nature of universals as the causes of our knowledge,
was naturally diverted from the higher path of investiga¬
tion, to explore them as they acted through the medium
of language. In pursuing this inquiry, he laid down the
principles of a general science, applying to argumentation
as such, to the inferences of*the reasoner from probabi¬
lities, as well as to the most rigid demonstrations of the
mathematician.5
Dialectic, in its widest sense, is the method of deducing
the probabilities on either side of a question, so framed
as to involve one of two contradictory propositions in the
answer, according as the affirmative or negative of it is
taken.6 The discussions to which the term Dialectic re¬
fers being carried on by a series of questions and answers,
the design of the art was, to furnish the means of sus¬
taining these intellectual exercises, by supplying not only
principles of correct reasoning, or rules of logic properly
so called, but various modes of proof and helps to the in¬
vention of arguments.7 To have a ready command of
propositions on any given point, and of objections that
might be brought against it, so as to be completely armed
for debate, was the perfect accomplishment of the dialec¬
tician. This most obvious application of the science pro¬
duced unfortunately, in the haste to supply arms for the
disputant, instead of a philosophy of language, a mis¬
named science, conversant only about the intricacies of
verbal quibbling. Zeno the Eleatic, Euclid of Megara,
and Antisthenes, took the lead in framing systems ac¬
cording to this view of Dialectic. Nor do the dialogues
of Plato, though rich in examples of reasoning, suggest
any more just and exact method. Hence the logic which
prevailed at the time of Aristotle, and which, from the
long concealment of his writings, continued, even after
his improvements in this branch of philosophy, to be the
* Origen c. Cels. ii. p. 67, ed. Spenc.
It was the authority followed by Pliny in his Natural History. Pliny, viii. 16, says in allusion to it, “ vir quem in iis magna
secuturum ex parte prsetandum reor.” > -i
3 nn ca^e<^111 contradistinction to Zeno the Cittian, founder of the Stoics,
The treatise on plants edited with his works is acknowledged by critics
treatise De Mundo may also be regarded as now decidedly rejected from the
Narrations, and perhaps the Fragment on the Winds ; the internal evidence
It is very probable that the works of Theophrastus were mixed with those
respecting the transmission of the volumes of Aristotle.
s Anal. Prior, i. c. 1 and 30. Anal. Post. i. c. 11.
7 ToP' viii- caP- 5 and last chapter; Cicero Dc Fin. ii cap. 6, and Top. ad Trcb. cap. 2.
, from Velia in Italy, his birth-place,
i not to be Aristotle’s, but that of Theophrastus. The
number of his works, as also the Collection of Wonderful
of these tracts being against their imputed authorship,
of Aristotle, from the circumstances already mentioned
Top. viii. cap. 2.
ARISTOTLE’S
f jient system of the Greek schools, was a mere collection of
I’l )S0- subtile points of argument, without any attempt to analyze
y- the process itself of argument. His Dialectic is the re-
formation of that irregular and perplexed system. Whilst
he adopts and explains the general notion of the science,
as a method of defending or impugning an opinion, he
takes a larger, more philosophical view of the subject;
investigating the grounds, both in the nature of language
and in the connections of thought, on which all argu¬
ments must rest. Hence his just boast, that, “ with re¬
gard to the dialectic art, there was not something done
and something remaining to be done,—there was absolute¬
ly nothing done; for those who professed the art of dis¬
putation resembled the rhetoricians of Gorgias’s school.
As these composed orations, so the other framed argu¬
ments which might suit, as they imagined, most occasions.
These their scholars soon learned. But they were in this
manner only furnished with the materials produced by
the art,—the art itself they did not learn.” He goes on
in the same passage to observe, that “ upon rhetoric much
had been written ; but on the art of reasoning, nothing.
The whole of what he had composed on that subject was
from himself—that he had “ derived no benefit from
former labours:” expressing his hope, accordingly, that
what he had “ left undone would be forgiven, and that
what had been done would meet with a favourable accep¬
tance.”1
It is a singular fact in the history of science, that his
labours in this arduous work should have suffered an un¬
just depreciation in modern times, by being estimated in
contrast with the analysis of Bacon : whereas, according to
his own challenge, and as the reason of the case suggests,
they admit only of comparison with the efforts of his pre¬
decessors, and of the Stoics, who, though following him,
wrought upon the ancient model of the science, and exhi¬
bited that in its utmost perfection. If we compare the
method of Aristotle with what is known of the wrangling
discipline of the Stoics, we shall then judge with more fair¬
ness of the philosophical character of his labours. His dis¬
ciples were content to be ignorant of such dialectic as the
Stoics taught,2 though, from the untoward prevalence of
that system down to the time at least of Cicero, it has pro¬
bably been often confounded with that of Aristotle, and thus
reflected its own disrepute on his more scientific system.
With the method, however, of Bacon, the Dialectic of Aris¬
totle has no natural rivalry. In the period of literature
preceding the researches of Bacon, it happened that inge¬
nious men, with a natural devotedness to the studies by
which their minds had been moulded, sought to resolve
the mysteries of science by a profound Aristotelian phi¬
losophy. Thus were principles of physics and metaphy¬
sics mixed up with the theory of language; as, on the
other hand, principles belonging to the theory of language
were previously applied to the analysis of nature. The
writings of Aristotle were regarded as a kind of Scriptu¬
ral philosophy, beyond which there was no appeal in con¬
troversies of science.3 And when an authority of this
PHILOSOPHY. 50s
kind is once established, it is easy to see that a philosophy Efficient
of mere words will soon follow. Expounding and com- Ehiloso-
menting on the text of the master supersedes the ones- ph'V‘
tioning of nature herself, just as a mere textual theology
supersedes an enlarged study of the facts and scheme of
Divine revelation. But this perversion is not to be regard¬
ed as the tendency of Aristotle’s philosophy. Practically,
indeed, he does not altogether keep clear of the seduc¬
tions of realism; but in him it is only a practical infir-
m'ty; Theoretically, he was perfectly aware that “ the
subtilty of nature far exceeds the subtilty of human intel¬
lect ;4 and that, accordingly, to ascertain what things are,
we must know them otherwise than according to dialec¬
tic. He would have dialectic employed for the purpose of
stating and examining all the questions and difficulties
belonging to any subject—not to supersede an acquaint¬
ance with phenomena.5 He observes, that when, in in¬
quiries concerning what a thing is, men are ignorant of
the circumstances connected with it, they pronounce only
dialectically and emptily ;6 thus pointing out the futility
of applying an instrument of discussion to the business of
philosophical investigation. So far, then, as dialectic, by
sifting a question thoroughly, clearing up apparent incon¬
sistencies, and pointing out where the truth lies, may.be
regarded as an organ of philosophy, so far Aristotle au¬
thorizes the inquirer to employ it. It may serve as the
precursor and companion of investigation, but not as
the substitute; and thus he describes it as a method of
“ trying,” m-igagruri; whereas philosophy is a method of
“ knowledge,” ymgitfrixri.7 It is quite opposite to his
idea of dialectic to suppose it capable of furnishing prin¬
ciples. These, he expressly says, belong to the several
sciences, by which they must be supplied to the dialec¬
tician according to the matter in hand.8 To the philo¬
sophical disputant they are the data with which he sets
out; or rather, so far as he is concerned with them, the
hypotheses which he proceeds to discuss in their various
points of view, tracing their connections with, or opposi¬
tion to, other principles.9 Aristotle, therefore, evidently
did not intend that the philosopher, as such, should rest
in the speculations of dialectic; and though he has not
provided in his writings an instrument of investigation,
giving only indirect hints of such a method, he supposes
it actually resorted to in practice by the philosopher. His
Dialectic, accordingly, instead of being put in contrast
with the Novum Organon, is to be regarded as an auxi¬
liary system, introductory to the latter, and enforcing its
use.
The error of the scholastics in applying dialectical prin¬
ciples to the philosophy of nature, arose from their igno¬
rance of the nature of philosophical truth. They do not
seem to have been aware that philosophical principles are
but expedients which the mind adopts for arranging the
various objects of nature: otherwise, they would have
seen that a science conversant wholly about the connec¬
tions of our notions as expressed in language, could have
no subserviency to the investigation, properly so called, of
1 Soph. Eknch. ii. last chapter.
. 1 Cicero introduces Cato in the character of a Stoic, speaking of the Peripatetics as deficient in acuteness, “ on account of their
ignorance of dialectic.” (Tie Fin. iii. cap. 12.)
J Where a disputant quoted a passage from this philosopher, he who maintained the Thesis durst not say Transeat, but must either
deny the passage, or explain it in his own way. (liayle, Diet. art. Aristot. p. 46t>.) He refers, in evidence of this, to the Courses of
Philosophy, printed in the 16th century.
4 Bacon, JVb». Org. i. aph. 1.
J He sometimes expressly adverts to the difference between conclusions drawn s* rat> ipnivii/Mtiav and ix <r&>v Xsyeov, as De Ccdo,
ii. cap. 13, p. 466; De Gen. et Cor. ii. cap. 10, p. 525; Eudem. i. cap. 6, p. 199, Du VaL
6 Dc Anim. i. cap. 1, p. 617, Du Val. 7 Mctaph. iv. cap. 2, p. 871, Du YaL
8 Anal. Pr. i. cap. 30; Anal. Post. i. cap. 1, 3, 9.
* Bacon rightly describes the “ invention of dialectic,” in saying, “ Inventio enim dialectics non est principiorum et axiomatum
prtEcipuorum, ex quibus artes constant, sed eorum tantum, quae illis consentanea videntur.” (Yon. Org. i. p. 82.)
510 ARISTOTLE’S
Efficient other sciences. When the facts of this science were re-
Philoso- duced to certain fixed principles, the whole object of the
w . science was accomplished—the result would be a philoso¬
phy of language; and to carry this philosophy into other
matters, was an incongruity like that of uniting principles
of mathematics and ethics.1 There was at the same time
a ground for their error, in the universality of language, as
the medium by which the truths of every science are ex¬
pressed; and its comprehensiveness, as it has the power
of signifying by single terms an immense variety of ob¬
jects. These imposing attributes of language gave at least
the semblance of philosophizing to their a priori specula¬
tions. But had they studied more sincerely the writings of
their master, they would have seen the real use to which
the universality and comprehensiveness of language might
be applied, without trespassing on the legitimate province
of investigation.
A slight consideration of the nature of language may
suffice to show the proper business of Dialectic. Lan¬
guage is the record of the observations of mankind on the
course of nature. It is, as it were, a popular philosophy.
Whatever may be its origin—whether words be mere¬
ly conventional signs, as Aristotle teaches,2 or have a
foundation in the nature of the things denoted by them—
still, their application to observed facts in the course of
nature, is the result of the operation of the human mind;
and words, in this use of them, are the creations of the
intellect. The intellect takes up and applies the existing
signs furnished by language, however derived, to mark
and preserve for its future direction the dictates of its
past experience. Thus, the application of the term
“ burning” to the observed effect of fire on a combustible
body, is an act of the mind recording its experience of
that effect. Having recorded its experience by this term,
it thenceforth uses the term as a substitute for the actual
experience. Proceeding on that fundamental law of hu¬
man belief and action, that all things will continue in
their observed course, it trusts to the word thus obtained
as a guide to future conduct. It is sufficient to say that
any thing “ burns,” to give us a representation of the ef¬
fect of fire, and direct us in our actions with regard to
that thing. Accordingly, by the use of terms, observa¬
tions, in themselves individual facts, are generalized. The
term, originally the record of a single experience, serving
practically in the stead of a repeated experience, comes to
stand for a number of individuals. From its practical ap¬
plication to a multitude of similar events, it obtains a spe¬
culative multiplication as the general expression of many
particulars, or, in short, becomes a class-term.
It is thus that language may be regarded as a popular
philosophy of nature. Each term denoting some observed
event or object, is a general principle, connecting the se¬
veral events or objects to which it admits of being equally
applied. Wliilst it practically enables us to decide and
act in a number of individual cases, it also speculatively
presents the means of anticipating a number of particu¬
lars, as notions implied in it; or, in other words, is a theory
of the particulars which it denotes.
But when we have once obtained a variety of terms,
thus representing in each of them a multitude of particulars,
we can further generalize our observations by reflection on
the notions themselves, and recording our observations on
these, in like manner as on the real events and objects of
PHILOSOPHY.
nature. We then notice whether the notions implied by Effi,
one term, are distinct from, or are included in, the notions Phil
implied by another; and, accordingly, we regard the P11
terms respectively denoting them, as classes, either to-*^ >
tally distinct, or as more or less comprehensive. We ob¬
serve, for instance, whether the terms, “ man,” “ animal,”
“ vegetable,”—all being records of our observations on
nature,—give us information of the same particulars, or
of others entirely different: and we find that “ man” and
“ animal” are but different views of the same individual,
as for instance of Socrates; whilst the term “ vegetable”
is no expression of any observation whatever on the same
individual. We find that “ animal” represents to us more
individual objects than “ man;” so we regard it specula¬
tively as a class including in it “ man;” and both the
terms “ man” and “ animal,” as classes entirely distinct
from the class “ vegetable,” because none of the observa¬
tions referred to in either of the former are the same with
those referred to in the latter.
These principles of language are the data on which the
dialectical system of Aristotle is constructed. It is evi¬
dent, from the mere statement of them, that there is such
a thing as a scientific application of language to the pur¬
pose of instruction; for it is clearly seen to act as an
instrument of knowledge by its very nature, independent¬
ly of any art in the use of it. And it is for the philoso¬
pher, therefore, to inquire how it acts in producing this
effect.
Now, in order to a science of Dialectic, the first step
appears to be, to reduce those various observations on ex¬
isting things, so far as these observations are characterized
by language, into some definite classes : for we thus bring
them out of that perplexing infinity which defies all grasp
of the intellect, and obtain a few comprehensive theories,
under which the whole intellectual world may be survey¬
ed. These classes will represent to us all the different
forms or modifications of being, so far as it is capable of
being denoted by language. The next step is to examine
the principle of classification in itself, and notice the va¬
rieties of form which it takes; as the observations that are
made on any individual give us more or less comprehen¬
sive, more or less invariable and scientific, views of the
individual. The first step leads us to the Predicaments
or Categories, general designations under which all the va¬
rious abstractions of the mind are conveniently arranged
for the purpose of the dialectician. These constitute, as
it were, the fixed land-marks by which he may know the
limits of each notion with which he has to do in any dis¬
cussion. They are the great sections in the geography of
the intellectual world which it is his office to explore and
describe. The next step leads us to the Predicables, or va¬
rious modes of classing the same object. Here we enter
on that part of the science which is purely dialectical. In
the arrangements of the Categories, the inquiry is partly
metaphysical, partly logical. We are there philosophizing
on the notions of the mind in connection with language;
but here, we examine the principle of classification evi¬
denced in language, in itself, and endeavour to obtain
comprehensive views of all the varieties of form under
which it appears.
Thus far the science of Dialectic wag sketched out be¬
fore the time of Aristotle. The Pythagorean philosopher,
Archytas of Tarentum, has the merit of having instituted
* J^nstlPPu.s complained of mathematical science, that it gave no account of good and evil. (Metaph. iii. c. 2.) As unreasonable
is the complaint ot the barrenness of invention of the Aristotelian logic. Aristotle, however, asserts that mathematics do give in-
tormation about ro {Metaph. xi. c. 3), evidently misled by an abstract term, equivocal in its wide extent of application. His
under1 niatheniaticstl0n W1 aPPear the better bv observing that he included astronomy, among other branches of natural philosophy,
* De Interpret.
ARISTOTLE’S
Kfi ent those arrangements of the objects of the intellect, which
jV'so- Aristotle adopted and explained under the title of the
pr- Categories. The objects of the mind are evidently refer-
able to two ultimate classes. We either contemplate ob¬
jects as they exist simply, or we abstract some particular
attribute of them, and invest it with a being of our own
creation. But as these attributes are various in kind,
we require some more distinct classification of them ; and
this is furnished in the ten Categories. 1. Being; 2.
Quantity ; 3. Quality ; 4. Relation ; 5. Place ; 6. Time ;
7. Situation ; 8. Habit; 9. Action ; 10. Passion;—Being
denoting, primarily, objects as they are conceived actual¬
ly to exist in nature; secondarily, the notions of them as
so existing; and the remaining Categories denoting the
mere abstractions of the human mind. These several
terms are admirably explained by Aristotle in his treatise
on the Categories; and thus he commences his dialectic
with a broad and deep foundation of metaphysical truth
for the structure which is to follow. This treatise being
further introductory to a method, not simply of reasoning,
but of producing conviction on any subject, he includes in
his survey the principles denoted by the terms, “ opposite,”
“ contrary,” “ prior,” “ co-existent,” “ motion,” “ having,”
—terms of frequent recurrence in the ancient philosophy,
and therefore demanding notice in a work on Dialectic,
Aristotle has no distinct treatise on the several heads
of classification, or classes of Predicables as they are
technically termed; but has interwoven some account of
them in the Metaphysics and Topics1—evidently regard¬
ing this department of his subject as already known to his
hearers. He states them as four—property, definition,
genus, accident. They are deducible from the consider¬
ation of the several points of view under which the same
object may be contemplated. We may view it, either as
it falls under some general observation, and is according¬
ly denoted in language by some class, the “ genus,”—or in
some circumstance belonging to it;—and this circumstance
may be either peculiar to it, in which case it is a property,
—or occasional, in which case it is an accident. Further,
as the property of a thing may include all the peculiari¬
ties belonging to it, or only some one or more of these pe¬
culiarities ; if it includes all, it becomes the definition of
the thing,—in the latter case it is simply a property : so
that there result the four classes already mentioned. In
logical treatises we commonly find another class subjoin¬
ed—the differentia or characteristic; and Aristotle him¬
self refers to it, though he does not consider it necessary
to regard it as a head of classification distinct from genus.
It differs indeed from genus, only inasmuch as, so far as
any class is called a differentia, it is so relatively to some
other genus in which it is included as subordinate. How
it is that the properties and accidents of an individual are
considered as classes, will be evident from the generaliz¬
ing power of language already noticed.
In the Categories, then, we have the Metaphysical Being
of things, so far as it is denoted by language, drawn out
into its various modes, and distinctly characterized in
each. In the classes of Predicables, we have the Dialec¬
tical or Logical Being, or the various modes of existence
created by language, through its power of comprizing
multitudes under single terms. If, for example, we say
“ Socrates is wise,” the metaphysical being here asserted
hut in the same expression the dialectical or logical being
an abstraction of the mind, coming under the category
Quality: we are speaking of Socrates, not as he is in-
Viduallv, but as thp mialitu of wisdom pxists in him.
PHILOSOPHY.
asserted is, tile existence of Socrates as an individual in
the class to which the term “ wise” belongs.
It is highly important to observe this'distinction be¬
tween metaphysical and dialectical being; as the right
understanding of the whole doctrine of propositions and
syllogisms is dependent on it. Every proposition then,
viewed dialectically, is the reference of one class of ob¬
jects to some other class, in the case of an affirmative,—the
exclusion of one class from another, in the case of a ne¬
gative. The “ being,” or the “ not being,” is the being
implied or not implied in a certain term. The school¬
men, unfortunately, neglecting the distinction here advert¬
ed to, and thus reverting to that confusion of logical and
metaphysical science which Aristotle’s whole philosophy
had laboured to remove, included both kinds of being under
the common term “ universals.” Evidently, however, it
cannot properly be said of being, as it is apprehended by
the mind, that it is an universal. A notion of the mind is
in itself an individual; and its extension to more objects
than one is simply an effect of the mental power of gene¬
ralization. But the logical being is by its very nature an
universal; since a term, so far as it is a class, comprizes in
its meaning every individual that admits of being referred
to it as a class.
511
Efficient
Philoso-
Accordingly, to examine propositions dialectically, we
have only to inquire into the relative comprehensiveness,
or relative exclusion, of the terms conjoined in it. In this
point of view, all propositions, on any subject whatever,
are reduced to four kinds ;—universal affirmative, in which
one class is affirmed of the whole of another; universal
negative, in which two classes are mutually excluded;
particular affirmative, in which one class is affirmed of
some of the particulars included in the other; particular
negative, in which one class partly excludes another.
These are the only varieties of form under which any two
classes of objects can be combined in affirmations or ne¬
gations. Every proposition, accordingly, in order to be
brought under the survey of Dialectic, must be referred
to one or other of these forms, as the case may be. Hence
we may proceed to examine these ultimate forms to which
propositions are reducible, independently of the things
themselves about which the propositions are, and draw
from them logical principles applicable to every particular
case. Thus, the form of an universal affirmative, “ every
A is B,” in which the letters A and B are put as the re¬
presentatives of any objects whatsoever, is the proper dia¬
lectical datum, from which the whole logical nature of any
universal affirmative proposition may be explored. So also
with regard to the remaining abstract forms.
Aristotle, accordingly, in his treatise on Interpretation,
and in the commencement of his Prior Analytics, has thus
examined the nature of propositions, and deduced prac¬
tical rules by which their force as principles employed
in reasoning may be readily ascertained. It has been
objected to him, that he resorted to these abstract sym¬
bols rather than to more familiar means of illustration, in
order that he might leave the truths of the science par¬
tially veiled at least in obscurity. There may be some
truth in the assertion generally, that he did not intend
that his written works should be accessible to the public
without the accompaniment of oral exposition.2 But it
does not apply here. The observation already made on
the nature of dialectical being, may be sufficient to clear
up any misconstruction of the philosopher on this point.
The simple principle of classification, which is all that
Dialectic is concerned with, could not so strictly be ex-
1 Topic, i. c. 4.
* Plutarch speaks of the metaphysics as useless for general instruction, and rather as a suggestive treatise to those who had been
originally disciplined ; lr>r^iuyp.a. roi; a-iiraiho/usyDi! av' ag%>is. (Life of Alcx.f
ARISTOTLE?S PHILOSOPHY.
512
Efficient amined, in any other way but that which expresses the
Philoso- principle itself nakedly. Every thing else is irrelevant to
the matter in hand. So far as any thing else is attended
to in a proposition, so far the mind is diverted from the
logical point of view. His use of symbols, therefore, is
only an illustration of his accurate and perfect method of
developing the science.1
In his Prior Analytics he passes on to the consideration
of syllogisms, or arguments logically viewed. Here it is
that the dialectical theory is properly unfolded. Syllo¬
gisms are the perfect developments of the theory of lan¬
guage, as language is expressive of being,—manifestations
of the general fact, that every term denoting being is the
representative of a class of observations more or less com¬
prehensive on some object.2 This theory is first intimat¬
ed in the ordinary use of single terms. It is next more
disclosed in the connections of terms, i. e. in propositions
affirming or denying one term of another. It is lastly laid
open in the syllogism, in which the principle of classifica¬
tion is exemplified as the tie of connection between two
terms affirmed or denied of each other.
Since, then, the evidence of the connection subsisting
between the terms brought together in any affirmation or
negation is the point in every argument; it is evident that
the reasoning on any subject whatever may be exhibited
abstractedly from the particular subject about which it is.
Terms can only be connected as they are classes more
or less comprehensive of each other; and this relative
comprehensiveness is evidenced at once, as before shown,
by the abstract forms of the propositions in which they
ai-e connected. Three abstract propositions, accordingly,
in which the terms whose connection is explored, are, first
(i. e. in the premises), separately stated in their relation
to some intermediate class or middle term,—and then in
their relation to each other (i. e. in the conclusion), as it is
the result of their premised relations to the intermediate
class,—will enable us, without reference to any other con¬
sideration, to judge of the conclusiveness of the argument.
The syllogism is nothing more than this abstract state¬
ment of an argument.
Aristotle examines all the varieties of form which argu¬
ments thus abstractedly stated, or syllogisms, admit; whe¬
ther from the position of the middle term in the premises,
or from the different combinations of the four great classes
of propositions; pointing out, under what arrangement of
the middle term, what particular modes of argument alone
are valid.. From his whole examination, the conclusion
results, that, under whatever form an argument may be
expressed, the principle of the reasoning is the same in
every case ; each instance developing the theoretic power
of language, according to which every term, so far as it
denotes being, is a class, more or less comprehensive, of
observations on the thing whose being it denotes.
This ultimate principle of all reasoning is commonly
stated in the form of a theorem, enunciating, that “ what¬
ever is predicated (affirmed or denied) universally, of any
class of things, may be predicated in like manner of any
thing comprehended in that class.” This is that form of
it known by the scholastic designation of the “ Dictum de
Omni et Nullo^ From the mode in which this principle
has been introduced in systems of logic founded on the
method of the school-authors, a prejudice has been excit¬
ed against Aristotle, as if he had employed the principle
in establishing the conclusiveness of arguments already
granted to be conclusive. Aristotle, however, does not
introduce the principle in any formal manner, as a dogma
or a priori ground of logical truth. On the contrary, it EfBc|e]
pervades the whole of his system, as resulting from every Philo*
part of his inquiry. He is only concerned to show that Phy-
every argument, however varied in its mode of expres-
sion, is reducible to a form by which the truth of his theory
shall be evidenced in it. Syllogisms are not proved by
the principle, but the principle itself is proved by the na¬
ture ot the syllogism, as any other philosophical truth is
deduced from varied observations and experiments. In
short, by his reference to the principle, he does not prove
the conclusiveness of a given argument, but accounts for it.
It is necessary to observe that most of the technical
phraseology of modern treatises of logic is derived, not
from Aristotle immediately, but second-hand, from the
scholastic expositors of his doctrines. These ingenious
professors of science, in carrying the notions of his physics
and metaphysics into the science of logic, obscured, by the
barbarian dialect in which the truths of the science were
thus delivered, its proper nature as an art of language.
Thus, according to them, we hear of the “ substance,” and
“ matter,” and “ form,” both of propositions and of syllogisms,
and other such irrelevant designations. On the contrary,
the technical expressions of Aristotle himself are extreme¬
ly few, and those strictly appropriate to the subject, elu¬
cidating the characteristic nature of the science as con¬
versant about words. The scholastic method, however,
from its long usurpation, has so engrafted itself on our
modes of writing and speaking, that some acquaintance
with its detail is in fact become necessary to us at this day;
and may so far, therefore, be regarded as constituting a le¬
gitimate part of modern Dialectic. But when the cumbrous
technicalities of this system are made a ground of objec¬
tion to the Aristotelian logic, it may be explicitly answer¬
ed, that these are not parts of Aristotle’s system, as it is
found in the Organon, but are the refinements of his com¬
mentators.
Having pointed out the several classes of syllogisms,
into some one or more of which every valid argument must
fall, Aristotle, in pursuit of the adaptation of his works
to the business of disputation, proceeds to show the vari¬
ous expedients in argument resulting from the considera¬
tion of these abstract forms. This part of his subject is
prosecuted through the remainder of the first book of his
Prior Analytics and the second of the same treatise.
The examination of syllogisms is followed up in the
Posterior Analytics by an inquiry into demonstration; and
in the Topics, into arguments founded on probable pre¬
mises. The full discussion of the syllogism was premised
by Aristotle, inasmuch as the syllogistic process is common
both to demonstration and to probable conclusions; and
accordingly, as the more general subject of investigation,
claimed the first notice in a scientific treatise of Dialectic.
Properly, indeed, being the only part of the science which
is really universal,—belonging to argumentation as such,
under whatever form, whether by induction, example, or
enthymeme (all of which are only different modes of ex¬
pression of the syllogism), and whether the premises as¬
sumed be necessary or probable,—it is the only province to
which the science of reasoning legitimately extends. In
examining distinctly the nature of demonstration and of
probability, we depart from the rigorous limits of the sci¬
ence of reasoning, and approach those of rhetoric. But
it is useful, at the same time, to examine these subjects
as detached from rhetoric, and in their connection with
logic; so far as we then confine our attention to the mere
force of different kinds of argument on the understand-
1 The use of unmeaning symbols in logic rests on the same footing as their use in geometry and algebra.
2 A. proposition that is false is truly a proposition, whereas what is called an invalid argument is strictly no argument at all, because
it does not exemplify the classification implied in the right use of terms.
ARISTOTLE’S PHILOSOPHY.
jrj ent ing; whereas rhetoric combines also the view of them in
ph'so- their effect on the will. We then consider them as they
p". are capable of producing either knowledge or opinion;
whereas, in the latter case, we look at them in that complex
result which is implied in persuasion. It was for the for¬
mer purpose that they were required for the dialectical
disputant: and thus it is that the consideration of them
forms an important part of the Organon. For the same
reason the treatise on Sophisms, which forms the conclu¬
sion of the Organon, is directed not only to the solution of
fallacies which may exist in the syllogistic process, or in
the reasoning strictly viewed as reasoning, but to such
also as may be traced in arguments where the process
itself, the mere logic of the case, is perfectly correct.
The discussion of demonstration is an exposition of the
nature of science, iitnsrriliri, as it was understood by the
ancient philosophers. They restricted the application of
the term to the knowledge of necessary truths; such
truths as, when ascertained, were known at the same time
to be incapable of being otherwise. Aristotle, then, is
employed, in the Posterior Analytics, in discussing the
nature of the principles on which science, as it was then
understood, must be built. Here he had to encounter
perplexities and misconceptions introduced into the sub¬
ject by the Platonic philosophy. In Plato’s system know¬
ledge was mere reminiscence. It was a penetration of the
mind through the veil of the sensible universe interposed
between itself and the realities of the intellectual world
—its return to those purer perceptions which it had en¬
joyed before its union with a body. This doctrine was
altogether founded on a fallacious view of the nature of
demonstration. Because in demonstration the conclusion
is necessarily implied in the premises, it was conceived
that a science or proper knowledge of any particular was
in all cases founded on a knowledge of the general prin¬
ciple in which it was implied. But this was an inversion
of the order of knowledge, which commences with the
particular, and ends in the general principle. In mathe¬
matical and metaphysical science the two things coincide ;
the notions of our mind being, on the one hand, in them¬
selves particular facts, from which we may argue, to gene¬
ral principles ; and, on the other hand, in their application
to the business of philosophy, being the general principles
of our knowledge. But Plato argued from this coinci¬
dence in these sciences to the sciences in general, and
therefore confused demonstration with the scientific ar¬
rangement of facts. Aristotle, we find, was not free from
the same fault in his Physics; but in his theory of De¬
monstration he has strictly provided against it. He has
here pointed out the difference between the proof of
matter of fact and of matter of abstract speculation. In¬
stead of inculcating the necessity of establishing every
conclusion in science by syllogism or a demonstrative
process, he shows that all demonstration proceeds on as¬
sumed principles; which principles, accordingly, must be
obtained from observations generalized, and not from rea¬
soning.1
There is one part of the work which deserves a more
particular notice, as throwing light on his whole method
of philosophizing, while it shows how far he approximat¬
ed to the induction of modern philosophy. To obtain an
accurate notion of the being of any thing, we require a
definition of it. A definition of the thing corresponds, in
dialectic, with the essential notion of it in metaphysics.
Hus abstract notion, then, according to Aristotle, consti¬
tuting the true scientific view of a thing,—and all the real
knowledge consequently of the properties of the thinij
depending on the right limitation of this notion,—some
exact method of arriving at definitions which should ex¬
press these limitations, and serve as the principles of
sciences, became indispensable in such a system of philo-
sophy. But in order to attain such definitions, a process
of induction was required—not merely an induction of that
kind, which is only a peculiar form of syllogism, enume¬
rating all the individuals implied in a class instead of the
whole class collectively—but an induction of a philosophi¬
cal character, and only differing from the induction of mo¬
dern philosophy so far as it is employed about language.
We shall endeavour to show this more fully.
There are, then, two kinds of induction treated of by
Aristotle. The first, that of simple enumeration. Its use
is, where we have not beforehand ascertained a class to
which we may refer the subject of our conclusion, and
the search is in fact for a middle term. In this case, then,
a collection of all the individuals which are supposed to
make up the class, serves instead of a middle term. As¬
suming, accordingly, that these individuals are equivalent
to the class, we draw the conclusion, that what has been
affirmed or denied of these collected individuals may be
affirmed or denied of the class. This, then, is nothing
more than a syllogism. There is no process of investiga¬
tion involved, but it is assumed, that we have found the
assertion made, true in all the individual instances; and
the induction itself is simply the process of bringing them
under a principle of classification.
But there is also a higher kind of induction employed
by Aristotle, and pointed out by him expressly in its sub-
serviency to the exact notions of things, by its leading to
the right definitions of them in words. As it appears that
words, in a dialectical point of view, are classes more or
less comprehensive of observations on things, it is evident
that we must gradually approximate towards a definition
of any individual notion, by assigning class within class,
until we have narrowed the extent of the expression as
far as language will admit.2 The first definitions of any
object are vague, founded on some obvious resemblance
which it exhibits compared with other objects. This
point of resemblance we abstract in thought, and it be¬
comes, when expressed in language, a genus or class, un¬
der which we regard the object as included. A more at¬
tentive examination suggests to us less obvious points of
resemblance between this object and some of those with
which we had classed it before. Thus carrying on the
analysis,—and by the power of abstraction giving an inde¬
pendent existence to those successive points of resem¬
blance,—we obtain subaltern genera or species, or subordi¬
nate classes included in that original class with which the
process of abstraction commenced. As these several clas¬
sifications are x*elative to each other, and dependent on
the class with which we first commenced, the definition of
any notion requires a successive enumeration of the seve¬
ral classes in the line of abstraction; and hence is said
technically to consist of genus and differentia; the genus
being the first abstraction, or class to which the object is
first referred, and the differentia being the subordinate
classes in the same line of abstraction.
Now the process by which we discover these successive
genera is strictly one of philosophical induction. As in
the philosophy of nature in general, we take certain facts
as the basis of inquiry, and proceed by rejection and ex¬
clusion of principles involved in the inquiry, until at last,—
there appearing no ground for further rejection,—we con-
* Awlyi. p0,t. ii. c. ult. 7, 4, i. 13.
ylbid. ii. c. 13, Ztimv 2s itftSXi-rovroc iirira, opaia, xxi aSix^oaa, •rgurw n Lxttvrx veunn x. <r. X. p. 175, Bu Val.
3 T
513
Efficient
Philoso-
514
ARISTOTLE’S PHILOSOPHY.
Efficient elude that we ate in possession of the true principle of the of the name logics as tondtof^ Efc
EMioso- object examined; so in philosophy of language w TeZlTST^ 5
must proceed bv a like rejection and eiclusion of notions dialectic, wh.eh expresses rather the application
Implied hTthegeneraf termwith which we set out, until science to practice than its philosophical name.
reach the vfry confines of that notion of it with which It would appear, then, that Bacon has not done justice
reacn Uie cuitmics to Aristotle in the contemptuous manner in which he has
v /
our inquiry is concerned. This exclusion is effected in
language," by"annexing'to the general term denoting the «**»*,** U “ <«•
dasTtowhfchlhe object is primarily referred, other terms tainly limited in its design, as haeing for its object the
not including under them those other objects or notions to correct statements of the particular notions on which an
wWch the general term applies, For thus whilst each
successive term in the definition, in itself, extends to more
than the object so defined,—yet all viewed together do
not; and this their relative bearing on the one point con¬
stitutes the being of the thing.1 T his is thus illustrated by
Aristotle: “ If we are inquiring,” he says, “ what magnani¬
mity is, we must consider the instances of certain magnani¬
mous persons whom we know, what one thing they all have
so far forth as they are such; as,—if Alcibiades was mag-
it is not set forth with that fulness of method which Bacon
developed in the Novum Organum. But it is sound and
valid so far as it reaches, and proves that Aristotle was
not intent on corrupting philosophy with dialectic, but
rather on applying dialectic to that very purpose which
Bacon himself so much insists on—the bringing the intel¬
lect even and unprejudiced to the business of science. Of
the application of induction in its lull philosophical ex-
SO lar lorui as uiey aic   © At • i ,•
nanlmous, or Achilles, or Ajax,-what cue thing they all tent, Aristotle presents abundant specimens, and parfeu-
have; say ‘ impatience under insultfor one made war, an
other raged, the other slew himself: again, in the instances
of others, as of Lysander or Socrates,—if here it is, £ to
be unaltered by prosperity or adversity—taking these two
cases, I consider, what this ‘ apathy in regard to events,’
and ‘ impatience under insult,’ have the same in them.
If now they have nothing the same, there must be two
species of magnanimity.”2 So, again, he suggests a simi¬
lar process in order to ascertain the nature of any thing.
He directs that the investigation should commence from
the genus: since, having discovered the properties or
sequences of the genus, we have also the sequences to
the next class in the series,—and so on from that class
to the next in order,—until by this continued process we
reach the individual object examined. In the course of in¬
vestigation, also, he observes that we should attend to
whatever is common, and examine to what class of objects
that belongs, and what classes fall under it ;3 and for the
same reason select analogies; since in both these instances
we obtain genera, under which the object investigated
larly in his treatises on Ethics and Rhetoric. His dis¬
cussion of the passions in the latter treatise is a master¬
piece in that way. He sets out, indeed, abstractedly with
definitions of the several passions, but these are the re¬
sults at which he has arrived by induction, being obtain¬
ed, as his subsequent observations show, by a close inter¬
rogation of nature, by examining accurately, wdiat belongs,
or does net belong, to each particular passion, and thus
adducing its exclusive character or proper form.
Rhetoric.
may be arranged. The process is virtually the same, as
if we should investigate a law of nature. But the induc¬
tion of Aristotle, having for its object to determine accu¬
rately in words the notion of the being of things, proceeds,
according to the nature of language, from the general, and
ends in the particular; whereas the investigation of a law
of nature proceeds from the particular and ends in the
As the speculative sciences had been confounded under
a vague notion of dialectic, so had rhetoric, in the osten¬
tatious study of it prevalent before the time of Aristotle,
drawn into its system the practical sciences of Politics
and Ethics. Observations had been accumulated on the
mere accessories of the art; but the proper business of
the rhetorician, the inquiry into the argument itself of
which a composition must consist, had been overlooked.
Aristotle had therefore to dig a foundation for the fabric
of a real science of rhetoric. He had to clear away mis¬
conceptions ; to show the data on which rhetorical science
must proceed, and the relative importance of its several
parts.
He commences, accordingly, with pointing out the na¬
ture of its connection both with dialectic and with moral
It is first and most directly connected with rhe-
general. Dialectical induction is synthetical, whilst phi- toric, inasmuch as it is a general method ot providing ar-
losophical induction is analytical, in the result. The for- guments on any subject whatever. As dialectic examines
mer labours to particularize as much as possible, counter- and discusses the principles of various sciences, consider-
acting the uncertainty occasioned by the generalizations ing them in their relations as principles in the abstract,
of language; whilst the latter is engaged in penetrating and not as the principles of this or that science, and is so
the confused masses in which objects first present them- far equally conversant about all subjects; so rhetoric m-
selves to the mind, and exploring their most general and quires generally into the nature of principles of persua-
characteristic form. Thus, the induction of Aristotle was sion, and therefore is also of equal application to the va-
strictly iraywyr\, or the bringing term on term, each sue- rious subjects of human thought. In the discussion ol
cessively limiting the application of the preceding one in these abstract principles under the head of dialectic, it
regular series, so that at length a distinct notion may be was found that they were referable to two general classes
presented of the object defined.4 The notion thus ob- —that they were either probabilities or necessary truths,
tained in words is the logos or expressed reason of the And Aristotle, accordingly, after having explained the
being of the thing; and hence perhaps the prevalence nature of syllogism, or the more general connection ot
1 Alialyt. Post. ii. C. 13, ui 'xairrav ptii £5T/ vrX'iOi uTafou, aTavru Ss u.n mi irXsav* yap avayxti ovtriav aval rov •rpayftaTaz, p. 17<b B11 ^ a^'
* Anal. Post. ii. c. 13, p. 175, Du Val. ’ a Anal. Post. ii. c. 14.
4 See also Anal. Prior, ii. c. 23, p. 125, Du Val. The use of mayayni (Thueyd passim), as applied to arguments of inducement,
may illustrate the sense of maytvyv. A person is brought over to some persuasion by consideration urged on consideration, so as at
length to bring him to the point required. We are brought, in like manner, to the know-ledge of the nature of a thing by term brought
on term in a definition, the force of each of which singly is vague and weak, but of all collectively strong and direct to the point.
I he airayuyn, abduction, spoken ol by Aristotle {Anal. Prior, ii. c. 25), is just the reverse, a leading away, by the terms successive!)
brought, from the more accurate notion conveyed by a former one.
' Aristotle uses the adverb XoyiKu;, as in Metaph. vii. c. 4, but not the noun \tyixn to denote the science.
ARIS TOTLE’S
if I fc^ent principles, which' is independent of their peculiar nature,
lSt I piioso- proceeded to investigate the nature of deductions as
^ I fr- drawn from necessary principles or from probabilities.
^'^The consideration of this distinction anticipates in some
measure the province of rhetoric, touching on the point,
as we have already observed, in which rhetoric differs
from logic strictly so called. As the science of eloquence,
its office is to speculate on the effect of different prin¬
ciples in producing conviction, and not simply on their
abstract relations, and therefore it must examine the re¬
lative force of arguments as they are probable or neces¬
sary. Principles, in short, as they are grounds of credi¬
bility, and not as they are the basis of a reasoning process,
constitute its proper subject; and in this respect it co¬
incided with a part of the ancient dialectic. But it dif¬
fers again from dialectic, inasmuch as it is connected also
with moral science. In dialectic the force of man’s moral
nature on his opinions is not considered. Will such or
such an opinion result from such or such arguments, ac¬
cording to the procedure of the human intellect in form¬
ing its judgments,—is the whole inquiry of dialectic. But
rhetoric further considers, what is the practical force of
such and such arguments; what effect are they found to
have in actual experience; not according to their mere
speculative force, but as acting on the complex nature
of man; through which it happens that questions are not
examined on their positive merit as simple questions of
truth, but with feelings and sentiments thwarting or bias¬
sing the discernments of the judgment. Here, then, is
opened a wide field for a philosophical inquiry of a pecu¬
liar character, distinct from dialectic, and yet strictly
founded on it and implying it throughout, as well as of
the highest importance in order to the success of truth in
the world. This inquiry is what Aristotle institutes un¬
der the head of rhetoric.
He has shown the most perfect comprehension of the
nature of the science which he had undertaken to deve-
lope in this view*of it, by holding it in exact balance be¬
tween the two sciences of dialectic and morals with which
it is associated. There is much of logical matter in the
course of his inquiry, and still more of ethical; but he
never suffers us to forget that we are not examining those
sciences in themselves now, but in their relations to one
compounded of both. He would have the rhetorician
versed in dialectic, and deeply acquainted with human
nature; but he is intent on showing him how he is to ap¬
ply his knowledge of both these sciences to the proper
business of rhetoric—the influence on the mind of the
hearer or persons addressed. It is not a vague and popu¬
lar knowledge of those sciences which he is inculcating
throughout, but a popular application of authentic prin¬
ciples drawn from them both, and a popular application
founded on a deep philosophy of human nature.
This philosophy consists in an investigation of the kinds
of evidence by wdiich the minds of men are commonly
swayed in accepting any conclusion proposed to them,
and of those principles of their moral nature by which
their judgment is commonly influenced. The whole, ac¬
cordingly, is an inquiry into what is probable or persuasive
to a being so constituted as man.
Rhetoric, then, considers arguments not as they are ab¬
stractedly necessary or probable. This is a question re-
PHILOSOPHY.
515
lative to opinion alone; and the result from arguments un¬
der this point of view is, either a full conviction, or a pre¬
sumption of some point in question. Rhetoric, on the
other hand, looks simply to probability in the result.
Whether an argument be necessary or probable in prin¬
ciple, is of no consequence to the rhetorician, provided it
be persuasive in its effect. He has to consider, therefore,
only a probability of this kind—on what grounds men
commonly believe an argument to be just.1 Now men
are found to receive arguments as conclusive on two dif¬
ferent grounds—either as considering them logically
sound, deducible from admitted principles, or as coinci¬
dent with their own previous observations. Hence the
distinction between probability and likelihood; probability
denoting conclusions which appear to have been proved
by some reason alleged—likelihood denoting conclusions
grounded on matter of fact, the conclusion being some¬
thing like what has been experienced. Aristotle distin¬
guishes these two kinds of rhetorical arguments as pro¬
babilities, uxora, and signs, dri/xtiu,. The precise nature
of the distinction he explains more fully in his Analytics.2
In his Rhetoric he directs our attention rather to those
Efficient
Philoso¬
phy.
practical forms which the two classes assume in enthy-
memes and examples ; enthymemes being such arguments
as state a conclusion with the reason of it—examples, ar¬
guments in which a conclusion is drawn from particular
facts, or observations.
He points out, accordingly, the force and propriety of
enthymemes and examples, as modes of producing con¬
viction in themselves, and relatively to each other, ac¬
cording to the subjects in which they may be employed.
And as enthymemes are the more comprehensive head—
for, in fact, every argument from example is in principle
an enthymeme, the example cited being in this case the
reason of the conclusion—he dwells more explicitly on
the nature of enthymemes. These he distinguishes, as
they are entirely abstract arguments, unconnected with
any particular subject, and equally common to all sub¬
jects ; or as they are drawn from particular subjects, and
belong to particular sciences. Instances of the former
class (ronoi, the loci of Cicero) are conclusions of the pos¬
sibility of any thing from abstract considerations of pos¬
sibility,-r-of the existence of any thing from the exist¬
ence of that which implies it more or less. Instances of
the latter (the £/3jj of his system) are conclusions drawn
from some observation of the nature of human actions, or
from some principle of government or commerce, &c.;
to which the rhetorician has occasion to appeal, so far as
some particular subject is considered in the arguments
of every speech.
The matter of proof, or the grounds of credibility in
themselves, being obtained, it comes in the next place to
be considered how this proof is acted on and modified in
the result by the complex nature of man, on whom the
result is to be produced. The subjects to which rhetoric
properly applies are those in which there is some opening
for the action of the moral feelings. In questions of
pure science the intellectual powers alone are concerned.
There is no personal application to the individual; no
reference to his own experience for the proof of the
principles, as is the case with all inquiries involving
human conduct; where a fairness of judgment is as much
_1 We must be careful, therefore, how we understand the assertion, that dialectic is concerned about truth, and rhetoric about opi¬
nion. It is to be understood simply that rhetoric has not for its object to discover what any particular thing is, but to discover what
Will give a persuasion or belief that it is. At the same time, those principles on which such a persuasion depends, are real truths
about which the science is conversant; whence it is called by Aristotle the philosophy of discourse, « \oywv (piXoroQiit, lihet. cui
Alex. cap. 1.
* Anal. Prior, ii. cap. ult.; Rhet. ad Alex. cap. 9, 13, 15.
516
Efficient required in order to an acknowledgment of the principles,
Philoso- as a clearness of intellect. Whatever may be the nature
phy. of a mathematical enunciation or a fact in chemistry,
\***-v->^when jt js once stated and proved, there is no question
whether we approve or disapprove it. Its truth is suf¬
fered to rest on its proper footing. But a conclusion re¬
specting our own nature, or involving our own conduct,
immediately calls all our moral principles to the survey
of it. Our hopes, and fears, and wishes, are heard plead¬
ing for or against it
vince of the rhetorician.
ARISTOTLE’S PHILOSOPHY.
on those broad principles which may be presumed to Efficiem
exist in the heart of every man; and to these he must Philoso.
conform his arguments in order to produce a moral im- Pty-
pression.
Further, as the habits of thinking and feeling among
men are found to be affected by peculiarities of circum¬
stances, it is necessary for the orator to have studied also
the varieties of human character, and to have reduced
ex...    these to general principles for his practical direction.
And"here, them 7s"the proper pro- Aristotle, accordingly, has not lost sight of this point in
He is the advocate by whom the his Rhetoric, but has shown a keen discrimination in the
ease is tobe VaTd before these internal judges: he is to outlines which he has given of the effects of different
nreoare the evidence for their reception; and by his governments, different periods of life, different worldly
knowledge of their former judgments, to present the truth fortunes, in modifying the human character,
before them in such form, that it may obtain a fair hear- He had strongly condemned former rhetoricians for
- • • making the whole art consist of an appeal to the passions;
but at the same time he was aware that such an appeal
was a necessary part of the orator’s address, and that no
arguments, no merely intellectual proofs, could avail, in¬
dependently of this. To neglect, indeed, the affections in
arguments concerning human conduct, is to neglect the
proper authorities to which the whole process of proof is
ultimately addressed. Wherever evidence is not absolute¬
ly irresistible, and there is room for doubt,—though there
be no further object than simply to produce belief,—the
ing, and be affirmed in their decisions.
For the convenient arrangement of rhetorical argu¬
ments, Aristotle divides rhetoric into three different kinds,
according to the different occasions on which it was em¬
ployed among the Greeks:—1. Ihe deliberative, or its
use in political debates ; 2. the judicial, or its use in popu¬
lar assemblies, as those of Athens, in which the people
collectively exercised the judicial functions; 3. the de¬
monstrative, or its use in panegyric and invective, when
the orator had only to gratify his hearers by the display
of eloquence.1 In these several heads of inquiry he has hearer naturally proceeds in his analysis of the evidence,
o-iven an admirable philosophy of the motives by which until he brings it home to himself, and finds that it ter-
& I 1 • .1 • 1 J *        ^ ^—.1 .rvX* w r* 4-11 I H10 if I a
mankind at large are commonly actuated in their conduct
and opinions. And here we should notice the peculiar
complexion which the happiness and the virtue, described
in this part of his philosophy, assume. He is led to speak
of happiness2 as the great object of human desires—the
point from which all views of expediency obtain their co¬
louring. But here he is not concerned to illustrate that
minates in some principle of his own nature. This it is
that at last determines the wavering balance. The philo¬
sophy of rhetoric, therefore, required of Aristotle to give
outlines of these ultimate arbiters of all rhetorical ques¬
tions. And we are indebted accordingly to his masterly
view of the subject, for an accurate and beautiful delinea¬
tion, in the course of his principal treatise of rhetoric, of
happiness to which the aim of mankind should be direct- the leading passions of human nature. Of its excellence
ed, but that which is in fact sought in the world as it is. as a specimen of the inductive method of philosophizing
He therefore portrays those various distinct forms with we have already spoken. _ .
which self-love invests the idea of happiness; it being In treating both of the virtues and of the passions, Ans-
evidently more to the purpose of the orator, to conform totle’s view was to enable the orator not only to recom-
his arguments to the views entertained by his hearers, mend his arguments to the moral sentiments and feelings
however theoretically false, than to a more just theory, of of an auditory, but to bring also to their suppoit the na-
which they have no conception. Virtue, again, is here a tural prejudice from authority. We involuntarily ascribe,
law of honour.3 It is an appeal to those right feelings to one who appears in the character of an instructor, the
which exist in the nature of man, by which virtue is ap- advantages of superior knowledge and kind intentions;
proved and vice disapproved. Independently, however, and the prejudice in favour of authority is thus reason-
of discipline and mature reflection, these feelings are not ably founded on a respect for wisdom and virtue. It is
found in fact always duly exerted: and there is ground, important, then, to the orator to avail himself of this preju-
therefore, for a popular kind of virtue, in a philosophical dice. There must be nothing in a speech that may coun¬
survey of those principles by which the human heart is teract the natural tendency to believe in the speaker. On
commonly swayed in its decisions of right and wrong, the contrary, his whole argument must conspire with it.
This law of right is at least an approximation to perfect It must give the impression that he is a man of intellec-
virtue. It is an irregular and uncertain application of tual ability, as well as of right sentiments and feelings,
the criterion of praise, which belongs to virtue, leading Hence Aristotle deduced a third class of rhetorical proofs
to the preference of the more ostentatious virtues to under the head of ethos or character; the pathos or ap-
the less obviously praiseworthy; and to the exaltation peal to the passions, and the argumentative proof as sudi,
of some qualities to the rank of virtues, through the want constituting the two other heads of classification. He
of discrimination in the popular estimate. Thus virtue thus shows how a speech may at once carry conviction,
becomes, in the popular view, a power of doing good,4 ra- interest the feelings of the hearer, and give the weight ot
ther than an internal habit of self-moderation. Men ac- personal authority to the speaker.
quiesce in that general notion of it, under which it most In the popular views of rhetorical science, the subjects
strikes their attention and calls forth their admiration, of style and method engross an undue importance. We
But this is evidently the virtue to which the orator must are thus led to think that eloquence consists in the skilful
make his appeal. He cannot calculate on finding his use of the ornaments of style, in the flow of periods, and
hearers moral philosophers, or persons whose sentiments the structure of the composition, advantageously distri-
have been highly cultivated. He must therefore proceed buting its lights and shades. The attention is diverte
1 Rhet. i. cap. 3, &c.; Rhet. ad Alex. cap. 2-6, 35-38. 2 Rhet. i. cap. 5. 3 Ib^ '■ caP-
■* Rhet. i. cap. 9, «0£T>I St am (ia> Ijuvecfus, U% %oku, Tro^urriKYi ayaSuv non QvXuxriKri’ kch ^uvctfii; tvsg'ytnxri •roXXuv xcti pcyccXuv, xxi traiwt
PHILOSOPHY.
ARISTOTLE’S
?nt from the material itself of eloquence, the strong frame-
Phi:*o- work of argument, without which no eloquence can sub-
?'• sist. Aristotle, in proceeding to the discussion of style,
has cautiously maintained the subordination of this part
of rhetoric, to the proper business of the art—persuasion ;
treating it as a necessary condescension to the weakness
of the hearers. If, however, the manner in which we ex¬
press our thoughts may contribute to the reception of our
assertions and arguments,—and it be allowed that the
principles of Taste are real parts of the human constitu-
tion,—the consideration of style must enter into a philo¬
sophical system of rhetoric. The effect of the style is
part of the whole result of the composition on the mind of
the hearers, and is so far, therefore, an ingredient in that
probability about which rhetoric is conversant.
In conformity with this view of the importance of style,
Aristotle lays down perspicuity as the great principle of
good composition. It is with him “ the virtue of style.”1 *
All the ornaments of language, whether from the struc¬
ture of periods, or from the various modes of thought by
which a point, or a propriety, or a dignity, or an anima¬
tion, is imparted to a subject, are explained by him in
reference to this fundamental law.
Nor has he left unconsidered the arrangement of the parts
of a speech; though this also was in his opinion scarce¬
ly a legitimate portion of the art. Former rhetoricians
had encumbered their systems with numerous artificial
divisions, giving precise rules for the composition of each
distinct head. Aristotle’s more exact method admits no
other divisions but the proposition and the proof; the
former founded on the necessity of stating the subject
of discussion, the latter on the necessity of proving the
point stated: though he afterwards allows the conveni¬
ence of a fourfold division into, 1. the proem or introduc¬
tion ; 2. the proposition; 3. the proof; 4. the epilogue or
peroration.
So deeply and fully has the science of rhetoric been con¬
sidered by Aristotle. His principal treatise on the subject,
the Rhetoric, in three books, addressed to his disciple Theo-
dectes, and his Nicomachean Ethics, are perhaps the most
perfect specimens of systematic sciences extant in ancient
or modern literature. For extent and variety of matter,
the Rhetoric may be ranked even above the Ethics. It has
been justly characterized as “ a magazine of intellectual
riches. Nothing is left untouched on which rhetoric, in
all its branches, has any bearing. His principles are the
result of extensive original induction. He sought them,
if ever man did seek them, in the living pattern of the hu¬
man heart. All the recesses and windings of that hidden
region he has explored; all its caprices and affections—
whatever tends to excite, to ruffle, to amuse, to gratify,
or to offend it—have been carefully examined. The rea¬
son of these phenomena is demonstrated, the method of
creating them is explained. The whole is a text-book of
human feeling, a storehouse of taste—an exemplar of con¬
densed and accurate, but uniformly clear and candid, rea¬
soning.” It is professedly adapted to the business of the
orator, that being the original occasion of an art of rhe¬
toric. But it is in fact a body of precepts for good writ¬
ing, furnishing authentic principles of criticism in every
department of prose composition. His smaller treatise,
in one book, entitled The Rhetoric to Alexander, is more
strictly a science of political eloquence, being written, as
the introductory address to Alexander intimates, in obe¬
dience to the king, who had requested a work of that de¬
scription. The same philosophical views of eloquence Efficient
may be traced m this work ; but more popularly set forth, Philoso-
with less of technical precision, and more of apposite il- Phy-
lustration from examples.
Poetics.
No work of Aristotle has been more justly estimated
than the fragment which has survived to us under the
name of his Poetics. Imperfect as it is, it has been uni¬
formly regarded as the great authority of the laws of cri¬
ticism in poetry: subsequent writers having only extended
and illustrated the principles laid down in it. The ex¬
cellence of this little work, which is only one book of the
three of which the whole treatise is said to have consist¬
ed,3 shows how much we have to regret the entire loss of
other works of Aristotle on the same subject. The trea¬
tises On Tragedies and On Poets, mentioned in the cata¬
logue of Laertius, probably contained much valuable infor¬
mation concerning Greek writers, whose works, perhaps
whose names in some instances, have not been transmit¬
ted to us.
That portion which time has spared of the Poetics, is
almost exclusively confined to the consideration of dra¬
matic poetry; but the philosopher, with his usual depth
and reach of thought, has here laid a broad foundation
of principles applicable to the whole inquiry. He derives
the nature of poetry in general from the principle of imi¬
tation inherent in man. Two natural causes, he says, ap¬
pear to have originated poetry; the natural power of imi¬
tation,—and the pleasure which all men take in imitation,
that is, in recognizing likenesses between distinct objects.
These two causes thus stated by him are in fact but
one principle : the pleasure resulting from imitation being
the principle itself of imitation, viewed in its tendency
or proper effect, the production of pleasure; though, in the
language of his philosophy, the first would be the motive
cause, the second the final. Poetry, then, according to
him, is the science by which the natural principle of imi¬
tation is realized in its tendency; or a collection of obser¬
vations on the mode by which pleasure is produced in imi¬
tations of which language is the instrument. Hence the
business of the poet is stated by Aristotle to consist in
representing things, not “ as they have been, but as they
might be ;” and therefore is described by him as of a more
philosophical and excellent nature, than that of the histo¬
rian.4 The pleasure of imitation will not be answered,
unless a likeness be recognized between the objects and
events described, and the objects and events of nature:
otherwise it will be a mere pleasure in the execution, or
in some circumstance of the work. The poet, therefore,
in order to accomplish the end of his art, must possess a
philosophical power of observation. He must have com¬
pared objects and events, and detected points of resem¬
blance, and thus formed for himself general principles on
which his imagination may model its ideal world. At the
same time he differs from the philosopher very much in
the same way in which the orator differs from the dialec¬
tician. He has not to consider what is abstractedly like in
things, but what will be viewed as like in its effect on the
sentiments and feelings of men. Therefore it is that his
creations are clothed with a beauty and loveliness surpass¬
ing nature. The resemblances which he shadows out par¬
take of those hues which the wishes of the human heart
reflect upon them.5
These fundamental notions of the art pervade the sys-
1 Ji/itf. Hi. 2. Poetic, c. 22. 3 Du Val’s Aristotle, ii. p. 82.
* lihet. ad Alex. c. 1. 4 Poet. c. 9.
s Poetic, c. 4, 9,25.
518
ARISTOTLE’S PHILOSOPHY.
Efficient tem of Aristotle’s Poetics, though, from the briefness of the
Philoso- work in its present imperfect state, they are by no means
Phy- fully developed in it. In the work, indeed, as it now is,
■"^^^the basis of the poetic imitation—the actions, passions,
and manners, of which a poem is descriptive—-are exclu¬
sively considered; and we have no inquiry, as in the Khe»
toric, into the principles of human nature by which the
, pleasure resulting from the imitation is modified in its et-
fect. From this circumstance, as well as irom Ins ac¬
counting for the pleasure of poetry on the ground ot a
natural delight in tracing out resemblances, Aristotle lias
been sometimes thought to have placed the excellence o
a poem in the mechanism of its story,1 and to have ne¬
glected altogether the intrinsic poetry of thought and ex¬
pression. But we shall not do justice to the comprehen¬
siveness of his views, if we estimate them by the limits of
the present work. He seems here to have premised only,
what ought naturally to occupy the first place in a philo¬
sophical system of the art.
It must be remembered, also, that Greek poetry was
essentially dramatic. It was expressly composed with a
view to public recitation or exhibition; and in poetry
of this kind the character of the incidents would hold a
much greater importance than in poetry intended chiefly
to be read. Fhe incidents would here hold a place ana¬
logous to the thoughts and expressions of the poem sub¬
mitted to the contemplative study of a reader. 1 his may
further account fob Aristotle’s laying so much stress on
the interest of the plot in tragedy.
The definition of tragedy given by Aristotle is remark¬
able, as savouring more of the spirit of Plato s philosophy
than of his own. Describing its nature as it differs from
epic poetry and from comedy, he further characterizes it
as, “ by means of pity and fear, working out the purifica¬
tion of such passions.”2 The purification of the soul was
the object to which Plato directed the noble enthusiasm
of his philosophy. By converse with the ideas of the in¬
tellectual world, he would have the soul disenchanted of
the spells which bound it to sensible objects, and cleansed
of the impurities of its earthly associations. Aristotle s
description of the effect designed in tragedy, applies this
doctrine to the particular emotions of the soul produced
by pity and fear. His idea appears to be, that tragedy,
by presenting the objects of those passions, without the
grossness and the violence with which they are attended
in actual life, teaches us to feel the passions in that de¬
gree only in which an impartial spectator can sympathize
with us. By familiarity with these pure abstractions—
the true philosophy of the passions so called forth—a mo¬
ral effect is worked on the heart; the mimic occasions on
which it is rightly exercised serving as a real discipline
of purification. The question, on what the peculiar plea¬
sure of tragic incident depends, is not distinctly consi¬
dered by Aristotle. But it may be accounted for on his
principles, from the view already given of the purification
effected by tragedy, connected with his doctrine, that
pleasure is the result of every affection rightly exerted.
That moderation of the passions of pity and fear which
tragedy has for its aim, is that right exertion of them to
which pleasure has been attached by nature, as a conse- Practi
quent.
^>’V
Practical Philosophy.
Ethics.
We have observed, that under the head of Practical
Philosophy, Aristotle delivers the principles of those
sciences by which the goods of human life are attained
by individuals or societies. According to this view, the
practical sciences are reducible to two: 1. Ethics, by
which man is furnished with the principles belonging to
his natural good as man; 2. Politics, which inquires in¬
to the principles on which the constitution of societies
may be made subservient to human good. Economics
ought perhaps to be stated as a third branch of science
under this head, though, in the view of ancient philosophy,
it naturally falls under politics, so far as it concerns the
regulation of families: families being regarded as the
elements of the political union.3
In taking a review of Aristotle’s ethical system, it would
be injustice to the philosopher to withhold the expression
of our admiration of the real wisdom displayed by him in
this department of science. We are little aware, living
as we do in the sunshine of gospel-truth, what a reach ot
thought it required, in those times, to see the science of
Ethics in its proper light, as a discipline of human^charac¬
ter in order to human happiness. The ethical writings of
Aristotle, composed amidst the darkness of heathen su¬
perstition, abound with pure and just sentimentsand,
instead of depressing man to the standard of the existing
depraved opinions and manners, tend to elevate him to¬
wards the perfection of his nature. They may indeed be
studied, not only as an exercise of the intellect, but as a
discipline of improvement of the heart; so much is there
in them of sound and practical observation on human na¬
ture. They are directed, it must be allowed, solely to
the improvement of man in this present life ; but so just
are the principles on which he builds that improvement,
that we may readily extend them to those higher views
of our nature and condition to which our eyes have been
opened. And no greater praise can be given to a work of
heathen morality, than to say, as may with truth be said
of the ethical writings of Aristotle, that they contain no¬
thing which a Christian may dispense with ; no precept
of life which is not an element of the Christian charac¬
ter ; and that they only fail in elevating the heart and the
mind to objects which it needed Divine Wisdom to re-
veal.
He has left three principal treatises in this department
of philosophy, familiarly known by these names: 1. Tlw
Nicomachean Ethics, or Ethics addressed to his son Ni-
comachus, in 10 books ;4 2. The Magna Moralia, in 2
books ; 3. The Eudemian Ethics, or Ethics addressed to
Eudemus, in 7 books; besides a short popular tract On
the Virtues and Vices. The Nicomachean Ethics exhi¬
bits the most formal and complete development of his
theory, and is the work on which his fame as a moral phi¬
losopher is chiefly rested. The other treatises are en-
1 Poetic. C. 6, ai>X'/i fun em Kai olov o fivQo; tsjs
* Ibid. c. 6, ^ tXiou Kou cpo&ou Tiocuvoutru r'/iv ‘tojv 'toioutuv •Tra.^rif/.otTuv So, again, in his Politics, viii. 7, he speaks of pun ca
tion” as an effect of music. There he promises to explain his meaning when he comes to treat of poetry; but no explanation
occurs in the Poetics. , .
3 Theophrastus is considered to be the author of the 1st book of the treatise of Economics, edited among the works of Aristotle.
(Niebuhr’s Hist, of Rome, Transl. vol. i. p. 15.) The latter part of that book, indeed, does not pretend to be more than a restoration
of the Greek text from a Latin translation. The 2d book is acknowledged to be spurious. _ ,
4 His son Nicomachus has been represented as the author of some of the books of this treatise. Cicero (Dc Fin. v. 2) is incline
to allow him this credit, but without any good reason for such an opinion.
V
ARISTOTLE’S
al tirely coincident with this in the views taken of the sub-
K). jects discussed, and often coincident also in whole pas-
ph sages.
^ It is well known with what eager but unprofitable sub-
tilty the inquiry into the Chief Good was prosecuted by
the Greek philosophers. The speculation proceeded from
a misapprehension of the nature of moral philosophy.
They thought, consistently with their method in physics,
that, as every action of human life appeared the pursuit of
some good, there must be some abstract principle of good,
the constituent of the moral nature of actions. Hence
they were busied in exploring the several objects of hu¬
man pursuit, and comparing them, and drawing conclu¬
sions as to their relative superiority in the order of pur¬
suit. Had they, however, considered sufficiently the sub¬
ject of their investigation, they would have seen the irre¬
levancy of any such inquiry to the business of moral phi¬
losophy. It was in fact a mere perversion of the terms
“ good” and “ end,” which constitute part of the technical
phraseology of the science. These notions being once in¬
troduced into philosophy, an occasion was furnished for
a priori speculation into the nature of goods and ends.
It is easy to see what a field for ingenuity was opened in
determining the point where the two notions coincided;
and in this consisted the determination of the chief good,1
or the finis bonorum, as it is expressed by Cicero.
Now Aristotle examined human actions with a more
philosophical eye. He readily saw through the vain
realism of those speculations which supposed that there
was some quality of good admitting of abstract disquisi¬
tion into its nature.2 He was aware, also, that when the
“ ends” of action were spoken of, it was not with refer¬
ence to some ulterior object, as was implied in all those
theories which laid down a speculative definition of the
chief good; but that it was the very characteristic of an
action, to be in itself an end.3 Hence he was diverted
from that track of inquiry which had misled, and which,
after him, continued to mislead, other philosophers, and
struck out for himself a new path of moral science. He
has thrown his preliminary views, indeed, into a form re¬
sembling that of the speculative philosophers, in uncon¬
scious deference probably to the prejudices of the method
in which he had been trained. Thus he sets out in his
Nicomacliean Ethics with a sketch of the chief good and
ends of actions, according to his conceptions of its nature :
and this is apt to excite an idea, that in reading this
work we are only examining a rival system of the same
kind with the Greek moral philosophy in general,—an idea
which Cicero4 * appears to have formed, since he speaks of
Aristotle’s having united two objects as together making
up the chief good of man. On looking, however, closely
into his actual process of investigation, we find it widely
different in kind from those inquiries which we have al¬
ready condemned, the agreement being simply in the tech¬
nical form of the argument.
PHILOSOPHY.
519
The chief good0 which he is intent on establishing is, Practical
the philosophical principle or general nature of actions as Philoso-
such. To describe it more fully,—he investigates the law, l)h-v>
according to which, human actions attain the good which
is their object, and which, as being the end really designed
in all actions, whatever may be their immediate particu¬
lar ends, is the great final cause of all—the end of ends.
Aristotle speaks of moral virtue as conversant about af¬
fections and actions, mp xa/ crabjj.6 He discrimi¬
nates by these terms between external and internal acts—
between the works and sentiments of virtue. In strict¬
ness, however, actions are the only proper subject of ethi¬
cal science ; which is conversant about human affections,
inasmuch as affections are implied in actions. Actions are
affections exerted towards some object, and comprehend,
accordingly, both external and internal acts. Am action,
then, according to Aristotle, is good, in which an affection
attains its object; and, in that case, the action itself may
be regarded as a raXog or end; the affection being realized,
completed, satisfied, in it. Evidently, then, it may be in¬
quired how the affections really obtain their objects in
action, or what constitutes an action an end. But this is
a very different inquiry from one that, by comparison of
particular objects, searches after some definite sole object
of pursuit. In this it is presupposed, that every object
of a natural affection is an ultimate end, or an object in*
which that affection, whatever it may be, rests, as in its
natural good.7 Accordingly, it is sought to ascertain how
it is so; what that principle is by which any action what¬
ever is really a good in itself and an end. Such a princi¬
ple is analogous to the chief good of the speculative
moralists, because it exhibits human actions in that point
of view in which their goodness consists, or in which they
accomplish that good towards which the affections natu¬
rally tend; but it differs so far as it restricts the notion of
the chief good to no one distinct class of objects. It is
simply a general account of the right constitution of na¬
ture exemplified in the multitude of individual instances.
As Newton does not inquire what gravity is, but deve-
lopes the law by which gravity acts; so Aristotle does
not give an abstract notion of the chief good, but ex¬
plores the principle by which it is realized in human life:
and thus he obtains a view of it unconnected with any
speculative opinions concerning the chief good or happi¬
ness of man. His theory leaves the notion of human
happiness entirely relative.8 The philosopher and the un¬
educated, the rich and the poor, the barbarian and the
civilized, each individual, in short, under whatever modi¬
fications of human life he may be conceived to exist, must,
so far as he obtains the good sought in action, exemplify
that law or ultimate principle which constitutes an action
a perfect action, or good.
The whole of his several treatises of Ethics consist of a
development of this his characteristic view of Imman good.
He had observed how mankind, through the force of passion
1 It is not only in speculative systems that we perceive the fallacy with regard to actions considered as goods and ends. Nothing
is more common in life than to find actions estimated entirely by a reference to some ultimate good or end which individuals or so¬
cieties have proposed to themselves, though perhaps not avowedly, as their chief good.
3 Eth. Nic. i. c. 6; Mag. Mor. i. c. 1, 2. '
3 Ibid. vi. c. 2, 5, x. c. 6; Polit. vii. c. 3, 13; Cicero de Fin. ii. c. 22, “ Id contendimus, ut officii fructus sit ipsum officium.”
4 Dc Fin. ii. c. 6 ; see also Euseb. Prccp. Evan. xv. c. 3 and 4.
s Eaertius mentions, in the Catalogue of Aristotle’s writings, a treatise, ««< nra.ya.Sov, in 3 books.
6 Eih. Ntc. ii. c. 3, 6, 9, &c.
’ Hence the just compliment to the peripatetic system by Origen (contra Cels. p. 10, edit. Spenc.), that it was “ the most humane,
and candidly acknowledged human goods more than other sects.” The Stoics confounded natural and moral good: “ quod est bonum
omne iaudabile est,” &c. Cicero de Fin. iii. 8.
8 It is the proper account of the observations of Paley on “ human happiness.” {Mor. and Pol. Philosophy, i. ch. 6.) The various
popular views of happiness are well set forth by Aristotle, in Rhet. i. 5.
520 ARISTOTLE’S PHILOSOPHY.
Practical and evil habits, mistake and pervert their proper goods, his notice, whether pleasure was to be identified with hap- Prac ]
Philoso- Moral philosophy, he thought, might be applied to correct piness, or was to be regarded as an evil. He accordingly Phil
Ph-V‘ this misapprehension of men—to reform this perversion, formally discusses it ^refuting the existing opinions on the Jj
KThe force of reason, at least, might be tried. He wished subject, and establishing, that pleasure was a good, so far J
therefore to propose to their view the real goods intended as it necessarily accompanies the exercise of every prin-
for them by the constitution of their nature, and to call the ciple of our nature ; and consequently, that the highest
attention of each individual to the pursuit of these in his pleasures are attached to the exercise of the highest prin-
own particular case. His practical design throughout ciples. The discussion itself is thrown into a form highly
accordingly is, to direct the principles of our moral nature abstruse and speculative ; but the conclusion at which he
towards their proper objects in such a way that they may arrives is entirely practical, and of the greatest importance
rest in these objects as ends, and attain the proper good in order to a just theory of virtue. It amounts to this,
of man. When all the principles are so regulated that that the mere gratification of every natural affection, by
this effect takes place in each, the collective result is its exertion in action, is not to be distinctly proposed and
happiness, or the entire and consummate good of man. aimed at as the end of that affection. This would be
Whence he takes occasion to describe happiness in gene- to grasp at the result, and neglect the means in order to
ral terms, as in its nature “ energy of soul,” mg- it.5 For, the gratification is, as explained by him, the
ys/a,1 or “ the powers of the soul exerted” “ according mere residt of the adaptation of the affection to its object,
to that virtue or excellence which most consummates or and consequent on the attainment of the object. It is the
perfects them.” The mode of description is drawn from completion of the process of nature involved in an action.6
his physical philosophy. It is founded on a notion of The attainment, therefore, of the highest pleasure attach-
some intrinsic power in the soul working like the opera- ed to our nature, presupposes that the work of virtue has
tions of the natural world. His theory of happiness, then, been performed in adjusting the moral and intellectual
contemplates this process of the soul at its termination, principles to their objects.
where the proper nature of the soul as an active principle In proceeding to expand this great doctrine, in which
is fully developed. The truth is, we have then a gene- his whole ethical system is included, Aristotle appears
ralized fact, descriptive of the real state of the case, in the to have availed himself of the ancient theory of the Py-
particular instances in which an affection is found to have thagoreans, according to which virtue was stated to be
been happily exerted. He takes, indeed, into his esti- rou dtonog,’1—a “ habit of propriety or duty,”—or the
mate of the chief good, the effect of the circumstances of due internal constitution of our nature. This notion
the world on the virtuous exercise of the powers of the seems at least to have afforded him an outline of his own
soul; adding the condition of “a perfect life,”2—oranade- theory of virtue, though he established it for himself
quate duration of human life, and adequate opportunities on an extensive basis of original observation. Analyz-
in the world,—for the development of the moral principles, ing our moral nature into affections, capacities, and ha-
This, however, is only to assert that the law by which bits, he at once rejects from the estimate the two for-
man attains the happiness of his nature, must, in order mer views as inadequate to the effect, and steadily directs
to be judged of truly, be contemplated in its tendency— his observation to the force of habits in modifying our
in the effect that it would produce if it acted freely, with- moral nature. He found that virtuous actions tended to
out impediment from the world. To think that external form within us the character of virtue, and that a charac*
goods are causes of happiness, he says, is like imputing ter so formed enabled us to act virtuously. As it was thus
the excellence of the music to the lyre rather than to the evident that habits were the bond of connection between
art of the musician. Prosperity, he also observes, has its virtuous principle and virtuous action, he decided that the
limit in reference to happiness, since it may be excessive, principle by which the soul worked out its perfection, or,
and in that case would be an impediment to happiness.3 as we should rather express it according to our own ideas,
But this necessary qualification of the expression in his by which the affections of our moral nature were rightly
sketch of the chief good, gives the appearance of his in- exerted, was in itself a habit.
eluding prosperity to a certain extent as a constituent of He had observed also, that, in every instance in which
the good; whereas in this point, as well as in the whole good resulted from the exercise of the affections, there
form of his inquiry into the chief good, he is only follow- was a due regard to the personal character of the agent,
ing the abstract method of the ancient philosophy. In to the occasion, to the matter in hand, to the persons re¬
reality he is pursuing a course of investigation strictly in- spected in the action, to the purpose designed, &c.; that
ductive. The terms themselves, “ a perfect life,” sustain thus the virtuous character consisted in an exact adjust-
the idea of the soul’s working out its own perfection, in ment of the internal moral constitution of man to all the
which process the perfection of its physical existence would circumstances of the world. On the ground, then, of
necessarily constitute a part. this general fact, he concluded the nature of virtue to
Thus, too, the notion of pleasure, considered as an ab- be an habitual principle of self-moderation, or, as he ex-
stract good, is distinctly examined in his Ethics.4 The presses it, “ a habit influencing the choice, having its
practice of ancient philosophy obtruded the question on being in a relative mean.”8 The abstract mode of ex-
Eth. Nic. i. 7 2 Ibid. i. 7, fiuvriXua; x. 7? XaSouira ftnxos /3/ai> riXutv.
3 Ibid. i. c. 7, vii. 13, x. c. 8 ; Eudem. vi. c. 13 ; Polit. vii. 1 and 13, iv. 11.
4 Ibid. vii. c. 11-14, x. c. 1-5, i. 8; Mag. Mor. ii. c. 7-
5 It may be illustrated thus: In travelling, we may have some place which we desire to reach pointed out to us in the distance; and
we may imagine that we shall arrive at it by shaping our course directly towards it, and thus making it our immediate object. But
this course would probably lead us into insuperable difficulties ; whereas by going along the road leading to it, though that road may
be circuitous and indirect, we safely and surely reach it.
6 Pleasure, accordingly, is defined by Aristotle, in his Rhetoric, i. 11, physically, as “ a kind of motion of the soul, and a full and
perceptible constitution into the proper nature.”
* Cave, Opusc. Mythol.; D. Stewart’s Phil, of Act. and Moral Powers*
3 Eth. Nic. ii. 6, tfys fl'goa/giT/xn, tv f/tHTornri ovtru. ri\ trgos rifiuz.
ARISTOTLE’S
jVi ical pression is a continuation of the same physical notion
ppjso- under which bis theory of the chief good is represented.
1Xhe soul of man is conceived to be wrought to a tem-
perament or mean state, all its affections and actions
being in their due proportions.
To determine, however, this due measure of the affec¬
tions, or this mean to which the constitution of the soul
must be brought in order to the virtuous character, is the
great question of ethics. To what arbitration shall we
resort, to fix the evanescent boundaries of the territory of
virtue ?
Now, the instances in which this self-moderation be¬
longing to the character of virtue is observed, become in
themselves the objects of approbation, exciting in us sen¬
timents of love, esteem, admiration, honour, and com¬
mending themselves at the same time to our intellectual
perceptions. Hence the various expressions introduced
into moral philosophy, of moral fitness, propriety, propor¬
tion—the decent, the fair, the honourable, the amiable,
in conduct; the adoption of one or more of which tests
of the morality of actions, has given its peculiar shade of
opinion to different systems. Aristotle contemplates these
sentiments of approbation, not as they are in themselves,
but as they are outwardly evidenced by the praises of man¬
kind at large accompanying certain actions.1 It is clear
that men praise some actions and censure others. Here,
then, is a conclusive evidence of the moral nature of actions.
Where men—not any particular society of men, but the
wide society of mankind—are unanimous in praising any
action,2 there the quality of praiseworthiness may be im¬
puted to the action itself; or the action is not only “ good”
in being the attainment of some natural end, but is further
in itself the object of approbation. The combination of
these two effects is expressed by Aristotle under the term
zaXov,3 to which we have no perfect counterpart in our
language, though the word “ honourable,” if understood
in its full meaning, may sufficiently represent it.
Aristotle’s classification of actions under the heads of
different virtues is founded on this analysis of the moral
nature of actions. A distinct class of natural objects of de¬
sire, to the pursuit of which within certain limits praise is
attached, is in his system the ground of a distinct virtue.
His enumeration of the virtues is evidently incomplete.
It seems chiefly intended as an evidence by induction,
of that moderation of the affections in which he had stated
the nature of virtue to consist. His division, indeed, of
virtue is physical rather than logical—an enumeration
of the parts of virtue rather than of the kinds of it: and
his method, accordingly, did not require of him an exact
statement of all the particulars comprized under the
general term virtue. He has been accused of attending
chiefly to the more splendid virtues. He was very pro¬
bably led, by the very criterion of virtue which he em¬
ployed, as well as by his view of the connection between
ethics and politics, to sketch more prominently those par¬
ticular virtues which recommend a man in society. And
thus he has drawn beautiful little outlines of those charms
of familiar intercourse—affability, frankness, agreeable¬
ness.4 His introduction, indeed, of these qualities among
the virtues of his system, is a striking evidence of the
PHILOSOPHY. 521
practical nature of that virtue which he inculcates. It is Practical
a virtue wdiich is not to be forgotten in any part of a man’s Philoso-
daily life. Whilst it nerves his arm in dangers, distri- ph-y*
butes his bounty, shields him against temptations of plea-
sure, it unbends him in the hours of leisure, and is ever
on his tongue, whether gravely pronouncing in his asser¬
tions and judgments, or playing in the sallies of his wit.
These very instances show that he did not regard splen¬
dour as the exclusive attribute of virtue. On the con¬
trary, he expressly speaks of it as only the heightening
and decoration of the several virtues, and as meritorious
because it presupposes all the virtues in their perfection.5
Another evidence of his not being exclusive in his regard
to the more showy virtues, is his treating of gentleness.6
He selects the virtue of justice7 for more particular dis¬
cussion. He distinguishes it as a particular virtue from the
whole of virtue, which it denotes re/aftWi/,—in its being the
moderation of the love of gain or self-interest. Seduced,
however, by the example of Plato, he departs, in his mode of
treating this virtue, from the strict province of ethics into
that of politics. The justice which he explains is a political
virtue, applicable to the citizens of a common state rather
than to man as man. And this confusion of ethical and
political justice has led him into a speculative refinement,
which gives the appearance of a forced effort to reconcile
the notion of justice with his theory of virtue. Looking
at justice as a dispensing power, he observed that it was
concerned about “ a mean” in things themselves, appor¬
tioning to each person his exact due, whether of reward
or punishment. On the ground of this fact he points out
that justice is not “ a mean,” as the other virtues are, but
is “ of the mean”—not in itself “ a relative mean,” but
“ relative to a mean.” Had he considered justice solely
as a moral habit, he would have seen that the distinction
was unnecessary, since in this point of view it conforms
precisely to his general notion of virtue in being a prin¬
ciple of self-moderation. There is, however, a foundation
for the remark in the circumstance, that justice admits
of greater exactness in its exercise than other virtues.
“ The rules of justice,” says an excellent writer,8 “ may
be compared to the rules of grammar; the rules of the
other virtues to the rules which critics lay down for the
attainment of what is sublime and elegant in composition.”
In the other virtues we are thrown more on our sense of
propriety in forming our practical decisions. In justice
we have evident facts before us—the merit or demerit of
individuals in themselves; and these form an external
standard to guide us in our conduct over and above our
internal convictions of right. So far, then, justice may be
regarded as “ of the mean,” besides being also a point of
propriety, or a mean within ourselves. Aristotle, it should
be observed, had no other more appropriate word distinct
from “ justice” to express “ honesty” or “ integrity,” and
consequently was led to generalize too far in his analysis
of justice.
Aristotle’s discussion of friendship9 is open to similar
objection. He has considered it in its outward effects as
a social principle akin to justice, to which justice is sub¬
ordinate and supplementary, rather than as an internal
ethical principle—the moderated exercise of benevolence
1 Eth. Nic. i. cap. ult., ii. cap. 5, 8, 7; E)c Virt. et Vit. p. 291.
! Ibid. x. cap. 2, o yag wctffi tovto uvcci (pccfAiv*
5 Ibid. iv. cap. 8, MIX', pit ouv « O'O'1 O’Oir^o; ns uvai ruv aoirut' pilous
sstv t*i tcXytlua. fiiyaXo^/ux^ av ya.(> olov Tt qlvsu x&Xoxu.ycctticts*
6 Ibid. iv. cap. 5.
Among his lost treatises was one on Justice, in 4 books. (Diog. Laert.)
8 Adam Smith, Theor. of Mor. Sentim. part iii. chap. 0.
VOL. III.
3 Ethic, passim; lihci. i.* cap. 9.
•* Eth. Nic. iv. cap. 6, 7, H-
auras troiu, xat ou yinrui anu exsivooi' Six rouro xa^-£'
3 u
s Eth. Nic. viii. ix.
522 ARISTOTLE’S
Practical in the heart itself. His observations, however, on the
Philosor subject admirably illustrate the importance of friendship
pky* ; to the right constitution of society—the various modifica-
tions of the benevolent principle in the different relations
of human life—together with the peculiar amiableness of
virtue in itself. In the last respect, indeed, the discus¬
sion forms an essential part of his moral philosophy, as it
tends to show his conviction that the moral principles
have their seat in the heart.
Indeed, this part of his Ethics, as well as his inquiry
into justice, should be accurately studied by all who would
obtain just views of the comprehensive character of the
virtue of his system. Together they comprize a body of
relative duties. Under justice would be classed the duties
of “religion, memory of the dead, filial reverence, patrio¬
tism, civil obedience, veracity, honesty,” &C.1 so far as these
duties flow from claims on our respect, and are prescribed
by human laws : under friendship, the same duties as they
are prompted by sentiment and feeling, and are known by
the names of piety, gratitude, benevolence, fidelity, gene¬
rosity, &c. Hence his beautiful summary of the character
of virtue, when he says, that “ it is of virtue both to be¬
nefit the worthy and to love the good; and to be neither
apt to punish nor revengeful, but merciful, and placable,
and indulgent; and there follow on virtue, kindness, equi¬
ty, candour, good hope ; moreover, such qualities as, to be
domestic, friendly, social, hospitable, philanthropic, and a
lover of what is honourable.”2
His theory, then, of virtue must be regarded as involv¬
ing a minute and distinct attention to all the particular
virtues. And herein appears its great excellence, as con¬
trasted with those of some modern philosophers, who have
endeavoured to trace up all the virtues to some one prin¬
ciple of our nature, as benevolence, or self-love, or pru¬
dence. All such theories are in truth mere accommoda¬
tions of language, by which different classes of phenomena
are arranged under the same terms ; and they tend rather
to give a shadowiness to the form of virtue, instead of
striking it out in bold outline. Aristotle’s theory is the
law by which these different classes of facts are held to¬
gether in fact, the common process by which the opera¬
tion of each virtue is carried on ; and which, when realiz¬
ed in the character of a man, gives him the command of
all the virtues.
The ancient moral philosophy sought, like the modern,
to resolve virtue into some one principle; but the endea¬
vour of the ancients was rather to ground it on some in¬
tellectual principle. Socrates contended that the virtues
were instances of prudence or knowledge, <pgovnfcig, or \oyoi,
or eviffrr^ai. Aristotle shows the foundation of this miscon¬
ception, in explaining in what respect the production of
virtue might be regarded as the work of the intellect.
Each virtue consisting in the adjustment of the action to
all the circumstances of the case, the virtue of each action
must consequently depend on the practical judgment of
the individual agent; and an agent who is uniformly vir¬
tuous must exhibit this practical judgment uniformly
operating, enabling him to decide on the point in which
the virtue of acting lies.3 This operation of the intellect
on moral objects he designates as the intellectual virtue
of prudence or wisdom.4 He speaks of it as “ defining” or
bounding the mean in which virtue consists ;5 that is, as a
speculative definition presents to the mind an exact notion
PHILOSOPHY.
of the thing defined, so the principles supplied by prudence Prac j
give us a perception of the moral nature of an action. For Phi:.
example, suppose a man to have received some evident P1
wrong—some injury done to him without provocation. ^'
The affection of resentment naturally leads him to requite
the injustice on his assailant; but by what method of ac¬
tion he should do so, is a matter of question. He must
know exactly in what way his resentment should be shown,
in order to act virtuously; besides having as his general
principle, the inclination to act virtuously.6 He must,
therefore, have had some experience of human life—some
practical knowledge of the nature of actions which have
been approved as fulfilling the end of this affection. An
experience, then, of this kind, applied to the exercise of
all the affections, and operating invariably on the conduct,
constitutes the prudence of Aristotle’s system. It is thus
intimately connected with the moral principles, as the
moral principles are with it. It is the combined result, in
the intellectual part of our nature, of all the virtues of the
heart; as, on the other hand, prudence is the diverging
of the intellect through the various virtues of the heart.
Hence his conclusion, that it is impossible to be properly
good—xvf/ws ayabov—without prudence, or to be prudent
without moral virtue; and consequently, that all the mo¬
ral virtues are inseparable, inasmuch as the possession of
all is requisite for the perfecting of prudence.7
In this account of prudence is to be traced the principle
of moral obligation involved in Aristotle’s theory of virtue.
He considers the moral virtues as those of the inferior
part of the soul, and therefore as formed to obey; where¬
as the intellectual principles, as being purely rational,
had in their nature an intrinsic authority. Prudence,
accordingly, being the intellectual virtue employed in
conjunction with the moral in the production of virtue,
is, from its nature, supreme over its associated prin¬
ciples, and demands of right their submission to its dic¬
tates.8 It must be confessed that such a ground of obli¬
gation is merely theoretic; and so Aristotle himself per¬
ceived it to be.9 As a principle of observation and re¬
flection, it resembles in some measure the supremacy of
conscience; but it does not come up to the force of that
master-principle. Conscience rewards and punishes by
its judgments, whereas the dictates of prudence carry no
such sanction in them. Properly, however, the notion of
“ obligation” is inapplicable to his system. Not inculcat¬
ing morality as a> law, but as a philosophy, or art of life,
he was not called upon to show why it should be obeyed
as a law. It was enough for him to point out, from ob¬
servations on human conduct, that it is in fact obeyed by
all who attain their real good.
But though the principle of conscience has no place
in his theory, it is certainly implied in his test of virtue
and vice—the praise and blame of mankind. The uni¬
versal consent of mankind on these points he considers
as decisive of the moral nature of an action. But this
is to allow a standard of right and wrong inherent
in human nature, or what is equivalent to a conscience.
If all agree in praising a certain modification of the affec¬
tions, and in blaming another, it is clear that there must
be some common principles in all to serve as the bases of
these unanimous judgments. The same conclusion re¬
sults from his admission of capacities of virtue, and of the
existence of natural virtue, in man, antecedent to the
4 Df^irtut- et * De Virt. ct Vit. p. 296, Du Yal.
_ means Philosophy rather than what we understand bv wisdom.
Kth. JVic. ll. t), weiirftivri Xoyu, kcu a; an o Qffcviuo; ioitrut.
Eth. Nic. vi. c. 13, x. c. «; End. v. c. 12. « Eth. Nic. i. c. 13, iii. c. 12 ; Polit. viii. c. 1-i
3 Polit. vii. 13.
‘ Mag. Mor. ii. c. 7 ? Eth. Nk.
9 Eth. Nic. x. c. 9.
ARISTOTLE’S
pra'cal proper formation of it in the character. Indeed, his ana-
ph iso- lysis of prudence is in itself decisive of his I'eal view of
pi this point. Not only are the principles on which pru-
Jence is to speculate to be drawn from the heart; but
the very deduction of these principles to the particular
cases of conduct involves moral perceptions. For how else
is the precise point in which the mean lies—in which
the due measure of the affection exerted consists—to be
ascertained ? If the virtue of the action consisted in an
absolute mean, a mere intellectual process, such as that
of arithmetic or geometry, would enable us to ascertain
it. But the mean in question being neither more nor
less than what is proper, this implies a sense of pro¬
priety. Right conduct, according to him, is not such
because it is neither excessive nor defective; but it is
neither excessive nor defective because it is right. This
is plain from his induction of the several virtues, in which
he shows that there is a mean, because there is a point
of propriety; so that a moral perception must precede
every decision on moral questions. It is of the great¬
est consequence, in order to a right understanding of
his account of virtue, to observe this necessary depen¬
dence of the knowledge of the mean, on the adjustment of
the moral principles to their objects. The want of atten¬
tion to it has led to absurd objections against Aristotle’s
theory. He has been interpreted as if he had said that
we could have too much courage, too much liberality, &c.;
which notion proceeds on the false assumption, that the
mean laid down by Aristotle is a quantity ; whereas it is
only a proportion or correspondence existing between the
principles of the agent and the objects of those principles.1
The term “ mean,” in fact, as employed by Aristotle, is
merely negative, marking the exclusion of all unchastened
feeling from the character of virtue.
But though his system is defective as an authoritative
law, it developes a much nobler theory of duty than the
philosophy which rests our obligation to virtue on a ground
of interest. The “ prudence” of Aristotle’s ethics must
be understood as widely different from the prudence of
such a theory. The prudence which he teaches is no
calculation of consequenees. It is a practical philosophy
of the heart, inseparably connected with the love of that
conduct which it suggests: whereas, when we are taught
to act on the ground of interest, the prudence then in¬
culcated is a mere intellectual foresight of consequences,
independent of any exercise of the heart.2 Such a sys¬
tem, whilst it overthrows the distinction between right
and wrong as a fundamental principle, requires either a
very comprehensive power of intellect in order to its prac¬
tical adoption, or an express revelation from the Deity,
declaring the good and evil consequences annexed to ac¬
tions. These are conditions which sufficiently expose its
•utility as a guide to duty. The heart of man leaves far
behind this morality of consequences, and decides, even
before the action itself has its birth, whether it is morally
right or wrong. The appeal to the revealed will of the
Deity is not only a petitio principii, inasmuch as no will
ot the Deity can be ascertained and proved divine, without
th*previous admission of principles of right and wrong; but
is refuted by the simple fact, that theories of virtue such
PHILOSOPHY.
523
as that of Aristotle have been devised by men who had Practical
no belief in a Divine Providence. We speak not of the Philoso-
excellence of such theories, but of the mere fact of their Ph-V*
existence as accounts of human duties. That “ the dif-
ference, and the only difference,” between an act of pru¬
dence and an act of duty is, “ that, in the one case, we con¬
sider what we shall gain or lose in the present world—in
the other case we consider also what we shall gain or lose
in the world to come ;”3—is an assertion disproved at once
by the fact, that Aristotle saw a difference between the
two acts, independently of that consideration on which
the notion of duty is there made to rest. Whether he
has stated the difference correctly or not, is immaterial to
this point.
The principle of self-love has also been well illustrated
by Aristotle in its relation to virtue. He distinguishes
between the culpable form of it, or selfishness, and that
form of it which is auxiliary to virtue. Self-love, then,
in its good sense, may be acted on by the virtuous man,
whose character is already framed on the principle of
“ the honourableand in that case, he shows, it will be
coincident with benevolence; since the person so pursu¬
ing his own interest will also effectually promote that of
others. But this is not the case with the bad man; since,
in pursuit of his views of self-interest, the bad man will
at once injure himself and others by compliance with bad
passions.4 It is evident from the above, that neither does
he admit of benevolence being made a principle of con¬
duct, otherwise than as a proper benevolence pre-supposes
other moral principles, and is regulated consequently in
its exercise by a prevailing regard to the “ honourable” or
right. He has also enforced his primary notions of duty
by pointing out the proper amiableness of virtue, both as
the only sure tie of attachment between man and man,5
and as the only thing which produces tranquillity, self-
satisfaction, and delight, in a man’s own bosom. On the
latter point, indeed, he speaks almost in terms descriptive
of the joys and pangs of conscience.6 So justly has he
embraced in his view the most powerful auxiliary prin¬
ciples, without exalting them, as some philosophers have,
to an undue place, by making the theory of virtue to rest
on them.
Such, then, is that account of virtue which Aristotle’s
practical philosophy developes. He delivers it as the
theory of perfect conduct, as that which is exemplified
in operation whenever human good is realized in life. It
is at the same time, it should be observed, an account
of the nature of virtue, and of the internal process of
our own constitution, by which virtue is produced. The
affections being all habitually moderated by prudence,
virtue is the result; and in that moderation consists the
nature of virtue.
He was not, however, inattentive to the fact, that the
speculative perfection of a practical rule is not realized
in human life. He was aware that a complete subordina¬
tion of the affections to the principle of prudence was a
task of difficulty above the efforts of man as he is. So
also his view of vice, as that state of man in which his
principles are entirely corrupted,7—the affections being
conformed to evil, so that he continually and insensi-
1 Eudem. iii. cap. 7 ; Eth. Nic. ii. cap. G, o y.nri -rXiovaZu, tXXuru, raw Ssavraf—tTr/i^acrriKfi yi ovtra rov pwov.
- A moral philosophy of this kind is in fact a revival in a new form of the theory of Socrates, which made virtue a science. It
overlooks the affections in the production of virtue, as the theory of Socrates did.
3 Paley’s Mor. and Pol. Philos, book ii. chap. 3. 4 Eth. Nic. vol. ix. cap. 8; Mag. Mor. ii. 13, 14; Polit. ii. 3.
5 See Bishop Butler, Serin, i.
t c Eth. Nic. ix. cap. 4, E/ In ro ouru; Xiai arrii uSXiov, pswersav rnv Oianrupiiu;, xai ■nwariov i-xtuxn tivxr aura xai 9:00s
cturw tpiXixas «v £vo/, xcu inoav QiXa; yivoiro. Eudem. vii. cap. 6.
Eth. Nic. vii. cap. 8, ‘H yocg ugim xxi rnv agxni) n f*** n Js vi. 5, Ear/ ya^ n xcexiu tpdaorixn
524 ARISTOTLE’S
Practical bly1 chooses evil rather than good,2—is a philosophical
Pliiloso- limit of the extent of human depravity, and not an account
Phy- of vice as it actually exists in the world.3 It is indeed a
just conclusion, from experience of that degradation to
which our nature is brought—that hardening of the heart,
as the Scripture terms it, by the habitual violation of our
duty. As the end, therefore, as the perfect form of vice,
this state of the heart should be sketched out by the
moralist, to give their proper practical cogency to his
admonitions. His outlines of virtue must be drawn from
virtue realized in its tendency—from that condition of
it in which it is the attainment of man’s chief good; as
vice, on the other hand, must be contemplated where it
stands fully confessed as man’s chief evil. There may
be a virtue above our nature, as there may be a vice be¬
low it; and Aristotle notices both these extremes: but
neither of these presents a standard of human excellence
or human depravity, and therefore requires no distinct
consideration in an ethical treatise. But the actual vir¬
tues and vices of men, as they are observed in the world,
exhibit an endless variety of modifications within the
theoretic limits of virtue and vice. The affections are
more or less brought into subjection to the rational prin¬
ciple in different individuals; and men are praised and
blamed in proportion as they have established this com¬
mand over themselves, or have lost it. And hence a
secondary or inferior kind of virtue results, as well as a
less odious vice. As it is in the indulgence of the sen¬
sual affections that human frailty is most seen, Aristotle
distinguishes this secondary virtue and vice by contrast
with the particular virtue and vice of temperance and in¬
temperance ; as if they were simply what we express by
continence and incontinence ; but his distinction of their
nature is a general one, and belongs to the whole charac¬
ter of virtue and vice.4 But in admitting a morality of
this nature, he laboured under a speculative difficulty.
Socrates had denied the existence of any such imperfect
vice, on the ground that the virtues were sciences, and
that it was impossible for a man to act against his convic¬
tions of the best. Aristotle, though not agreeing with
Socrates in regarding the virtues as sciences,5 still, as he
admitted an intellectual process in the production of vir¬
tue, felt himself required to explain how this higher prin¬
ciple was overpowered by the weaker, as it evidently was
in the incontinent man. In the course of this explanation
he has touched on the true philosophy of those facts in
which the principles and practice of men are evidenced
at variance. He has accounted in some measure for the
apparent anomaly of the same person exhibiting at differ¬
ent periods such contrasts of character—at one time com¬
manding the passions, at another yielding to them. For
he delineates, it should be observed, under the charac¬
ters of “ the continent” and “ incontinent,” not two dif¬
ferent persons, as in the case of “ the temperate” and “ in-
PHILOSOPHY.
temperate,” but what will usually be the same person at Praeti
alternate intervals, since no one can very long remain Philos
either. phv
The question of the freedom of the will has been ad-
mirably treated by Aristotle. It is discussed as it ought
to be in a treatise of moral philosophy, independently of
those metaphysical difficulties with which it is commonly
overlaid. What the nature of human will is, whether it
must be regarded as free or necessary, according to our
abstract notions of liberty or necessity, forms no part of
his inquiry. He points out simply, what are the classes of
actions in which an1 agent is generally held not responsi¬
ble for his conduct; and excluding these, decides on the
remainder—that, since in these, men are held responsible;
as is shown by the praise and blame, reward and punish¬
ment, attaching to their conduct; there, the actions are
voluntary. This is the extent to which the inquirjr, so
far as it is strictly ethical, ought to be carried. Whether
we speculatively conclude the will of man to be free or
necessary, practically we must proceed as if it were free;
since to act on that supposition accords with the facts of
human life : whereas, to act on the theory that we are
under a necessity, would lead us against the common
practice of mankind, by which we are treated as responsi¬
ble. Aristotle indeed argues, that though the question
be decided in the negative, it leaves the relative nature
of virtue and vice on the same footing; if our virtues
may still be imputed to us, so may our vices.6 But he
more distinctly affirms the voluntary nature both of virtue
and vice, on the ground that the ag^)j, the principle of the
action, is ^/y,—in ourselves—in our own power. Thus,
though the virtuous or vicious habits that we have form¬
ed may dispose us to a particular course of behaviour, so
that, as being under their influence, we cannot act other¬
wise, yet the actions so performed are voluntary; because
it was in our power to do or forbear that course of con¬
duct which led to the settled habit.
The principle thus described as “ in ourselves,” is, in
Aristotle’s philosophy, the motive of our actions. It is
that from which the effect on our conduct has originated;
and it comes therefore under that class of principles which
we have described as constituting the motive or efficient
cause. The term “ motive,” however, is sometimes trans¬
ferred in popular use to the object or end of an action;7
which being something external to ourselves, gives occa¬
sion to question the voluntary nature of actions. But, in
strictness, the end chosen by the agent or object at which
he aims, is in itself no cause whatever of his acting, but
rather the cause of the morality or immorality of his ac¬
tions, or what constitutes their moral nature.8
But the principles employed in the production of moral
virtue are not the whole of our internal nature, nor are
they the highest principles. And Aristotle’s theory im¬
plies the exertion of all, and, if there be a relative su-
vii. Cap. 9, » ^sv ya^ xaxia, XavS-avsi. lihet. ii. 4, roc Ss fxocXiffra xocxa, rixiirrct aitrtnra, aSitctx xai aip^orvvti- This insensi¬
bility is the result of confirmed habit; and the same result takes place in regard to virtue. The moral principles are less felt, as mere
internal principles, when perfected in the character ; operating as it were without thought or effort, in the conduct. See Bishop But*
ler’s Analogy, chapter on Moral Discipline.
Ibid. yii. cap. 8, On fAW am kcucio. n ccxoamoc oux itrn, (Pccvc^oV aXX« vrri nrus" ro yciv ya(> oru/ioc arocxi^co'iv, ro xocra or^tiu^itn urriv-
Ibid. IV. Cep. o, Ou fcnv ocrocvroc yc ry auref uTaggu' cv yeeg ccv dovcuri won' ro yap xaxov xac at/ro aoroXXuo'i, xav aXoxXv^ov *1, atpo^rcii
yivira/. *
4 Eth. Nic. vii. c. 7 ; Eudem. vi.; Eudem. iii. c. 11.
s Eudem. vii. c. 13; Eth. Nic. vii. c. 3.
b ^ic' c: h ? which is in substance the conclusion of Bishop Butler (Anal. p. 1. chap, on the Opinion of Necessity)- Tlie
whole doctnne of this chapter is coincident with the views of Aristotle, and illustrative of them.
1 aley speaks of ‘ private happiness” as “ our motive.” (Mor. and Pol. Phil. b. ii. c. 3.) We use the term in the Aristotelian
sense when we say that ambition or avarice is a person’s motive, but not in saying that power or self-interest is so.
8 Eth. Nic. vi. c. 2 ; Eudem. iii. c. 11 ; Metaph. vi. c. 1.
ARISTOTLE’S
jYtical periority among them, a preference of the higher. He
j' jo3o- assigns, accordingly, the greatest happiness to the exer-
y. pon of the intellectual principles. These he had already
analyzed, in tracing the connection of the intellect with
virtue; and, dividing them according to the classes of
objects on which they are exercised, had assigned the
pre-eminence to 2op/a, or philosophy, the science of the
highest objects.
That a philosopher, living, as Aristotle did, amidst the
disorder and misery occasioned by the want of a true and
practical religion, should have sought for a perfection of
happiness out of the troubled scene in which moral virtue
is disciplined, ought not to excite our wonder. The calm
regions of philosophical contemplation—sapientum templa
serena—presented a natural refuge to the anxious mind,
eager to realize its own abstractions in some perfect form
of human life. There, those principles which his theory
had sketched, appeared to hold without exception; and
those uncertainties and limitations which elsewhere at¬
tended their operation, either to vanish or to be greatly
diminished. It was a search, indeed, after that happiness
which revelation has made known to us,—a happiness out
of our present sphere of exertion and duty,—in which
man might obtain the full end or consummate good of his
being. Aristotle him&elf describes the pursuit of this
ulterior happiness in terms indicative of this; as an im¬
mortalizing of our nature; as a living according to what
is divine in man ; as what renders a man most dear to the
Divinity, most god-like.1 From not believing, however,
any doctrine of the real immortality of man as a com¬
pound being,—though he held a partial immortality of the
soul, that of the intellect,—he determined the excellence
of human happiness from a view of the present condition
only of man.2 In this exclusive point of view, the intellec¬
tual virtues would be justly entitled to the pre-eminence,
though experience convinces us that even these are not
without their alloy.3 He by no means, however, regards the
exercise of these virtues an exemption from the necessity
of cultivating the moral. To enjoy the happiness of the
theoretic life is the highest privilege of our nature; but
still our condition as men4 calls to the exercise of those vir¬
tues from which our proper happiness as men, as compound
beings consisting of passions and intellect, and living in
an evil world, results. No philosophy but that of Aris¬
totle has maintained this proposition. Plato would lead
his followers into the indolent reveries of mysticism ; the
Stoics would reduce theirs to indifference about human
things; the Epicureans would absorb theirs in the ful¬
ness of present delights ; Cicero would degrade the higher
employment of the soul in the contemplative life below
the ordinary moral duties, confounding the dignity and
the indispensableness of an employment. But Aristotle
directs us to pursue that happiness which is beyond our
attainment as compound beings, at the same time whilst
we actively exert ourselves in the discharge of those du¬
ties which belong to us as men.
Politics.
The observed inefficiency of ethical precepts in them¬
selves to produce morality in the lives of men, and the
consequent appeal to some external sanction for their en¬
forcement, led to such works among the ancients as the
Politics of Aristotle. The Christian observes the same
PHILOSOPHY. 525
fact, and draws from it a strong argument for the necessity Practical
of a divine revelation. Aristotle and other Greek philo- Philoso-
sophers looked to the influence of education directed by P^y-
civil laws and institutions, and to the rewards and punish-
ments of civil government, as the great instruments for
bringing mankind to that course of action in which their
real interest consisted.
Aristotle was induced to ascribe this moral force to the
law of the state, through the current notion of ancient
philosophy, which confounded moral and political good.
The good of man as an individual was conceived perfectly
coincident with his good as a member of society; and
the science of politics, therefore, was supposed to include
under it that of ethics. Had not these philosophers been
misled by the abstract terms “ good” and “ expedient,”
they could hardly have thus blended together the hetero¬
geneous objects of moral and political science. They
would have seen that the social union is inadequate to
the promotion of that good of man which results from his
internal nature, and that it could reach no further than to
the protection of the individual from external aggression
on his person and property, and allowing him the unob¬
structed exercise of his virtue. “ Civil government,” says
Bishop Butler, “ can by no means take cognizance'of
every work which is good or evil; many things are done
in secret, the authors unknown to it, and often the things
themselves; then it cannot so much consider actions un¬
der the view of their being morally good or evil, as under
the view of their being mischievous or beneficial to so¬
ciety; nor can it in anywise execute judgment in reward¬
ing what is good, as it can, and ought, and does, in pu¬
nishing what is evil.’'
In consequence of this mistaken view of the end of the
social union, the ancient political philosophy was not a sys¬
tem of jurisprudence so much as a speculation concei'ning
the most perfect form of government,—theories of social
happiness, rather than the principles of laws by which the
relative rights of men might be maintained. Ingenious
men amused themselves with fancying how society might
be modelled, so as to exhibit that ideal optimism which
they had pictured to themselves ; instead of attending to
the real phenomena of human life, and deducing from
them the right administration of society under its actually
existing forms.5
Aristotle, in common with other Greek philosophers,
constructed a theory of politics on this delusive principle.
Proposing to himself the perfect polity, as that in which
the virtue and happiness of the man and the citizen ex¬
actly coincide, he proceeds to sketch out the form of it,
and thus to obtain an outline of the institutions on which
his ethical system must practically depend for its support.
But he was not, like other philosophers, so fascinated by
theory as to overlook the practical nature of the science.
Pie complains of his predecessors, that however well they
might have treated the subject in other respects, they
had at least failed in the useful. They had contented
themselves with devising forms of polity which could only
be effected with a concurrence of every favourable cir¬
cumstance, whereas the practical usefulness of the science
required the delivery of principles applicable to the im¬
provement and security of existing governments. We
know, indeed, from the titles of other works on politics
which he is said to have written, the Polities of One Hun¬
dred and Fifty-eight States, the four books On Laws, and
Eth. Nic. x. c. 7 and 8.
Eth. Nic. X. c. 8. ai 2s r/w truiforov aoirou att^ioTrizni,
Draco, however, and Pittacus, were only framers
s See Bishop Butler’s Sermon On the Ignorance of Man.
k. T. X. 4 ITvc; •ro av&QM,xzi>ia'6cu, Eth. Ntc. X. C. 8.
of laws, and not of polities. (Aristot. Polit. ii. c. ult.)
526
Practical the two books On the Politician,1 that he did not consider
Philoso- the subject as exhausted in the theory of a perfect polity.
, _The observations, too, on justice and on civil policy, con-
tained in his Ethics and Rhetoric, are proofs of the prac¬
tical views with which he contemplated the subject: and
even in the work now before us, which developes his pro¬
fessed theory of politics, the substance of the inquiry is,
sound and enlightened instructions of policy, drawn from
experience of human nature, and applicable to all times
and circumstances. From its connection with his Ethics,
it was intended in fact to be applied by each individual in
the practical business of education. He wished the indi¬
vidual to obtain by means of it that scientific knowledge
of the effects of institution and discipline on the human
character, which might assist him in the treatment of the
particular cases of his own actual experience.2 It thus
harmonized completely with his Ethics, the object of
which was, as before stated (p. 519-20), to enable each
man more effectually to realize his own particular good
by a general knowledge of what was good for the species
at large.
The perfect polity sketched'by Aristotle is a theory of
the end to which man, viewed in his social capacity, at
its best estate, and unimpeded by external obstacles, may
be conceived to tend. It is a view of the end or rtkog in
his political system, corresponding to his account of the
chief good in his Ethics. He arrives at it by the same
train of thought which led him to his account of the chief
good. He considered, first, that man, independently of
any calculations of expediency, was naturally a political
animal ;3 as in his Ethics he assumes that man is endued
by nature with active principles tending to his own good.
He admits that expediency is instrumental in cementing
the union among men, but does not rest society on this
principle; wisely judging that man is induced originally
to associate with man by various internal principles of his
nature, and not simply by motives derived from reflection
on his wants, which last are in truth only secondary
causes, and auxiliary to the former, in like manner as the
principle of self-love is auxiliary to the natural affections
on which virtue is founded. As, then, in his Ethics he
went on to inquire what principle rendered actions per¬
fect, exhibiting them attaining the end for which nature
had constituted the affections, and as this principle form¬
ed the chief good of his ethical system, so in his Politics
he carries on his view of the social nature of man to the
point where the union to which it tends appears self-suf¬
ficient and perfect. The mode in which the social prin¬
ciples might be found to operate in this ultimate case
would present the perfection of social virtue; and from
this specimen of social virtue would be deducible, right
forms of government, institutions, and laws, just as the
several rules of right moral conduct are drawn from the
whole moral nature of man contemplated in its perfec¬
tion.
To put ourselves, accordingly, into that posture of mind
in which Aristotle appears to have contemplated the sub¬
ject, we must suppose the case of a society analogous to
that of an individual. The analogy between the pi'inciples
or the heart, as a constitution or system of related prin¬
ciples tending to a common end, and the elements of a
PHILOSOPHY.
political community, could not but be familiar to the mind Practi,
of a disciple of Plato, who delighted in drawing his out- Philo!
lines of moral virtue from the imagery of social life. But phy.
Aristotle, though sometimes imitating the beautiful lan-
guage of Plato in his ethical descriptions, has inverted
the analogy, and framed his representation of a perfect
society after the resemblance of the internal constitution
of the heart. We must imagine, then, the various members
of a community, when brought to the standard of per¬
fection implied in the notion of a perfect constitution, all
obtaining their respective dues in a manner analogous to
the due moderation of the affections in the virtuous cha¬
racter. A “ mean” is to be attained in the one case as in
the other.
Agreeably to this view of his mode of speculation on
the subject, Aristotle describes the perfect polity as a
mixture of oligarchy and democracy, as a state which
appears both these forms of government, and neither of
them; in which no one of the component elements of
society has a preponderance, but the claims of freedom,
of wealth, and of virtue,4 are all duly considered. A form
of government which is thus a “ mean” throughout,
Aristotle designates by the name of “ Polity;” appro¬
priating to it the general name, and thus distinguishing
it as the perfect form, the proper constitution of a nohg,
or city,—a city being the “ end” of the social union.
If, indeed, not mere protection from mutual injury, but
the promotion of virtue, were the object of the social
union, as Aristotle contends, it must be allowed that that
only can be a perfect constitution of society in which the
standard of political rights is the same with that of moral
right. In this ultimate perfect form, upon such a supposi¬
tion, the science of politics becomes absorbed in that of
ethics. The community in this case acts as the dispenser
of the laws of morality ; and its honours and its penalties
are but the channels through which virtue works its own
rewards of happiness, and vice its own punishments of mi¬
sery.5 But this is, as we contend, on the other hand, to
intrude on a province far beyond that of political science.
Schemes for the moral perfection of society belong to the
wisdom of a providence more than human, working good
out of evil, and, from a boundless survey of all the rela¬
tions of things, accomplishing important results by means
apparently incompetent. Man, in his designs of moral
good, has only to attend closely to the mechanism placed
under his observation—to use the appointed means—to
cultivate given powers—to provide against foreseen con¬
sequences—and then trust that the happiness, w hich must
surely be the end of the whole under a wise and good
Providence, will be the result of his well-ordered exer¬
tions. Thus, it is manifest to our view, that from the un¬
governed passions of men evil will ensue. Society, there¬
fore, may lawfully be employed as an instrument for pre¬
venting this misery, so far as external means can reach
it; and so far, too, it may encourage virtue, and indirectly
promote human happiness.6 But let it propose to itself
“ what is best” as the distinct aim of its constitution, and
it bewilders itself with theories, no one of which will in
any probability realize its plausible expectations; whilst,
on the contrary, some evil must certainly ensue from arti¬
ficial attempts on so large a scale. For it is impossible,
ARISTOTLE’S
rn^t?f'!!tfnnWn°frASthILInrtiKned by DioSeines Laertius. A portion of the Polities of One Hundred and Fifty-eight States, relative to the
consUtution^onvthens, has been preserved hy Julius Pollux. J J b i. 2, hi. G.
view^therefor^form^disthnrt^TiP^fl 18 “ancient wealth and virtue;” or “ the virtue and wealth of ancestorsand does not, in his
V ^"BislmD Butler^nirtnrp1!^ Ac?ording to ^rtius, he wrote an express treatise, n£?, E»ylu*h in one book.
ARISTOTLE’S
praical as Aristotle himself well observes, but that, “ from false
ph;so- good in the outset, real evil must at length result.”1 Aris-
p • totle, however, is justifiable in point of consistency here,
with the rest of his philosophy. Excluding from the
course of nature a providence distinct from nature itself,
he proceeded, according to his system, to attribute an in¬
ternal self-adjusting power to society considered as an
effect of nature. The maxim, that “ Nature does nothing
in vain,” is at the base of his moral and political philosophy,
as well as of his physical. The perfect polity is an illus¬
tration of this maxim. It is the perfectisg of the self¬
provisions of nature in the human species.
The real excellence, however, of Aristotle’s theory of
the perfect polity consists in this, that if we admit a Di¬
vine Providence, to whose foresight we ascribe the final
cause or ultimate tendency of the social union, it is a ne¬
gative description of the policy which should be pursued
in every well-constituted state. It points out the manner
in which the public welfare must be sought; that is, by
not making any one of the objects commonly pursued in
the political world the express object of pursuit to the
community. On the hypothesis, that the happiness of the
world is the care of Him who ordered it, every society
should be so constituted as that no appointment of Pro¬
vidence be overlooked, but every part of the social ma¬
chinery be brought into action. The love of conquest,
for instance, will not be the aim of such a state. Such a
policy would employ its military resources onty, to the
exclusion of its other materials of happiness. Aristotle
particularly points out this in the instance of Lacedemon,
whose whole policy was framed for war; whereas, as he ob¬
serves, a state should be adapted for living well in peace,
and enjoying that repose which is the end of its engaging
in war.2 Nor, again, wdll the mere accumulation of wealth
be the express aim of the state in its whole policy. Such
a ruling principle would tend to degrade the great mass
of the population, and to undo the very connection itself
between the members of the community, by pushing the
boundaries between the rich and poor to the extremes
of opulence and pauperism; of which condition of things
the natural result is the tyranny of an oligarchy. Lastly,
if even liberty is made the exclusive aim of state policy,
unhappiness is the sure result. Whilst the members of
the community grasp at an unrestrained licentiousness,
they disregard the various gradations of society, by which
the sphere of human duties is enlarged, and the greatest
securities against violations of liberty are provided; and
thus a wild democracy usurps the place of a just polity.
Now, Aristotle’s theory excludes all such gross schemes
of policy. It admits only the general pursuit of the pub¬
lic welfare; which, like the private happiness sketched in
his Ethics, is not to be made a distinct object under any
particular form, but must be the general pursuit of the
w/<o/e organization of thg society; as private happiness is
the result of the general regulation of all the moral prin¬
ciples. It is true that he supposes a society to constitute
itself in order to its own moral happiness; and herein is
the defect of his theory. But if it be considered that this
was a necessary substitute in his system for a Divine
Providence, his theory, it will be concluded, did not im¬
ply that the individual members of the community should
expressly propose to themselves, as their object of pur¬
suit, that happiness to which the social system itself
should tend. It was evidently to be brought about by
PHILOSOPHY. 527
that mysterious agency which, from not admitting a real Practical
.Providence, he was compelled to ascribe to nature. Philoso-
. This is further illustrated in his description of the three phy.
right forms of government, and the three improper or de-
viations from the former. He admits that the public wel¬
fare may be promoted under other forms—under a mo¬
narchy or an aristocracy, as well as under “ a polity.”
Ihese three forms are indeed coincident in principle, ac¬
cording to Aristotle, being variations produced by differ¬
ences in the character of the people among whom they
arise.3 The perfect “ polity” presupposes an equality
among the members of the society,—that all are capable
in turn of governing, as well as of being governed. But
there may in some cases be marked differences between a
family, or an individual, or a class of individuals, and the
bulk of the people; and in these cases the rule of justice
requires that there should exist in the first a monarchy,
in the latter an aristocracy. So far, indeed, does Aristotle
carry this principle as to say, that any single person emi¬
nent in worth above the rest of the community, as one of
a more divine nature, ought to have entire obedience from
the rest, and to be perpetual sovereign.4 The three forms,
then, of monarchy, aristocracy, and polity, are right; be¬
cause, being founded on the relative merit of the members
of each society, and the standard of merit being virtue,
the rule of justice is maintained in them. The public
good follows, therefore, not from the ascendancy of this
or that principle of policy in the government in each case,
but from a due regard to all the subsisting relations in
the state. But in the corresponding perversions of these
right polities—in a tyranny, an oligarchy, and a demo¬
cracy—particular principles prevail, and particular inte¬
rests, accordingly, are consulted, to the violation of justice
and the sacrifice of public good.
Aristotle appears the only political theorist among the
ancients who never lost sight of the moral nature of man
in his speculations. The systems of other theorists, as
Plato, Phaleas of Chalcedon, Hippodamus of Miletus, and
the polities of Lacedemon, Crete, and Carthage, for the
most part treated human society merely as a physical
mass, capable of being moulded into particular forms by
the mechanism of external circumstances. Aristotle, on
the contrary, lays the chief stress on the force of “ cus¬
toms, philosophy, and laws,”5 for producing the best con¬
stitution of society. Still as, in his Ethics, in order to the
development of his theory of the chief good of man, he
supposes a condition of human life adequate to the exer¬
cise of the moral powers; so, in his Politics, he supposes a
concurrence of circumstances favourable to the existence
of the perfect polity.6 In this theory, as in that, there
must be no impediment from without to the operation of
the principles. Here, as in the Ethics, the production of
the desired effect is the combination of three principles—
nature, custom, reason.7 Therefore, also, as there must
be certain elements of virtue in the heart in order to the
moral improvement of an individual, so there must be the
proper elements of the perfect social life in the commu¬
nity where the perfect polity is to be reared. Then,
upon these natural principles of the head and heart, a
course of public education is to proceed, disciplining the
members by custom and by reason to the perfection of
the social character, in a manner analogous to the discip¬
line of the private moral character.
W~e find the same fundamental agreement with the mo-
1 Pnlit. iv. cap. 12, v. cap. 1.
2 Ibid. ii. cap, 9, vii. cap. 14.
3 Ibid. iii. cap. 17-
■* Ibid. iii. cap. 13, p. 355, Du Val.
3 Polit. ii. cap. 3
6 Ibid. vii. cap. 1, 12.
f Ibid. vii. cap. 13.
528 ARISTOTLE’S
Practical ral system of the Ethics, in the method of education pro-
Philoso- posed by Aristotle for the citizens of his polity, ihe ma-
'i turity of the intellectual powers is here also to be the end
i to which the system tends. The members of the com¬
munity are to be trained so as to be capable of enjoying
the leisure and repose of a peaceful state. Ibis they are
to regard as their ultimate proper sphere of happiness,
whilst at the same time they are disciplined to the virtues
of that active life by which alone the permanence of their
tranquillity can be secured. It is obvious how this har¬
monizes with the doctrine of the Ethics, which sets forth
the happiness of the theoretic life as the highest bliss of
our nature, but not independently of the practical duties
of common life. For thus Aristotle directs the course
through which the young must pass,—to commence with
the body, then to proceed to the disposition of the heart,
and to end with the intellect; the inferior principles being
disciplined in subordination to, and with reference to the
higher. Even the sports of childhood were not neglected
by him in this scale of education; and he would further
provide for the best bodily constitution of the citizen, by
regulating the period of marriages with a view to a healthy
offspring, and the care of the mothers during pregnancy.
Here, indeed, we are shocked at finding in such an author
a sanction to infanticide and abortion. The law, he says,
should forbid the nurturing of the maimed j1 and where a
check to population is required, abortion should be pro¬
duced before the quickening of the infant, no law of mo¬
rality, he thinks, forbidding it at this period.2 These are
striking instances of the infirmity of a philosophy which
substitutes an intrinsic agency in nature, for the counsels
of an active and intelligent Being working on nature;
for, according to such a philosophy, every thing adverse
to the perfection of nature is a stumbling block. On the
hypothesis of a Providence, the good and the evil may be
contemplated with equal assurance that “ the best” will
in the end prevail. In the former case human reason
removes, suppresses, and destroys; in the other it mode¬
rates, counteracts, and overrules, doing nothing with rash
violence, but gently conspiring with the appointed course
of things, in opening a way for good out of the evil. In
Aristotle, the immoralities here noticed are, moreover,
at direct variance with the whole spirit of his moral phi¬
losophy.
Again, the same moral complexion characterizes both
the public and private discipline of the philosopher. The
honourable, to xaXov, predominates over both. By this
standard every institution, whether of bodily or mental
exercise, was to be regulated. No illiberal arts, such as
required manual rather than intellectual skill, were to be
taught; nor even were the liberal sciences to be pur¬
sued excessively, or with exclusive devotion to any par¬
ticular ones, or with mercenary views; the occupation of
leisure being the end proposed by the system of educa¬
tion. What was useful or necessary was to be learned,
but in subserviency to the honourable; and the honour¬
able rather than the useful or necessary.3 Hence the
stress laid by Aristotle on the arts of painting and music.
It was, in the result, a general cultivation of the mind by
literature combined with moral discipline, and not the
storing it with particular sciences, to which his system of
education was directed. He saw that the tendency of
PHILOSOPHY.
particular studies was evidently to contract the mental prac,
powers to that particular range of vision to which they Phil
were confined; whereas he sought rather to impart a ph
largeness and masculine strength to the understanding, /
commensurate with the varied demands of the world in
which human life is cast. It was what we should express
by the education of the accomplished gentleman,—of one
who, exempt from the drudgery of life, and having his
actions freely at his own disposal, might be qualified for
the highest functions to which nature has destined man
in forming him a moral and social being. For it should
be observed, that Aristotle throughout supposes an entire
immunity from all servile employments, both to the happy
man and the happy citizen.4 According to his view, a large
proportion of mankind were physically incapable, either
of the happiness of moral beings, or of that of social life.
Persons so imperfectly constituted he conceived to be
wdiolly dependent on others, and to be by nature relative
beings or slaves, their proper nature being comprized in
this relationship of dependence.5 To this class, accord¬
ingly, he would commit all the labours of agriculture, of
the mechanical arts, and of the market, as well as the
menial offices ; whilst others more gifted by nature enjoyed
leisure for the proper duties of man, in the various rela¬
tions of a moral and social being.0
The condition of slavery was thus, we perceive, rested by
Aristotle on abstract philosophical grounds. He viewed
it as an institution of nature; differing in this from other
philosophers, and from the popular notion of his own
countrymen, who either founded it on the right of con¬
quest, or an assumed original difference between Greek
and Barbarian. This was a far more liberal view of the
subject than that which prevailed generally; since it im¬
plied, that no one had a right to retain another as his
slave when the individual was not thus physically depen¬
dent on others. Every one had a right to be free, who
was capable of enjoying freedom in the performance of
the duties for which man in his perfection was constituted.
This doctrine further imposed on the master a strict moral
attention to his slave. The slave was thrown on him not
only for support, but for direction in his duties.7
That religion should have formed no part of the actual
business of education in his system, was further consistent
with his Ethics. The moral jcaAov terminated in the per¬
fect fulfilment of all those relations in which man was
placed as a being of this world. It was heightened by the
consideration, that gods might delight in looking down
on such perfection, and that in its ultimate state it might
resemble the excellence of divinity. But it did not strike
its roots into religion : nor did the xaXov of social life.
The accomplished citizen might be taught to contemplate
himself in the thoughtful activity of a philosophical leisure,
as holding a dignified station among men, analogous to
the divine principles which maintained the order of the
universe ;8 but there was no connection taught between
his social virtues and his religious system. The religious
colouring was only the borrowed light of philosophy. All
active religion was consigned to the instrumentality of a
particular body of men—the priests. The obligatory force
of religion was recognized ; but being lodged in an exter¬
nal establishment, as its depository and proper sanctuary,
reverence was sought for it by outward bonds of respect, by
Polit. yil. cap* 16, ss-r&i 'Tt'Tr'/i^cu/u.ivov rgslpeiv.
5 Ib/d. vii. 16, sy'yintrdai xxi |a»v, tpwonurfai hi rr,v ttft/ijiiitw, k. t.
3 Ibid. vii. cap. 14.
7 Ibid. 1. cap. 13, yxg f^etXXov tovs ^ovXovs V Tous
VU. cap. 3, yaj «v o 3-sa; sVO/ xkX&j;, ■r«; o xov/ao;, oi{ ovx itcnv i^urioDcxi vru/ict ca; oixusc; ras Kurav. “ SlC llOffl!*
num ad duas res, ut ait Aristotles, ad intelligendum et agendum, esse natum, quasi mortalem Deum.” (Cicero De Fin. ii. cap. 13-)
4 Eth. Me. x. cap. 6, 7 ; Polit. iii. cap. 6, iv. 4.
s Po!it. i. cap. 3, 6.
6 Ibid. vii. cap. 9, 10.
ARISTOTLE’S
prarcal the privileges of the order to whose care it was intrusted,
phi'io- and the splendour of public spectacles connected with it.
P! Aristotle, accordingly, treats the subject merely as one of
'-/"■^policy. He observes, that no one of the rank of a mechanic
or peasant should be appointed a priest, since it was pro¬
per that the gods should be honoured by the citizens ; and
he points out the importance of the religious character to
the absolute sovereign of a state, in order to the obedience
of the subject.1 *
Aristotle’s account of his theoretic polity leaves off ab¬
ruptly at the end of the 8th book; and the treatise is thus,
as now extant, an imperfect development of his peculiar
views. But the theory of the perfect polity is only a part
of the very valuable materials of the Politics. The work
embraces a wide survey of the social nature of man.
Throughout, indeed, it may be studied as elements of the
philosophy of history. It lays open the principles of pre¬
servation and decay inherent in the different constitutions,
and points out the common principles, on which the main¬
tenance of civil order, under any form whatever, must es¬
sentially depend.
Nor has the science of political economy been altogether
overlooked by Aristotle. Incidental remarks on points
belonging to the inquiries of the economist occur in his
Politics. The nature of money, and of the wealth to which
the introduction of money has given rise, particularly at¬
tracted his attention. It may suffice to show how accu¬
rately he has philosophized on this subject, to observe, that
he has traced the origin of money to its convenience as a
medium of exchange ; and hence deduced its value as
consisting in its power of representing demand?
On the whole, justly to appreciate the labours of Aris¬
totle in political science, we should compare them with
the elaborate and eloquent work of Plato on the same
Subject—the celebrated Republic. Aristotle evidently had
this work before him in the composition of his own, and
in several places has made express allusions to it. In fact,
his two treatises of the Nicomachean Ethics and the Poli¬
tics, are together a refutation of the erroneous doctrines
in moral and political philosophy contained in Plato’s po¬
litical speculations. It is but a small portion of Plato’s
Republic which strictly belongs to politics; the bulk of
it being devoted to moral and metaphysical discussions.
Aristotle’s more exact philosophy discriminates the sub¬
jects heterogeneously blended in that episodic work. Aris¬
totle has taken all that is excellent in the treatises of Plato
into his own treatises, but at the same time has shown
his own originality of thought in the correction and en¬
largement, as well as the systematic arrangement, of the
principles there diffusely delivered. He candidly acknow¬
ledges that every thing that Socrates says, has in it “ a
vastness, and an exquisiteness, and an originality, and a
penetration but modestly asserts for himself a right of
discussing the doctrines, on the gi’ound that “ excellence
in all points might well be thought difficult.”3
Plato’s theory was metaphysical throughout. That
oneness which he sought to establish in his perfect repub¬
lic was an abstract unity, the realizing of which constitut¬
ed in his view the best polity, as in his Ethics the realiz¬
ing of the abstract one “ idea” of good constituted the
morality of actions. Thus his governors are philosophers,
and his virtue is wisdom. A character, on the other hand,
PHILOSOPHY. 529
practical, pervades the moral and political dis- Conclu-
quisitions of Aristotle. They are immediately adapted to s*015-
the actual need of man. They have not, on this very ac-
count, that peculiar charm which belongs to Plato’s writ¬
ings. The speculative perfection shadowed out by Plato
imparts an imaginative air to his disputations, and interests
the feelings, whilst we read, amidst the reluctance of our
judgment. And thus his works tend to a practical effect,
independently of, and in opposition to, their real specula¬
tive character. But Aristotle, throughout intent on the
business of human life, forbears to seize the imagination
with romantic pictures of excellence, either in man indi¬
vidually or in society. He points out such happiness as
is attainable by man, in that condition of the world in
which man has been placed; or at least to which human
endeavours may reasonably be directed. His discussions
on moral subjects are accurate observations, and power¬
ful reasonings, applied to things as they are. But this
character in them renders them of more general use than
Plato’s speculations. The man of genius and of sensibility
would perhaps feel a stronger stimulant to moral and so¬
cial energies from the study of the animated pages of the
Republic ; but the generality of mankind would undoubt¬
edly be more assisted in the work required of them from
the constitution of their nature, by the real principles of
human conduct delivered in the unambitious philosophy
of Aristotle’s Ethics and Politics.
Conclusion.
Design of Aristotle s Philosophy—Style of his Writings—
His Obscurity—Method of Discussion—Originality.
From the review which we have taken of the extant
writings of Aristotle, it would appear that the great ob¬
ject of the philosopher was to discipline the mind by a
deep and extensive course of literature. The various in¬
quiries embraced in those writings,—the unwearied re¬
search into subjects, the most repulsive from their ab¬
struseness, or the most interesting from their connection
with the feelings and actions of man,—the richness of il¬
lustration from the volumes of ancient genius and obser¬
vation of mankind with which they abound,—are so many
proofs of the noble object proposed in his philosophy. It
may be fully concluded, that it was not the mere sophist
of former days, or the disputant on any given question,
that Aristotle aimed to accomplish; but the really wise
man ; by cultivating all the moral and intellectual powers
of the soul; in order that the great moral of the whole—
the good towards which the constitution of nature tends
—might be realized in each individual man so instructed
and disciplined. Agreeably to this view of his philosophy
is the answer attributed to him, when, on being asked
what advantage had accrued to him from philosophy, he
replied, “ To do without constraint what some do through
the fear of the laws.”4
Some of his works are said to have been written in
the form of dialogue. These were probably exoteric;
that form being peculiarly adapted to the purpose of
explanation, and that fuller discussion, which we regard
as the characteristic of the exoteric treatises, as con¬
trasted with the conciseness and suggestive form of the
esoteric or acroamatic. Among his works are also men-
1 PoliU y. 11, vii. 9. In (Econom. i. 5 (probably the work of his disciple Theophrastus), slaves are spoken of as the class for whom
especially sacrifices and festivities should be appointed.
8 Ibid. i. 9 ; Eth. Nic. v. 5.
s Ibid. ii. 6. To ou, viprrot tXou<ri vravns o‘i rou 'Xu^nTtes Xoyoi, xat ro xo^v, xai ro xamrsfMV, km ro £ii<mnxo*' xaXut it #atr* icras
XaXvrov.
4 Diog. Laert. in Aristot. n
VOL. III. 3 X
530
ARISTOTLE’S PHILOSOPHY.
Conclu- tioned Epistles to Philip, to Alexander, Olympias, He-
sion. phaestion, Antipater, Mentor, Ariston, Themistagoras,
Philoxenus; besides a collection entitled Epistles of the
Selymbrians. We have already noticed a hymn in praise
of the virtues of his friend Hermeias, which formed
matter of accusation against him on the ground of im¬
piety. This hymn has been preserved by Diogenes La¬
ertius. It consists of twenty-three lyric verses, in the
manner and with something of the spirit of Pindar ; ce¬
lebrating Hermeias among the heroes who had sacrificed
their lives for the cause of virtue. His biographer has also
preserved the four lines inscribed by him on the statue of
Hermeias erected at Delphi. His poetical talent was
further displayed in verses addressed to Democritus, and
in the composition of an elegy; of both of which poems
the first lines are given by Laertius. The titles of various
other philosophical works occur also in the catalogue of
his writings. So laborious and so diversified were the li¬
terary pursuits of this great philosopher. These were
works, too, written, we must remember, not by a seques¬
tered individual enjoying the privacy of a privileged lei¬
sure, like that of the priests of Egypt, but amidst the
agitation and troubles of Grecian politics, and in the
courts of princes. We may well, therefore, wonder at
the abstractedness of mind, the single-hearted zeal of
philosophy, which thus steadily pursued its course, creat¬
ing its own leisure, and keeping the stillness of its own
thoughts. Probably, indeed, such writings as those of
Aristotle could hardly have been produced, except with
a concurrence of the opposite circumstances observed in
his case. They imply at once the man of the world and
the retired student,—ample opportunities for the contem¬
plation of human nature in all the various relations of life,
—familiarity with the thoughts of others by reading and
conversation,—as well as intense private meditation—that
communing with a man’s own heart, which alone can ex¬
tort the deep secrets of moral and metaphysical truth.
The style of his writings bears the impress of his devo¬
tion to the real business of philosophy. The excellence
of his style is, we believe, the last thing to attract the
notice of his readers ; and yet, as a specimen of pure
Greek, it is found, when examined, to stand almost unri¬
valled. The words are all selected from the common
idiom of the language, but they are employed with the ut¬
most propriety; and by their collocation are made further
subservient to the perspicuity and force of his meaning.
There is nothing superfluous, nothing intrusive, in his
expressions; but the very ornaments add to the terseness
of the style. The metaphors and illustrations employed
are apt and striking analogies, availing as arguments,
whilst by their simplicity they familiarize the truth con¬
veyed to the mind. That these excellencies should escape
the notice of the reader whilst he is engaged in the mat¬
ter itself of the author, is a proof of the strict adaptation
of the style to the matter. We can imagine, that to the
Greek reader nothing could have been easier than to
comprize the meaning of the philosopher. To the modern
reader, of course, the necessity of studying the language
gives an apparent hardness to expressions, whose proprie¬
ty depends on an accurate perception of the genius of the
language. Thus, what was a facility to the ancient reader,
is a difficulty to the modern, until the modern, by study of Com
the language, has brought himself as much as possible into sioi
the situation of the ancient. This observation will be il-^Y t
lustrated by a comparison of the style of Plato with that
of Aristotle. Plato’s style, undulating with copiousness of
diction, is more attractive to the modern reader; his
meaning is more readily apprehended at the first glance,
by the number of expressions which he crowds on a point,
and their accumulated force of explanation. But in Aris¬
totle, if we miss the force of a term or a particle,1 or over¬
look the collocation of the words, wre shall often entirely
pervert his meaning.
There are, however, passages in which Aristotle departs
from his usual conciseness, and approaches towards the
eloquence of Plato. The concluding chapters of his Ni-
comachean Ethics may here be particularly pointed out;
or a part of his ninth book of that treatise, in which, evi¬
dently imitating Plato, he compares the tumult of uncon¬
trolled passions to the disturbance of civil sedition. There
is a dignity and a pathos in these passages, controlled by
the general character of severe precision belonging to his
style, and admirably harmonizing with it.
Sometimes, indeed, his style is chargeable with too strict
a conciseness, as well as, on the other hand, with too great
prolixity. Both these opposite faults are in him the same
in principle ; resulting from extreme accuracy,—an excess
in writing, which he has himself compared to that illibe-
rality remarked in too close an attention to trifles in con¬
tracts.2
Nor is it meant to be denied that there is a considerable
obscurity in the writings of Aristotle : but it is important
to distinguish this obscurity from that of mere style. It
is an effect of the peculiar design with which he appears
to have composed his philosophical works. They are evi¬
dently for the most part outlines for the direction of the
philosopher himself and his disciples in their disputations
—notices of points of inquiry rather than full discussions
of them. This is particularly observable in the treatises
of the Metaphysics, the Nicomachean Ethics, and the Rhe¬
toric. Sometimes he contents himself with a reference to
his exoteric discussions,3 It is probable that the most im¬
portant works of his philosophy were not published in his
lifetime, and that they thus constantly remained by him
to receive successive improvements which his further ob¬
servation had suggested. This may account for the
abruptness in those treatises. In our progress through
them, we come to discussions, which we had not been led
to expect by any thing previous in the work. The seventh
book of the Ethics, for instance, appears to have been an
after-thought; and so also the eighth and ninth of the
same treatise. The work might have been regarded as
complete in itself without them. In the Metaphysics, in¬
deed, we can hardly judge what was the exact plan of the
author in the arrangement of the work, since it has de¬
scended to us in an imperfect, irregular form. But there
are the same marks in it of successive additions from the
author.4 The writings of Aristotle having been left to
Theophrastus, and not to his own relatives,—this would
further imply that they were intended, chiefly and pri¬
marily, for those who had been trained in his school, and
by whom his philosophy would be rightly transmitted.
J*" is surprising that Brucker (Hist. Cr. Phil. vol. i. p. 803) could speak of Aristotle’s use of the particles as “ singular,” and the
by ArLtotle ^ ^ sentences as unusual. The perfect idiom of the language seems, on the contrary, strictly and beautifully observed
* Metaph. ii. 3.
Eth. Nic. \. c. ult., \iyirat hi -rip aurn; x.m tv mis i%uTipxots Xoyots kpxovvtus y-pyirriov aursis. Ibid. vi. 4, srirnvoMV khi frq*
Y™Z‘X0‘l XX°JS- De Ccel0' 1 9’ tyxvKXicis QiXproQvp*,,. Eudan. i. 8.
.Niebuhr (History of Rome, trans. p. 16) remarks this particularly of the Rhetoric,
A R I
I ^ stoxfi* The immediate occasion of this reserved mode of writin0-,
_jf ms. may have been the jealousy of rival philosophers,1 or the
^ dread of pagan intolerance.
His method of discussion is conformable with the prin¬
ciples proposed in his Dialectic. It is throughout a siftino-
of the opinions and questions belonging to the subject of
inquiry, by examining each in its several points of view,
and showing the consequences involved in it. Accordingly’
generally before he states his own immediate doctrinef he
considers what may be urged on both sides of the ques¬
tion, stating the objections strongly and fairly, and givino-
the most candid construction to the views of his prede¬
cessors.2 The difficulties proposed he sometimes briefly
removes in passing on, having just glanced at them ; at
other times he devotes several sentences to their explana¬
tion. This, which is his method in parts of his system, is
only a specimen of what is the collective result of the
whole. His philosophy, dialectically viewed, is an analy¬
sis of the theories proposed by the philosophers who had
preceded him. It is consistently with this, that he com¬
mences sometimes with observations on logical grounds,3
or those views of a thing implied in the classifications of
language; and afterwards inquires into the subject physi¬
cally or philosophically; when the discussion proceeds on
some acknowledged principles of physics or philosophy in
general.
A R I
531
nus.
canWbehnoedS Iwlf °f his writ!"Rs’
can be no doubt that he derived important aid from the
labours of his predecessors, and especially from those of’
\lato- An accurate examination of his writings will con-
vmce the reader, that they are the productions of one who
had deeply drunk of the fountain of Plato’s inspiration.
But they show at the same time such a disciple as we
may suppose the spirit of Plato would have delighted in •
one who cherished the authority of the preceptor, and yet
had the courage to love the truth still more ;4 one who
thought it necessary to consult what others had said
wisely and truly before him, and yet would examine a
question finally with an unbiassed discriminative judg-
ment.J Estimating his philosophy thus, we may pronounce
it to be truly his own; it was the fruit of his own sagacious,
penetrating mind. It is sufficient only to mention his dis¬
agreement with Plato on the doctrines of the ideas 
the origin of the universe,—and the immortality of the soul.
He has been charged, indeed, with invidious opposition to
Plato, with corruption and misrepresentation of the tenets
o his predecessors in philosophy. Jewish writers have
even absurdly accused him of plagiarism from the books
of Solomon.6 But there is no real foundation for these
charges; they are at best but surmises; and they are
fully contradicted by the internal evidence of the writings
themselves. O-1 )
ARISTOXENUS, one of the most ancient musical
writers, was born at Tarentum, a city in Magna Grcecia,
now Calabria. He was the son of a musician, and it ap¬
pears that he lived about the time of Alexander the Great
and his successors. His Harmonics in three books, all
that are come down to us, together with Ptolemy’s Har¬
monics, were first published by Gogavinus, but not very
correctly, at Venice, in 1562, in 4to, with a Latin version.
John Meursius next translated the three books of Aris-
toxenus into Latin, from the manuscript of Jos. Scaliger;
but, according to Meibomius, very negligently. With
these he printed at Leyden, in 1616, in 4to, Nicomachus
and Alypius, two other Greek writers on music. After this
Meibomius collected these musical writers together; to
which he added Euclid, Bacchius senior, Aristides, and
Quintilianus; and published the whole under the title of
Antique. Musicm Auctores, with a Latin version and notes,
at Amsterdam, in 1652, in 4to. The learned editor dedi¬
cates these ancient musical treatises to Christina, queen of
Sweden. Aristoxenus is said by Suidas to have written
452 different works, among which those on music were
the most esteemed. His writings on other subjects are
very frequently quoted by ancient authors, notwithstand¬
ing Cicero and some others say that he was a bad philo¬
sopher, and had nothing in his head but music. The titles
of several of the lost works of Aristoxenus, quoted by
Athenaeus and others, have been collected by Meursius in
his notes upon this author.
/Jw enUe ^aVmu3’ V11- H, reprehends Aristotle’s sensitiveness on this point, mentioning his annovanoe at the authorship of
trea^se^in a^ibfequent^vork Theodectes’ to whoin he had Presenfced the work for publication, and his care to assert his right to the
* Metaph.' iii. 1; Topic, i. 2 ; Ccelo, ii. 13, &c.
4; vi;5' .Occasionally he illustrates from etymology, as in deducing from t$,{ (Eth. Nic. ii. 1),
hTw'Sn trZr f VV 5} 1118 a Practlce Wlth us alh” he observes (Ccdo, ii. 13, p. 467), “ to pursue an inquiry, not as it
Delongs to the thing, but relatively to an opponent in argument.”
4 Nw.i. 6, *p,f>a,v ryoc^ ovroiv omov v£0Tipa.v mv aXyi^unv. This is also the sentiment of Plato, Rep. x. aXA.* ov VPO yi ms
KKYlXlias TlflYiTiOS CIVYI£. * '
6 ^ Ccelo, i. 10, ro yctf) xara.dtxa%$trS-cu boxav, x. r. X.; Polit. ii. C; Metaph. xiv. 8, p. 1002, Du Val.
observes ^ Cri*’ Phil% vtd’ P‘ This was merely to excuse their own adoption of the Aristotelian philosophy, asBrucker
532
arithmetic
'S a science which explains the properties of numbers,
- and shows the method or art of computing by them.
L—HISTORY OF ARITHMETIC.
The various attempts of men in every state of society
at representing numbers all spring from the same feeling,
so strongly implanted in their breasts, which unceasing y
prompts them to seek the applause of their fellows. It is
the love of distinction that elevates the human character,
infuses life and action through the mass, and impels it to
undertake and achieve mighty projects. The daring and
restless spirit of improvement often produces much tran¬
sient misery by its failures ; yet amidst all the vicissitudes
which chequer and darken the tide of human affairs, it
opens cheering prospects of the permanent amelioration
of our species. The aspiring leader of a successful band,
or the petty legislator of a rising community, is anxious
to preserve the memory of the exploits he performed, or
the benefits he conferred. Rut he is not content with
obtaining the applause of his contemporaries: this fleet-
ino- existence is insufficient to fill his imagination: he looks
anxiously beyond the grave, and sighs for the admiration
of generations yet unborn. Hence the anxiety among all
people to erect monuments of high achievements or illus¬
trious characters. In the early periods of society a vast
mound of earth, or a huge block of stone, was the only
memorial of any great event; but after the simpler arts
came to be known, efforts were made to transmit to pos¬
terity the representations of the objects themselves. Sculp¬
tures of the humblest kind occur on monumental stones
in all parts of the world, sufficient to convey tolerably
distinct images of the usual occupation and employments
of the personages so commemorated. The next step in
the progress of society was to reduce and abridge those
rude sculptures, and thence form combinations of figures
approaching to the hieroglyphical characters. At this
epoch of improvement the first attempts to represent nu¬
merals would be made. Instead of repeating the same
objects, it was an obvious contrivance to annex to the
mere individual the simpler marks of such repetition.
Those marks would of necessity be suited to the nature
of the materials on which they were inscribed, and the
quality of the instruments employed to trace them. In
the historical representations, for instance, which the
Mexicans and certain Tartar hordes painted on skins, a
small coloured circle, as exhibiting the original counter,
shell, or pebble, was repeated to denote numbers. But
on the Egyptian obelisks the lower numbers, at least, are
expressed by combined strokes. Curve lines were not
admitted in the earliest rudiments of writing. Even after
the use of hieroglyphics had been laid aside, and the ar¬
tificial system of alphabetic characters adopted, the rec¬
tilineal forms were still preferred, as evidently appears in
the Greek and Roman capitals, which, being originally of
the lapidary sort, are much older than the small or cur¬
rent letters. One of the most ancient sets of characters,
the Runic, in which the northern languages were engrav¬
ed, combines almost exclusively simple strokes at differ¬
ent angles.
The primary numeral traces may, therefore, be regard¬
ed as the commencement of a philosophical and universal
character, drawn from nature itself, and alike intelligible
to all ages and nations. They are still preserved, with
very little change, in the Roman notation. Those forms,
prior to the adoption of the alphabet itself, were no Histor
doubt imported by the Grecian colonies that settled in'^V'
Italy, and gave rise to the Latin name and commonwealth.
Assuming a perpendicular stroke I to signify one, ano¬
ther such I i would express two, the junction of a third
111 three, and so repeatedly till the reckoner had reach¬
ed ten. See Plate LXXVI. The first class was now com¬
pleted, and to intimate this the carver threw a dash across
the stroke or common unit; that is, he employed two de¬
cussating strokes X t0 denote ten. He next repeated
this mark to express twenty, thirty, and so forth, till he
finished the second class of numbers. Arrived at an hun¬
dred, he would signify it by joining another dash to the
mark for ten, or by merely connecting three strokes thus
. Again, the same spirit of invention might lead
him to repeat this character in denoting two hundred, three
hundred, and so forth, till the third class was completed.
A thousand, which begins the fourth class on the Denary
Scale, was therefore expressed by four combined strokes
and this was the utmost length to which the Ro¬
mans first proceeded by direct notation.
But the division of these marks afterwards furnished
characters for the intermediate numbers, and hence great¬
ly shortened the repetition of the lower ones. I bus,
having parted in the middle the two decussating strokes
X denoting ten, either the under half , or the upper
half v> was employed to signify five. Next, the mark
£ for an hundred, consisting of a triple stroke, was
largely divided into p and [_ > either of which rePre“
sented fifty- Again, the four combined strokes which
originally formed the character for a thousand, came after¬
wards, in the progress of the arts, to assume'a rounded
shape 09, frequently expressed thus CIO’ ^y two
disparted semicircles divided by a diameter. This last
form, by abbreviation on either side, gave two portions
cl and lo to represent five hundred. # >
It was an easy process, therefore, to devise a universal "P
character for expressing numbers. But the task was very
different to reduce the exhibition of language in general
to such concise philosophical principles. This attempt
seems accordingly to have been early abandoned by all
nations except the Chinese. The inestimable advantage
of uniting again the whole human race, in spite of the di¬
versity of tongues, by the same permanent system of com¬
munication, was sacrificed for the easier attainment of
representing by artificial signs those elementary and fu¬
gitive sounds into which the words of each particular dia¬
lect could be resolved. Hence the Alphabet was in¬
vented, which had very nearly attained its present form at
the period when the Roman commonwealth was extending
its usurpation over Italy. About that epoch a sort
action seems to have arisen between the artificial and the
natural systems ; and the numeral strokes were finally dis¬
placed by such alphabetic characters as then most resem¬
bled them. (See Plate LXXVI.) The ancient Romans
employed the letter I to represent the single stroke or
mark for one; they selected the letter V, since it resem¬
bles the upper half of the two decussating strokes or
symbol, for five; the letter X exactly depicted the double
mark for ten; again, the letter L was adopted as resem-
ARITHMETIC.
533
Li. blin? the divided symbol tor fifty ; while theentiresym-
KWbol, or the tripled stroke, denoting an hundred, was ex-^
hibited by the hollow square j[|[, the original form of the
letter C before it became rounded over. The quadrupled
stroke for a thousand was distinctly represented by the
letter M, and its variety by the compound character do,
consisting of the letter I inclosed on both sides by C, and
bv the same letter reversed; a portion of this, again, or lo,
being condensed into the letter D, expressed
The letters C and M, beginning the words Centum and
Mdk, might have a farther claim to represent an hundred
and a thousand; but the coincidence was merely acci¬
dental, since these terms migrated probably from the
Greek words harov and y/Kict.
This was the limit of numeration among the early Ro¬
mans ; but, in the progress of refinement, they repeated
the symbols of a thousand to denote the higher terms of
the Denary Scale. Thus, ccloo was employed to repre¬
sent ten thousand, and ccclooo to signify an hundred
thousand, the letter I, inclosed between the c o, being, for
the sake of greater distinctness, elongated. Again, each
of these being divided, gives loo for five thousand, and
boo for fifty thousand. These characters, however, were
often modified and abbreviated in monumental inscrip¬
tions. By drawing a horizontal line over the letters, their
value was augmented one thousand times. In the plate so
often referred to, we have endeavoured, from the best
authorities, to exhibit, under the title of Lapidary Nume¬
rals, a complete specimen of the various contractions used
by stone-cutters among the Romans. It was customary
with them, for the sake of abbreviation, to reckon, as rude
tribes are apt to do, partly backwards. Thus, instead of
octodecem and novemdecem, the words for eighteen and nine¬
teen, they frequently used duodeviginti and undeviginti, as
more elegant and expressive. This practice led to the
application of deficient numbers, an improvement scarcely
to be expected from a people so little noted for invention.
Instead of writing nine thus, VIIII, by joining /(mr to five,
they counted one back from ten, or placed I before X.
In the same way they represented forty, and four hundred,
ninety, and nine hundred, by XL, and CD, XC, and CM.
Such, we have no doubt, is the real account of the rise
and progress of the Roman numerals. It perfectly agrees
with the few hints left us by Aulus Gellius, who express¬
ly says that I and X were anciently represented by one
and two strokes; though philologers, misled by partial
glimpses, have indeed given a very different statement.
Priscian the grammarian, who flourished in the reign of
the emperor Justinian, asserts that the mark I was only
borrowed from the Athenians, being adopted by them as
the principal letter of the word MIA, or one, the M of
which is considered as mute; that V or U was employed
by the Romans to denote five, because it is the fifth vowel
in the common order; that X was assumed to represent
ten, as being the tenth consonant, and likewise following
the V; that L was taken to signify fifty, being sometimes
interchanged with N, which, as a small letter, expressed
that number among the Greeks; that C was adopted to
mark an hundred, because it is the first letter of the word
centum; that D, being the next letter of the alphabet, was
employed to signify five hundred; and that M was bor¬
rowed from the Greek letter X for XIAIA, or a thousand,
only that it was rounded at the ends to distinguish it
from the symbol for ten.
After the system of Roman numerals, however, had
acquired its full extent, the solicitude of superstition long
preserved some traces of the rudest and most primitive
mode of chronicling events. At the close of each re¬
volving year, generally on the ides of September, the
Praetor Maximus was accustomed, with great ceremony,
to drive a nail in the door on the right side of the temple History,
of Jupiter, next that of Minerva, the patron of learning
and the inventor of numbers. On such occasions they
elected a dictator for the sole purpose of driving the sacred
nail, and beginning a more propitious year. Hence the
expression of Cicero—Ex hoc die, clavum anni movehis.
As the Chinese constructed the Swan-pan on the prin- Chinese
ciples of the Roman Abacus (See Abacus), so theynumerals*
likewise, at the remotest epoch of the empire, framed a
system of numerals in many respects similar to those
which the Romans probably derived from their Pelasgic
ancestors. This will appear from the inspection of the
characters engraved on Plate LXXVI. It is only to be ob¬
served that the Chinese mode of writing is the reverse of
ours ; and that, beginning at the top of the leaf, they de¬
scend in parallel columns to the bottom, proceeding, how¬
ever, from right to left, as practised by most of the Ori¬
ental nations.
Instead of the vertical lines used by the Romans, we
therefore meet with horizontal ones in the Chinese nota¬
tion. Thus, one is represented by a horizontal stroke,
with a sort of barbed termination ; two by a pair of such
strokes ; and three by as many parallel strokes ; the mark
for four has four strokes, with a sort of flourish; three
horizontal strokes, with two vertical ones, form the mark
for five; and the other symbols exhibit the successive
strokes abbreviated, as far as nine. Ten is figured by a
horizontal stroke, crossed with a vertical score, to show
that the first rank of the Denary Scale was completed;
an hundred is signified by two vertical scores, connected
by three short horizontal lines; a thousand is represented
by a sort of double cross; and the other ranks, ascending
to an hundred millions, have the same marks successively
compounded. In addition to the figures in the Plate, we
shall here give fac similes of a complete set of numerals,
printed with metallic types in 1814, at Serampore, in the
Elements of Chinese Grammar, by the Reverend Dr
Marshman. In these characters, it will be perceived that
each symbol has, for the sake of distinction, a small zero
or 0 annexed to it.
One,
Two,
Three,   
o
Foury
Yih.
Jrr.
San.
Se.
Ngoo.
Five, 56
o
Six, Lyeu
Seven, Ts'hih.
Eight, Pah.
Nine, Kyeu.
\u.
rTc7iy B - Sltzltm
1 o
A Hundred, Puli.
A Thousand, r~rtT^ Tshye
■ r\
Ten
Thousand,
A hundred
Thousand,
A Million,
Ten
Millions,
A hundred
Millions,
The numbers eleven, twelve, &c. are represented by put¬
ting the several marks for one, two, &c. the excesses above
ten, immediately below its symbol. But to denote twenty',
thirty, &c. the marks of the multiples two, three, &c. are
placed above the symbol for ten. This distinction is pur¬
sued through all the other cases. Thus, the marks for
two, three, Sec. placed over the symbols of an hundred or of
534
ARITHMETIC.
History, a thousand, signify so many hundreds or thousands. The
character for ten thousand, called wan, appears to have
been the highest known at an early period of the Chinese
history; since, in the popular language at present, it is
equivalent to all. But the Greeks themselves had not
advanced farther. In China, wan wan signifies ten thou¬
sand times ten thousand, or an hundred millions; though
there is also a distinct character for this high number. In
the eastern strain of hyperbole, the phrase wan far out¬
doing a thousand years, the measure of Spanish loyalty, is
the usual shout of long live the emperor I The Chinese
character chad for a million, though not of the greatest an¬
tiquity, is yet as old as the time of Confucius. The cha¬
racters for ten and for an hundred millions are not found
in their oldest books, but occur in the imperial dictionary.
Such is the very complete but intricate system of Chi¬
nese numerals. It has been constantly used, from the
remotest times, in all the historical, moral, and philosophi¬
cal compositions of that singular people. The ordinary
symbols for words, or rather things, are, in their writings,
generally blended with skill among those characters. But
the Chinese merchants and traders have transformed
this system of notation into another, which is more con¬
cise, and better adapted for the
details of business. The changes
made on the elementary charac¬
ters, it will be seen, are not very
material. The one, two, and three,
are represented by perpendicular
strokes; the symbols for four and
Jive are altered; six is denoted by a
short score above an horizontal
stroke, as if to signify that Jive,
the half of the index of the scale,
had been counted over ; seven and
eight are expressed by the addi¬
tion of one and two horizontal
lines; and the mark for nine is
composed of that for six, or per¬
haps at first a variety of five, join¬
ed to that of four.
To represent eleven, twelve, &c. in this mode, a single
stroke is placed on the left of the cross for ten, and the
several additions of one, two, &c. annexed on the right.
r rom twenty to an hundred, the signs of the multiples
are prefixed to the mark for ten.
if
X
3
%
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Seven.
Eight.
Nine.
n-f Twenty.
Thirty.
X-h Forty.
Fifty.
Seventy.
rl-
+
nr-
-T
-f"
-T
Twenty-one.
Thirty-one.
Forty-one.
Fifty-one.
Seventy-three.
hundred and three and five hundred and thirty deserves Hist
to be particularly remarked.
11 ''£1 Two hundred.
$ R Five hundred.
Seven hundred.
>1 o"
R
a=
R
R~
—^ Two hundred
and three.
* Five hundred
and thirty.
-^1 Seven hundred
and eighty-two.
A similar process extends to the notation of thousands,
but for ten thousand the character wan is abbreviated.
As a specimen of their combination, we select the follow¬
ing complex expression,
o o j(J
which denotes five hundred and forty-three millions, four
hundred and seventy-five thousand, and three. The same
number would be thus represented in the regular system
of Chinese notation;—
=— dti. :
The same method is pursued through the hundreds,
the marks of the several multiples being always placed on
the left hand before the contracted symbol of piih, or an
hundred. The additions are made on the right, with a
small cipher or circle (o), called ling, when necessary, to
separate the place of units* The distinction between two
odoh orli *\o
Here the first column on the right hand presents the marks
for fifty and four, with the interjacent character wan, or
ten thousand; the next column to the left has the several
marks for a thousand, three, and an hundred ; the middle
column exhibits the symbols of forty and of seven; the
adjacent column repeats the character wan, or ten thou¬
sand, and then presents those for five and a thousand;
and the last column has the symbol ling, or the rest, which
fills up the blank, with the mark for three.
The last expression seems abundantly complicated,
and yet it is unquestionably simpler and clearer than the
corresponding notation with Roman numerals, as repre¬
sented below.
IG0G003G • CCCCCIGODDO >
CCCCCIGDD30 * CCCCCIG0033 •
CCCCCIGOOOO • CCCCI0003 •
CCCCIOOO • CCCCI0330 • CCClOOO •
CCClOOD • CCClOOG • CCClOGO •
IODO • CCIGO • CCIDO • 100 • III.
From such an intricate example, the imperfection of the
Roman system will appear the more striking.
The abbreviated process of the Chinese traders was
probably suggested by the communication with India,
where the admirable system of denary notation has, from
the earliest ages, been understood and practised. The
adoption of a small cipher to fill the void spaces was a
most material improvement on the very complex charac¬
ter ling, used formerly for the same purpose.
About the close of the 17th century, the Jesuit mis¬
sionaries Bouvet, Gerbillon, and others, then residing at
the court of Pekin, and able mathematicians, appear to
- Q ^ i q kojnseolqs'i jmjjm. fine w
ARITHMETIC.
535
Hiory-
have still farther improved the numeral symbols of the minated respectively the range of tens and of hundreds, or History.
Chinese traders, and reduced the whole system to a de- expressed ninety and nine hundred. This arrangement
gree of simplicity and elegance of form scarcely inferior of the symbols, it is obvious, could extend only to the ex-
to that of our modern ciphers. With these abbreviated
characters they printed, at the imperial press, Vlacq’s
Tables of Logarithms, extending to ten places of decimals,
in a beautiful volume, of which a copy was presented by
Father Gaubil, on his return to Europe, about the year
1750, to the Royal Society of London. From this very
curious work, the marks in Plate LXXVI. entitled Im¬
proved Chinese Numerals, were carefully copied. No
more than nine characters, it will be seen, are wanted;
the upright cross + for tew being a mere redundancy.
The marks for one, two, and three, consist of parallel
strokes as before; an oblique cross X denotes four ; and
a sort of bisected ten signifies five. This symbol again,
being contracted into the angular mark ^, and com¬
bined with one, two, or three strokes drawn below it, re¬
presents six, seven, or eight; and still more abridged and
annexed to the sign of four, it denotes nine. The dis¬
tinction of units, tens, hundreds, &c. is indicated by
giving the strokes alternately an horizontal and vertical
position, while the blanks or vacant bars are expressed
by placing small zeros. The very important collection
of logarithmic tables just mentioned was printed by the
command of the emperor Kang-hi, a man of enlarged
views, who governed China with dignity and wisdom du¬
ring a long course of years. This enlightened prince was
much devoted to the learning of Europe, and is reported
to have been so fond of calculation as to have those
tables abridged and printed in a smaller character, which
precious volume he carried constantly fastened to his
girdle. The emperor Kien-long, who, after a beneficent
reign of 60 years, in the decline of a protracted life
spontaneously resigned the imperial office to his son, dis¬
covered a similar taste for the mathematical sciences.
Grai nu- The Greeks, after having communicated to the founders
me^ of Rome the elements of the numeral characters which
are still preserved, again exercised their inventive genius
in framing new systems of notation. Discarding the
simple original strokes, they sought to draw materials of
construction from their extended alphabet. They had no
fewer than three different modes of proceeding. Istf, The
letters of the alphabet, in their natural succession, were
employed to signify the smaller ordinal numbers. In this
way, for instance, the books of Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey
are usually marked. But the practice could scarcely be
older than the time of Aristotle, who, it is well known,
first collected and arranged those immortal poems, in the
edition of the Casket, for the use of his illustrious pupil
Alexander the Great. 2c?, The first letters of the words
for numerals were adopted as abbreviated symbols. Thus,
employing capitals only, I, being retained as before, to
denote one, the letter n of IIENTE' marked five, the A of
AEKA denoted ten, the Hof'EKATON, anciently written
HEKATON, expressed an hundred, the X of XIAIA a
thousand, and the letter M of the word MTPIA represent¬
ed ten thousand. A simple and ingenious device was used
for augmenting the powers of those symbols; a large H      &  ,   
placed over any letter made it signify ^/zve thousand times wise represents the cardinal virtues, and the opposite vices,
more. Thus, \~a\ denoted fifty thousand, and |TTf five hun- The ancient division of mathematical science into Arith-
dred thousand. See Plate LXXVI. 3tf, But a mighty metre, Geometry, Astronomy, and Music, was fourfold,
stride was afterwards made in numerical notation by the and the course was therefore termed a tetractys or qua-
Greeks, when they distributed the twenty-four letters of ternion. Hence, Dr Barrow would explain the oath familiar
their alphabet into three classes, corresponding to units, t0 the disciples of Pythagoras, “ I swear by him who
and hundreds. To complete the symbols for the nine communicated the Tetractys.
mgits, an additional character was introduced in each Five' or the P^tad, being composed of the first male
class. The mark called episemon, was inserted among and female numbers, was styled the number of the world,
the units, immediately after s, the letter denoting five; Repeated anyhow by an odd multiple, it always re-ap-
, i •' . . r- / rs. peared ; and it marked the animal senses and the zofiesr
pression of nine hundred and ninety-nine; but, by sub¬
scribing an iota under any character, the value was aug¬
mented a thousand fold, or by writing the letter M, or the
mark for a myriad, or ten thousand, under it, the effect
was increased ten times more. This last modification was
sometimes more simply accomplished by placing two dots
over the character.
Such is the beautiful system of Greek numerals, so
vastly superior in clearness and simplicity to the Roman
combination of strokes. It was even tolerably fitted as an
instrument of calculation. Hence the Greeks early laid
aside the use of the abacus; while the Romans, who
never showed any taste for science, were confined, by the
total inaptitude of their numerical symbols, to the practice
of the same laborious manipulation.
It should, however, be remarked, that the Greeks dis¬
tinguished the theory from the practice of arithmetic,
by separate names. The term Arithmetic itself was re¬
stricted by them to the science which treats of the nature
and general properties of numbers; while the appellation
Logistic was appropriated to the collection of rules framed
to direct and facilitate the common operations of calcula¬
tion. The ancient systems of arithmetic, accordingly,
from the books of Euclid to the treatise of Boethius and
the verses or commentaries of Capella, are merely specu¬
lative, and often abound with fanciful analogies. Pytha-Mystical
goras had brought from the East a passion for the mysti-properties
cal properties of numbers, under the veil of which he pro-of nuni-
bably concealed some of his secret or esoteric doctrines.bers’
He regarded Numbers as of divine origin, the fountain of
existence, and the model and archetype of all things. He
divided them into a variety of different classes, to each of
which were assigned distinct properties. They were prime
or composite, perfect or imperfect, redundant or deficient,
plane or solid; they were triangular, square, cubic, or
pyramidal. Even numbers were held by that visionary
philosopher as feminine, and allied to earth; but the odd
numbers were considered by him as endued with mascu¬
line virtue, and partaking of the celestial nature. He
esteemed the unit, or monad, as the most eminently sacred,
and as the parent of all scientific numbers; he viewed two,
or the duad, as the associate of the monad, and the mother
of the elements; and he regarded three, or the triad, as
perfect, being the first of the masculine numbers, compre¬
hending the beginning, middle, and end, and hence fitted
to regulate by its combinations the repetition of prayers
and libations. As the mwao?represented the Divinity, or
the Creative Power, so the duad was the image of Matter ;
and the triad, resulting from their mutual conjunction,
became the emblem of Ideal Forms.
But the tetrad, or four, was the number which Pytha¬
goras affected to venerate the most. It is a square, and
contains within itself all the musical proportions, and ex¬
hibits by summation all the digits as far as ten, the root of
the universal scale of numeration; it marks the seasons,
the elements, and the successive ages of man ; and it like-
anrf * ! . ,, / r-v peareti; ana
dna the hoppa and sanpi, represented by ^^, or A) ter- 0f tjie globe.
ARITHMETIC.
536
History. Six, or the hextad, being composed of its several fac-
tors, was reckoned perfect and analogical. It was likewise
valued as indicating the sides of the cube, and as entering
into the composition of other important numbers.
Seven, or the heptad, formed from the junction of the
triad with the tetrad, has been celebrated in every age.
Being unproductive, it was dedicated to the virgin Mi¬
nerva, though possessed of a masculine character. It maik-
ed the series of the lunar phases, the number of the planets,
and seemed to modify and pervade all nature.
Eight, or the octad, being the first cube that occurred, was
dedicated to Cybele, the mother of the gods, whose image
in the remotest times was only a cubical block of stone.
Nine, or the ennead, was esteemed as the square of the
triad. It denotes the number of the Muses, and, being
the last of the series of digits, and terminating the tones
of music, it was inscribed to Mars.
TWor the decad, from the important office which it per¬
forms in numeration, was, however, the most celebrated for
its properties. Having completed the cycle and begun a
new series of numbers, it was aptly styled apocatastasic or
periodic, and therefore dedicated to the double-faced Janus.
The cube of the triad, or the number twenty-seven, ex¬
pressing the time of the moon’s periodic revolution, was
supposed to signify the power of the lunar circle. The
quaternion of celestial numbers, one, three, Jive, and seven,
joined to that of the terrestrial numbers two, four, six, and
eight, compose the number thirty-six, the square of the
first perfect number six, and the symbol of the universe,
distinguished by wonderful properties.
But it would be endless to recount all the visions of the
Pythagorean school; nor should we descend to notice such
fancies, if, by a perpetual descent, the dreams of ancient
philosophers had not, in the actual state of society, still
tinctured our language, and mingled with the various in¬
stitutions of civil life. Not to wander in search of illus¬
tration, we see the predilection for the number seven
strongly marked in the customary term of apprenticeships,
in the period required for obtaining academical degrees,
and in the legal age of majority.
Numerical. The Chinese appear, from the remotest epochs of their
fancies of empire, to have entertained the same admiration of the
the Chi- myStical properties of numbers that Pythagoras imported
from the East. Distinguishing numbers into even and
odd, they considered the former as terrestrial, and partak¬
ing of the feminine principle Yang ; while they regarded
the latter as of celestial extraction, and endued with the
masculine principle Yn. The even numbers were repre¬
sented by small black circles, and the odd ones by similar
white circles, variously disposed, and connected by straight
lines. See Plate LXXVI. The sum of the five' even
numbers two, four, six, eight, and ten, being thirty, was
called the number of the Earth ; but the sum of the five
odd numbers one, three, Jive, seven, and nine, or twenty-jive,
being the square of Jive, was styled the number of Heaven.
The nine digits were likewise grouped in two different
ways, termed the Lo-chou and the Ho-tou. The former
expression signifies the Book of the River Lo, or what the
great Yu saw delineated on the back of the mysterious
tortoise which rose out of that river: it may be conceived
from this arrangement.
Nine
Four Two
Three Five Seven
Eight Six
One
Nine was reckoned the head, and one the tail, of the Hist
tortoise; three and seven were considered as its left and'^v )
right shoulders; and four and two, eight and six, were
viewed as the fore and the hind feet. The number five,
which represented the heart, was also the emblem of
Heaven. We need scarcely observe, that this group of
numbers is nothing but the common magic-square, each
row of which makes up fifteen.
As the Lo-chou had the figure of a square, so the Ho-
tou had that of a cross. It is what the emperor Fou-hi
observed on the body of the horse-dragon which he saw
spring out of the river Ho. The central number was ten,
which, it is remarked by the commentators, terminates all
the operations on numbers.
Seven
Two
Five Three Ten Four Nine
Five
One
Six
The Greek system of notation proceeded directly as far
as ten thousand, comprising four terms of the Denary
Scale ; but by subscribing M, the initial letter of /iugioc, it
was carried over another similar period to signify hun¬
dreds of millions. But the penetrating genius of Archi- Exter 1
medes quickly discerned the powers and unfolded thenotati
properties of such progressions. In a curious tract, en-j^
titled Yai^yirrn or Arenarius, this philosopher amused him-^ '
self with showing that it was possible, assuming the es¬
timation of Aristarchus of Samos, and other astronomers
of that age, to represent the number of particles of sand
which would be required to fill the sphere of the universe.
He took the limit of the ordinary numeral system, or ten
thousand times ten thousand, that is, an hundred millions,
as the root of a new scale of progression, which therefore
advanced eight times faster than the simple denary nota¬
tion. Archimedes proposed to carry this comprehensive
system as far as eight periods, which would therefore
correspond to a number expressed in our mode by sixty-
four digits. From the nature of a geometrical progres¬
sion, he demonstrated that proportional numbers would
range at equal distances, and consequently that the pro¬
duct of any two numbers must have its place determined
by the sum of the separate ranks,—a principle which in¬
volves the theory of logarithms.
The fine speculation of the Sicilian philosopher does
not, however, appear to have been carried into effect; and
without actually performing those calculations, he con¬
tents himself by pointing out the process, and stating the and J
approximate results. But Apollonius, the most ingenious ^.P0^
and inventive, next to Archimedes, of all the ancient ma¬
thematicians, resumed that scheme of numeration, sim¬
plified the construction of the scale, and reduced it to a
commodious practice. For greater convenience, he pre¬
ferred the simple myriad as the root of the system, which,
therefore, proceeded by successive periods, corresponding
to four of our digits. The periods were distinguished by
breaks or blanks. That most important office which, in
the modern system of notation, the cipher performs, by
marking the rank of the digits, was indeed unknown to
the earlier Greeks. They were hence obliged, when the
lower periods failed, to repeat the letters Mu. or the con¬
traction for fAvpa, ten thousand. Thus, to express thirty-
four trillions, they wrote X<5 Mu. Mu. Mu. To signify units
separately, it was customary with them to prefix the mark
M°. or the abbreviation for monad.
The procedure of the Greek arithmetician was n^ces'
sarily slower and more timid than our simple yet refine
mode of calculation. Each step in the multiplication o
ARITHMETIC.
537
flijiry- complex numbers appeared separate and detached, with-
0ut any concentration which the moderns obtain, by carry¬
ing forward the multiples of ten, and blending together
the different members of the product. In ancient Greece,
the operations of arithmetic, like writing, advanced from
left to right; each part of the multiplier was in succession
combined with every part of the multiplicand; and the
several products were distinctly noted, or, for the sake of
compactness, grouped and conveniently dispersed till after¬
wards collected into one general amount.
Pappus of Alexandria, in his valuable Mathematical
Collections, has preserved a set of rules which Apollonius
had formed, for facilitating arithmetical operations. These
are, in the cautious spirit of the ancient geometry, branch¬
ed out into no fewer than twenty-seven propositions,
though all comprised in the principle formerly stated by
Archimedes, That the product of two integers of different
ranks will occupy a rank corresponding to the sum of the
component orders. Suppose were to be multiplied into
a, or forty into two hundred: Take the lower correspond¬
ing characters 5 and (3, or four and two, which were called
nS/nvef or radicals, the one depressed ten times, and the
other an hundred times, and multiply their product q, or
eight, successively by the ten and the hundred, or at once
by a thousand, and the result is -/] or eight thousand.
'tire We shall take an example in multiplication, affording
mowf more variety than such as occur in Eutocius, which gene-
calcation.ra]]y consist in the mere squaring of numbers. Let it be
required to multiply eight hundred and sixty-two by five
hundred and twenty-three. The operation would be per¬
formed in this way.
u l $
q> a 7
f/j y a.
cc s’
C4 ff
V
But the Greek notation was not adapted for the descend- History,
ing scale. To express fractions, two distinct methods
were followed. 1. If the numerator happened to be unit,
the denominator was indicated by an accent. Thus b' sig¬
nified one fourth, and xf one twenty-fifth ; but one Aa/f being
of most frequent recurrence, was signified by a particular
character, varying in its form, C, /., C\ or K. 2. In other
cases it was the practice of the Greeks to write the de¬
nominator as we do an exponent, a little above the deno¬
minator, and towards the right hand. Thus, (3,a intimat¬
ed two-elevenths, and era?*®1 eighty-one, of an hundred and
twenty-one parts.
As an illustration of the management of fractions, we
select an example somewhat complicated, from the com¬
mentary which Eutocius of Ascalon wrote about the third
century of our era, on the Tract of Archimedes concerning
the quadrature of the circle. Let it be required to mul-
tiply the mixed number one thousand and thirty-eight with
nine-elevenths, by itself.
a co X y
a. oj X
t
£ k y y u s y /S'*
M M M
(3 d s’ v ft v d s"'*
MM'7
y (3 % Z) cr [/j x s‘‘x
M M '
ys’vcrpZds'
0) t
X v
X
y (3‘'
t X y a, cr v a.
TTCt
M
pi co x s
In the first range, p multiplied into «, being the same
as the product of eight and five augmented ten thousand
times, is consequently denoted by or ^; p multiplied
into £ gives the same result as five times six increased a
thousand fold, and therefore expressed by 7 or ^; and p
multiplied into /3 evidently makes a thousand, or a. In
the second range, x multiplied into w gives the same pro¬
duct as eight repeated twice and then augmented a thou¬
sand times, or denoted by a v ; x multiplied into ^ is equi¬
valent to six repeated twice, and afterwards increased an
hundred fold or^ expressed hy yes-, and x multiplied by (3
gives forty, the value of fi. In the third range, 7 multi¬
plied into w produces twenty-four hundred, which is de¬
noted by /3 u; 7 multiplied into £ makes an hundred and
eighty, or g 7T; and, lastly, 7 multiplied into /3 gives s-, the
symbol for six. Collecting the scattered members into
one sum, the result of the multiplication of eight hundred
and sixty-two by five hundred and twenty-three is g, sun?,
or four hundred and fifty thousand eight hundred and fifty-
vol. in.
or, r X y a cr v (3 x£ax
M
It is to be observed, that, to multiply the several inte¬
gers by the fraction nine-elevenths, amounts to their mul¬
tiplication by nine, and the subsequent division by eleven.
The excesses being two and six-elevenths, are denoted by
/3<aI and <r'“, while the product of the fraction itself
gives eighty-one of an hundred and twenty-one parts, ex¬
pressed by ncd’1*.
But the laborious operations that such complex frac¬
tions required were afterwards superseded by the use of
sexagesimals, which, we have already observed, the astro¬
nomers, and especially Ptolemy, had introduced. “ The
division of the circumference of the circle into three hun¬
dred and sixty equal parts or degrees was no doubt ori¬
ginally founded on the supposed length of the year, which,
expressed in round numbers, consists of twelve months,
each composed of thirty days. The radius approaching to
the sixth part of the circumference would contain nearly
sixty of those degrees; and after its ratio to the circum¬
ference was more accurately determined, the radius still
continued to be distinguished into the same number of
divisions, which likewise bore the same name. As calcu-
3 y
538
ARITH
History, lation now aimed at greater accuracy, each of these sixty
' divisions of the radius was, following the uniform progres¬
sion, again subdivided into sixty equal portions called
minutes; and, repeating the process of sexagesimal sub¬
division, seconds and thirds were successively formed.
The operations with sexagesimal fractions were performed
in the descending scale, on a principle quite similar to
that which Archimedes had before laid down. Each pe¬
riod of the multiplier, still proceeding from the left hand,
was multiplied into a period of the multiplicand; and this
product was then thrown to a rank depressed as much as
the descents of both its factors. Thus, minutes multi¬
plied into seconds produced thirds; and seconds multiplied
into thirds produced fifths.” Edinburgh Review, vol. xviii.
p. 200.
As an exemplification of this process, we shall take the
question proposed by Theon to find the square of the side
of a regular decagon inscribed in a circle, or the chord of
thirty-six degrees, which, according to Ptolemy’s compu¬
tation, measured, in sexagesimal parts of the radius, thirty-
seven degrees, four minutes, and fifty-jive seconds. The
multiplication is thus effected:
a
K
K
n
Vi
utH'Q gy*?] /SXe
/
gfATj 1? (TX
(2Xs ovt
CCTOS ($ id l Ki
t 4
Here in the first line, multiplied into in the place
of units, gives ctri^d or thirteen hundred and sixty-nine de¬
grees ; X£ into 5 on the next bar, gives or one hundred
and forty-eight minutes; and X£ into vs on the lowest bar
gives (3Xs, or two thousand and thirty-jive seconds. In the
second line 5 multiplied into gives the product £(4Mj as
before; 3 multiplied into 3, both of them oh the bar of
minutes, gives /s- or sixteen seconds; 3 into vs gives ex, or
two hundred and twenty thirds. Lastly, in the third line
the vs on the bar of seconds, multiplied successively into
and 3, produce, as before, /3Xs and ex on the bars of se¬
conds and thirds; and vs multiplied by itself gives yxt, or
three thousand and twenty-five fourths. These several pro¬
ducts being reduced and collected together, formed the
total amount of aros 3 /5 / xs, or thirteen hundred and se¬
venty-five degrees,four minutes, fourteen seconds, ten thirds,
and twenty-five fourths; but all the terms below seconds
were omitted in practice as insignificant.
This calculation is laborious and intricate, yet with a
very few terms it approaches to a considerable degree of
accuracy. One of the most elegant theorems in ele¬
mentary geometry demonstrates that the side of a regu¬
lar decagon, inscribed in a circle, is equal to the seg¬
ment of the radius, divided in extreme and mean ratio.
Wherefore the square now computed should be equal to
the product of sixty, or the radius, into twenty-two de¬
grees, jifty-jive minutes, and jive seconds, the smaller seg¬
ment ; that is, equal to thirteen hundred and seventy-five
degrees nndfive minutes, from which it differs only by the
defect of less than one minute.
1 he Sexagesimal Arithmetic was, therefore, a most va¬
luable improvement engrafted on the notation of the
Greeks. The astronomers of Alexandria and Constanti-
M E TIC.
nople continued to employ it in all their calculations, and Hlsto
were afterwards imitated by succeeding observers among^v
the Arabians and Persians. The mode of working sexa¬
gesimals had thus become generally known and reduced
to practice ; but we owe the first distinct treatise on those
fractions to a very extraordinary character,—Barlaam, a
Calabrian monk, the friend and Greek preceptor of the
famous Petrarch, and a man of learning and vigorous in¬
tellect, who laboured by his writings and his missions to
re-unite the Eastern to the Western church. This ad¬
venturous personage, whose wayward conduct and dark
features betrayed a lurking ferocity, met with a most
singular fate. Being overtaken by a tremendous thun¬
der-storm, while crossing the Adriatic Sea, he lashed him¬
self to the mast of the bark, and was, in this situation,
struck dead by a flash of lightning. The event happened
in 1348; but Barlaam’s tract on sexagesimals, neatly com¬
posed in six books, after the strict manner of the ancients,
and entitled generally Aoy/<rr/xj), or Computation, first ap¬
peared in a Latin version at Strasburg in 1572, though
not published complete with the Greek text until the
year 1600, when it was edited at Paris by Chambers of
Eton, from a manuscript procured from the Continent by
the zeal of Sir Henry Savile.
To facilitate the operations with sexagesimals, it seemed
indispensable to have a more extensive multiplication table,
that should include the mutual products of all the num¬
bers from one to sixty. This was actually constructed
about the middle of the sixteenth century by Philip Lans-
berg, a Dutch clergyman, and has been exhibited since in
various forms by Dr Wallis and others. In the mean
time a material change had been effected in the subdivi¬
sion of the radius of the circle, from which the sexagesi¬
mal system had taken its rise. Purbach, the great re¬
storer of mathematical science, instead of making the ra¬
dius to consist of 216,000 seconds, as Ptolemy and suc¬
ceeding astronomers had done, stopt short at sixty de¬
grees, and distinguished each of these by a repeated cen¬
tesimal division, into ten thousand equal parts. Regio¬
montanus advanced a step farther, and, rejecting the sexa¬
gesimal admixture, divided the radius at once into a
million of parts, thus following out an arrangement purely
decimal. The subdivision into degrees, minutes, and se¬
conds, was henceforth confined to the circumference it¬
self ; and when logarithms came afterwards to be adapted
to those fractions, they received the appellation, once ge¬
neral, though now restricted, of Logistic. But the sexa¬
gesimal subdivision had nearly been rejected altogether.
Our very meritorious countryman Mr Briggs, in comput¬
ing his canon of logarithms, followed in another branch
the example of Purbach, by distinguishing each degree of
the circumference into an hundred minutes, and each of
these again into an hundred seconds ; and we cannot help
regretting that this easy and obvious improvement had
not been generally embraced at the time it was proposed.
The French mathematicians have lately gone farther, and
endeavoured to pursue to its utmost extent the decimal
subdivision first introduced by Regiomontanus. They be¬
gin with dividing the quadrant into an hundred instead of
ninety degrees; and then following the plan of Briggs,
they successively divide each degree into an hundred mi¬
nutes, and each minute into an hundred seconds. But the
advantages which might arise from the adoption of this
plan are not sufficient perhaps to outweigh the manifest
inconvenience that must attend it in the present advanced
state of the science; and notwithstanding the sanguine
dreams of some of its projectors, we cannot indulge the
expectation of ever seeing it obtain a general and durable
currency.
“ The Greek arithmetic, then, as successively mould*
ARITHMETIC.
Hury. ed by the ingenuity of Archimedes, of Apollonius, and
v>r- ■v!' Ptolemy, had attained, on the whole, to a singular degree
of perfection, and was capable, notwithstanding its cum¬
brous structure, of performing operations of very consider¬
able difficulty and magnitude. The great and radical de¬
fect of the system consisted in the want of a general mark
analogous to our cipher; and which, without having any
value itself, should serve to ascertain the rank or power of
the other characters, by filling up the vacant places in the
scale of numeration. Yet were the Greeks not altogether
unacquainted with the use of such a sign; for Ptolemy,
in his Almagest, employs the small o to occupy the acci¬
dental blanks which occurred in the notation of sexagesi¬
mals. This letter was perhaps chosen by him, because
immediately succeeding to v, which denotes 60, it could
not, in the sexagesimal arrangement, occasion any sort of
ambiguity. But the advantage thence resulting was en¬
tirely confined to that particular case. The letters, being
already significant, were generally disqualified for the pur¬
pose of a mere supplementary notation ; and the selection
of an alphabetic character to supply the place of the ci¬
pher may be considered as an unfortunate circumstance,
which appears to have arrested the progress towards a
better and more complete system. Had Apollonius classed
the numerals by denary triads instead of tetrads, he would
have greatly simplified the arrangement, and avoided the
confusion arising from the admixture of the punctuated
letters expressing thousands. It is by this method of
proceeding with periods of three figures, or advancing at
once by thousands instead of tens, that we are enabled
most expeditiously to read off the largest numbers. The
extent of the alphabet was favourable to the first attempts
at enumeration; since, with the help of three intercala¬
tions, it furnished characters for the whole range below a
thousand; but that very circumstance in the end proved
a bar to future improvements. It would have been a most
important stride to have next exchanged those triads into
monads, by discarding the letters expressive of tens and
hundreds, and retaining only the first class, which, with
its inserted episemon, should denote the nine digits. The
iota, which signified ten, now losing its force, might have
been employed as a convenient substitute for the cypher.
By such progressive changes the arithmetical notation of
the Greeks would at last have reached its utmost perfec¬
tion, and have exactly resembled our own. A wide inter¬
val no doubt did still remain ; yet the genius of that acute
people, had it continued unfettered, would in time, we
may presume, have triumphantly passed the intervening
boundaries. But the death of Ptolemy was succeeded by
ages of languor and decline; and the spirit of discovery
insensibly evaporated in miserable polemical disputes,
till the fair establishment of Alexandria was finally over¬
whelmed under the irresistible arms of the Arabs, lately
roused to victory and conquest by the enthusiasm of a
new religion.” {Edinburgh Review, vol. xviii. p. 203.)
the ! ^ ingenuity and varied resources of the ancient
n’l„ ^r.v Greeks were the main causes which diverted them from
' discovering our simple denary system. Having attained
a distinct conception of the powers of the geometrical
progression, and even advanced so far as to employ their
small o to fill the breaks of a period, nothing seemed
wanting but to dismiss the punctuated letters, and those
for tens and for hundreds, and to retain merely the direct
symbols for units, that is, the first third part of their al¬
phabet. Here, however, those masters of science were
stopt in their career; and the Eastern Empire presents a
melancholy picture of the decline and corruption of hu¬
man nature. Ingenuity had degenerated into polemical
subtlety, and the manly virtues which freedom inspires
were exchanged for meanness and self-abasement.
539
Some writers, misled by'very superficial views of the History,
subject, have yet ascribed the invention of the modern
numeral characters to the Greeks, or even to the Romans.
Both these people, for the sake of expedition, occasionally
used contractions, especially in representing the numbers
and fractions of weights or measures, which, to a credu¬
lous peruser of mutilated inscriptions, or ancient blurred
manuscripts, might appear to resemble the forms of our
ciphers. But this resemblance is merely casual, and very
far indeed from indicating the adoption of a regular de¬
nary notation. The most contracted of the Roman writ¬
ings was formed by the marks attributed to Tiro or Se¬
neca, while that of the Greeks was mixed with the sym¬
bols called Siglee; both of which have exercised the pa¬
tience and skill of antiquaries and diplomatists. In the
latter species of characters were kept the accounts of the
revenues of the empress Irene at Constantinople. But
the modern Greeks appear likewise to have sometimes
used a simpler kind of marks, at least for the low num¬
bers. The continuator of Matthew Paris’s History relates,
that “ in the year 1251 died John Basingstoke, archdea¬
con of Leicester, who brought into England the numeral
figures of the Greeks, and explained them to his friends.”
It is subjoined that they consisted of a perpendicular
stroke, with a short line inserted at different heights and
at different angles, signifying units on the left and tens on
the right side. The figures themselves are scrawled on
the margin of the text; but they are evidently so differ¬
ent in their form, and so distinct in their nature, from the
modern ciphers, that one cannot help feeling surprise to
see an author of any discernment refer the introduction
of the latter to Basingstoke.
It cannot be doubted that we derived our knowledge of
the numeral digits from the Arabians, who had themselves
obtained this invaluable acquisition from their extended
communication with the East. Those deserving people
who, under the name of Moors or Saracens, had for many
centuries cultivated Spain, were most ready to acknow¬
ledge their obligation to the natives of India, who, accord¬
ing to Alsephadi, a learned Arabian doctor, boasted of
three very different inventions—the composition of the
Golaila Wadamna, or Pilpay’s Fables—the game of
chess—and the nine digital characters. Still much ob¬
scurity hangs over the whole subject. Two distinct in¬
quiries naturally present themselves :—1, At what period
did the Arabians first become acquainted with those cha¬
racters ; and, 2, What is the precise epoch when the know¬
ledge of them was imparted to the Christian nations of
Europe. We shall take a short review of both these
questions.
1. Gatterer, the late ingenious and very learned Pro- Proofs of
fessor of History at Gottingen, in his Elements of £/mrer-their Indi.
sal Diplomacy, maintains that our ciphers were only pri-an ongin-
mordial letters, invented by Taaut or Theut, and known
to the ancient Egyptians and Phoenicians, being still dis¬
tinctly observed, as he asserts, in the inscriptions painted
on the coverings of the oldest mummies; and that after¬
wards, along with other branches of science, they passed
to the Oriental nations, among whom they were preserved,
till the victorious arms of the Mussulmen penetrated to
India, and brought back those precious monuments of ge¬
nius. But we cannot believe that a contrivance so very
simple, and so eminently useful, as that of the nine digits,
if once communicated, could ever again be lost or ne¬
glected. Pythagoras and Boethius merely contemplated
the properties of numbers, and seem not, in their calcula¬
tions, to have gone beyond the use of the Abacus. An
early intercourse had no doubt subsisted between the
people of Egypt and of India, and a striking resemblance
may be traced in their customs, their buildings, and their
ARITHMETIC.
540
History, religious rites. But the characters exhibited on the
Egyptian monuments bear no indication of the Denary
System, and are, like the Roman and Chinese numerals,
abridged representations of objects, rather than arbitrary
signs.
That the occupiers of Hindostan, and the nations com¬
municating with them, have for ages been acquainted with
the use of the denary notation, cannot be disputed. But
was this an original discovery, or at what distant epoch
was it first introduced among them ? The easy credulity
of European visitors encouraged the Brahmins to set up
very lofty pretensions respecting the antiquity of their
science. Among other treasures, they boasted the pos¬
session, from time immemorial, of an elementary treatise
on arithmetic and mensuration, composed in Sanscrit, and
called Lilawati, of such inestimable value as to be as¬
cribed to the immediate inspiration of heaven. But the
researches of our ingenious countrymen in exploring that
sacred language of India have dispelled some illusions,
and greatly abated the admiration of the public for such
eastern learning. From what we have been able to ga¬
ther, the Lilawati is a very short and meagre performance,
loaded with a silly preamble and colloquy of the gods. It
begins with the numeration by nine digits, and the supple¬
mentary cipher or small o, in what are called the Deva-
nagari characters; and it contains the common rules of
arithmetic, and even the extraction of the square root, as
far as two places of figures; but the examples are gene-
rally very easy, scarcely forming any part of the text,
and only written on the margin with red ink. Of frac¬
tions, whether decimal or vulgar, it treats not at all.
The Hindoos pretend that this arithmetical treatise was
composed about the year 1185 of the Christian era. The
date of a manuscript, however, is always very uncertain.
We know, besides, that the oriental transcriber is accus¬
tomed to incorporate without scruple such additions in
the text a& he thinks fit. Nor will any of the criteria
which might ascertain the age of a manuscript apply to
the eastern writings, where the composition of the paper,
the colour of the ink, and the form of the characters, have
for ages continued unchanged.
If the exuberant fancy of the Greeks led them far be¬
yond the denary notation, it seems probable that the
feebler genius of the Hindoos might just reach that de¬
sirable point, without diverging into an excursive flight.
Though now familiar with that system, they are still un¬
acquainted with the use of its descending decimal scale;
and their management of fractions, accordingly, is said by
intelligent judges to be tedious and embarrassed. In
Plate LXXVI. (on the left hand, and near the bottom), Mre
have given the Sanscrit digits, and have placed over them
the numeral elements from which they might be formed.
These consist of a succession of simple strokes, variously
combined as far as nine. The resemblance to the Deva-
nagari characters appears very striking. From these,
again, the common Flindoo and the vulgar Bengalee di¬
gits are evidently moulded, with only slight alterations of
figure. The Birman numerals, which we have copied
from Symes’s Embassy to the Kingdom of Ava, are mani¬
festly of the same origin; only they have a thin, wirey
body, being generally written on the palmyra-leaf with
the point of a needle.
It appears, from a careful inspection of the manuscripts
preserved in the different public libraries of Europe, that
the Arabians were not acquainted with the denary nume¬
rals before the middle of the thirteenth century of the
Christian era. They cultivated the mathematical sciences
with ardour, but seldom aspired at original efforts, and ge¬
nerally contented themselves with copying their Grecian
masters. The alphabet of the Arabians had been em¬
ployed for expressing numbers exactly in the same way Histo
as that of the Greeks. The letters, in their succession,^v
were sometimes applied to signify the lower of the ordi¬
nal numbers; but more generally they were distinguished
into three classes, each composed of nine characters, cor¬
responding to units, tens, and hundreds. Though, like
most of the Oriental nations, the Arabians write from
right to left, yet they followed implicitly the Greek mode
of ranging the numerals and performing their calculations.
With the same deference they received the other lessons
of their great masters, and very seldom hazarded any im¬
provement, unless where industry and patient observation
led them incidentally to extend mensuration, and to rec¬
tify and enlarge the basis of astronomy.
It seems highly probable, therefore, that the Arabians
did not adopt the Indian numerals until a late period, and
after the torrent of victory had opened an easy communi¬
cation with Hindostan. They might derive their infor¬
mation through the medium of the Persians, who spoke
a dialect of their language, had embraced the same reli¬
gion, and were, like them, inflamed by the love of science
and the spirit of conquest. The Arabic numerals, ac¬
cordingly, resemble exceedingly the Persic, which are
now current over India, and there esteemed the fashion¬
able characters. But the Persians themselves, though no
longer the sovereigns of Hindostan, yet display their su¬
periority over the feeble Gentoos, since they generally
fill the offices of the revenue, and have the reputation of
being the most expert calculators in the East. It should
be observed, however, that, according to Gladwin, these
accountants have introduced a peculiar contracted mode
of registering very large sums, partly by the numeral cha¬
racters, and partly by means of symbols formed of abbre¬
viated words. Yet Sir John Chardin relates that the
Persians have no proper terms to express numbers beyond
a thousand, which they merely repeat, as our young arith¬
meticians often do, to signify a million or a billion.
The Indian origin of the denary numerals is farther con¬
firmed by the testimony of Maximus Planudes, a monk of
Constantinople, who wrote, about the middle of the four¬
teenth century,*a book on practical arithmetic, entitled
AoynsnxYi Ii/5/x^, or Yrjpopoeiu xar ^ Xsyo,asi/^ fiiydfoi,
that is, “ the great Indian mode of calculating.” In his
introduction he explains concisely the use of the charac¬
ters in notation. But Planudes appears neither to have
received his information directly from India, nor through
the medium of the Persians, the nearest neighbours on
the eastern confines of the Greek empire. It is most pro¬
bable that he was made acquainted with those numerals
by his intercourse with Europe, having twice visited, on
a sort of embassy, the Republic of Venice; for, of two
manuscripts preserved in the library of St Mark, the one
has the characters of the Arabians, and the other has
that variety which was first current in Europe, while
neither of them shows the original characters used in
Hindostan.
2. But the most important inquiry is to ascertain the Their
period at which the knowledge pf our present numeralstroduc
was first spread over Europe. As it certainly had pre-^|“ '
ceded the invention of the art of printing, the difficulty of
resolving the question is much increased by the necessity
of searching and examining old and often doubtful manu¬
scripts. Some authors would date the introduction of
those ciphers as early as the beginning of the eleventh
century, while others, with far greater appearance of rea¬
son, are disposed to place it 250 years later.
While the thickest darkness brooded over the Christian
wrorld, the Arabians, reposing after their brilliant con¬
quests, cultivated with assiduity the learning and science
of Greece. If they contributed little from their own
ARITHMETIC.
Hi iry. store of genius, they yet preserved and fanned the holy
-^>'v-/fire. Nor did they affect any concealment, but would
freely communicate to their pupils and visitors that pre¬
cious knowledge which they had so zealously drawn from
different quarters. Some of the more aspiring youth in
England and France, disgusted with the wretched trifling
of the schools, resorted for information to Spain; and
having the courage to subdue the rooted abhorrence en¬
tertained in that age against infidels, took lessons in phi¬
losophy from the accomplished Moors. Among those
pilgrims of science, the most celebrated was Gerbert, a
monk, born of obscure parents, at Aurillac, in Auvergne,
but promoted by his talents successively to the bishoprics
of Rheims and of Ravenna, and finally raised to the papal
chair, which he filled during the last four years of the
tenth century, under the name of Sylvester II. This ar¬
dent genius studied arithmetic, geometry, and astronomy
among the Saracens ; and, on his return to France, charg¬
ed with various knowledge, he was esteemed a prodigy
of learning by his contemporaries. Nor did the malice
of rivals fail to represent him as a magician, leagued with
the infernal powers. Gerbert wrote largely on arithmetic
and geometry, and gave rules for shortening the opera¬
tions of the Abacus, which he likewise termed Algorismus.
In some manuscripts the numbers are expressed in ci¬
phers ; but we are not thence entitled to infer, as many
writers have done, that he had actually the merit of in¬
troducing those characters into Europe. The context of
his discourse will not support such a conclusion. The
figures were not, we have seen, still known to the Ara¬
bians themselves ; and must have long afterwards been
inserted in those copies for the convenience of tran¬
scribers.
Nor can we safely refer the introduction of Arabic
figures to our famous Roger Bacon, whose various attain¬
ments and unwearied research after genuine knowledge
raised him far above the level of his contemporaries, but
who, to the disgrace of his age and country, suffered a
sharp persecution and a tedious imprisonment, on the ri¬
diculous charge of practising the redoubted acts of magic.
But the writings of Bacon really discover no proofs of his
acquaintance with the denary notation ; and the fact com¬
monly stated as an irresistible evidence in his favour bears
a very different interpretation. An almanack, now pre¬
served in the Bodleian Library at Oxford, and containing
numerals in their earliest forms, has, by the credulity of
after-times, been, with all other feats and inventions, ascrib¬
ed of course to the great necromancer. But unluckily
this production is marked with the date 1292, the very
year on which Bacon, after a lingering illness, expired;
and it besides professes to have been calculated for the
meridian of Toulouse, and had consequently been imported
without doubt from France.1
About the same period John of Halifax, named, in the
quaint Latinity then used, Sacro-Bosco, who had likewise
travelled, wrote his treatise De Sphcera, in some copies of
which the numbers are given in ciphers. But it appears
from examination that such abbreviations were introduced
by the license of transcribers.
There is little doubt that the Arabic figures were first
541
used by astronomers, and afterwards circulated in the History,
almanacks over Europe. The learned Gerard Vossius
places this epoch about the year 1250 ; but the judicious
and most laborious Du Cange thinks that ciphers were
unknown before the fourteenth century ; and Father Ma-
billon, whose diplomatic researches are immense, assures
us that he very rarely found them in the dates of any
writings prior to the year 1400. Kircher, with some air
of probability, seeks to refer the introduction of our nu¬
merals to the astronomical tables which, after vast labour
and expense, were published by the famous Alphonso,
king of Castile, in 1252, and again more correctly four
years afterwards. But it is suspected that, in the origi¬
nal work, the numbers were expressed in Roman or Saxon
characters. Two letters from that enlightened but ill-
requited prince, to our Edward I., which are preserved in
the Tower of London, have the dates 1272 and 1278
still denoted by those ancient characters.
In the tenth volume of the Archccologia, the Rev. Mr
North has given a short account of an almanack preserv¬
ed in the library of Bennet College, Cambridge, and con¬
taining a table of eclipses for the cycle between 1330 and
1348. There is prefixed to it a very brief explication
of the use of numerals, and the principles of the denary
notation ; from which we may see how imperfectly the
practice of those ciphers was then understood. The figures
are of the oldest form, but differ not materially from the
present, except that the four has a looped shape, and the
five and seven are turned about to the left and to the
right. The one, two, three, and four, are likewise, per¬
haps for elucidation, represented by so many dots thus,
. .. 11; while five, six, seven, and eight, are signi¬
fied by a semicircle or inverted 3 with the addition of
corresponding dots—3. 3 : 3 Nine is denoted by o ;
ten by the same character with a dash drawn across it;
and twenty, thirty, or forty, by this last symbol repeated.
As a farther evidence of the inaccurate conceptions
which prevailed respecting the use of the digits in the
fourteenth century, we may refer to the mixture of Saxon
and Arabic numerals which was copied from some French
manuscripts by Mabillon, as exhibited in Plate LXXYI.
The Saxon X, signifying ten, is repeatedly combined with
the ordinary figures; and XXX> XXXL are immediately
followed by 302, and 303, which must have been there¬
fore intended to signify thirty-two and thirty-three, the
force of the cipher not being still rightly understood. It
should be observed, that the Greek episemon or Fan, for
the number six, had come to be represented by a charac¬
ter similar to G. The Saxon dates are taken from the
Danish and Norwegian registers, preserved in Sulim’s
Northern Collections.
One of the oldest authentic dates in the numeral cha¬
racters is that of the year 1375, which appears written by
the hand of the famous Petrarch on a copy of St Augus¬
tine that had belonged to that distinguished poet and
philosopher. The use of those characters had now begun
to spread in Europe, but was still confined to men of
learning. We have seen a short tract in the German lan¬
guage, entitled De Algorismo, and bearing the date 1390,
which explained with great brevity the digital notation
1 Nothing appears to be worse founded than the attempts to represent the elder Bacon in the light of an original inventor. Not¬
withstanding the obscurity ofliis writings, it needs but a little criticism to dispel the conceits fomented by national partiality. Friar
Bacon advances no claim even to the discovery of gunpowder, which has been so gratuitously ascribed to him. On the contrary, he
admits that the boys in his time were acquainted with the use of this substance in fire-works; and he merely pretends, in a sort of
anagram, to give a receipt for making it stronger and better than ordinary.
After the chief ingredient in the composition of gunpowder, under the mistaken names of natron or nitrum, and saltpetre or rQck-salt,
had been imported from the East, probably through the intervention of the Crusaders, its disposition to explode in the contact of
inflammable matters, if not communicated along with it, could not remain for any time a secret. The explosive force was a very
different and a far more important property, which is perhaps rightly attributed to Schwartz, a German monk, who, in the course of
Ins experiments, stumbled on it about the middle of the fourteenth century.
542 A R I T H
History, and the elertientary rules of arithmetic. What is very
remarkable, the characters in their earliest form are
ranged thus, 0, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, from right to left,
the order which the Arabians would naturally follow. But
it was not very easy to comprehend at first the precise
force of the cipher, which, insignificant by itself, 0^ly
serves to determine the rank and value of the other digits.
The name, derived from an Arabic word signifying vacui¬
ty, is sufficiently expressive ; yet a sort of mystery, which
has imprinted its trace on language, seemed to hang over
the practice, for we still speak of deciphering, and of writ¬
ing in cipher, in allusion to some dark or concealed art.
After the digits had come to supply the place of the Ro¬
man numerals, a very considerable time probably elapsed
before they were generally adopted in calculation. Ihe
modern practice of arithmetic was unknown in England
till about the middle of the sixteenth century. But the
lower orders, imitating the clerks of a former age, were
still accustomed to reckon with their counters or awgrym
stones. In Shakspeare’s comedy of the Winter s Tale,
written at the commencement of the seventeenth century,
the clown, staggered with a very simple multiplication,
exclaims, that he will try it with counters.
Arithmetic was long considered in England as a higher
branch of science, and therefore left, like Geometry, to
be studied at the university. Most of the public or gram¬
mar schools of the south were, on the suppression of the
monasteries, erected a little after the Reformation, during
the short but auspicious reign of Edward VI. They were
accordingly destined by their founders merely for teach¬
ing the dead languages; and the too exclusive pursuit
of the same system is now one of the greatest defects in
the English plan of liberal education.
It cannot be doubted that the calendars composed in
France or Germany, and sent to the different religious
houses, were the means of dispersing the knowledge of
Arabic numerals over Europe. The library of the Univer¬
sity of Edinburgh has a very curious almanack, presented
to it, with a number of other valuable tracts, by the cele¬
brated Drummond of Hawthornden, beautifully written on
vellum, with most of the figures in vermillion. It is cal¬
culated especially for the year 1482, but contains the suc¬
cession of lunar phases for three cycles, 1475, 1494, and
1513, with the visible eclipses of the sun and moon from
1482 to 1530 inclusive. The date of this precious manu¬
script, which had once belonged to St Mary’s Abbey at
Cupar in Angus, is easily determined, and we have copied
from it the oldest numerals exhibited in Plate LXXVI. To
these we have subjoined fac-similes from Caxton’s Mir-
rour of the World, and a wooden cut from Shirwood’s
Ludus Arithmomachice, given in Dibdin’s Bibliotheca
Spenceriana.
The college accounts in the English universities were
generally kept in the Roman numerals till the early part
of the sixteenth century ; nor in the parish registers were
the Arabic characters adopted before the year 1600. The
oldest date which we have met with in Scotland is that of
1490, which occurs in the rent-roll of the diocese of St
Andrews; the change from Roman to Arabic numerals
occurring, with a corresponding alteration in the form of
the writing, near the end of the volume. The old cha¬
racters in Plate LXXVI. are copied from a manuscript his-
ME TIC.
tory of the Scotish Bishoprics, apparently written about Notat
the year 1550, and now in the possession of Thomas and
Thomson, Esq. advocate.1 (B.) Nume
tier
II.—OPERATIONS OF ARITHMETIC.
Chap. I.—Notation and Numeration.
The first elements of arithmetic are acquired during our
infancy. The idea of one is the simplest of any, and is
suggested by every single object. Two is formed by
placing one object near another; three, four, and every
higher number, by adding one continually to the former
collection. As we thus advance from lower numbers to
higher, we soon perceive that there is no limit to this in¬
creasing operation ; and that, whatever number of objects
be collected together, more maybe added, at least in ima¬
gination ; so that we can never reach the highest possible
number, nor approach near it. The idea of numbers,
which is first acquired by the observation of sensible ob¬
jects, is afterwards extended to measures of space and time,
affections of the mind, and other immaterial qualities.
Small numbers are most easily apprehended: a child
soon knows what tivo and what three is, but has not
any distinct notion of seventeen. Experience removes
this difficulty in some degree : as we become accustomed
to handle larger collections, we apprehend clearly the
number of a dozen or a score; but perhaps could hardly
advance to a hundred without the aid of systematic ar¬
rangement, which is the art of forming so many units into
a class, and so many of these classes into one of a higher
kind, and thus advancing through as many ranks of classes
as occasion requires. If a boy arrange an hundred stones
in one row, he would be tired before he could reckon them;
but if he place them in ten rows of ten stones each, he
will reckon an hundred with ease; and if he collect ten
such parcels, he will reckon a thousand. In this case, ten
is the lowest class, a hundred is a class of the second rank,
and a thousand is a class of the third rank.
There does not seem to be any number naturally adapt¬
ed for constituting a class of the lowest or any higher
rank, to the exclusion of others. However, as ten has
been universally used for this purpose by the Hebrews,
Greeks, Romans, and Arabians, and by all nations who
have cultivated this science, it is probably the most con¬
venient for general use ; but other scales may be assumed,
perhaps, on some occasions with superior advantage; and
the principles of arithmetic will appear in their full extent,
if the student can adapt them to any scale whatever. Thus,
if eight were the scale, 6 times 3 would be two classes
and two units, and the number 18 would then be repre¬
sented by 22. If 12 were the scale, 5 times 9 would be
three classes and nine units, and 45 would be represent¬
ed by 39.
Whatever number of units constitutes a class of the
lower rank, the same number of each class should make
one of the next higher. This is observed in our arith¬
metic, ten being the universal scale ; but it is not regard¬
ed in the various kinds of monies, weights, and the like,
which do not advance by any universal measure ; and much
of the difficulty in the practice of arithmetic arises from
that irregularity.
n t • 01i Wail| °f attending to these facts, some learned antiquaries have often suffered themselves to he grossly misled. Thus, Mr
De Uaruonnel, a i espectable author, who has given views and short descriptions of the ancient edifices in Scotland, mentions, without
marking the smallest doubt or surprise, that the date 1155 appears over the gateway of the ruins of the Castle of St Andrews. But
this tront was bunt subsequent to the murder of the detested Cardinal Beaton, by Archibald Hamilton, who likewise there affixed
is arms, but who long aflerwards, on the capture of Dumbarton Castle, suffered an ignominious death, for his adherence to Queen
Alary and the 1 opish taction. Ihe real date was unquestionably 1555, only the second figure has been almost effaced by time and
ARITHMETIC.
yodon As higher numbers are somewhat difficult to apprehend,
(1 we naturally fall on contrivances to fix them in our minds,
Nuera- an(j render them familiar; but notwithstanding all the ex-
543
1 pedients we can fall upon, our ideas of high numbers are
still imperfect, and generally far short of the reality; and
though we can perform any computation with exactness,
the answer we obtain is often incompletely apprehended.
It may not be amiss to illustrate, by a few examples,
the extent of numbers which are frequently named with¬
out being attended to. If a person employed in telling
money reckon an hundred pieces in a minute, and continue
at work ten hours each day, he will take seventeen days
to reckon a million; a thousand men would take 45 years
to reckon a billion. If we supposed the whole earth to be
as well peopled as Britain, and to have been so from the
creation, and that the whole race of mankind had con¬
stantly spent their time in telling from a heap consisting
of a quadrillion of pieces, they would hardly have yet
reckoned the thousandth part of that quantity.
All numbers are represented by the ten following cha¬
racters.
123 4567 8 9 0
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, cipher.
The nine first are called significantJigures, or digits ;
and sometimes represent units, sometimes tens, hundreds,
or higher classes. When placed singly, they denote
the simple numbers subjoined to the characters; when
several are placed together, the first or right-hand figure
only is to be taken for its simple value; the second signi¬
fies so many tens, the third so many hundreds, and the
others so many higher classes, according to the order
they stand in. And as it may sometimes be required to
express a number consisting of tens, hundreds, or higher
classes, without any units or classes of a low^er rank an¬
nexed, and as this can only be done by figures standing
in the second, third, or higher places, while there are
none to fill up the lower ones; therefore an additional
character or cipher (0) is necessary, which has no signi¬
fication when placed by itself, but serves to supply the
vacant places, and bring the figures to their proper station.
The following table shows the names and divisions of
the classes.
8.4 3 7,9 8 2.5 6 4, 7 3 8. 9 7 2, 6 4 5.
tii in w in w
S S H c c
O O O O o
^2 ^3 ^2
cc co
c s a _
o o o £
a
o.2
w ° w a
5 ro *2 «! 'a
2 5 2 2 =
a « S o 3
a 2 oh^
h -
p3 S
oh
a
a
w
a
o o
■ H
£ £ £ %
«
* 0 °
£ r3 ^ c/2 M
O C 3 ^
§!!-§!
^ § o H W
. £3
a
3
w
tn ui ui in vi m
r3 T3 rG '”3 C 4-*
a a a o o "c
OS c3 as s- H ^
co cc to ^
a 3 3 C
0 0 0 3
X -a a: -c
« ~ Eh H
!2 *3 a
0 <3
o o lh
a a
a 3
The first six figures from the right hand are called the
unit period, the next six the million period, after which
* ^ri^oni quadrillion, quintillion, sextillipn, septillion, oc¬
tillion, and nonillion periods follow in their order.
It is proper to divide any number, before we reckon it,
]nto periods and half periods, by different marks. We
t ien begin at the left hand, and read the figures in their
oner, with the names of their places, from the table. In
writing any number, we must be careful to mark the figures Addition,
in their proper places, and supply the vacant places with'^v'^*-'
ciphers.
As there are no possible ways of changing numbers, ex¬
cept by enlarging or diminishing them according to some
given rule, it follows that the whole art of arithmetic is
comprehended in two operations, Addition and Subtraction.
However, as it is frequently required to add several equal
numbers together, or to subtract several equal ones from
a greater, till it be exhausted, proper methods have been
invented for facilitating the operation in these cases, and
distinguished by the names of Multiplication and Division;
and these four rules are the foundation of all arithmetical
operations whatever.1
As the idea of number is acquired by observing several
objects collected, so is that of fractions by observing an
object divided into several parts. As we sometimes meet
with objects broken into two, three, or more parts, we
may consider any or all of these divisions promiscuously,
which is done in the doctrine of vulgar fractions. How¬
ever, since the practice of collecting units into parcels of
tens has prevailed universally, it has been found conveni¬
ent to follow a like method in the consideration of frac¬
tions, by dividing each unit into ten equal parts, and each
of these into ten smaller parts; and so on. Numbers di¬
vided in this manner are called Decimal Fractions.
Chap. II.—Addition.
Addition is that operation by which we find the amount
of two or more numbers. The method of doing this in
simple cases is obvious, as soon as the meaning of number
is known, and admits of no illustration. A young learner
will begin at one of the numbers, and reckon up as many
units separately as there are in the other, and practice
will enable him to do it at once. It is impossible, strictly
speaking, to add more than two numbers at a time. We
must first find the sum of the first and second, then we
add the third to that number, and so on. However, as
the several sums obtained are easily retained in the me¬
mory, it is neither necessary nor usual to mark them
down. When the numbers consist of more figures than
one, we add the units together, the tens together, and so
on. But if the sum of the units exceed ten, or contain
ten several times, we add the number of tens it contains
to the next column, and only set down the number of units
that are over. In like manner we carry the tens of every
column to the next higher. And the reason of this is
obvious from the value of the places ; since an unit, in any
higher place, signifies the same thing as ten in the place
immediately lower.
Example.-
Rule.— Write the numbers distinctly, units 346863
under units, tens under tens, and so on. Then 876734
reckon the amount of the right-hand column. If 123467
it be under ten, mark it down. If it exceed ten, 314213
mark the units only, and carry the tens to the 712316
next place. In like manner, carry the tens of 438987
each column to the next, and mark down the full 279654
sum of the left-hand column. 3092234
24433
As it is of great consequence in business to perform
addition readily and exactly, the learner ought to practise
it till it become quite familiar. If the learner can readily
add any two digits, he will soon add a digit to a higher
number with equal ease. It is only to add the unit place
To abbreviate, it is sometimes convenient to indicate the four operations of arithmetic by the signs +,—, x, -f-. The first,
en°les addition ; the second, —, indicates subtraction; the third, x, multiplication; and the fourth, -r- division. The sign = put be¬
tween twb quantities indicates that they are equal. Accordingly we may write 2 + 3 = 5; 7 — 3 = 4; 5x3 = 15;14-j-2 = 7.
544
ARITHMETIC.
Addition, of that number to the digit; and if it exceed ten, it raises
^the amount accordingly. Thus, because 8 and 6 are 14,
48 and 6 are 54. It will be proper to mark down under the
sums of each column, in a small hand, the figure that is
carried to the next column. This prevents the trouble ox
going over the whole operation again, in case of interrup¬
tion or mistake. If you wish to keep the account clean,
mark down the sum and figure you carry on a separate
paper, and after revising them, transcribe the sum only.
After some practice, we ought to acquire the habit of add¬
ing two or more figures at one glance. This is particu¬
larly useful when two figures which amount to 10, as 6
and 4, or 7 and 3, stand together in the column.
Every operation in arithmetic ought to be revised, to
prevent mistakes; and as one is apt to fall into the same
mistake, if he revise it in the same manner he performed
it, it is proper either to alter the order, or else to trace
back the steps by which the operation advanced, which
will lead us at last to the number we began with. Every
method of proving accounts may be referred to one or
other of these heads.
ls£, Addition may be proved by any of the following
methods: Repeat the operation, beginning at the top of
the column, if you began at the foot when you wrought it.
Sc?, Divide the account into several parts; add these
separately, and then add the sums together. If their
amount correspond with the sum of the account when
added at once, it may be presumed right. This method
is particularly proper when you want to know the sums
of the parts as well as that of the whole.
3d, Subtract the numbers successively from the sum;
if the account be right, you will exhaust it exactly, and
find no remainder.
When the given number consists of articles of different
value, as pounds, shillings, and pence, or the like, which
are called different denominations, the operations in arith¬
metic must be regulated by the value of the articles.
We shall give here a few of the most useful tables.
I. Sterling Money. II. Avoirdupois Weight.
4 farthings = 1 penny, 16 drams = 1 ounce, oz.
marked d. 16 ounces = 1 pound, lb.
12 pence = 1 shilling, s. 28 pounds = 1 quarter, qr.
20 shillings = 1 pound, £. 4 quart. = 1 hundredw1, cwt.
Also 6s. 8d. = 1 noble. 20 hundredw1 = 1 ton, T.
12s. = 1 angel.
13s. 4d. or two thirds of
a pound = 1 merk.
Scots money is divided in the same manner as sterling,
and has one twelfth of its value. A pound Scots is equal
to Is. 8d. sterling, a shilling Scots to a penny sterling, and
a penny Scots to a twelfth part of a penny sterling; a merk
Scots is two thirds of a pound Scots, or IS^d. sterling.
III. Troy Weight. IV. Apothecaries Weight.
20 mites = 1 grain, gr. 20 grains = 1 scruple,
24 grains = 1 pennyw*, dwt. 3 scruples = 1 dram, 5
20 pennyw*8 = 1 ounce, oz.
12 ounces = 1 pound, lib.
V. English Dry Measure.
2 pints = 1 quart
4 quarts = 1 gallon
2 gallons = 1 peck
4 pecks = 1 bushel
8 bushels = 1 quarter
VII. English Land Mea¬
sure.
30^ square yards = 1 pole
or perch
40 poles = 1 rood
4 roods = 1 acre
IX. Long Measure.
12 inches = 1 foot
3 feet = 1 yard
5^ yards = 1 pole
40 poles = 1 furlong
8 furlongs = 1 mile
3 miles = 1 league
X. Time.
Subtra
60 seconds = 1 minute tion,
60 minutes = 1 hour
24 hours = 1 day
7 days = 1 week
365 days =: 1 year
52 weeks and 1 day = 1 year
8 drams = 1 ounce, g
12 ounces = 1 pound, lb.
VI. Scots Dry Measure.
4 lippies = 1 peck
4 pecks = 1 firlot
4 firlots = 1 boll
16 bolls = 1 chalder
VIII. Scots Land Mea¬
sure.
36 square ells = 1 fall
40 falls = 1 rood
4 roods = 1 acre
Rule for Compound Addition.—Arrange like quan¬
tities under like, and carry according to the value of the
higher place.
Note 1. When you add a denomination which contains
more columns than one, and from which you carry to the
higher by 20, 30, or any even number of tens, first add
the units of that column, and mark down their sum, car¬
rying the tens to the next column; then add the tens,
and carry to the higher denomination, by the number of
tens that it contains of the lower. For example, in add¬
ing shillings, carry by 10 from the units to the tens, and
by 2 from the tens to the pounds.
Note 2. If you do not carry by an even number of tens,
first find the complete sum of the lower denomination,
then inquire how many of the higher that sum contains, and
carry accordingly, and mark the remainder, if any, under
the column. For example, if the sum of a column of pence
be 43, which is three shillings and sevenpence, mark 7 under
the pence column, and carry 3 to that of the shillings.
Note 3. Some add the lower denominations after the
following method: when they have reckoned as many as
amounts to one of the higher denomination, or upwards,
they mark a dot, and begin again with the excess of the
number reckoned above the value of the denomination.
The number of dots shows how many are carried, and the
last reckoned number is placed under the column.
Sterling Money.
Examples.
£
127 13
43 5
806 18
190 2
214 0
85 15
d.
3
101
7
*!
3
^2
Avoirdupois Weight.
T. cwt. qr. lb.
3 15 2
24
0 19
18 1
26
0
10
12
1467 15 94
24 11 0
Chap. III.—Subtraction.
Subtraction is the operation by which we take a
lesser number from a greater, and find their difference.
It is exactly opposite to addition, and is performed in a
like manner, beginning at the greater, and reckoning
downwards the units of the lesser. The greater is called
the minuend, and the lesser the subtrahend.
If any figure of the subtrahend be greater than the
corresponding figure of the minuend, we add ten to that
of the minuend, and having found and marked the differ¬
ence, we add one to the next place of the subtrahend.
This is called borrowing ten. The reason will appear, it
we consider that, when two numbers are equally increased
by adding the same to both, their difference will not be
altered. When we proceed as directed above, we add
ten to the minuend, and we likewise add one to the
higher place of the subtrahend, which is equal to ten of
the lower place.
Rule.—Subtract units from units, tens from tens, and
so on. If any figure of the subtrahend be greater than the
corresponding one of the minuend, borrow ten.
Example. Minuend 173694 738641
Subtrahend 21453 379235
Remainder 152241
359406
ARITHMETIC.
545
Su rac- To prove subtraction, add the subtrahend and remain-
11. der together; if their sum be equal to the minuend, the
account is right.
Or subtract the remainder from the minuend. If the
difference be equal to the subtrahend, the account is right.
Rule for Compound Subtraction.—Place like de¬
nominations under like; and borrow, ivken necessary, ac¬
cording to the value of the higher place.
Examples.
£ *. d.
146 3 3
58 7 6
87 15 9
Cwt. qr. lib.
12 3 19
4 3 24
7 3 23
A. R. F E.
15 2 24 18
12 2 36 7
2 3 2S-II
Note 5. As custom has established the method of pla- Multipli.
cing the subtrahend under the minuend, we follow it cation,
when there is no reason for doing otherwise; the minuend
may be placed under the subtrahend with equal pro¬
priety ; and the learner should be able to work it either
way with equal readiness, as this last is sometimes more
convenient, of which instances will occur afterwards.
Note 6. The learner should also acquire the habit,
when two numbers are marked down, of placing such a
number under the lesser, that, when added together, the
sum may be equal to the greater. The operation is the
same as subtraction, though conceived in a different
manner, and is useful in balancing accounts and on other
occasions.
Note 1. The reason for borrowing is the same as in
simple subtraction. Thus, in subtracting pence, we add
12 pence when necessary to the minuend, and at the
next step we add one shilling to the subtrahend.
Note 2. When there are two places in the same deno¬
mination, if the next higher contain exactly so many
tens, it is best to subtract the units first, borrowing ten
when necessary ; and then subtract the tens, borrowing,
if there is occasion, according to the number of tens in
the higher denomination.
Note 3. If the value of the higher denomination be not
an even number of tens, subtract the units and tens at
once, borrowing according to the value of the higher de¬
nomination.
Note 4. Some choose to subtract the place in the sub¬
trahend, when it exceeds that of the minuend, from the
value of the higher denomination, and add the minuend
to the difference. This is only a different order of pro¬
ceeding, and gives the same answer.
Chap. IV.—^Multiplication.
In multiplication two numbers are given, and it is re¬
quired to find how much the first amounts to when reck¬
oned as many times as there are units in the second. Thus,
8 multiplied by 5, or 5 times 8, is 40. The given num¬
bers (8 and 5) are called factors, the first (8) the multi¬
plicand, the second (5) the multiplier, and the amount
(40) the product.
This operation is nothing else than addition of the same
number several times repeated. If we mark 8 five times
under each other, and add them, the sum is 40. But as
this kind of addition is of frequent and extensive use, in
order to shorten the operation, we mark down the num¬
ber only once, and conceive it to be repeated as often as
there are units in the multiplier.
For this purpose the learner must be thoroughly ac¬
quainted with the following multiplication table, which is
composed by adding each digit twelve times.
Twice
1 is 2
2 4
3 6
4 8
5 10
6 12
7 14
8 16
9 18
10 20
11 22
12 24
Thrice
1 is 3
2 6
3 9
4 12
5 15
6 18
7 21
8 24
9 27
10 30
11 33
12 36
Four times
1 is 4
2 8
3 12
4 16
5 20
6 24
7 28
8 32
9 36
10 40
11 44
12 48
Five times
1 is 5
2 10
3 15
4 20
5 25
6 30
7 35
8 40
9 45
10 50
11 55
12 60
Six times
1 is 6
2 12
3 18
4 24
5 30
6 36
7 42
8 48
9 54
10 60
11 66
12 72
Seven times
1 is 7
2 14
3 21
4 28
5 35
6 42
7 49
8 56
9 63
10 70
11 77
12 84
Eight times
1 is 8
2 16
3 24
4 32
5 40
6 48
7 56
8 64
9 72
10 80
11 88
12 96
Nine times
1 is 9
2 18
3 27
4 36
5 45
6 54
7 63
8 72
9 81
10 90
11 99
12 108
Ten times
1 is 10
2 20
3 30
4 40
5 50
6 60
7 70
8 80
9 90
10 100
11 110
12 120
Twelve times
1 is 12
2 24
3 36
4 48
5 60
6 72
7 84:
8 96
9 108
10 120
11 132
12 144
Eleven times
1 is II
2 22
3 33
4 44
5 55
6 66
7 77
8 88
9 99
10 110
11 121
12 132
If both factors be under 12, the table exhibits the pro¬
duct at once. If the multiplier only be under 12, we be¬
gin at the unit place and multiply the figures in their or¬
der, carrying the tens to the higher place, as in addition.
Ex. 76859 multiplied by 4, or 76859 added 4 times.
4 76859
76859
76859
307436
307436
If the multiplier be 10, we annex a. cipher to the mul¬
tiplicand ; if the multiplier be 100, we ajinex two ci¬
phers, and so on. The reason is obvious, from the use of
ciphers in notation.
If the multiplier be any digit, with one or more ciphers
on the right hand, we multiply by the figure, and annex
an equal number of ciphers to the product. Thus, if it
be required to multiply by 50, we first multiply by 5, and
then annex a cipher. It is the same thing as to add the
multiplicand 50 times; and this might be done by writ-
vol. in.
ing the account at large, dividing the column into 10 parts
of 5 lines, finding the sum of each part, and adding these
ten sums together.
If the multiplier consists of several significant figures,
we multiply separately by each, and add the products. It
is the same as if we divided a long account of addition
into parts corresponding to the figures of the multiplier.
Example. To multiply 7329 by 365.
7329 7329 7329 36645 = 5 times.
5 60 300 439740 = 60 times.
      2198700 — 300 times.
36645 439740 2198700    
2675085 = 365 times.
It is obvious that 5 times the multiplicand added to 60
times, and to 300 times the same, must amount to the
product required. In practice we place the products at
once under each other; and as the ciphers arising from
the higher places of the multiplier are lost in the addition,
we omit them. Hence may be inferred the following
546
ARITHMETIC.
Multipli- Rule.—Place the multiplier under the multiplicand, and
cation, multiply the latter successively by the significant figures of
gie former, placing the right-hand figure of each product
under the figure of the multiplier from which it arises, then
add the product.
Ex. 7329 42785 37846 93956
365 91 235 8704
36645
43974
21987
42785
385065
3893435
189230
113538
75692
375824
657692
751648
2675085 8893810 817793024
A number which cannot be produced by the multipli¬
cation of two others is called a prime number ; as 3, 5, 7,
11, and many others. #
A number which may be produced by the multiplica¬
tion of two or more smaller ones, is called a composite
number; for example, 27, which arises from the multi¬
plication of 9 by 3; and these numbers, 9 and 3, are call¬
ed the component parts of 27.
Contractions and Varieties in Multiplication.
ls£, If the multiplier be a composite number, we may
multiply successively by the component parts.
Ex. 7638 by 45, or 5 times 9 7638
45 9
38190
30552
68742
5
343710
343710
Because the second product is equal to five times the
first, and the first is equal to nine times the multiplicand,
it is obvious that the second product must be five times
nine, or forty-five times as great as the multiplicand.
2dly, If the multiplier be 5, which is the half of 10,
we may annex a cipher and divide by 2. If it be 25,
which is the fourth part of 100, we may annex two ci¬
phers and divide by 4. Other contractions of the like
kind will readily occur to the learner.
Mly, To multiply by 9, which is one less than 10,
we may annex a cipher, and subtract the multiplicand
from the number it composes. To multiply by 99999, or
any number of 9’s, annex as many ciphers, and subtract
the multiplicand. The reason is obvious ; and a like rule
may be found though the unit place be different from 9.
\lJdy, Sometimes a line of the product is more easily
obtained from a former line of the same than from the
multiplicand.
Ex. 1st. 1372 2d. 1348
84 36
5488
10976
115248
8088
4044
48528
114848
918784
9302688
13849284
166191408
332382816
product by 12, instead of multiplying separately by 8 and Multip
4 ; lastly, because twice 48 is 96, we multiply the^second catior
line of the product by 2, instead of multiplying separate-'V^v>
ly by 6 and 9.
When we follow this method, we must be careful to
place the right-hand figure of each product under the
right-hand figure of that part of the multiplier which it is
derived from.
It would answer equally well in all cases to begin the
work at the highest place of the multiplier ; and contrac¬
tions are sometimes obtained by following that order.
Ex. \st. 3125
642
18750
12500
6250
3125
642
2d.
32452
52575
2006250
18750
131250
2006250
162260
811300
2433900
1706163900
It is a matter of indifference which of the factors be
used as the multiplier; for 4 multiplied by 3 gives the
same product as 3 multiplied by 4; and the like holds
universally true. To illustrate this, we may make three
rows of points, four in each row, placing the ....
rows under each other; and we shall have ....
also four rows containing three points each, ....
if we reckon the rows downwards.
Multiplication is proved by repeating the operation,
using the multiplier for the multiplicand, and the multi¬
plicand for the multiplier. It may also be proven by divi¬
sion, or by casting out the 9’s, of which afterwards; and
an account, wrought by any contraction, may be proven
by performing the operation at large, or by a different
contraction.
Compound Multiplication.
Rule I.—If the multiplier do not exceed 12, the operation
is performed at once, beginning at the loivest place, and car¬
rying according to the value of the place.
Examples.
£. s. d.
13 6 7
 9
119 19 3
Cwt. qr. lb.
12 2 8
62 3 12
A. R. P.
13 3 18
6
83 0 28
Lb. oz. dwt.
7 5 9
12
89 5 8
Rule II.—If the multiplier be a composite number, whose
component parts do not exceed 12, multiply first by one of
these parts, then multiply the product by the other. Pro¬
ceed in the same manner if there be more than two.
In the first example, instead of multiplying by 8, we
may multiply 5488 by 2 ; and, in the second, instead of
multiplying by 3, we may divide 8088 by 2.
bthly, Sometimes the product of two or more figures
may be obtained at once, from the product of a figure al¬
ready found.
Ex. 1st. 14356 2d. 3462321
648 96484
Ex. ls£.
2d.
£15 3 8 by 32 = 8x4
8
£121 9
8 times.
£485 17 4 = 32 times.
£17 3 8 by 75 = 5x5x3
3
£51 11 - = 3 times.
5
£257 15 - = 15 times.
5
£1288 15 -= 75 times.
Note 1. Although the component parts will answer in
any order, it is best, when it can be done, to take them in
334058579364 such order as may clear off some of the lower places at
In the second example we multiply first by 4, then, be- the first multiplication, as is done in Ex. 2d.
cause 12 times 4 is 48, we multiply the first line of the Note 2. The operation may be proved by taking the
ARITHMETIC.
547
Ke, ;!,ion.component parts in a different order, or dividing the mul-
w ^^tiplier in a different manner.
Rule III.—If the multiplier he a prime number, multiply
first by the composite number next lower, then by the differ¬
ence, and add the products.
£35 17 9 by 67 — 64 + 3 Here, because 8 times 8
8 64 = 8 X 8 is 64, we multiply twice
by 8, which gives £2296.
£287 2
£2296 16
107 13
- = 8 times.
8
- — 64 times.
3= 3 times.
£2404 9 3 = 67 times.
16s. equal to 64 times the
multiplicand : then we find
the amount of 3 times
the multiplicand, which is
£107. 13s. 3d.; and it is
evident that these added
amount to 67, the multi¬
plicand.
Rule IV.—If there be a composite number a little above
the multiplier, ice may multiply by that number, and by the
difference, and subtract the second product from the first.
£17 4 5 by 106= 108— 2 Here we multiply
12 108 = 9 X 12 by 12 and 9, the com-
£206 13 - ponent parts of 108,
9
£1859 17 - = 108 times.
34 8 10 = 2 times.
£1825 8 2 = 106 times-
and obtain a product
of £1859.17s. equal to
108 times the multi¬
plicand ; and, as this
is twice oftener than
was required, we sub¬
tract the multiplicand
doubled, and the re¬
mainder. is the num¬
ber sought.
Rule V.—If the multiplier be large, multiply by 10, and
multiply the product again by 10 ; by ivhich means you ob¬
tain an hundred times the given number. If the multiplier
exceed 1000, multiply by 10 again ; and continue it farther
if the multiplier require it; then multiply the given number
by the unit-place of the multiplier ; the first product by the
ten-place, the second product by the hundred-place, and so
on. Add the products thus obtained together.
£34 8 2J by 5= £172 1 0|= 5 times.
10
10 times
£344 2 1 by 6 =
10
100 times £3441 - 10 by 4 =
10
20G4 12 6 = GO times.
13764 3 4 = 400 times.
1000 times £34410 8 4 by 3 = 103231 5 - =3000 times.
£119232 1 10£ =3465 times.
The use of multiplication is to compute the amount of
any number of equal articles, either in respect of mea¬
sure, weight, value, or any other consideration. The mul¬
tiplicand expresses how much is to be reckoned for each
article, and the multiplier expresses how many times that
is to be reckoned. As the multiplier points out the num¬
ber of articles to be added, it is always an abstract num¬
ber, and has no reference to any value or measure what¬
ever. It is therefore quite improper to attempt the mul¬
tiplication of shillings by shillings, or to consider the mul¬
tiplier as expressive of any denomination.
Reduction.
Reduction is the computation for changing any sum of
money, weight, or measure, into a different kind. When
the quantity given is expressed in different denominations,
we reduce the highest to the next lower, and add thereto
the given number of that denomination; and proceed in
like manner till we have reduced it to the lowest denomi¬
nation.
Ex. To reduce £46. 13s. 8fd. to farthings
£46
20
Division.
920 shillings in £46
13
933 shillings in £46 13
12
£46 13
11196 pence in
8
11204 pence in
4
£46 13 8
44816 farthings in £46 13
3
8
Or thus:
£46 13 8f.
20
933
12
11204
 4_
44819
44819 farthings in £46 13 8|
It is easy to take in or add the higher denomination at
the same time we multiply the lower.
Chap. V.—Division.
In division two numbers are given, and it is required
to find how often the former contains the latter. Thus,
it may be asked how often 21 contains 7, and the answer
is exactly 3 times. The former given number (21) is
called the dividend, the latter (7) the divisor, and the
number required (3) the quotient. It frequently hap¬
pens that the division cannot be completed exactly with¬
out fractions. Thus it may be asked, how often 8 is con¬
tained in 19 ? the answer is twice, and the remainder of 3.
This operation consists in subtracting the divisor from
the dividend, and again from the remainder, as often as
it can be done, and reckoning the number of subtrac¬
tions; as,
21 19
7 first subtraction 8 first subtraction
14 11
7 second subtraction 8 second subtraction
7 3 remainder.
7 third subtraction.
~0
As this operation, performed at large, would be very
tedious when the quotient is a high number, it is proper
to shorten it by every convenient method; and for this
purpose we may multiply the divisor by any number
whose product is not greater than the dividend, and so
subtract it twice or thrice, or oftener, at the same time.
The best way is to multiply it by the greatest number
that does not raise the product too high, and that number
is also the quotient. For example, to divide 45 by 7, we
inquire what is the greatest multiplier for 7 that does not
give a product above 45, and we shall find that it is 6;
and 6 times 7 is 42, which, subtracted from 45, leaves a
remainder of 3. Therefore 7 may be subtracted 6 times
from 45; or, which is the same thing, 45 divided by 7,
•gives a quotient of 6 and a remainder of three.
If the divisor do not exceed 12, we readily find the
highest multiplier that can be used from the multiplica¬
tion table. If it exceed 12, we may try any multiplier
that we think will answer. If the product be greater
than the dividend, the multiplier is too great; and if the
remainder, after the product is subtracted from the divi¬
dend, be greater than the divisor, the multiplier is too small.
In either of these cases we must try another. But the
attentive learner, after some practice, will generally hit
on the right multiplier at first.
If the divisor be contained oftener than ten times in
the dividend, the operation requires as many steps as
548
ARITHMETIC.
Division, there are figures in the quotient. For instance, if the
quotient be greater than 100, but less than 1000, it re¬
quires 3 steps. We first inquire how many hundred times
the divisor is contained in the dividend, and subtract the
amount of these hundreds. Then we inquire how often
it is contained ten times in the remainder, and subtract
the amount of these tens. Lastly, we inquire how many
single times it is contained in the remainder. The method
of proceeding will appear from the following example.
To divide 5936 by 8.
From 5936
Take 5600 = 700 times 8.
Rem.
From which take
Rem.
From which take
336
320 = 40 times 8.
16
16 = 2 times 8.
0 742 times 8 in all.
It is obvious, that as often as 8 is contained in 59, so
many hundred times it will be contained in 5900, or in
5936; and as often as it is contained in 33, so many ten
times it will be contained in 330, or in 336 ; and thus the
higher places of the quotient will be obtained with equal
ease as the lower. The operation might be performed by
subtracting 8 continually from the dividend, which will
lead to the same conclusion by a very tedious process.
After 700 subtractions, the remainder would be 336;
after 40 more it would be 16 ; and after 2 more the divi¬
dend would be entirely exhausted. In practice we omit
the ciphers, and proceed by the following
Rules.—1. Assume as many figures on the left hand of
the multiplier as contain the divisor once or oftener; find
how many times they contain it, and place the answer as the
highest figure of the quotient.
2. Multiply the divisor by the figure you have found, and
place the product under the part of the dividend from which
it is obtained.
3. Subtract the product from the figures above it.
4. Bring down the next figure of the dividend to the re¬
mainder, and divide the number it makes up as before.
Examples^] ls£, 8)5936(742
56-
33
32_
16
16
2d, 63)30114(478
252-
491
441
504
504
M, 365)974932(267 I jW
2449
2190
2593
2555
another are called its aliquot parts. Thus 2, 4, 6, 8, and Divisi01
12, are aliquot parts of 24. As it is often useful to dis-'^vv
cover numbers which measure others, we may observe,
\st. Every number ending with an even figure, that
is, with 2, 4, 6, 8, or 0, is measured by 2.
2dly, Every number ending with 5 or 0 is measured
by 5.
Sdly, Every number whose figures, when added, amount
to an even number of 3’s or 9’s, is measured by 3 or 9
respectively.
Contractions and Varieties in Division.
1st, When the divisor does not exceed 12, the whole
computation may be performed without setting down any
figures except the quotient.
Ex. 7)35868(5124 or 7)35868
51.24
2dly, When the divisor is a composite number, and one
of the component parts also measures the dividend, we
may divide successively by the component parts.
Ex. Is*,] 30114 by 63 2d,'l 975 by 105=5X7X3
5)975
3)195
7) 65
Quotient 9^
This method might be also used although the compo¬
nent parts of the divisor do not measure the dividend;
but the management of the remainder requires the doc¬
trine of vulgar fractions.
Sdly, When there are ciphers annexed to the divisor,
cut them off, and cut off an equal number of figures from
the dividend; annex those figures to the remainder.
Ex. To divide 378643 by 5200.
52|00)3786|43(72^243
9)30114
7) 3346
Quotient 478
364
146
104
"5 2(J0*
4243
382
365
Remainder 17
The numbers which we divide, as 59, 33, and 16, in the
first example, are called dividuals.
It is usual to mark a point under the figures of the di¬
vidend as they are brought down, to prevent mistakes.
If there be a remainder, the division is completed by a
vulgai fraction, whose numerator is the remainder, and its
denominator the divisor, dhus, in Ex. 3 the quotient is
2671, and the remainder 17; and the quotient completed
IS 2671 y/j.
A number which divides another without a remainder is
said to measure it; and the several numbers which measure
The reason will appear by performing the operation at
large, and comparing the steps.
To divide by 10, 100, 1000, or the like: Cut off as
many figures on the right hand of the dividend as there
are ciphers in the divisor. The figures which remain on
the left hand compose the quotient, and the figures cut
off compose the remainder.
Note.—Since 4 times 25 make 100, instead of dividing
by 25, we may multiply the dividend by 4, and cut off the
two last figures from the product. The figures left will
be the quotient, and those cut off the remainder. In like
manner, to divide by 125, which multiplied by 8 pro¬
duces 1000, we may multiply the dividend by 8, and cut
off three figures, which will be the remainder, and those
left the quotient.
bthly, When the divisor consists of several figures, we
may try them separately, by inquiring how often the first
figure of the divisor is contained in the first figure of the
dividend, and then considering whether the second and
following figures of the divisor be contained as often in
the corresponding ones of the dividend with the remainder
(if any) prefixed. If not, we must begin again, and make
trial of a lower number. When the remainder is nine or
upwards, we may be sure the division- will hold through
the lower places; and it is unnecessary to continue the
trial farther.
bthly, We may make a table of the products of the di¬
visor, multiplied by the nine digits, in order to discover
more readily how often it is contained in each dividual.
This is convenient when the dividend is very long, or
when it is required to divide frequently by the same divisor
ARITH
73 by 2 = 146
3 = 219
4 = 292
5 = 365
6 =438
7 = 511
8 = 584
9 = 657
73)53872694(737982
511 
277
219
582
511
716
657
599
584
154
146
Rem. 8
bihly, To divide by 9, 99, 999, or any number of 9’s,
transcribe under the dividend part of the same, shifting
the highest figure as many places to the right hand as
there are 9’s in the divisor. Transcribe it again, with the
like change of place, as often as the length of the divi¬
dend admits; add these together, and cut oft' as many
figures from the right hand of the sum as there are 9’s in
the divisor. The figures which remain on the left hand
compose the quotient, and those cut off the remainder.
If there be any carriage to the unit place of the quo¬
tient, add the number carried likewise to the remainder,
as in Ex. 2; and if the figures cut off be all 9’s, add 1 to
the quotient, and there is no remainder.
Ex. Is*, 99)324123 2d, 99)547825
3241 5478
32 54
3273)96
Quotient 3273 and rem. 96.
5533)57
1
Quotient 5533-58 rem.
3c?, 999)476523
476
476)999
_L 
Quotient 477
To explain the reason of this, we must recollect, that
whatever number of hundreds any dividend contains, it
contains an equal number of 99’s, together with an equal
number of units. In Ex. 1, the dividend contains 3241
hundreds, and a remainder of 23. It therefore contains
3211 times 99, and also 3241, besides the remainder al¬
ready mentioned.—Again, 3241 contains 32 hundreds
and a remainder of 41. It therefore contains 32 99’s,
and also 32, besides the remainder of 41. Consequently
the dividend contains 99, altogether, 3241 times and 32
times, that is, 3273 times, and the remainder consists of
23, 41, and 32, added, which make 96.
As multiplication supplies the place of frequent addi¬
tions, and division of frequent subtractions, they are only
repetitions and contractions of the simple rules; and,
when compared together, their tendency is exactly oppo¬
site. As numbers, increased by addition, are diminished
and brought back to their original quantity by subtrac¬
tion ; in like manner numbers compounded by multiplica¬
tion are reduced by division to the parts from which they
were compounded. The multiplier shows how many ad¬
ditions are necessary to produce the number; and the
quotient shows how many subtractions are necessary to
exhaust it. It follows that the product, divided by the
niultiplicand, will quote the multiplier; and because either
fiictor may be assumed for the multiplicand, therefore the
product divided by either factor quotes the other. It fol-
ows, also, that the dividend is equal to the product of the
M E T IC. 54c
divisor and quotient multiplied together; and hence these Division,
operations mutually prove each other.
To prove multiplication : Divide the product by either
factor. If the operation be right, the quotient is the other
factor, and there is no remainder.
lo prove division: Multiply the divisor and quotient
together; to the product add the remainder, if any; and,
if the operation be right, it makes up the dividend. Other¬
wise divide the dividend (after subtracting the remainder,
if any) by the quotient. If the operation be right, it will
quote the divisor. The reason of all those rules may be
collected from the last paragraph.
Compound Division.
Rule I.— When the dividend only consists of different
denominations, divide the higher denomination, and reduce
the remainder to the next lower, taking in (p. 547, Reduc¬
tion) the given number of that denomination, and continue
the division.
Examples.
Divide £465. 12s. 8d.
by 72.
£. s. d. £ s. d.
72)465 12 8 (694
432 •••
33
20
72)672
648
24
12
72)296
288
8 Rem.
Or we might divide by
the component parts of
72 as explained under
(fldly, p. 548).
Divide 345 cwt. 1 qr. 8 lb.
by 22.
Cwt. q. lb. Cwt. q. lb.
22)345 18 (15 2 22
22- ••
125
110
15
4
22)61
44
17
28
144
34
22)484
44
44
44
Rule II.— When the divisor is in different denomina¬
tions, reduce both divisor and dividend to the lowest denomi¬
nation, and proceed as in simple division. The quotient is
an abstract number.
To divide £38. 13s. by
£3. 4s. 5d.
£3
20
64
12
773
4 5
£38 13
20
773
12
)9276(12 quot.
773
1546
1546
To divide 96 cwt. I qr. 20 lb.
by 3 cwt. 2 qr. 8 lb.
Cwt. q. lb. Cwt. q.
3 2 8 ) 96 1
lb.
20
4
4
14
28
120
28
385
28
3100
770
4)00 )108|00(27 quot.
It is best not to reduce the terms lower than is neces¬
sary to render them equal. For instance, if each of them
consists of an even number of sixpences, fourpences, or
the like, we reduce them to sixpences or fourpences, but
not to pence.
The use of division is to find either of the factors by
whose multiplication a given number is produced when
the other factor is given, and therefore is of two kinds,
since either the multiplier or the multiplicand may be
550
ARITHMETIC.
Division.
given. If the former be given, it discovers what that
number is which is contained so many times in another.
If the latter be given, it discovers how many times one
number is contained in another. Thus, it answers the
questions of an opposite kind to those mentioned under
Rule IV. p. 547, as, to find the quantity of a single parcel
or share; to find the value, weight, or measure, of a single
article; to find how much work is done, provisions con¬
sumed, interest incurred, or the like, in a single day, &c.
The last use of division is a kind of reduction exactly
opposite to that described under Rule V. p. 547. The
manner of conducting and arranging it, when there are
several denominations in the question, will appear from
the following examples.
1 To reduce 15783 pence to
pounds, shillings, and pence.
20
12)15783(1315(65
12 • •• 120-
37 115
36 100
18 15
12
63
60
3
2. To reduce 174865 grs.
to lbs. oz. and dwt. Troy.
20 12
24)174865(7286(364(30
168*•• 60** 36-
68 128 04
48 120
206 86
192 80
145 6
144
Answer, £65. 15s. 3d. Ans. 30 lb. 4 oz. 6 dwt. 1 gr.
In the first example we reduce 15783 pence to shillings,
by dividing by 12, and obtain 1315 shillings, and a re¬
mainder of 3 pence. Then we reduce 1315 shillings to
pounds by dividing by 20, and obtain 65 pounds and a
remainder of 15 shillings. The divisions might have been
contracted.
In the practice of arithmetic questions often occur
which require both multiplication and division to resolve.
This happens in reduction, when the higher denomination
does not contain an exact number of the lower.
Rule for Mixed Reduction.—Reduce the given de¬
nomination by multiplication to some lower one which is an
aliquot part of both ; then reduce that by division to the de¬
nomination required.
Ex.—Reduce £31742 to guineas.
Here we multiply by 20,
which reduces the pounds to
shillings, and divide the pro¬
duct by 21, which reduces
the shillings to guineas.
10 Answer, 30230 guineas and 10 shillings.
Note 1. Guineas may be reduced to pounds by adding
one twentieth part of the number.
2. Pounds may be reduced to merks by adding one
half.
3. Merks may be reduced to pounds by subtracting one
third.
Another case which requires both multiplication and
division is, when the value, weight, measure, or duration
of any quantity is given, and the value, &c. of a different
quantity required, we first find the value, &c. of a single
article by division, and then the value, &c. of the quan¬
tity required, by multiplication.
31742
 20
21)634840(30230
63 
048
42
64
63
Ex. If 3 yards cost 15s. 9d. what will 7 yards cost at Divisk
the same rate ? k—y>
s. d.
3) 15 9 price of 3 yards.
5 3 price of 1 yard, by Rule IV. p. 547.
 7
£1 16 9 price of 7 yards (by par. ult. p. 549
col. 2.)
Many other instances might be adduced where the ope¬
ration and the reasons of it are equally obvious. These
are generally, though unnecessarily, referred to the rule
of proportion.
We shall now offer a general observation on all the
operations in arithmetic. When a computation requires
several steps, we obtain a just answer, whatever order we
follow. Some arrangements may be preferable to others
in point of ease, but all of them lead to the same conclu¬
sion. In addition or subtraction we may take the articles
in any order, as is evident from the idea of number; or
we may collect them into several sums, and add or sub¬
tract these either separately or together. When both
the simple operations are required to be repeated, we
may either complete one of them first, or may introduce
them promiscuously; and the compound operations admit
of the same variety. When several numbers are to be
multiplied together, we may take the factors in any order,
or we may arrange them into several classes, find the pro¬
duct of each class, and then multiply the products to¬
gether. When a number is to be divided by several others
we may take the divisors in any order, or we may multi¬
ply them into each other, and divide by the product; or
we may multiply them into several parcels, and divide by
the products successively. Lastly, When multiplication
and division are both required, we may begin with either;
and when both are repeatedly necessary, we may collect
the multipliers into one product and the divisors into
another, or we may collect them into parcels, or use them
singly, and that in any order. Still we shall obtain the
proper answer if none of the terms be neglected.
When both multiplication and division are necessary to
obtain the answer of a question, it is generally best to be¬
gin with the multiplication, as this order keeps the ac¬
count as clear as possible from fractions. The example
last given may be wrought accordingly as follows:
i. d.
15 9
7
3)5 10 3
1 16 9
Some accountants prove the operations of arithmetic
by a method which they call casting out the 9’s, depend¬
ing on the following principles:
ls£, If several numbers be divided by any divisor (the
remainders being always added to the next number), the
sum of the quotients, and the last remainder, will be the
same as those obtained when the sum of the number is
divided by the same divisor. Thus, 19, 15, and 23, con¬
tain together as many 5’s, as many 7’s, &c. as their sum
57 does, and the remainders are the same; and, in this
way, addition may be proven by division. It is from the
correspondence of the remainders that the proof by cast¬
ing out the 9’s is deduced.
2dly, If any figure with ciphers annexed be divided
by 9, the quotient consists entirely of that figure; and
the remainder is also the same. Thus, 40 divided by 9
quotes 4, remainder 4; and 400 divided by 9 quotes 44,
remainder 4. The same holds with all the digits, and the
reason will be easily understood: every digit, with a «-
4
ARITHMETIC.
Divi »n. pher annexed, contains exactly so many tens; it must
^ therefore contain an equal number of 9’s, besides a re¬
mainder of an equal number of units.
Sdhj, If any number be divided by 9, the remainder is
equal to the sum of the figures of the number, or to the
remainder obtained, when that sum is divided by 9. For
instance, 3765 divided by 9 leaves a remainder of 3 ; and
the sum of 3, 7, 6, and 5, is 21, which divided by 9 leaves
a remainder of 3. The reason of this will appear from the
following illustration:
3000 divided by 9 quotes 333, remainder 3
700 9 quotes 77, remainder 7
60 9 quotes 6, remainder 6
5 9 quotes 0, remainder 5
3765 416, sumofrem.21
Again: 21 divided by 9 quotes 2, remainders;
wherefore, 3765 divided by 9 quotes 418, remainders;
for the reason given. Hence we may collect the follow¬
ing rules for practice :
To cast the 9’s out of any number, or to find what re¬
mainder will be left when any number is divided by 9 : add
the figures; and when the sum exceeds 9, add the figures
which would express it. Pass by the 9’s; and when the
sum comes exactly to 9, neglect it, and begin anew. For
example, if it be required to cast the 9’s out of 3573294,
we reckon thus; 3 and 5 are 8, and 7 is 15; 1 and 5 are 6,
and 3 is 9, which we neglect; 2 and (passing by 9) 4 are
6; which is the remainder or Result. If the article out
of which the 9’s are to be cast contains more denomina¬
tions than one, we cast the 9's out of the higher, and mul¬
tiply the result by the value of the lower, and carry on
the product (casting out the 9’s, if necessary) to the
lower.
To prove addition, cast the 9’s out of the several ar¬
ticles, carrying the results to the following articles; cast
them also out of the sum. If the operation be right, the
results will agree.
To prove subtraction, cast the 9's out of the minuend;
cast them also out of the subtrahend and remainder to¬
gether; and if you obtain the same result, the operation
is presumed right.
To prove multiplication, cast the 9’s out of the multi¬
plicand, and also out of the multiplier if above 9. Mul¬
tiply the results together, and cast the 9’s, if necessary,
out of their product. Then cast the 9’s out of the product,
and observe if this result correspond with the former.
Ex. 1st, 9276 res. 6 x 8 = 48 res. 3.
 8 :•
74208 res. 3.
2d, 7898 res. 5 x 3 = 15 res. 6.
48 res. 3
63184
31592
379104 res. 6.
The reason of this will be evident, if we consider mul¬
tiplication under the view of repeated addition. In the
first Example it is obviously the same. In the second, we
may suppose the multiplicand repeated 48 times. If this
he done, and the 9’s cast out, the result, at the end of the
9th line, will be 0; for any number, repeated 9 times,
and divided by 9, leaves no remainder. The same must
happen at the end of the 18th, 27th, 36th, and 45th lines;
and the last result will be the same as if the multiplicand
had only been repeated 3 times. This is the reason for
casting out the 9’s from the multiplier as well as the mul¬
tiplicand.
To prove division, cast the 9’s out of the divisor, and
3 » n«w yifgib yfovo ? boolsnohne aa Hiv noacun
551
also out of the quotient; multiply the results, and cast Simple
the 9’s out of the product. If there be any remainder, Propor-
add to it the result, casting out the 9’s if necessary. If tion-
the account be right, the last result will agree with that
obtained from the dividend.
Ex. 42) 2490 (59 res. 5 X 6 = 30 res. 3.
res. 6. 210
390
378
Rem. 12 - - res. 3.
6
And the result of the dividend is 6.
This depends on the same reason as the last; for the
dividend is equal to the product of the divisor, and quo¬
tient added to the remainder.
We cannot recommend this method, as it lies under the
following disadvantages.
Is#, If an error of 9, or any of its multiples, be com¬
mitted, the results will nevertheless agree; and so the
error will remain undiscovered. And this will always be
the case when a figure is placed or reckoned in a wrong
column, which is one of the most frequent causes of
error.
2dly, When it appears by the disagreement of the re¬
sults that an error has been committed, the particular
figure or figures in which the error lies are not pointed
out, and consequently it is not easily corrected.
Chap. VI—Rule of Proportion.
SECT. I. SIMPLE PROPORTION.
Quantities are reckoned proportional to each other
when they are connected in such a manner, that if one of
them be increased or diminished, the other increases or
diminishes at the same time, and the degree of the alter¬
ation on each is a like part of its original measure. Thus,
lour numbers are in the same proportion, the first to the
second as the third to the fourth, when the first contains
the second, or any part of it, as often as the third contains
the fourth, or the like part of it. In either of these cases,
the quotient of the first divided by the second is equal
to that of the third divided by the fourth; and this quo¬
tient may be called the measure of the proportion.
Proportionals are marked down in the following manner:
6 : 3 :: 8 : 4
12 : 36 :: 9 : 27
9 : 6 :: 24 : .16
16 : 24 :: 10 : 15
The rule of Proportion directs us, when three numbers
are given, how to find a fourth, to which the third may
have the same proportion that the first has to the second.
It is sometimes called the Rule of Three, from the three
numbers given ; and sometimes the Golden Rule, from its
various and extensive utility.
Rule. Multiply the second and third terms together, and
divide the product by the first.
Ex. To find a fourth proportional to 18, 27, and 34.
18 : 27 :: 34 : 51
34
108
81
18)918(51
90
18
18
To explain the reason of this, we must observe, that if
• h'Hfs'ji&iiifotti yd tf: r: A n yl*
552
ARITHMETIC.
Simple two or more numbers be multiplied or divided alike, the
Proper- products or quotients will have the same proportion,
tion. 18 . 27
^ Multiplied by 34, 612 : 918
Divided by 18, 34 : 51
The products 612, 918, and the quotients 34, 51, have
therefore the same proportion to each other that 18 has to
27. In the course of this operation, the products of the
first and third terms are divided by the first; therefore the
quotient is equal to the third.
The first and second terms must always be of the same
kind; that is, either both moneys, weights, measures,
both abstract numbers, or the like. The fourth, or num¬
ber sought, is of the same kind as the third.
When any of the terms is in more denominations than
one, we may reduce them all to the lowest. But this is
not always necessary. The first and second should not
be reduced lower than directed, p. 549, col. 2, par. penult.;
and when either the second or third is a simple number,
the other, though in different denominations, may be mul¬
tiplied without reduction.
£ s. d.
Ex. 5 : 7 :: 25 11 3
7
 - £ s. d.
5) 178 18 9 (35 15 9
The accountant must consider the nature of every
question, and observe the circumstance which the propor¬
tion depends on; and common sense will direct him to
this if the terms of the question be understood. It is
evident that the value, weight, and measure of any com¬
modity is proportioned to its quantity; that the amount
of work or consumption is proportioned to the time ; that
gain, loss, or interest, when the rate and time are fixed,
is proportioned to the capital sum from which it arises ;
and that the effect produced by any cause is proportion¬
ed to the extent of the cause. In these and many other
cases the proportion is direct, and the number sought in¬
creases or diminishes along with the term from which it
is derived.
In some questions, the number sought becomes less
when the circumstances from which it is derived become
greater. Thus, when the price of goods increases, the
quantity which may be bought for a given sum is smaller;
when the number of men employed at work is increased,
the time in which they may complete it becomes shorter;
and when the activity of any cause is increased, the
quantity necessary to produce a given effect is diminish¬
ed. In these and the like the proportion is said to be
inverse.
General Rule for stating all questions, whether direct
or inverse. Place that number for the third term which sig¬
nifies the same kind of thing with what is sought, and con¬
sider whether the number sought will be greater or less. If
greater, place the least of the other terms for the first; but if
less, place the greatest for the first.
Ex. ls£, If 30 horses plough 12 acres, how many will
42 plough in the same time ?
R. n. a
30 42:: 12-: answer.
Here, because the thing sought is a number of acres,
the place 12, the given number of acres, for the third term;
and because 42 horses will plough more than 30, we make
the lesser number, 30, the first term, and the greater
number, 42, the second term.
Ex. 2d, If 40 horses be maintained for a certain sum
on hay, at 5d. per stone, how many will be maintained on
the same sum when the price of hay rises to 8d.
d. d. H.
8 ; 5 :: 40 : answer.
Here, because a number of horses is sought, we makcComt)
the given number of horses, 40, the third term ; and be- Prop
cause fewer will be maintained for the same money when foi
the price of hay is dearer, we make the greater price, 8d.'^v '
the first term, and the lesser price, 5d. the second term.
The first of these examples is direct, the second inverse.
Every question consists of a supposition and demand. In
the first, the supposition is, that 30 horses plough 12 acres,
and the demand, how many 42 will plough ; and the first
term of the proportion, 30, is found in the supposition, in
this and every other direct question. In the second, the
supposition is, that 40 horses are maintained on hay at 5d.,
and the demand, how many will be maintained on hay at
8d. ? and the first term of the proportion, 8, is found in
the demand, in this and every other inverse question.
When a proportion is stated, if the first and second terms,
or first and third, be measured by the same number, we
may divide them by that measure, and use the quotients
in their stead.
Ex. If 36 yards cost 42 shillings, what will 27 cost ?
Y. Y. sh. Here 36 and 27 are both
36 : 27 :: 42 measured by 9, and we work
4 ; 3 :: 42 with the quotients 4 and 3.
3
*-  #. d.
4)126(31 6, the answer.
SECT. It.—COMPOUND PROPORTION.
Sometimes the proportion depends upon several cir¬
cumstances. Thus, it may be asked, if 18 men consume
6 bolls of corn in 28 days, how much will 24 men consume
in 56 days ? Here the quantity required depends part¬
ly on the number of men, partly on the time; and the
question may be resolved into the two following ones:
ls£, If 18 men consume 6 bolls in a certain time, how
many will 24 men consume in the same time ?
M. M. B. B.
18 ; 24 : 6 ; 8 Answer, 24 men will consume 8
6 bolls in the same time.
18jl44(8
2d, If a certain number of men consume 8 bolls in 28
days, how many will they consume in 56 days ?
B. D. B. B.
28 ; 56 :: 8 ; 16 Ans. The same number of men
8 will consume 16 bolls in 56 days.
28)448(16
In the course of this operation, the original number of
bolls, 6, is first multiplied into 24, then divided by 18, then
multiplied into 56, then divided by 28. It would answer
the same purpose to collect the multipliers into one pro¬
duct and the divisors into another, and then to multiply
the given number of bolls by the former, and divide the
product by the latter, p. 550, col. 2.
The above question may therefore be stated and wrought
as follows:
6 bolls Here we multiply 18 into
28 for a divisor, and 6 into
the product of 24 by 56 for
a dividend.
24
56
Men 18
Days 28
144 144
36 120
504 1344
6
504)8064(16, answer.
In general, state the several particulars on which the
question depends, as so many simple proportions, attend¬
ing to the sense of the question to discover whether the
proportions should be stated directly or inversely; then
multiply all the terms in the first rank together, and all
ARITHMETIC.
553
pis/bU-
^ tT?
pr^r-
ti-
those in the second rank together, and work with the
product as directed in the simple rule (Sect. i. p. 551.)
Ex. If 100 men make 3 miles of road in 27 days, in how
many days will 150 men make 5 miles ?
Men 150
3
450
100
5
500
27
27 days. Here the first stating is
inverse, because more men
will do it in fewer days;
but the second is direct,
because more miles will
450)13500(30 days, ans. require more days.
The following contraction is often useful. After stating
the proportion, if the same number occurs in both ranks,
dash it out from both ; or, if any term in the first rank
and another in the second rank are measured by the same
numbers, dash out the original terms, and use the quotients
in their stead.
Ex. If 18 men consume £30 value of corn in 9 months
when the price is 16s. per boll, how many will consume
£54 value in 6 months when the price is 12s. per boll ?
In this question the proportion depends upon three par¬
ticulars—the value of corn, the time, and price ; the first
of which is direct, because the greater the value of provi¬
sions is, the more time is required to consume them ; but
the second and third are inverse, for the greater the time
and price are, fewer men will consume an equal value.
Value $0
Months 0
Price ^
10
: M
9
£
4
36
18
288
36
18 men.
Here we observe 6 in the first
rank measures 54 in the second;
so we dash them out, and place the
quotient9 in the second rank. Next,
because 30 and 9 are both mea¬
sured by 3, we dash them out, and
place down the quotients 10 and 3 ;
then, because 12 and 16 are both
measured by 4, we dash them out
and place down the quotients 3 and
10)648(64^j 4. Lastly, because there is now 3
in both columns, we dash them out,
and work with the remaining terms,
according to the rule.
The moneys, weights, and measures of different coun¬
tries may be reduced from the proportion which they bear
to each other.
Ex. If 112 lb. avoirdupois make 104 lb. of Holland, and
1001b. of Holland make 89 of Geneva, and 110 of Geneva
make 117 of Seville, how many lbs. of Seville will make
1001b. avoirdupois ?
112 : 104 : : 100
100 : 89
110 : 117
If it be required how many lb. avoirdupois will make
100 of Seville, then the terms must be placed in the differ¬
ent columns thus,-
104
89
117
112
100
110
100
SECT. III. DISTRIBUTIVE PROPORTION.
If it be required to divide a number into parts which
have the same proportion to each other that several other
given numbers have, we add these numbers together, and
state the following proportion: As the sum is to the par¬
ticular numbers, so is the number required to be divided
to the several parts sought.
Ex. 1. Four partners engage to trade in company; A’s
stock is £150, B’s £320, C’s £350, D’s £500, and they gain
£730: Required how much belongs to each if the gain
be divided among them in proportion to their stocks ?
vol. in.
A’s stock £150
B’s 320
C’s 350
D’s 500
Whole stock £1320
1320 : 150 : : 730
1320 : 320 : : 730
1320 : 350 : : 730
1320 : 500 : : 730
Rem.
£ 82 ID 1—120
176 19 4—960
193 11 2—720
276 10 3—840
Proof £730
Practice.
This account is proved by adding the gains of the part¬
ners, the sum of which will be equal to the whole gain if
the operation be right; but if there be remainders, they
must be added, their sum divided by the common divisor,
and the quotient carried to the lowest place.
Ex. 2. A bankrupt owes A £146, B £170, C £45, D
£480, and E £72; his whole effects are only £342. 7s. 6d.
How much should each have ?
A’s debt £146 913 :
B’s 170 913 :
C’s 45 913 :
D’s 480 913 :
E’s 72 913 :
£913
146 :: £342 7 6
170 :: 342 ^ 6
45 : : 342 7 6
480 : : 342 7 6
72 :: 342 7 6
£ 54 15 A’s share.
63 15 B’s
16 17 6 C’s
180 D’s
27 E’s
£342 7 6
This might also be calculated by finding what compo¬
sition the bankrupt was able to pay per pound, which is
obtained by dividing the amount of his effects by the
amount of his debts, and comes to 7s. 6d., and then find¬
ing by the rules of practice how much each debt came to
at that rate.
Chap. VII.—Rules for Practice.
The operations explained in the foregoing chapters
comprehend the whole system of arithmetic, and are suf¬
ficient for every computation. In many cases, however,
the work may be contracted by adverting to the particu¬
lar circumstances of the question. We shall explain in
this chapter the most useful methods which practice has
suggested for rendering mercantile computations easy,
in which the four elementary rules of arithmetic are some¬
times jointly, sometimes separately employed.
SECT. I. COMPUTATION OF PRICES.
The value of any number of articles, at a pound, a shil¬
ling, or a penny, is an equal number of pounds, shillings,
or pence ; and these two last are easily reduced to pounds.
The value at any other rate may be calculated by easy
methods, depending on some contraction already explain¬
ed, or on one or more of the following principles.
Is/, If the rate be an aliquot part of a pound, a shilling,
or a penny, then an exact number of articles may be
bought for a pound, a shilling, or a penn}'; and the value
is found by dividing the given number accordingly. Thus,
to find the price of so many yards at 2s. 6d., which is the
eighth part of a pound, we divide the quantity by eight,
because every eight yards cost £1.
2d, If the rate be equal to the sum of two other rates
which are easily calculated, the value may be found by
computing these separately, and adding the sums obtain¬
ed. Thus, the price of so many yards at 9d. is found by
adding their prices at 6d. and 3d. together.
3d, If the rate be equal to the difference of two easy
rates, they may be calculated separately, and the lesser
subtracted from the greater. Thus, the value of so many
articles at lid. is found by subtracting their value at a
penny from their value at a shilling. We may suppose
that a shilling was paid for each article, and then a penny
returned on each.
4M, If the rate be a composite number, the value may be
found by calculating what it comes to at one of the com¬
ponent parts, and multiplying the same by the other.
Case I. When the rate is an aliquot part of a pound, divide
the quantity by the number which may be bought for a pound.
4 A
554
ARITHMETIC.
Practice.
Table of the aliquot parts of £1.
Ex. 2c?,]
10 shillings
6s. 8d.
5s.
4s.
3s. 4d.
2s. 6d.
2s.
Is. 8d.
loffl.
  i
¥
  i
— 4-
  i_
  1
— (T
  1
— 8
  1_
— 10
_ 1
Ex. !«<,] What Is the value
of 7463 yards, at 4s. ?
5)7463
£1492. 12s.
Is. 4d.
Is. 3d. =
Is. =
8d. =
6d. =
4d. =
= 4* of £1.
i
T3
1
I 6
1
21°
^0
At 6d. = i of Is. 4893
At 3d. = i of 6d. 2446
At 9d.
9786 at 9d. Here we suppose first 6d. Practic
and then 3d. to be paid for
each article; half the quan¬
tity is the number of shil-
T0
3d. _ ^
~U. —_i20
2c?,] Wliat is the value
of 1773 yards, at 3d.?
810)1773
£22. 3s. 3d.
In the first example we divide by 5 because 4s. is of
a pound; the quotient 1492 shows how many pounds they
amount to; besides which there remain three yards at 4s.,
and these come to 12s. In the second example we divide
by 80, as directed, and the quotient gives £22, and the
remainder 13 yards, which at 3d. come to 3s. 3d,
This method can only be used in calculating for the
particular prices specified in the table. I he following six
cases comprehend all possible rates, and will therefore ex¬
hibit different methods of solving the foregoing questions.
Case II. When the rate consists of shillings only, multi¬
ply the quantity by the number of shillings, and divide the
product by 20 ; Or, if the number of shillings be even, mul-
tivlu by half the number, and divide the product by 10.
Ex. Is?,] 4573 at 13s. 2(7,] 7543 at 14s.
13 7
Ex. 3c7,]
13719
4573
10)52801
£5280. 2s.
20)59449
£2972. 9s.
It is easy to perceive that the method in which the
second example is wrought must give the same answer as
if the quantity had been multiplied by 14 and divided by
20; and as the division by 10 doubles the last figure for
shillings, and continues all the rest unchanged for pounds,
we may obtain the answer at once, by doubling the right-
hand figure of the product before we set it down.
If the rate be the sum of two or more aliquot parts of
a pound, we may calculate these as directed in Case I.
and add them. If it be any odd number of shillings, we
may calculate for the even number next lower, and add
thereto the value of a shilling. If it be 19s. we may sub¬
tract the value at a shilling from the value at a pound.
Case III. When the rate consists of pence only.
Method 1. If the rate be an aliquot part of a shilling,
divide the quantity accordingly, which gives the answer
in shillings ; if not, it may be divided into two or more ali¬
quot parts : calculate these separately, and add the values;
reduce the answer to pounds.
1 penny is of a shilling.
2d. of ditto.
3d. ^ of ditto.
4d. ^ of ditto.
6d. £ of ditto.
5d. is the sum of 4d. and Id. or of 2d. and 3d.
7d. is the sum of 4d. and 3d. or of 6d. and Id.
8d. is the sum of 6d. and 2d. or the double of 4d.
9d. is the sum of 6d. and 3d.
lOd. is the sum of 6d. and 4d.
lid. is the sum of 6d. 3d. and 2d.
Ex. Is?,] 7423 at 4d. Here, because 4d. is one
3)7423 third of a shilling, we divide
20)2474 4 by 3, which gives the price
£123 14 4 shillings, and reduce
these by division to pounds.
7339 o , ,,  
£366 19 6 lin£s the^ woulci cost at 6d.
sore *ni each, half of that is the cost
. at 1 * at 3d., and these added and
At 6d. — 1 of Is. 2428 reduced give the answer.
At 3d. = | of 6d. 1214 Here we calculate what
At 2d. = ^ of 6d. 809 4 the articles would cost at
lid. 4451 4 6d., at 3d., and at 2d., and
£222 11 4 add the values.
It is sometimes easier to calculate at two rates whose
difference is the rate required, and subtract the lesser
value from the greater. Thus, the last example may be
wrought by subtracting the value at a penny from the value
at a shilling. The remainder must be the value at lid.
At Is. 4856s. lOd. may be wrought as
At Id. y1^ 404 8 the difference of Is. and
AtTTd. 4451 4 2c*,; and. several other
^ rates in like manner.
Method 2. Multiply the quantity by the number of pence,
the product is the answer in pence. Reduce it to pounds.
Method 3. Find the value at a penny by division, and
multiply the same by the number of pence.
Case IV. When the rate consists of farthings only, find
the value in pence, and reduce it by division to pounds.
Ex. Is?,] 37843 at 1 farthing. 2(7,] 23754 at ^d.
4)37843 farth. 2) 23754 halfpence
12) 9460f pence 12) 11877 pence
788 44 989 9
£39 8 4| £49 9 9
3(7, 72564 at | Or, 72564
3 At 4d.36282 d.
d.
4)217692 farth.
12) 54423 pence
4535 3
£226 15 3
At 4d. 36282
At }d. 18141
12) 54423
4535 3
£226 15 3
We may also find the amount in twopences, threepences,
fourpences, or sixpences, by one division, and reduce these
as directed in Case I.
Case V. When the rate consists of pence and farthings,
find the value of the pence, as directed in Case III., and
that of the farthings from the proportion which they bear to
the pounds. Add these together, and reduce.
Ex. Is?,] 3287 at S^d.
At 4d.=^ of Is.
At ld.=^ of 4d.
At 1£=4 of Id.
At 54
1095 8
273 11
68 5
1438 0|
£71 18 0|
Ex. 2(7,] 4573 at 2|
At 2d.=£ of Is.
At £d.=i of 2d.
AVyd.= 2
At 2|
of £d.
762 2
190
95
Q1
 yr
1047 llf
£52 7'Ilf
Ex. 3(7,] 2842 at 3f
At 3d.=4 of Is. 710 6
At_3f.=fof3d. 177 7|
At 34 888 It
£44 8 1
Ex. 4?/«,] 3572at7-t
At 6d. of Is. 1786
At Ud.=f of 6d. 446 6
At n 2232 6
£111 12 6
Pntice.
ARITHMETIC.
555
It is sometimes best to join some of the pence with the
farthings in the calculation. Thus, in Ex. 4*. we reckon
the value at 6d. and at 3 halfpence, which makes 7-E
If the rate be 1|, which is an eighth part of a shilling,
the value is found in shillings by dividing the quantity by 8.
Case VI. When the rate consists of shillings and lower
denominations.
Method 1. Multiply the quantity by the shillings, and
find the value of the pence and farthings, if any, from the
proportion they bear to the shillings. Add and reduce.
1 Ex. 1st, 4258 at 17s. 3d.
17
17s.
3d.=! of Is.
29806
4258
72386
1064
17s. 3d.
Ex. 2d,
73450
£3672
6
10
5482 at 12s. 4|d.
12
12s.
3d. of Is.
l£d.=£ of 3d.
65784
1370
685
12s. 4id.
67839 9
£3391 19 9
Method 2. Divide the rate into aliquot parts of a pound ;
calculate the values corresponding to these, as directed
in Case L, and add them.
Ex. 1st, 3894 at 17s. 6d. Ex. 2d,
10s. £1947 6s. 8d.=4
5s. 973 10  
2s. 6d.—^ 486 15 9S, gj,
17s. 6d.
2s. 6d.=i
1765at9s. 2d.
6 8
12 6
£588
220
£808 19 2
  £3407 5
Sometimes part of the value is more readily obtained
from a part already found; and sometimes it is easiest to
calculate at a higher rate, and subtract the value at the
difference.
Ex. 3c?, 63790 at 5s. 4d. Ex. Mh, 3664 at 14s. 9d.
4s. £12758 10s.=i £1832
ls.4d.=|of4s. 4252 13 4 5s.= | ofl0s. 916
5s. 4d.
£17010 13 4 15s.
2748
£3
12s. =:i-of£3
8d.—Jg of 12s.
10776
2155 4
119 14
£3 12 8
Ex. 2d,
543 at£2. 5s. 10£d. Practice.
£2
5s. =iof£l
lOd. of 5s.
 2d-=2o of 10d'
1086
135 15
22 12
1 2
£2 5 104
6
£1245 10 U
Method 2. Reduce the pounds to shillings, and proceed
as in Case VI.
Ex. 1st, 3592 at£3.12s. 8d. Ex.2<l, 3683. at£2.4s. lid.
72 20 46
7184
25144
72
18415
14732
3d.=^0 of 5s. 45 16
14s. 9d. £2702 4
Method 3. If the price contain a composite number of
pence, we may multiply the value at a penny by the com¬
ponent parts.
Ex. 5628 at 2s. lid. or 35d.
12)5628
20)469
£23 9
5
£UT~ 5
_7
£820 15
Case VII. When the rate consists of pounds and lower
denominations.
Method 1. Multiply by the pounds, and find the value
of the other denominations from the proportion which
they bear to the pounds.
Ex. 1st, 3592 at £3.12s. 8d.
3
258624 At 45s. 165735
4d.=^s. 1197 4 Atld^^s. 307 11
4d.-^s. HO? 4 44Silld> 165427 0 1
8d. 261018 8 £8271 7 1
£13050 18 8
We have hitherto explained the various methods of
computation when the quantity is a whole number and
in one denomination. It remains to give the proper di¬
rections when the quantity contains a fraction, or is ex¬
pressed in several denominations.
When the quantity contains a fraction, work for the in¬
tegers by the preceding rules, and for the fraction take
proportional parts.
When the quantity is expressed by several denomina¬
tions, and the rate given for the higher, calculate the
higher, consider the lower one as fractions, and work by
the last rule.
When the rate is given for the lower denomination,
reduce the higher denomination to the lower, and calcu¬
late accordingly.
Note 1. 7 lb. 14 lb. and 21 lb. are aliquot parts of 1
qr.; and 16 lb. is of 1 cwt.; and are therefore easily
calculated.
2. If the price of a dozen be so many shillings, that of
an article is as many pence ; and if the price of a gross be
so many shillings, that of a dozen is as many pence.
3. If the price of a ton or score be so many pounds,
that of 1 cwt., or a single article, is as many shillings.
4. Though a fraction less than a farthing is of no con¬
sequence, and may be rejected, the learner must be care¬
ful lest he lose more than a farthing, by rejecting several
remainders in the same calculation.
SECT. II. DEDUCTIONS ON WEIGHTS, &C.
The full weight of any merchandise, together with that
of the cask, box, or other package, in which it is contain¬
ed, is called the gross weight. From this we must make
proper deductions in order to discover the quantity for
which price or duty should be charged, which is called
the nett weight.
Tare is the allowance for the weight of the package;
and this should be ascertained by weighing it before the
goods are packed. Sometimes, however, particularly in
payment of duty, it is customary to allow so much per cwt.
or so much per 100 lb. in place of tare.
Tret is an allowance of 4 lb. on 104 gianted on cur¬
rants and other goods on which there is waste, in order
that the weight may answer when the goods are retailed.
Cloff or Draught is a further allowance granted on some
goods in London of 2 lb. on every 3 cwt. to turn the scale
in favour of the purchaser. The method of calculating
these, and the like, will appear from the following exam¬
ples.
£13050 18 8
556
ARITHMETIC.
Commis- Ex. ls£, What is the nett weight of 17 cwt. 2 q. 14 lb.,
sion, &c. tare 18 lb. per cwt.
Cv)t. q. lb. Crvt. q. lb.
17 2 14 gross, or 17 2 14
16 lb.=-7c cwt. 2 2 2  ^
2 lb.—^ of 16 lb. 1 7^ 105 3 -
18 lb. 2 3 91 tare   ^
   317 1 -
14 3 4fnett.28) 3171 lb. cm. q. lb
4) 11 91(2 3 9,1 tare.
In the first method we add the tare at 16 lb., which is
l of the gross weight, to the tare at 2 lb., which is jj of the
former. In the second we multiply the gross weight by
18; the tare is 1 lb. for each cwt. of the product, and is
reduced by division to higher denominations.
Ex. 2d, What is the tret of 158 cwt. 3 q. 4 lb.
CM. q. lb. CM. q. lb.
26) 158 3 4 ( 6 0 12 tret.
156
2
When the rate is given in guineas, which is common in Interes'
cases of insurance, you may add a twentieth part to the^v>
sum before you calculate; or you may calculate at an
equal number of pounds, and add a twentieth part to the
answer.
When the given sum is an exact number of 10 pounds,
the calculation may be done without setting down any
figures. Every £10 at 1 per cent, is a shilling, and at
other rates in proportion. Thus, £170 at ^ per cent, is
17s., and at ^ per cent. 8s. 6d.
SECT. IV.-—INTEREST.
Interest is the allowance given for the use of money by
the borrower to the lender. This is computed at so many
pounds for each hundred lent for a year, and a like pro¬
portion for a greater or a less time. The highest rate is
limited by our laws to 5 per cent, which is called the le¬
gal interest, and is due on all debts constituted by bond
or bill, which are not paid at the proper term; and it is al¬
ways understood when no other rate is mentioned.
The interest of any sum for a year, at any rate, is
found by the method explained in the last section.
The interest of any number of pounds for a year at 5
per cent, is one twentieth part, or an equal number of
shillings. Thus the interest of £34675 for a year is
34675 shillings.
The interest for a day is obtained by dividing the in¬
terest for a year by the number of days in a year. Thus
the interest of £34675 for a day is found by dividing
34675 shillings by 365, and comes to 95 shillings.
The interest for any number of days is obtained by
multiplying the daily interest by the number of days.
Thus the interest of £34675 for 17 days is 17 times 95
shillings, or 1615 shillings; and this divided by 20, in or¬
der to reduce it, comes to £80. 15s.
It would have served the same purpose, and been easier,
to multiply at first by 17, the number of days; and in¬
stead of dividing separately by 365, and by 20, to divide
at once by 7300, the product of 365 multiplied by 20;
and this division may be facilitated by the table inserted
p. 549, col. 1.
The following practical rules may be inferred from the
foregoing observations.
I. To calculate interest at 5 per cent.
Multiply the principal by the number of days, and divide
the product by 7300.
II. To calculate interest at any other rate.
Find what it comes to at 5 per cent, and take a proper
proportion of the same for the rate required.
Ex. ls£, Interest on £34675 for 17 days, at 5 per cent.
34675
 17
242725
34675 £
73|00)5894|75(80 15
584
5475
 20
1095)00
73
365
365
0
Ex. 2d, Interest on £304. 3s. 4d. for 8 days, at 4 per
cent. ■
4 Because tret is always 4 lb. in 104, or 1 lb.
in 26, it is obtained by dividing by 26.
28
312
312
3<f, What is the cloff on 28 cwt. 2 q. ?
CM. q.
28 2
2
3) 57 (19 lb.
This allowance being 2 lb. on every 3 cwt., might be
found by taking ^ of the number of cwts. and multiplying
it by 2. It is better to begin with multiplication, for the
reason given, p. 550, col. 2, par. 2.
SECT. III. COMMISSION, &C.
It is frequently required to calculate allowances on sums
of money, at the rate of so many per £100. Of this
kind is Commission, or the allowance due to a factor for
buying or selling goods, or transacting any other business ;
Premium of Insurance, or allowance given for engaging
to repay one’s losses at sea or otherwise ; Exchange, or
the allowance necessary to be added or subtracted for re¬
ducing the money of one place to that of another ; Pre¬
miums on Stock, or the allowance given for any share of
a public stock above the original value. All these, and
others of a like kind, are calculated by the following
Rule.—Multiply the sum by the rate, and divide the pro¬
duct by 100. If the rate contain a fraction, take propor¬
tioned parts.
Ex. What is the commission on £728 at 2f per cent. ?
728
 2
2 per cent. 1456
1 364
l 182
1|00)20|02
20
40
12
4)80
 4 Answ. £20 0 4|
3)20
ARITHMETIC.
557
vui/r
Ftact Is-
£304 3 4
8
s. d.
73)00)2433 6 8(6 8
 20
486)66
438
4866
 12
584)00
584
Interest at 5 per cent. £0
Deduct  0^
Interest at 4 per cent. £0 5 4
Chap. VIII.—Vulgar Fractions.
In order to understand the nature of vulgar fractions,
we must suppose unity (or the number 1) divided into
several equal parts. One or more of these parts is called
a fraction, and is represented by placing one number in
a small character above a line, and another under it: For
example, two fifth parts is written thus, f. The number
under the line (5) shows how many parts unity is divided
into, and is called the denominator. The number above
the line (2) shows how- many of these parts are repre¬
sented, and is called the numerator.
It follows, from the manner of representing fractions,
that when the numerator is increased, the value of the
fraction becomes greater; but when the denominator is
increased, the value becomes less. Hence we may infer,
that if the numerator and denominator be both increased,
or both diminished, in the same proportion, the value is
not altered; and therefore, if we multiply both by any
number whatever, or divide them by any number which
measures both, we shall obtain other fractions of equal
value. Thus, every fraction may be expressed in a va¬
riety of forms, which have all the same signification.
A fraction annexed to an integer or whole number
makes a mixed number ; for example, five and two third
parts, or 5§. A fraction whose numerator is greater than
its denominator is called an improper fraction ; for ex¬
ample, seventeen third parts, or . Fractions of this
kind are greater than unity. Mixed numbers may be re¬
presented in the form of improper fractions, and improper
fractions may be reduced to mixed numbers, and some¬
times to integers. As fractions, whether proper or im¬
proper, may be represented in different forms, we must
explain the method of reducing them from one form to
another before we consider the other operations.
Problem I.—To reduce mixed numbers to improper
fractions.
Multiply the integer by the denominator of the fraction,
and to the product add the numerator. The sum is the nu¬
merator of the improper f raction sought, and is placed above
the given denominator.
Z&. 5§=V7-
5 integer.
3 denominator.
15 product.
2 numerator given.
17 numerator sought.
Because one is equal to two halves, or 3 third parts, or
4 quarters, and every integer is equal to twice as many
halves, or four times as many quarters, and so on, there-
fore, every integer may be expressed in the form of an
improper fraction, having an assigned denominator. The
numerator is obtained by multiplying the integer into the
denominator. Hence the reason of the foregoing rule is Vulgar
evident: 5 reduced to an improper fraction whose deno- Fractions,
minator is 3, makes I/, and this added to f amounts to . v—
Problem II.—To reduce improper fractions to whole or
mixed numbers,
Divide the numerator by the denominator.
Ex. Vr2 =
17)112(6^
102
10
This problem is the converse of the former, and the rea¬
son may be illustrated in the same manner.
Problem III.—To reduce fractions to lower terms.
Divide both numerator and denominator by any number
which measures both, and place the quotients in the form of
a fraction.
Example. Iff — fl —
Here we observe that 135 and 360 are both measured
by 5, and the quotients form fl, which is a fraction of
the same value as in lower terms. Again, 27 and 72
are both measured by 9, and the quotients form §, which
is still of equal value, and in lower terms.
It is generally sufficient, in practice, to divide by such
measures as are found to answer on inspection, or by the
rules given p. 547, col. 2. But if it be required to re¬
duce a fraction to the lowest possible terms, we must di¬
vide the numerator and denominator by the greatest
number which measures both. What number this is
may not be obvious, but will always be found by the fol¬
lowing rule.
To find the greatest common measure of two numbers,
divide the greater by the lesser and the divisor by the
remainder continually till nothing remains; the last divi¬
sor is the greatest common measure.
Ex. Required the greatest number which measures 475
and 589 ?
475)589( 1 Here we divide 589 by 475, and
475 the remainder is 114; then we
divide 475 by 114, and the re¬
mainder is 19; then we divide
114 by 19, and there is no re-
19) 114(6 mainder ; from which we infer
114 that 19, the last divisor, is the
greatest common measure.
To explain the reason of this, we must observe, that
any number which measures two others will also measure
their sum and their difference, and will measure any mul¬
tiple of either. In the foregoing example, any number
which measures 589 and 475 will measure their differ¬
ence, 114, and will measure 456, which is a multiple of
114; and any number which measures 475 and 456 will
also measure their difference, 19. Consequently, no num¬
ber greater than 19 can measure 589 and 475. Again, 19
will measure them both, for it measures 114, and there¬
fore measures 456, which is a multiple of 114 and 475,
which is just 19 more than 456 ; and because it measures
475 and 114, it will measure their sum, 589. To reduce
to the lowest possible terms, we divide both numbers
by 19, and it comes to §f.
' If there be no common measure greater than 1, the
fraction is already in the lowest terms.
If the greatest common measure of 3 numbers be re¬
quired, we find the greatest measure of the two first, and
then the greatest measure of that number and the third.
If there be more numbers, we proceed in the same manner.
Problem IV.—To reduce fractions to others of equal
value that have the same denominator.
1st, Multiply the numerator of each fraction by all the deno-
114)475(4
456
558
Vulgar
F ractions.
ARITH
minators except its own ; the products are numerators to
the respective fractions sought. 2d, Multiply all the denomi¬
nators into each other; the product is the common denominator.
Ex. f and § and J = f gg and ffg and
4X9X8 = 288 first numerator.
7X5X8 = 280 second numerator.
3X5X9 = 135 third numerator.
5X9X8= 360 common denominator.
Here we multiply 4, the numerator of the first fraction,
by 9 and 8, the denominators of the two others; and the
product, 288, is the numerator of the fraction sought, equi¬
valent to the first. The other numerators are found in
like manner, and the common denominator, 360, is obtain¬
ed by multiplying the given denominators 5, 9, 8, into
each other. In the course of the whole operation, the
numerators and denominators of each fraction are multi¬
plied by the same number, and therefore their value is
not altered.
The fractions thus obtained may be reduced to lower
terms, if the several numerators and denominators have
a common measure greater than unity. Or, after arrang¬
ing the number for multiplication, as is done above, if the
same number occur in each rank, we may dash them out
and neglect them; and if numbers which have a common
measure occur in each, we may dash them out and use
the quotients in their stead; or any number which is a
multiple of all the given denominators may be used as a
common denominator. Sometimes a number of this kind
will occur on inspection, and the new numerators are
found by multiplying the given ones by the common de¬
nominator, and dividing the products by the respective
given denominators.
If the articles given for any operation be mixed num¬
bers, they are reduced to improper fractions by Problem
I. If the answer obtained be an improper fraction, it is
reduced to a mixed number by Problem II. And it is
convenient to reduce fractions to lower terms, when it
can be done, by Problem III. which makes their value
better apprehended, and facilitates any following opera¬
tion. The reduction of fractions to the same denomina¬
tor by Problem IV. is necessary to prepare them for ad¬
dition or subtraction, but not for multiplication or division.
SECT. I.—ADDITION OF VULGAR FRACTIONS.
Rule.—Reduce them, if necessary, to a common denomi¬
nator ; add the numerators, and place the sum above the
denominator.
Ex. l.sf, f+ f = + by Problem IV. = fl-
2c?, 5 4-a4- ju — 45aa.sjio 4.56z _ 1577
’ f ' 9 “ 10 — 630 ~ 650 630 — 630
by Problem II. = 2 |||.
The numerators of fractions that have the same deno¬
minator signify like parts ; and the reason for adding them
is equally obvious as that for adding shillings or any
other inferior denomination.
Mixed numbers may be added by annexing the sum of
the fractions to the sum of the integers. If the former be a
mixed number, its integer is added to the other integers.
SECT. II.—SUBTRACTION OF VULGAR FRACTIONS.
Rule. Reduce the fractions to a common denominator ;
subtract the numerator of the subtrahend from the numera¬
tor of the minuend, and place the remainder above the deno¬
minator.
Ex. Subtract f from remainder
-A- = g-4) from 35
| _ || t by Prob. IV. take 24
„ ' , I’emainder 11.
lo subtract a fraction from an integer, subtract the
numerator from the denominator, and place the remain-
M E TIC,
der above the denominator; prefix to this the integer di- Vulg
minished by unity. Fractii
Ex. Subtract f- from 12. remainder 11|.
To subtract mixed numbers, proceed with the fractions
by the foregoing rule, and with the integers in the com¬
mon method. If the numerator of the fraction in the
subtrahend exceed that in the minuend, borrow the value
of the denominator, and repay it by adding 1 to the unit
place of the subtrahend.
Ex. Subtract 145^ from 248f-
!_«■)
1 _ fi r by Prob. IV. 145f4
Here, because 27, the numerator of the fraction in the
minuend, is less than 35, the numerator of the subtra¬
hend, we borrow 45, the denominator; 27 and 45 make
72, from which we subtract 35, and obtain 37 for the nu¬
merator of the fraction in the remainder; and we repay
what was borrowed, by adding 1 to 5 in the unit place of
the subtrahend.
The reason of the operations in adding or subtracting
fractions will be fully understood if we place the nume¬
rators of the fractions in a column like a lower denomina¬
tion, and add or subtract them as integers, carrying or
borrowing according to the value of the high denomination.
SECT. III. MULTIPLICATION OF VULGAR FRACTIONS.
Rule.—Multiply the numerators of the factors together
for the numerator of the product, and the denominators to¬
gether for the denominator of the product.
Ex. 1st, f X f = ^ 2d, 8f X 7f = if-02 -
2X5= 10 num. 8f-= by Prob.
3 X 7 = 21 den. 7J= ^ by ditto
42X31 = 1302
5X4 = 20
To multiply f by-f is the same as to find what two third
parts of ^ comes to. If one third part only had been re¬
quired, it would have been obtained by multiplying the
denominator 7 by 3, because the value of fractions is les¬
sened when their denominators are increased: and this
comes to /T; and, because two thirds were required, we
must double that fraction, which is done by multiplying
the numerator by 2, and comes to Plence we infer
that fractions of fractions, or compound fractions, such as
f of f, are reduced to simple ones by multiplication. The
same method is followed when the compound fraction is
expressed in three parts or more.
The foregoing rule extends to every case when there
are fractions in either factor. For mixed numbers may
be reduced to improper fractions, as is done in Ex. 2; and
integers may be written, or understood to be written, in
the form of fractions whose numerator is 1. It will be
convenient, however, to give some further directions for
proceeding when one of the factors is an integer, or when
one or both are mixed numbers.
Is?, To multiply an integer by a fraction, multiply it by
the numerator, and divide the product by the denominator.
Ex. 3756 X 3.=2253J
3 ‘
5)11268(22534
2d, To multiply an integer by a mixed number, we mul¬
tiply it first by the integer and then by the fraction, and
add the products.
Ex. 138X5|=793i 138X5=690
138 X |
3
4)414( ]0§
793£
ARITHMETIC,
V Tar 3d, To multiply a mixed number by a fraction, we may
l r ions-multiply the integer by the fraction, and the two fractions
together, and add the products.
Ex. 15|xf=3^
15 x£=3#
fXf=
—3JL
— 12
T2 = tV
4M, When both factors are mixed numbers, we may mul¬
tiply each part of the multiplicand, first by the integer of
the multiplier, and then by the fraction, and add the four
products.
Ex. Sf by 7f
7 =
3—24_
f — 4 —
7 =
56
6
gi 6
*2 0
O
2 0
by Prob. II.
product 65^ as before.
SECT. IV. DIVISION OF VULGAR FRACTIONS.
Run: I.—Mufti ply (he numerator of the dividend by the
denominator of the divisor. The product is the numerator
of the quotient.
II.—Multiply the denominator of the dividend by the nume¬
rator of the divisor. The product is the denominator of the
quotient.
Ex. Divide f by quotient i?-.
2 X 9 = 18
5X7 = 35.
To explain the reason of this operation, let us suppose
it required to divide j by 7, or to take one seventh part
of that fraction. This is obtained by multiplying the de¬
nominator by 7; for the value of fractions is diminished
by increasing their denominators, and comes to fj. Again,
because ^ is nine times less than seven, the quotient of
any number divided by ^ will be nine times greater than
the quotient of the same number divided by 7. There¬
fore we multiply by 9, and obtain
If the divisor and dividend have the same denomina¬
tor, it is sufficient to divide the numerators.
Ex. divided by quotes 4.
The foregoing rule may be extended to every case by
reducing integers and mixed numbers to the form of im¬
proper fractions. We shall add some directions for short¬
ening the operation when integers and mixed numbers
are concerned.
l.tf, When the dividend is an integer, multiply it by
the denominator of the divisor, and divide the product by
the numerator.
Ex. Divide 368 by f-
 7
5)2576(515j- quotient.
2d, When the divisor is an integer, and the dividend a
fraction, multiply the denominator by the divisor, and
place the product under the numerator.
Ex. Divide by 5 quotient fjj
8X5=40
3d, When the divisor is an integer, and the dividend a
mixed number, divide the integer, and annex the fraction
to the remainder; then reduce the mixed number thus
formed to an improper fraction, and multiply its denomi¬
nator by the divisor.
Ex. To divide 576^ by 7 quotient 82|y
7) 576 (82 Here we divide 576 by 7, the
56 quotient is 82, and the remain-
der 2, to which we annex the
14, fraction j*, , and reduce 2^ to
—~ ^ _,1f an improper fraction fr(, and
“i i -ll multiply its denominator by 7,
which gives fj.
1 1 11
11 X / =77
Hitherto ive have considered the fractions as abstract Vulgar
numbers, and laid down the necessary rules accordingly. Fractions.
Wre now proceed to apply these to practice. Shillings
and pence may be considered as fractions of pounds, and *
lower denominations of any kind as fractions of higher;
and any operation, where different denominations occur,
may be wrought by expressing the lower ones in one form
of vulgar fractions, and proceeding by the following rules,
lor this purpose the two following problems are neces¬
sary.
Problem V.—To reduce lower denominations to frac¬
tions of higher.
Place the given number for the numerator, and the value of
the higher for the denominator.
Examples.
1. Reduce 7d. to the fraction of a shilling. Ans. T7^.
2. Reduce 7d. to a fraction of a pound. Ans.
3. Reduce 15s. 7d. to a fraction of a pound. Ans! ||-7.
Problem VI.—To value fractions of higher denomina¬
tions.
Multiply the numerator by the value of the given denomi¬
nation, and divide the product by the denominator; if there
be a remainder, multiply it by the value of the next denomi¬
nation, and continue the division.
Ex.\st, Required the value 2c/, Required the value
of ^ of Ll.
\1
20
60)340(5
300
40
12
of fj of 1 cwt.
8
—4 qrs. lb.
9)32( 3 154
27
5
28
60)480
480
9)140
9
50
45
In the first example we multiply the numerator 17 by
20, the number of shillings in a pound, and divide the pro¬
duct, 340, by 60, the denominator of the fraction, and ob¬
tain a quotient of 5 shillings; then we multiply the re¬
mainder, 40, by 12, the number of pence in a shilling,
which produces 480, which, divided by 60, quotes 8d. with¬
out a remainder. In the second example we proceed in
the same manner; but as there is a remainder, the quotient
is completed by a fraction.
Sometimes the value of the fraction does not amount to
an unit of the lowest denomination; but it may be reduced
to a fraction of that or any other denomination by multi¬
plying the numerator according to the value of the places.
Thus ygVu of a pound is equal to y^fg- of a shilling, or
xigy of’a Penny> TaBu of a farthing.“
Chap. IX.—Decimal Fractions.
SECT. 1. NOTATION AND REDUCTION.
Decimal fractions are such as have 10, or some power
of 10 (that is 100, 1000, &c.), for a denominator: such are
these,—
5
i o’
_24_
1 DO’
IOOO’
 4A2_
1 O O O O (')
They are more simply written thus:
•3, -24, -075, -00462;
the number of figures after the point being always the
same as the number of ciphers in the denominators.
In decimal fractions, as thus written, the figure next
560
ARITHMETIC.
Decimal the point, to the right, indicates so many tenths; the next
Fractions. so many hundredths, and so on. Thus, in the fraction
*346, the figure 3 expresses 3 tenths, 4 denotes 4 hun¬
dredths, and 6, 6 thousandths.
The use of ciphers in decimals, as well as in integers,
is to bring the significant figures to their proper places, on
which their value depends. As ciphers, when placed on
the left hand of an integer, have no signification, but,
when placed on the right hand, increase the value ten
times each; so ciphers, when placed on the right hand
of a decimal, have no signification, but when placed on
the left hand, diminish the value ten times each.
The notation and numeration of decimals will be ob¬
vious from the following examples:
4-7 signifies four, and seven tenth parts.
•47 four tenth parts, and seven hundredth
parts, or 47 hundredth parts,
four hundredth parts, and seven thou¬
sandth parts, or 47 thousandth parts,
four tenth parts, and seven thousandth
parts, or 407 thousandth parts,
four, and seven hundredth parts.
  four, and seven thousandth parts.
To reduce vulgar fractions to decimal ones. Annex a
cipher to the numerator, and divide it by the denominator,
annexing a, cipher continually to the remainder.
Ex. 1st, 16 2d, ^=-078125 3d, |=-666
75)120(16 64)500(078125
•047
•407
4-07
4*007
75
450
450
448
520
512
80
64
160
128
320
320
4th, f=-833 5th, /r=-259
6)50(833 27)70(259
48
20
18
20
18
20
54
160
135
250
243
3)20(666
18
20
18
20
18
20
6th, /j=-3,18,18.
22)70(31818
66
40
22
180
176
40
22
18
The reason of this operation will be evident, if we con¬
sider that the numerator of a vulgar fraction is under¬
stood to be divided by the denominator; and this division
is actually performed when it is reduced to a decimal.
In like manner, when there is a remainder left in division,
we may extend the quotient to a decimal, instead of com¬
pleting it by a vulgar fraction, as in the following example :
25)646(25|i- or 25-84.
50
Rem.
100
100
called terminate or finite decimals. Others cannot be ex- d •
actly reduced, because the division always leaves a re- Fractil
mainder; but, by continuing the division, we will perceive
how the decimal may be extended to any length what¬
ever. These are called infinite decimals. If the same
figure continually returns, as in Ex. 3c? and 4th, they are
called repeaters. If two or more figures return in their
order, they are called circulates. If this regular succes¬
sion go on from the beginning, they are called pure re¬
peaters, or circulates, as Ex. 3c? and 5th. If otherwise, as
Ex. 4th and 6th, they are mixed repeaters or circulates
and the figures prefixed to those in regular succession
are called the finite part. Repeating figures are generally
distinguished by a dash, and circulates by a comma or
other mark, at the beginning and end of the circle; and
the beginning of a repeater or circulate is pointed out in
the division by an asterisk.
Lower denominations may be considered as fractions
of higher ones, and reduced to decimals accordingly.
We may proceed by the following rule, which is the
same in effect as the former.
To reduce lower denominations to decimals of higher.
Annex a cipher to the lower denomination, and divide it by
the value of the higher. When there are several denomina¬
tions, begin at the lowest, and reduce them in their order.
Ex. To reduce 5 cwt. 2 qr. 21 lb. to a decimal of a ton.
28)210(*75 4)2-75(-6875 20)5-6875(-284375
24 '
196
Tio
140
35
32
40_
168
160
30
28
20
20
87
80
75
60
150
140
100
100
Here, in order to reduce 21 lb. to a decimal of 1 qr. we
annex a cipher, and divide by 28, the value of 1 qr.
This gives *75. Then we reduce 2’75 qrs. to a decimal of’
1 cwt. by dividing by 4, the value of 1 cwt., and it comes
to ‘6875. Lastly, 5"6875 cwt. is reduced to a decimal of’
a ton by dividing by 20, and comes to •284375.
To value a decimal fraction. Multiply it by the value of
the denomination, and cut off as many decimal places from
the product as there are in the multiplicand. The rest are
integers of the lower denomination.
Example. What is the value of ‘425 of £1 ?
•425
 20
sh. 8-500
 6
d. 3-000
SECT. II. ARITHMETIC OF TERMINATE DECIMALS.
The value of decimal places decreases like that of in¬
tegers, ten of the lower place in either being equal to one
of the next higher; and the same holds in passing from
decimals to integers. Therefore, all the operations are
performed in the same way with decimals, whether placed
by themselves or annexed to integers, as with pure inte¬
gers. The only peculiarity lies in the arrangement and
sevFerrTkWSf7rng the
reduced exaetlv omeiyu Sar fractions may be In addition and subtraction, Arrange units under units
y c mals, as Ex. Is? and 2c?, and are tenth parts tender tenth parts, and proceed as in integers-
ARITHMETIC.
561
Denial
Frayns-
32-035 from 13-34'8 and 12-248
116-374 take 9-2993 10-6752
160-63    
12-3645 4-0487 1*5728
321-4035
In multiplication, Allow as many decimal places in the
product as there are in both factors. If the product has
not so many places, supply them by prefixing ciphers on the
left hand.
Ex. ls£,
1-37 2d, 43-75 3d, *1572
1-8 -48 *12
1096 35000 •018864
137 17500
2-466 21-0000
The reason of this rule may be explained, by observing,
that the value of the product depends on the value of the
factors; and since each decimal place in either factor
diminishes its value ten times, it must equally diminish
the value of the product.
To multiply decimals by 10, move the decimal point
one place to the right; to multiply by 100, 1000, or the
like, move it as many places to the right as there are ci¬
phers in the multiplier.
In division, Point the quotient so that there may be an
equal number of decimal places in the dividend as in the
divisor and quotient together.
Therefore, if there be the same number of decimal
places in the divisor and dividend, there will be none in
the quotient.
If there be more in the dividend, the quotient will have
as many as the dividend has more than the divisor.
If there be more in the divisor, we must annex (or sup¬
pose annexed) as many ciphers to the dividend as may
complete the number in the divisor, and all the figures of
the quotient are integers.
If the division leave a remainder, the quotient may be
extended to more decimal places; but these are not re¬
garded in fixing the decimal point.
The reason for fixing the decimal point as directed
may be inferred from the rule followed in multiplication.
The quotient multiplied by the divisor produces the divi¬
dend ; and therefore the number of decimal places in the
dividend is equal to those in the divisor and quotient to¬
gether.
The first figure of the quotient is always at the same
distance from the decimal point, and on the same side, as
the figure of the dividend which stands above the unit
place of the first product. This also takes place in inte¬
gers ; and the reason is the same in both.
Multiplication by fractions corresponds with division by
integers, and division by fractions with multiplication by
integers; when we multiply by or -5, we obtain the
same answer as when we divide by 2, and every integer
has a correspondent decimal, which may be called its re¬
ciprocal. Multiplication by that decimal supplies the place
ot division by the integer, and division supplies the place
of multiplication.
To find the reciprocal of any number, divide 1 with
ciphers annexed by that number.
Ex. Required the reciprocal of 625.
625)1*000(*0016
625
3750
3750
0
The product of any number multiplied by *0016 is the
same as the quotient divided by 625.
VOL. in.
Ex. 625)9375(15
625
3125
3125
9375 Decimal
*0016 Fractions.
56250
9375
0 15-0000
Because *0016 is of unity, any number multiplied
by that fraction will be diminished 625 times. For a like
reason, the quotient of any number divided by -0016 will
be equal to the product of the same multiplied by 625.
Ex. *0016)516-0000(322500 516
48  625
36
32
40
32
80
80
2580
1032
3096
322500
0
SECT. III. APPROXIMATE DECIMALS.
It has been shown that some decimals, though extend¬
ed to any length, are never complete; and others, which
terminate at last, sometimes consist of so many places
that it would be difficult in practice to extend them fully.
In these cases, we may extend the decimal to three, four,
or more places, according to the nature of the articles and
the degree of accuracy required, and reject the rest of it
as inconsiderable. In this manner we may perform any
operation with ease by the common rules, and the answers
we obtain are sufficiently exact for any purpose in business.
Decimals thus restricted are called approximates.
Shillings, pence, and farthings, may be easily reduced
to decimals of three places by the following rule: Take
half the shillings for the first decimal place, and the num¬
ber of farthings increased by one, if it amount to 24 or up¬
wards; by two, if it amount to 48 or upwards; and by three,
if it amount to 72 or upwards, for the two next places.
The reason of this is, that 20 shillings make a pound,
two shillings is the tenth part of a pound, and therefore
half the number of shillings makes the first decimal place.
If there were 50 farthings in a shilling, or 1000 in a
pound, the units of the farthings in the remainder would
be thousandth parts, and the tens would be hundredth
parts, and so would give the two next decimal places;
but because there are only 48 farthings in a shilling, or
960 in a pound, every farthing is a little more than the
thousandth part of a pound; and since 24 farthings make
25 thousandth parts, allowance is made for that excess
by adding 1 for every 24 farthings, as directed.
If the number of farthings be 24, 48, or 72, and conse¬
quently the second and third decimal places 25, 50, and
75, they are exactly right; otherwise they are not quite
complete, since there should be an allowance of not
only for 24, 48, and 72 farthings, but for every other
single farthing. They may be completed by the follow¬
ing rule : multiply the second and third decimal places,
or their excess above 25, 50, 75, by 4. If the product
amount to 24 or upwards, add 1; if 48, add 2 ; if 72, add
3. By this operation we obtain two decimal places more ;
and by continuing the same operation, we may extend the
decimal till it terminate in 25, 50, 75, or in a repeater.
Decimals of sterling money of three places may easily
be reduced to shillings, pence, and farthings, by the fol¬
lowing rule : Double the first decimal place, and if the se¬
cond be 5 or upwards, add 1 thereto for shillings. Then
divide the second and third decimal places, or their ex¬
cess above 50, by 4, first deducting 1, if it amount to 25
562
ARITHMETIC.
Decimal
Fractions.
or upwards; the quotient is pence, and the remainder
farthings.
As this rule is the converse of the former one, the rea¬
son of the one may be inferred from that of the other.
The value obtained by it, unless the decimal terminate in
25, 50, or 75, is a little more than the true value ; for there
should be a deduction, not only of 1 for 25, but a little
deduction of ^ on the remaining figures of these places.
We proceed to give some examples of the arithmetic of
approximates, and subjoin any necessary observations.
Addition. Subtraction.
Cwt. qrs. lb.
3 2 14 = 3-625
2 3 22 = 2-94642
3 3 19 =: 3-91964
4 1 25 = 4-47321
14 3 24 14-96427
Civt. qrs. lb.
3 2 2 = 3-51785
1 1 19 = 1-41964
2 - 11 2-09821
If we value the sum of the approximates, it will fall a
little short of the sum of the articles, because the deci¬
mals are not complete.
It is proper to add 1 to the last decimal place of the
approximate, when the following figure would have been
5 or upwards. Thus the full decimal of 3 qrs. 22 lb. is
•946,428571, and therefore -94643 is nearer to it than
•946,42. Approximates thus regulated will give exacter
answers, sometimes above the true one and sometimes
below it.
The mark + signifies that the approximate is less than
the exact decimal, or requires something to be added.
The mark — signifies that it is greater, or requires some¬
thing to be subtracted.
Multiplication.
Meth.ltf, 8278+ Meth. 2d, 8278
2153 +
2153
24834
41390
8278
16556
16556
827
413
24
8
90
834
Meth.Sd, 8278
3512
16556
827
413
24
1782)2534 1782)2534 1782
Here the last four places are quite uncertain. The
right-hand figure of each particular product is obtained
by multiplying 8 into the figures of the multiplier ; but if
the multiplicand had been extended, the carriage from
the right-hand place would have been taken in; conse¬
quently the right-hand place of each particular product,
and the four places of the total product, which depend
on these, are quite uncertain. Since part of the operation
therefore is useless, we may omit it; and for this purpose
it will be convenient to begin (as in p. 547, col. fifth va¬
riety) at the highest place of the multiplier. We may
perceive that all the figures on the right hand of the line
in Meth. 2 serve no purpose, and may be left out if we
only multiply the figures on the multiplicand, whose pro¬
ducts are placed on the left hand of the line. This is
readily done by inverting the multiplier in Meth. 3, and
beginning each product with the multiplication of that
figure which stands above the figure of the multiplier that
produces it, and including the carriage from the right-
hand place.
If both factors be approximates, there are at least as
many uncertain places in the product as in the longest
factor. If only one be an approximate, there are as many
uncertain places as there are figures in that factor, and
sometimes a place or two more, which might be affected
by the carriage. Hence we may infer how far it is ne¬
cessary to extend the approximates in order to obtain the
requisite number of certain places in the product.
Division. DecilJ1,
•3724 —>798 64237 + (2144 or 3^)79864237(2144 ^tim
744 8 7448
53
37
84
24
602
896
7063
4896
2167
538
372
166
148
18
14
Here all the figures on the right hand of the line are
uncertain, for the right-hand figure of the first product
7448 might be altered by the carriage if the divisor were
extended ; and all the remainders and dividuals that fol¬
low are thereby rendered uncertain. We may omit these
useless figures, for which purpose we dash a figure on
the right hand of the divisor at each step, and neglect
it when we multiply by the figure of the quotient next
obtained; but we include the carriage. The operation,
and the reason of it, will appear clear, by comparing the
operation at large, and contracted, in the above example.
Chap. X.—Interminate Decimals.
SECT. I. REDUCTION OF INTERMINATE DECIMALS.
We have seen that some vulgar fractions admit of being
converted into exact decimal fractions, while others have
not that property, but proceed interminably, the numera¬
tor being either the same figure, or else a combination of
figures always repeated. The fraction f is of the first
mentioned kind, its decimal value being that is -375;
again, ^=*333, &c. and |-=-714285,714285, &c. are exam¬
ples of the second kind. Let us suppose a fraction re¬
duced to its lowest terms, j|, for example. Now, to con¬
vert this into a decimal, we annex ciphers to the nume¬
rator (that is, we multiply it by some power of 10), and
divide by the denominator, the decimal denominator being
always that power of ten by which the numerator was mul¬
tiplied. In the case of §, the numerator is multiplied by
1000, which is exactly divisible by 8; for when the num¬
bers are expressed by the product of their simple factors,
we have 1000=2X2X2X5X5X5 and 8=2X2X2,
and -i flQQ.—5 x 5 X 5 = 125, therefore the decimal value of
| is xoo)y, '375. Here it appears that the decimal
fraction has a finite form, because the divisors of the de¬
nominator of the vulgar fraction are also divisors of a
power of 10.
A like remark may be made concerning the fraction
Jj = the two equal divisors 5 being divisors of 10,
and therefore their product a divisor of 100, and the frac¬
tion =*28.
In general, it appears that if the simple factors of the
denominators of a vulgar fraction be all either 2 or 5, its
decimal value will be finite, otherwise not.
The fraction ^ is therefore, from its nature, incapable
of being converted into a finite decimal; but this fraction,
when converted into a decimal, being -1111, &c. ad infi¬
nitum, therefore ^ will be -222, &c. and ^ = ^ = -333, &c.
and so on to which will be -888, &c. Hence it is ma¬
nifest that every repeating decimal is equivalent to a vul¬
gar fraction whose denominator is 9.
Again, since ^ = *010101, &c. ad infinitum, therefore
= -0202, &c.; and in like manner = -1717, &c. and
so on, from fg to which is equal to -89,89,89, &c.
Therefore every circulating decimal of two figures is
convertible into a vulgar fraction whose denominator is 99.
And since = -001001001, &c., therefore any frac¬
tion whose numerator consists of three figures, and deno-
I>;imal
Fn ions.
ARITHMETIC.
563
minator 999, must produce a circulate of three figures;
for example, f= 'SfiSSfioBfiS, &c.; and in like manner,
since =: '09010001, &c., therefore every fraction
whose numerator consists of not more than four figures,
and which has 9999 for a denominator, must produce a
circulate of four figures, and so on.
It is now sufficiently manifest that all circulating deci¬
mals may be generated from vulgar fractions whose de¬
nominators are formed by a repetition of the figure 9; and
hence it follows that every circulate may be converted
into a vulgar fraction of that form.
Rules for reducing interminate decimals to vulgar frac¬
tions.
I. If the decimal he a pure repeater, place the repeating
figure far the numerator, and 9 for the denominator.
II. If the decimal be a pure circulate, place the circu¬
lating figures far the numerator, and as many 9’s as there
are places in the circle for the denominator.
III. If there he ciphers prefixed to the repeating or circulat¬
ing figures, annex a like number to the 9’s in the denominator.
IV. If the decimal he mixed, subtract the finite part from
the whole decimal. The remainder is the numerator, and
the denominator consists of as many 9’s as there are places
in the circle, together with as many ciphers as there are fi¬
nite places before the circle.
Thus, -235,62, =
From the whole decimal 23562
We subtract the finite part 235
and the remainder 23327 is the numerator.
The reason may be illustrated by dividing the decimal
into two parts, whereof one is finite, and the other a pure
repeater or circulate, with ciphers prefixed. The sum
of the vulgar fractions corresponding to these will be the
value of the decimal sought.
•235,62 may be divided into *235=^^ by Rule I.
and ’000,62 by Rules II. III.
In order to add these vulgar fractions, we reduce them
to a common denominator; and for that purpose we mul¬
tiply both terms of the former by 99, which gives g gg§o;
then we add the numerators.
235, or, by method explained p. 546, col. 1, par. S,
99
2115
2115
23500
235
Sum of numerators.
23265 or 23562
62 235
Ex. -37524 or '37524
•8 -8888$
•643 -643 '
•73 *73330
2-64046
To subtract repeating decimals. Extend them as di¬
rected for addition, and borrow at the right-hand place, if
necessary, by 9.
Ex. 1 st, -93560 Ex. 2d, -646
•84730 *53424
•08824 •1117$
The reason of these rules will be obvious, if we recol¬
lect that repeating figures signify ninth parts. If the
right-hand figure of the sum or remainder be 0, the deci¬
mal obtained is finite; otherwise it is a repeater.
To add circulating decimals. Extend them till they be¬
come similar (p. 563, col. 1, par. ult. &c.) ; and when you
add the right-hand column, include the figure which would
have been carried if the circle had been extended farther.
Ex. ls£, Extended. Ex. 2d, Extended.
•574, *574,574, -874, -874,874874,
•2,698, -269,869, -1460 *146,333333,
*428 -428 -1,58, -158,585858,
•37,983 -379,839, *32, -323,232323,
1-652,284, < 1-503,026390,
Note 1. Repeaters mixed with circulates are extended
and added as circulates.
Note 2. Sometimes it is necessary to inspect two or
more columns for ascertaining the carriage; because the
carriage from a lower column will sometimes raise the
sum of the higher, so as to alter the carriage from it to a
new circle. This occurs in Ex. 2.
Note 3. The sum of the circles must be considered as a
similar circle. If it consist entirely of ciphers, the amount
is terminate. If all the figures be the same, the amount is a
repeater. If they can be divided into parts exactly alike,
the amount is a circle of fewer places; but, for the most
part, the circle of the sum is similar to the extended circles.
To subtract circulating decimals. Extend them till they
become similar ; and when you subtract the right-hand figure,
consider whether 1 would have been borrowed if the circles had
been extended farther, and make allowance accordingly.
•5,72, -974, or-974974, *8,135, or-8,135135,
•4,86, -86, -868686, -452907, or -4,529074,
Decimal
Fractions.
23265 23265 23327 23327
The value of circulating decimals is not altered though
one or more places be separated from the circle and con¬
sidered as a finite part, providing the circle be completed.
For example, -27 may be written *2,72, or which
is also the value of -27; and if two or more circles be
joined, the value of the decimal is still the same. Thus,
•2727 = which is reduced by dividing the terms by
101 to ‘if.
All circulating decimals maybe reduced to a similar form,
having a like number both of finite and circulating places.
For this purpose, we extend the finite part of each as far
as the longest, and then extend all the circles to so many
places as may be a multiple of the number of places in each.
Ex. -34,725, extended, -34,725725725725
•1,4562, -14,562456245624
Here the finite part of both is extended to two places,
and the circle to 12 places, which is the least multiple
for circles of 3 and 4 places.
SECT. II.—ADDITION AND SUBTRACTION OF INTERMI¬
NATE DECIMALS.
To add repeating decimals. Extend the repeating figures
one place beyond the longest finite ones, and when you add
the right-hand column, carry to the next by 9.
•0,85,
•106288,
•3,606060,
or *3,60
SECT. III.-
-MULTIPLICATION OF INTERMINATE
DECIMALS.
Case I.— When the multiplier is finite and the multipli¬
cand repeats, carry by 9 when you multiply the repeating
figure ; the right-hand figure of each line of the product is a
repeater, and they must be extended and added accordingly.
Ex. *13490;
•367
94460
809660
4048330
•04952460
If the sum of the right-hand column be an even num¬
ber of 9’s, the product is finite; otherwise it is a repeater.
Case II.— When the multiplier is finite, and the multi¬
plicand circulates, add to each product of the right-hand
figure the carriage which would have been brought to it if
the circle had been extended. Each line of the product is a
circle similar to the multiplicand, and therefore they must be
extended and added accordingly.
The product is commonly a circulate similar to the
564
ARITHMETIC.
Decimal multiplicand; sometimes it circulates fewer places, re-
Fractions. peats or becomes finite ; it never circulates more places.
' ^ Ex. -37,46, X -235
-235
187,32,
1123,93,
7492,92,
•08804,19,
Case III.— When the multiplier repeats or circulates,
find the product as in infinite multipliers, and place under
it the products which would have arisen from the repeating
or circulating figures if extended.
Ex. 1st, -958 X ■$
•8
2d,
•784 X -36,
•36,
7664
766
76
7
4
64
664
7664
4704
2352
28224
282
2
24
8224
•8515
9)2-6768
•2974^
1152
768
23
90)8-832
•0981$.
Therefore, in order to multiply by 0, we take one third
part of the multiplier; and, to multiply by 0, we take
two thirds of the same. Thus,
5th, *784 X '0=j 6th, -8761 X-0=|
2
3)*784
•261$
7 th, -735 X-326=^
323 3
8th,
•278 X-365,=^
365
2205
1470
2205
99|0)237405
2374,05
23,74
,23
323
1390
1668
834
999)101470,
101,
•101,571,
multiplier into two parts, of which the first is finite, and the I)ecim
second a pure repeater or circulate, with ciphers prefixed, Fractio
and multiply separately by these, and add the products.
Thus, -384 X *20 or by ‘2 = ’0768 or thus, -384
and by •05=-0213$
•09813 9)1920
2130
768^
•09810
In the following examples the multiplicand is a re¬
peater, and therefore the multiplication by the numerator
of the vulgar fraction is performed as directed p. 564, col. 1.
9th,
•68$ X 0 — 3-
5 9
\0th, -6$ X-2,39=1
•237 2 ‘
285,09,
It is evident, that if a repeating multiplier be extended
to any length, the product arising from each figure will
be the same as the first, and each will stand one place
to the right hand of the former. In like manner, if a cir¬
culating multiplier be extended, the product arising from
each circle will be alike, and will stand as many places to
the right hand of the former as there are figures in the
circle. In the foregoing examples there are as many of
these products repeated as is necessary for finding the total
product. If we place down more, or extend them farther,
it will only give a continuation of the repeaters or circulates.
The multiplication of interminate decimals may be often
facilitated by reducing the multiplier to a vulgar fraction,
and proceeding as directed p. 558, col. 2, par 8. Thus,
3d, -3824X-0=£ 4>th, -384X-23,=f§
7 23 2
9)3-410(-37,962,
27
71
63
*86
81
56
54
26
18
*86
443
1890
12660
237
99)15010(T5,16,
99
511
495
*160
99
610
594
*16
In the following examples the multiplicand is a circu¬
late, and therefore the multiplication by the numerator is
performed as directed, p. 563, col. 2, par ult.
11th, •3,81*X-5$=M
48 5
3054
15272
48
9|0)183,27,(.203,63,
18
*032
27
12th,
57
54
*32
*12, X *03,
3)1-7522
•58400
As the denominator of the vulgar fractions always con¬
sists of 8’s or of 9’s with ciphers annexed, we may use
the contraction explained p. 549, col. 1, par 1, &c.;
and this will lead us exactly to the same operation which
was explained p. 564, col. 1, par. 1, &c. on the principles
of decimal arithmetic.
•239803,
When the multiplier is a mixed repeater or circulate, we
may proceed as in Ex. Wh and 7th; or we may divide the
99)36,36(-036730945821854912764,
666
723
306
936
453
576
813
216
183
846
543
486
903
126
273
756
633
396
*036
In Ex. 12 we have omitted the products of the divisor,
and only marked down the remainders. These are found
De.nal
Fra-ons
ARITHMETIC.
565
by adding the left-hand figure of the dividual to the re-
. maining figures of the same. Thus, 363 is the first di¬
vidual, and 3, the left hand figure, added to 63, the re¬
maining figures, gives 66 for the first remainder; and the
second dividual, 666, is completed by annexing the cir¬
culating figure 6, the reason of which may be explained
as follows. The highest place of each dividual shows, in
this example, how many hundreds it contains; and as it
must contain an equal number of ninety-nines, and also
an equal number of units, it follows that these units, add¬
ed to the lower places, must show how far the dividual
exceeds that number of ninety-nines. The figure of the
quotient is generally the same as the first place of the di¬
vidual, sometimes one more. This happens in the last
step of the foregoing example, and is discovered when the
remainder found, as here directed, would amount to 99
or upwards; and the excess above 99 only must in that
case be taken to complete the next dividual.
\kth, '01, X'01,—-gg-
1
99),01(,000102030405060708091011121314151617181920
(2122232425262728293031323334353037383940
(4142434445464748495051525354555657585960
(6162636465666768697071727374757677787980
(81828384858687888990919293949596979899
The number of places in the circle of the product is
sometimes very great, though there be few places in the
factors; but it never exceeds the product of the denomi¬
nator of the multiplier, multiplied by the number of places
in the circle of the multiplicand. Therefore, if the mul¬
tiplier be $ or 0, the product may circulate three times
as many places as the multiplicand ; if the multiplier be
any other repeater, nine times as many; if the multiplier
be a circulate of two places, ninety-nine times as many:
thus, in the last example, '01, a circulate of two places,
multiplied by '01, a circulate of two places, produces a
circulate of twice 99, or 198 places. And the reason of
this limit may be inferred from the nature of the opera¬
tion ; for the greatest possible number of remainders, in¬
cluding 0, is equal to the divisor 99; and each remainder
may afford two dividuals, if both the circulating figures, 3
and 6, occur to be annexed to it. If the multiplier circu¬
late three places, the circle of the product, for a like rea¬
son, may extend 999 times as fer as that of the multipli¬
cand. But the number of places is often much less.
SECT. IV. DIVISION OF INTERMINATE DECIMALS.
Case I.— When the dividend only is interminate, proceed
as in common arithmetic ; but when the figures of the dividend
are exhausted, annex the repeating figure, or the circulating
figures in their order, instead of ciphers, to the remainder.
Ex. 1st, Divide *5326 by *7 2d, Divide '84$ by 5.
• / )'5320('76,095238, 5>84£(' 1680
49 5
42
42
*33
3d, Divide *6532$ by 8.
8)'6532$('08166/(.
*066
16
14
26
21
56
56
63
36
35
34
30
43
40
*33
30
In these accounts the quotient is never finite. It may Decimal
repeat if the dividend repeat; or, if the dividend circu- Fractions,
late, it may circulate an equal number of places, often
more, and never fewer. The greatest possible extent of
the circle is found by multiplying the divisor into the num¬
ber of places in the circle of the dividend. Thus, a cir¬
culate of 3 places, divided by 3, quotes a circulate of 3
times 3 or 9 places.
Case II.— When the divisor is interminate, the multiplica¬
tions and subtractions must be performed according to the
directions given for repeating and circulating decimals.
Ex. ls£, Divide *37845 by 0.
0)'37845('68121
333330
45110
44440
67$
550
110
111
2d, Divide '245892 by 2T8
•2,18')'245892( M27005
218181,81,
27710.18,
21818.18,
5892,00,
4363,63,
1528,36,
1527,20,
1090,90
1090,90
0
The foregoing method is the only one which properly
depends on the principles of decimal arithmetic ; but it is
generally shorter to proceed by the following rule.
Reduce the divisor to a vulgar fraction, multiply the di¬
vidend by the denominator, and divide the product by the
numerator.
Ex. ls£, Divide -37845 by 0 = f.
 9_
5)3'40605('68121.
2d, Divide -37840 by 0 = f
  3
2)M3530(-567680.
Note 1. Division by 0 triples the dividend, and division
by 0 increases the dividend one half.
Note 2. When the divisor circulates, the denominator
of the vulgar fraction consists of 9’s, and the multiplica¬
tion is sooner performed by the contraction explained
p. 546, col. 1. It may be wrought in the same way when the
divisor repeats, and the denominator of consequence is 9.
Note 3. If a repeating dividend be divided by a repeat¬
ing or circulating divisor; or, if a circulating dividend be
divided by a similar circulating divisor ; or, if the number
of places in the circle of the divisor be a multiple of the
number in the dividend ; then the product of the dividend
multiplied by the denominator of the divisor will be termi¬
nate, since like figures are subtracted from like in the con¬
tracted multiplication, and consequently no remainder left.
Note 4. In other cases the original and multiplied divi¬
dend are similar, and the form of the quotient is the same
as in the case of a finite divisor.
566
ARITHMETIC.
Decimal Note 5. If the terms be similar, or extended till they
Fractions, become so, the quotient is the same as if they were finite,
and the operation may be conducted accordingly; for the
quotient of vulgar fractions that have the same denomina¬
tor is equal to the quotient of their numerators.
Chap. XL—Of the Extraction of Roots.
The origin of powers of involution has already been
explained under the article Algebra. There now re¬
mains, therefore, only to give the most expeditious methods
of extracting the square and cube roots; the reasons of
which will readily appear from what is said under that
article. As for all powers above the cube, unless such as
are multiples of either the square or cube, the extrac¬
tion of their roots admits of no deviation from the alge¬
braic canon, which must be always constructed on pur¬
pose for them.
If the root of any power not exceeding the seventh
power be a single digit, it may be obtained by inspection
from the following Table of powers.
16
25
36
49
64
81
£ -2
c 3
O, u
1
8
27
64
125
216
343
512
729
C. 3
1
16
81
256
625
1296
2401
4096
6561
0»
Is
a b
-C to
1
32
243
1024
3125
7776
16807
32768
59049
^ u*
o 55
5 -2
S 2
1
64
729
4096
15625
46656
117649
262144
531441
CL,
^3
1
128
2187
16384
78125
279936
823543
2097152
4782969
you may continue the operation by annexing periods, orExtrac
pairs of ciphers, till there be no remainder, or till the oi'Eoi
decimal part of the quot repeat or circulate, or till you'^V'
think proper to limit it.
Ex. 1st, Required the square root of 133225.
SECT. I.—EXTRACTION OF THE SQUARE ROOT.
Rule I.—Divide the given number into periods of two
figures, beginning at the right hand in integers, and point¬
ing toward the left. But in decimals begin at the place of
hundreds, and point toivard the right. Every period will
give one figure in the root.
II. —Find by the table of powers, or by trial, the nearest
lesser root of the left-hand period ; place the figure so found
in the quot; subtract its square from the said period, and to
the remainder bring down the next period for a dividual or
resolvend.
III. —Double the quot for the first part of the divisor ; in¬
quire hoiv often this first part is contained in the whole resol¬
vend, excluding the unit's place; and place the figure denot¬
ing the answer both in the quot and on the right of the first
part; and you have the divisor complete.
IV. —Multiply the divisor, thus completed, by the figure
put in the quot, subtract the product from the resolvend, and
to the remainder bring down the folloiving period for a new
resolvend, and then proceed as before.
Note ls£, It the first part of the divisor, with unity sup¬
posed to be annexed to it, happen to be greater than the
resolvend, in this case place 0 in the quot, and also on the
right of the partial divisor; to the resolvend bring down
another period; and proceed to divide as before.
Note 2c?, If the product of the quotient figure into the
divisor happen to be greater than the resolvend, you must
go back and give a lesser figure to the quot.
Note 3ri, If, after every period of the given number is
brought down, there happen at last to be a remainder,
Square number 133225(365 root.
9
1 div. 66)432 resolvend.
396 product.
2 div. 725) 3625 resolvend.
3625 product.
365
365
1825
2190
1095
133225 proof.
2c?, Required the square root of 72, to eight decimal
places.
72-o6000000(8-48528137 root.
64
164)800
656
1688)14400
13504
16965)89600
84825
169702)477500
339404
169704)138096
  135763
2333
1697
636
509
After getting half of the decimal
places, work by contracted division
for the other half; and obtain them
with the same accuracy as if the
work had been at large.
127
118
3c?, Required the square root of-2916.
•2916(*54 root.
25
104)416
416
If the square root of a vulgar fraction be required, find
the root of the given numerator for a new numerator, and
find the root of the given denominator for a new deno¬
minator. Thus the square root of is f, and the root of
|-f is f-_; and thus the root of (— 6£) is f = 2-|-,
But if the root of either the numerator or denominator
cannot be extracted without a remainder, reduce the vul¬
gar fraction to a decimal, and then extract the root, as in
Ex. 3c?, above.
SECT. II. EXTRACTION OF THE CUBE ROOT.
Rule I.—Divide the given number into periods of three
figures, beginning at the right hand in integers, and point¬
ing toward the left. But in decimals, begin at the place of
thousand's, and point toward the right. The number of pe¬
riods shows the number of figures in the root.
II.—Find by the table of poivers, or by trial, the nearest
lesser root of the left-hand period ; place the figure so found
in the quot; subtract its cube from the said period; and to
the remainder bring down the next period for a dividual or
resolvend.
The divisor consists of three parts, which may be found
as follows:
M E T X C.
1st part 158700') )645904 resol vend.
2d part 2760 [
3d part 16 j
2 divisor 161476X4=645904 product.
Proof.
234 Square 54756
234 234
936
702
468
219024
164268
109512
Square 54756 Cube 12812904
Ex. 2d, Required the cube root of 28J.
28*750000(3*06 root.
27
270000)
5400 [
36 )
) 1750000 resolvend.
Divid. 275436X6 = 1652616 product.
3-06
3-06
1836
918
97384 remainder.
Proof.
Square 9‘3636
3*06
561816
280908
Square O-SGSO
28-652616
ARITH
\ s. III. The first part of the divisor is found thus: Multiply
the square of the quot by 3, and to the product annex two
ciphers ; then inquire how often this first part of the divisor
is contained in the resolvend, and place the figure denoting
the answer in the quot.
IV. Multiply the former quot by 3, and the product by
the figure now put in the quot; to this last product annex
a cipher, and you have the second part of the divisor.
Again, square the figure noio put in the quot for the third
part of the divisor ; place these three parts under one another
as in addition, and their sum will be the divisor complete.
V. Multiply the divisor thus completed by the figure last
put in the quot, subtract the product from the resolvend, and,
to the remainder bring down the following period for a new
resolvend, and then proceed as before.
Note 1. If the first part of the divisor happen to be
equal to or greater than the resolvend, in this case place
0 in the quot, annex two ciphers to the said first part of
the divisor, to the resolvend bring down another period,
and proceed to divide as before.
Note 2. If the product of the quotient figure into the
divisor happen to be greater than the resolvend, you must
go back, and give a lesser figure to the quot.
Note 3. If, after every period of the given number is
brought down, there happen at last to be a remainder,
you may continue the operation by annexing periods of
three ciphers till there be no remainder, or till you have
as many decimal places in the root as you judge necessary.
Ex. ls£, Required the cube root of 12812904.
Cube number 12812904(234 root.
8  
1st part 1200) )4812 resolvend.
2d part 180 >-
3d part 9 )
1 divisor 1389 X 3=4167 product.
97384 rem.
28-750000 cube.
If the cube root of a vulgar fraction be required, find
the cube root of the given numerator for a new numera¬
tor, and the cube root of the given denominator for a new
denominator. But if the root of either cannot be ex¬
tracted without a remainder, reduce the vulgar fraction
to a decimal, and then extract the root.
ARIUS, a divine of the fourth century, the head and
founder of the Arians, a sect which denied the eternal
divinity and substantiality of the Word, was born in
Libya. Eusebius, bishop of Nicomedia, a great favourite
of Constantia, sister of the emperor Constantine, and wife
of Licinius, became a zealous promoter of Arianism. He
took Arius under his protection, and introduced him to
Constantia; so that the sect increased, and several bishops
embraced it openly. In the cities, however, disputes
arose so high, that the emperor was obliged to assemble
a council—that of Nice—where, in the year 325, the doc¬
trine of Arius was condemned, he himself banished by
the emperor, all his books ordered to be burnt, and capi¬
tal punishment denounced against whoever dared to keep
them. After five years’ banishment, he was recalled
to Constantinople, where he presented the emperor with
a confession of his faith, drawn up so artfully, that it
lully satisfied him. Notwithstanding which, Athanasius,
now advanced to the see of Alexandria, refused to admit
him and his followers to communion. This so enraged
them, that by their interest at court they procured the
deposition and banishment of that prelate. But the
church of Alexandria still refusing to admit Arius into
their communion, the emperor sent for him to Constanti¬
nople, where, upon delivering in a fresh confession of his
laith in terms less offensive, the emperor commanded
Alexander, the bishop of that church, to receive him the
next day into his communion; but that very evening
Arius died suddenly. The heresy, however, did not ex¬
pire with the heresiarch: his party continued still in
great credit at court. Athanasius, indeed, was soon re¬
called from banishment, but as soon removed again; for
the Arians, under the countenance of government, made
and deposed bishops as it best served their purposes. In
short, this sect shone with great lustre above 300 years.
It was the reigning religion of Spain for above two cen¬
turies ; it was on the throne both in the East and West;
it prevailed in Italy, France, Pannonia, and Africa; and
was not extirpated till about the end of the 8th century.
It was afterwards set on foot in the West by Servetus.
Erasmus seems to have aimed at reviving it in his Com¬
mentaries on the New Testament; and the learned Gro-
tius appears to favour the doctrine.
ARK, Noah’s, a floating vessel built by Noah, for the
preservation of his family, and the several species of ani¬
mals, during the deluge. The ark has afforded several
points of curious inquiry relating to its form, capacity,
materials, &c. The wood of which it was built is called
in the Hebrew gopher wood, and in the Septuagint square
timbers. Some translate the original cedar, others pine,
others box, &c. Pelletier prefers cedar, on account of
its incorruptibility and the great plenty of it in Asia.
Fuller and Bochart contend that it was built of what the
Greeks call xovapaaos, or the cypress tree; for, taking
away the termination, kupar and gopher differ very little
in sound. In what place Noah built and finished his ark
is no less a matter of disputation; but the most general
opinion is, that it was built in Chaldea, in the territories
568 ARK
Arklow of Babylon. Its dimensions, as given by Moses, are 300
II cubits in length, 50 in breadth, and 30 in height; which
some have thought too scanty, considering the number of
things it was to contain; and hence an. argument has
been drawn against the authority of the relation. But
Buteo and Kircher have shown geometrically, that, taking
the common cubit of a foot and a half, the ark was suffi¬
cient for all the animals supposed to be lodged in it.
Father Lamy contends that it was 110 feet longer than
the church of St Mary at Paris, and 64 feet narrower;
and Dr Arbuthnot computes it to have been 81,062 tons.
It contained, besides eight persons of Noah s family, one
pair of every species of unclean animals, and seven pair
of every species of clean animals, with provisions for them
all during the whole year. By the description Moses
gives of the ark, it appears to have been divided into
three stories, each ten cubits or 15 feet high; and it is
agreed on, as most probable, that the lowest story was
for the beasts, the middle for the food, and the upper for
the birds, with Noah and his family.
Ark of the Covenant, a small chest or coffer, three feet
nine inches in length, two feet three inches in breadth,
and two feet three inches in height, in which were con¬
tained the golden pot that held manna, and Aaron s rod,
and the tables of the covenant. This coffer was made of
shittim-wood, and covered with a lid, which was made of
solid gold. The ark was reposited in the holiest place of
the tabernacle. It was taken by the Philistines, and de¬
tained 20, some say 40 years, at Kirjath-jearim; but the
people being afflicted with emerods on account of it, re¬
turned it with divers presents. It was afterwards placed
in the temple. The lid or covering of the ark was called
the propitiatory or mercy - seat; over which were two fi¬
gures placed called cherubims, with expanded wings of a
peculiar form. Here the Schechinah rested both in the
tabernacle and temple in a visible cloud, hence were is¬
sued the Divine oracles by an audible voice; and the
high priest appeared before this mercy-seat once every
year, on the great day of expiation ; and the Jews, where-
ever they worshipped, turned their faces towards the place
where the ark stood. In the second temple there was
also an ark, made of the same shape and dimensions with
the first, and put in the same place, but without any of
its contents and peculiar honours. It was used as a re¬
presentative of the former on the day of expiation, and
as a repository of the original copy of the Holy Scriptures,
collected by Ezra and the men of the great synagogue,
after the captivity.
ARKLOW, a seaport town of Ireland, in the county
of Wicklow, situated on the south side of the river Avoca
or Ovoca, near the Irish Sea. The river is crossed by a
bridge of 19 arches, and its harbour admits small vessels.
It contains a charter-school for 50 girls; and there are
barracks at its western extremity. It was assailed in
1798 by a body of insurgents, and suffered considerable
damage, though they were finally dispersed. Population
3808. 17 miles S. from Wicklow, and 49 S. E. from Dublin.
Long. 6. 0. W. Lat. 52. 48. N.
ARKWRIGHT, Sir Richard, famous for his inven¬
tions in cotton spinning, was born at Preston in Lanca¬
shire, in 1732, of parents in humble circumstances. He
was the youngest of thirteen children, received but a very
indifferent education, and was bred to the trade of a bar¬
ber. But the res angusta domi could not repress the na¬
tive vigour of his mind, or extinguish the desire he felt
to emerge from his low situation. In the year 1760 he
ARK
had established himself in Bolton-le-Moor, where he ex- A.rkwrie
changed the trade of a barber for that of an itinerant
hair-merchant; and having discovered a valuable chemi¬
cal process for dying hair, he was in consequence enabled
to amass a little property. It is unfortunate that very
little is known of the steps by which he was led to those
inventions that raised him to distinction, and have im¬
mortalized his name. His residence in a district where
a considerable manufacture of linen goods, and of linen
and cotton mixed, was carried on, must have given him
ample opportunities of becoming acquainted with the va¬
rious processes that were in use in the cotton manufac¬
ture, and of the attempts that had been made and were
then making to improve them. His attention was thus
naturally drawn to this peculiar department; and, while
he saw reason to conclude that it was likely to prove the
most advantageous in which he could engage, he had sa¬
gacity and good fortune to invent and improve those ex¬
traordinary machines by which, unlike most inventors, he
amassed vast wealth, at the same time that he added pro¬
digiously to the demand for labour, and to the riches and
comfort of the civilized world.
The spinning-jenny, invented in 1767 by Hargraves, a
carpenter at Blackburn in Lancashire, gave the means of
spinning twenty or thirty threads at once with no more
labour than had previously been required to spin a single
thread. The thread spun by the jenny could not, how¬
ever, be used, except as weft, being destitute of the firm¬
ness or hardness required in the longitudinal threads or
warp. But Mr Arkwright supplied this deficiency by the
invention of the spinning-frame—that wonderful piece of
machinery, which spins a vast number of threads of any
degree of fineness and hardness, leaving to man merely
to feed the machine with cotton, and to join the threads
when they happen to break. It is not difficult to under¬
stand the principle on which this machine is constructed,
and the mode of its operation. It consists of two pairs
of rollers, turned by means of machinery. The lower
roller of each pair is furrowed or fluted longitudinally,
and the upper one is covered with leather, to make them
take a hold of the cotton. If there were only one pair
of rollers, it is clear that a carding of cotton, passed be¬
tween them, would be drawn forward by the revolution of
the rollers; but it would merely undergo a certain degree
of compression from their action. No sooner, however,
has the carding, or roving as it is technically termed, be¬
gun to pass through the first pair of rollers, than it is re¬
ceived by the second pair, which are made to revolve
with (as the case may be) three, four, or five times the ve¬
locity of the first pair. By this admirable contrivance, the
roving is drawn out into a thread of the desired degree of
tenuity, a twist being given to it by the adaptation of the
spindle and fly of the common flax wheel to the machinery.
Such is the principle on which Mr Arkwright construct¬
ed his famous spinning-frame. It is obvious that it is
radically different from the previous methods of spin¬
ning either by the common hand-wheel or distaff, or by
the jenny, which is only a modification of the common
wheel. Spinning by rollers was an entirely original idea;
and it is difficult to determine which is most worthy of
admiration—the genius which led to so great a discovery,
or the consummate skill and address by which it was so
speedily perfected and reduced to practice. Mr Ark¬
wright stated that he accidentally derived the first hint
of his great invention from seeing a red-hot iron bar elon¬
gated by being made to pass between rollers J and though
1 See the account of Mr Arkwright, in the article Derbyshire, in the Beauties of England and Wales, vol. iii. p. 518. The state¬
ments in this account are of the highest authority, inasmuch as we have reason to believe it was furnished by Mr Strutt, the son of
Mr Arkwright’s first partner.
ARKWRIGHT.
569
^rk.ight- there is no mechanical analogy between that operation and
his process of spinning, it is not difflcult to imagine, that
by reflecting upon it, and placing the subject in different
points of view, it might lead him to his invention. The
precise era of the discovery is not known; but it is most
probable that the felicitous idea of spinning by rollers
had occurred to his mind as early as the period when Har¬
graves was engaged in the invention of the jenny, or al¬
most immediately after. Not being himself a practical
mechanic, Arkwright employed a person of the name of
John Kay, a watchmaker at Warrington, to whom we shall
afterwards have to refer, to assist him in the prepara¬
tion of the parts of his machine. Having made some pro¬
gress towards the completion of his inventions, he applied
in 1767 to Mr Atherton of Liverpool for pecuniary assist¬
ance to enable him to carry them into effect; but this
gentleman declined embarking his property in what ap¬
peared so hazardous a speculation, though he is said to
have sent him some workmen to assist in the construc¬
tion of his machine ; the first model of which was set up in
the parlour of the house belonging to the free grammar
school at Preston.
His inventions being at length brought into a pretty
advanced state, Arkwright, accompanied by Kay, and a
Mr Smalley of Preston, removed to Nottingham in 1768,
in order to avoid the attacks of the same lawless rabble
that had driven Hargraves out of Lancashire. Here his
operations were at first greatly fettered by a want of ca¬
pital. But Mr Strutt1 of Derby, a gentleman of great
mechanical skill, and largely engaged in the stocking ma¬
nufacture, having seen Arkwright’s inventions, and satis¬
fied himself of their extraordinary value, immediately en¬
tered, conjointly with his partner Mr Need, into part¬
nership with him. The command of the necessary funds
being thus obtained, Mr Arkwright erected his first mill,
which was driven by horses, at Nottingham, and took
out a patent for spinning by rollers, in 1769. But as
the mode of working the machinery by horse-power was
found too expensive, he built a second factory, on a much
larger scale, at Cromford in Derbyshire, in 1771, the
machinery of which was turned by a water-wheel, after
the manner of the famous silk-mill erected by Sir Tho¬
mas Lombe. Having made several additional disco¬
veries and improvements in the processes of carding,
roving, and spinning, he took out a fresh patent for the
whole in 1775; and thus completed a series of machinery
so various and complicated, yet so admirably combined,
and well adapted to produce the intended effect, in its
most perfect form, as to excite the astonishment and ad¬
miration of every one capable of appreciating the inge¬
nuity displayed and the difficulties overcome.2
When the vast importance of these discoveries became
known, it is not surprising that every effort should have
been made to have the patents set aside, and Mr Ark¬
wright deprived of the profit and honour to be derived
from them. But after a pretty attentive consideration of
the various proceedings relative to this subject, we have
no hesitation in saying, that we see no good grounds for
crediting the statement made in the court of king’s bench
in 1785, and recently repeated by Mr Guest in his work Arkwright,
on the cotton manufacture, which ascribes the invention
of spinning by rollers to Highs or Hayes, from whom
Arkwright is said to have learned it; and we shall now
briefly state our reasons for holding this opinion.
Mr Arkwright’s Jirst patent for spinning by rollers,
which is by far the most important, or rather, indeed, the
essential part of his inventions, was obtained, as we have
previously stated, in 1769; and its value and importance
were no longer doubtful after the establishment of the
factory at Cromford in 1771. The success which attend¬
ed this novel method of spinning naturally excited the
strongest desire on the part of the Lancashire manufac¬
turers to participate in the advantages to be derived from
it; and the fair presumption is, that instead of attempt¬
ing clandestinely to pirate the invention, they would, had
they conceived there were any good grounds to go upon,
have at once contested the validity of the patent. But
no such attempt was made till 1781, hvelve years after
the date of the first patent, and six years after the date
of the second. And, even at that late period, Mr Ark¬
wright’s opponents came forward only in consequence of
his having resolved to vindicate his rights, which had be¬
gun to be invaded on all sides, by raising an action against
Colonel Mordaunt for an infringement of his patent.
Mordaunt was supported by a combination of manufac¬
turers ; and, as they felt the question to be of the greatest
importance, it is all but impossible to suppose that any
thing would be omitted on their part which was conceived
likely to contribute to their success. The case having
been tried in the court of king’s bench, after Trinity
term, ,July 1781, the decision was unfavourable to Mr
Arkwright. But it is of importance to observe, that no
attempt was made at the trial to charge him with having
purloined the inventions of others, and that the verdict
was given on the sole ground of the description of the ma¬
chinery in the specification being obscure and indistinct.
Mr Arkwright admitted that such was partly the case;
adding, however, that the obscurity charged against the
specification had been intended only to prevent foreigners
from pirating his inventions. On any other principle, in¬
deed, his conduct would be inexplicable; for, as his in¬
ventions were fully known to hundreds of workmen in his
own employment, and as he had sold the privilege of
using them to great numbers of individuals in different
parts of the country, it is impossible to suppose that he
could either have expected or intended to conceal his in¬
ventions after the expiration of his patent.3 In conse¬
quence of the result of this trial, Mr Arkwright and his
partners prepared a Case, setting forth the value of the in¬
ventions, and the circumstances which had led to the in¬
distinctness complained of in the specification, which they
at one time intended to lay before parliament, as the
foundation of an application for an act for their relief.
But this intention was subsequently abandoned; and in a
new trial (Arkwright v. Nightingale), which took place in
the court of common pleas on the 17th of February 1785,
Lord Loughborough, the presiding judge, having ex¬
pressed himself favourably with respect to the sufficiency
1 This was the justly celebrated Mr Jedediah Strutt. He was the son of a farmer, and was born in 1726. His father paid little
attention to his education ; but, under every disadvantage, he acquired an extensive knowledge of science and literature. He was
the first individual who succeeded in adapting the stocking-frame to the manufacture of ribbed stockings. The manufacture of these
stockings, which he established at Derby, was conducted on a very large scale, first by himself and his partner Mr Need, and sub¬
sequently by his sons, until about 1805, when they withdrew from this branch of business.
2 See the Case of Richard Arkwright & Co. in 1782 ; the account of Sir Richard Arkwright in Aikin’s Biographical Dictionary ;
the History, Gazetteer, fyc. of Lancashire, by Edward Baines, vol. ii. p. 484, &c.
3 It was erroneously stated, in an article in the Edinburgh Review (No. 91), from which this sketch is principally abstracted, on the
authority of the article “ Cotton Manufacture,” in the Supplement to this work-(vol. iii. p. 394), that a trial had been instituted
m 1772, in which Mr Arkwright proved successful, to have the original patent set aside. But the first trial did not really take place,
as above stated, till 1781.
VOL. in. 4 c
570
ARKWRIGHT.
Arkwright. 0f the specification, a verdict was given for Mr Ark- to speak out, and with no inducement of any sort to beArkwi t
s wrio-ht. On this, as on the former trial, nothing was silent, should have gone about for more than twice the ^ /
stated against the originality of the invention. period of a Pythagorean noviciate, with so important a
In consequence of these conflicting verdicts, the whole secret closely pent up in their bosoms ? We confess that
matter was brought, by a writ of scire facias, before the such a supposition seems to us altogether absurd and
court of king’s bench, to have the validity of the patent incredible ; and we believe our readers will agree with
finally settled And it was not till this third trial, which us in thinking, that it is infinitely more consistent with
took place before Mr Justice Buller and a special jury, probability to suppose that the story of Highs and Kay
on the 25th of June 1785, that Mr Arkwright’s claim to had been manufactured for the occasion, than that it was
the inventions which formed the subject of the patent was leally true.
disputed. To support this new allegation, Mr Arkwright s The improbability of the statements made on this sub¬
opponents brought forward, for the first time, Highs or ject by Guest, in his History of the Cotton Manufacture,
Hayes, a reed-maker at Bolton. He stated that he had appear still more obvious, from his attributing to Highs
invented a machine for spinning by rollers previously to
1768; that he had employed the watchmaker Kay, to
whom we have already referred, to make a model of that
machine; and Kay was produced to prove that he had
communicated that model to Mr Arkwright, and that that
was the real source of all his pretended inventions. Hav¬
ing no idea that any attempt was to be made at so late a
period to overturn the patent on this new ground, Mr
Arkwright’s counsel were not prepared with evidence to
repel this statement; but it was stated by Mr Sergeant
Adair, on a motion for a new trial on the 10th of Novem¬
ber of the same year, that he was furnished with affidavits
contradicting, in the most pointed manner, the evidence
that had been given by Kay and others with respect to
the originality of the invention. The court, however, re¬
fused to grant a new trial, on the ground, that whatever
might be the fact as to the question of originality, the defi¬
ciency in the specification was enough to sustain the verdict.
But, independently altogether of the statements made
on the motion for a new trial, the improbability of the
story told by Highs and Kay seems glaring and obvious.
Highs states in his evidence that he had accused Ark¬
wright of getting possession of his invention by means of
Kay so early as 1769, or about that period. Where, then,
it may be asked, was this Mr Highs ever since that pe¬
riod, and particularly during the first trial in July 1781,
and the second in February 1785? Living in Lanca¬
shire, associating with manufacturers, and in the habit,
as he declares in his evidence, of making machines for
them, he could not fail to be speedily informed with re¬
spect to the vast importance and value of the invention
Mr Arkwright had purloined from him. It is impossible
but he must have been acquainted with the efforts that
were making by the Lancashire manufacturers to set
aside the patents; and is it to be supposed, had he really
been the inventor, that he would have remained for six¬
teen years a passive spectator of what was going forward ?
that he would have allowed Mr Arkwright to accumulate
a princely fortune by means of his inventions, while he
remained in a state of poverty ? or that he would have
withheld his evidence when the manufacturers attempted
to wrest from Mr Arkwright what he had so unjustly ap¬
propriated ? A single hint from Highs or Kay would, had
their story been well founded, have sufficed to force Mr
Arkwright to give them a share of his profits, or would
have furnished the manufacturers with the means they
were so anxious to obtain, of procuring the immediate dis¬
solution of the patents. But it has never been alleged
that Mr Arkwright took any pains to conciliate these per¬
sons : on the contrary, he treated Highs with the most
perfect indifference, and not only dismissed Kay from his
service, but even threatened to prosecute him on a charge
pf felony. And can any one imagine for a moment, that
persons with so many and such overpowering temptations
the invention, not only of the spinning frame, but also of
the jenny, which had been universally ascribed to Har¬
graves. But no weight can be attached to such rash and
ill-considered statements. It would be next to a miracle,
had two methods of spinning, both very ingenious, but
radically different in their first principles, been invented
nearly at the same time by the same individual.
It appears, from a communication from Mr Charles
Wyatt to his brother, in the Repertory of Arts for 1817,
and which has been reprinted by Mr Kennedy, in an in¬
teresting article on the Rise and Progress of the Cotton
Trade, in the Manchester Memoirs (2d series, vol. iii.
p. 135), as well as from the distinct reference to them in
the Case printed by Mr Arkwright in 1782, that attempts
had been made in the early part of last century to spin
cotton by means of machinery. But these attempts prov¬
ed ruinous to the parties by whom they were made; and
all knowledge of the machinery by which they attempted
to effect their purpose has been long since lost. Mr
Kennedy says he had seen a specimen of yarn spun about
1741, by the late Mr Wyatt of Birmingham ; but he ex¬
presses his opinion that no competent judge would say
that it was spun by a similar machine to that of Mr Ark¬
wright. It was not indeed alleged at any of the trials
that took place with respect to the validity of his patent,
nor has it ever been alleged since, that he had borrowed
anything whatever from these remote attempts. If he was
really indebted to them, it must have been merely for the
knowledge of the fact that such attempts had been made;
and this might have stimulated him to turn his attention
to the subject.
We have access to know that none of Mr Arkwright’s
most intimate friends, and who were best acquainted with
his character, ever had the slightest doubt with respect to
the originality of his invention. Some of them, indeed,
could speak to the circumstances from their own personal
knowledge; and their testimony was uniform and consist¬
ent. Such also seems to be the opinion now generally
entertained among the principal manufacturers of Man¬
chester. In proof of this, we may again refer to Mr Ken¬
nedy’s valuable paper in the Manchester Memoirs. Mr Ken¬
nedy is one of the most eminent and intelligent cotton
manufacturers in the empire, and it is of importance to
remark, that, although he was resident in Manchester in
1785, when the last trial for setting aside Mr Arkwright's
patent took place, and must, therefore, have been well
acquainted with all the circumstances connected with it,
he does not insinuate the smallest doubt as to his being
the real inventor of the spinning frame, nor even so much
as once alludes to Highs.
On their first introduction, Mr Arkwright’s machines
were reckoned by the lower classes as even more adverse
to their interests than those of Hargraves; and reiterated
attacks were made on the factories built for them.1 But
, 1 Doming Itasbothavn, Esq. a magistrate near Bolton, printed, some time about the period referred to, a sensible address to the
weavers and spinners, in which he endeavoured to convince them that it was for their interest to encourage inventions for abridging
ARK
.rk^ht.how extraordinary soever it may appear, it was amongst
the manufacturers that the greatest animosity existed
against Mr Arktvright; and it required all the prudence
for which he was so remarkable to enable him to triumph
over the powerful combination that was formed against
him. At the outset of the business, they unanimously
refused to purchase his yarn ; and when his partners,
Messrs Strutt and Need, had commenced a manufacture
of calicoes, the manufacturers strenuously opposed a bill
to exempt calicoes from a discriminating duty of 3d a
yard laid on them, over and above the ordinary duty of
3d by an old act of parliament. Luckily, however, the
manufacturers failed of their object; and, in 1774, an act
of parliament was obtained (14th Geo. III. cap. 72), for
the encouragement of the cotton manufacture, in which
fabrics made of cotton are declared to have been lately in¬
troduced, and are allowed to be used as “ a lawful and
laudable manufacturethe duty of 6d the square yard on
such cottons as are printed or stained being at the same
time reduced to 3d. But this disgraceful spirit of animo¬
sity, which must, had it been successful, have proved as
injurious to the interests of the manufacturers as to those
of Mr Arkwright, did not content itself with actions in the
courts of law, or a factious opposition to useful measures
in parliament, but displayed itself in a still more striking
and unjustifiable manner; for it is a fact, that a large fac¬
tory, erected by Mr Arkwright at Birkacre, near Chor-
ley, in Lancashire, was destroyed by a mob collected from
the adjacent country, in the presence of a powerful body
of police and military, without any one of the civil autho¬
rities requiring them to interfere to prevent so scandalous
an outrage.
Fortunately, however, not for himself only, but for his
•country and the world, every corner of which has been
benefited by his inventions, Mr Arkwright triumphed over
every opposition. The same ingenuity, skill, and good
sense, which had originally enabled him to invent his
machine and get it introduced, enabled him to overcome
the various combinations and difficulties with which he
had subsequently to contend.
Though a man of great personal strength, which he is
said to have displayed when young, in election riots at
Preston, Mr Arkwright never enjoyed good health. Dur¬
ing the whole of his splendid and ever memorable career
of invention and discovery, he was labouring under a very
severe asthmatic affection. A complication of disorders
at length terminated his truly useful life in 1792, at his
works at Cromford, in the sixtieth year of his age. He
was high sheriff of Derbyshire in 1786 ; and, having pre¬
sented a congratulatory address from the wapentake of
Wirksworth to his majesty George III., on his escape from
the attempt on his life by Margaret Nicholson, received
the honour of knighthood. No man ever better deserved
his good fortune, or has a stronger claim on the respect
and gratitude of posterity. His inventions have opened a
new and boundless field of employment; and while they
have conferred infinitely more real benefit on his native
country than she could have derived from the absolute
dominion of Mexico and Peru, they have been universally
productive of wealth and enjoyments.
“ The originality and comprehensiveness of Sir Richard
Arkwright’s mind,” says Mr Bannatyne, “ was perhaps
marked by nothing more strongly than the judgment with
arm 571
which, although new to business, he conducted the great Arles
concerns his discovery gave rise to, and the systematic II
order and arrangement which he introduced into every
department of his extensive works. His plans of manage-
ment, which must have been entirely his own, as no esta¬
blishment of a similar nature then existed, were univer¬
sally adopted by others; and, after long experience, they
have not yet, in any material point, been altered or im¬
proved.”
Mr Arkwright was twice married. By his first marriage
he had a son, the present Richard Arkwright, Esq. of
Willersley Castle, near Cromford; by his second marriage
he had a daughter, now Mrs Charles Hurt of Wirksworth,
Derbyshire. Both have numerous descendants, (c. c.)
ARLES, an arrondissement in the department of the
mouths of the Rhone, in France, extending over 883 square
miles, or 585,120 acres. It is divided into eight cantons,
and subdivided into 33 communes, which contain 70,641
inhabitants.
Arles, a city, the chief of the arrondissement of the
same name, in France. It is situated on the left bank of
the principal branch of the Rhone, called the Grand Rhone,
to avoid the bad navigation of which, a broad and deep
canal to the harbour of Boue has been constructed. The
surrounding country is fruitful, especially in corn. The
city is ancient, large, and well built, containing, besides a
cathedral and several churches, a fine town-house, an ex¬
change, and other public buildings, and 20,151 inhabit¬
ants. Having been formerly a Roman colonial city, Arles
abounds with many interesting remains of that people.
The most remarkable are, an amphitheatre of 1000 feet in
circumference, though its arena is filled with miserable
dwellings ; five arches of Roland’s Tower; the remains of
the palace of Constantine the Great, called Le Chateau de
Trouille ; the obelisk of granite before the town-house, 61
feet in height; and the Elysian fields, an ancient burial
place, with many sarcophagi. It is in long. 5. 42. 27. E.
Lat. 43. 40. 28. N.
ARMADA, a Spanish term, signifying a fleet of men
of war. The armada which attempted to invade England
in the time of Queen Elizabeth is famous in history. See
England.
ARMADILLO, in Zoology. See Mammalia Index.
ARMAGEDDON, a place spoken of in the Revelation
(xvi. 16), which literally signifies the mountain of Maged-
don or Megiddo, a city situated in the great plain at the
foot of Mount Carmel, where King Josiah received his
mortal wound in the battle against Necho, king of Egypt.
ARMAGH, an inland county in the province of Ulster, Boun¬
in Ireland, is bounded on the north by Lough Neagh, on Varies,
the east by the county of Down, on the south-east by that
of Louth, on the south-west by that of Monaghan, and on
the west by the county of Tyrone. According to Pto¬
lemy, it was inhabited by the Vinderii and Voluntii. It
afterwards formed part of a territory called Orgial or Ancient
Uriel, which also extended over Louth, Monaghan, andnames-
some smaller districts. It was likewise subdivided into
the tracts or countries of Clanbrassil, the M‘Cahans or
M‘Canes, Oirthir or Orior, the O’Hanlons, the Lews, and
Hy Niellan. In the reign of James I. it was made shire
ground, under its present name. It is now divided into ^>lvlslons‘
the eight baronies of Armagh, Upper Fews, Lower Fews,
O’Neilland East, O’Neilland West, Upper Orior, Lower
labour. The result has shown the soundness of Mr Hasbotham’s opinion. It is doubtful whether 30,000 persons were employed in
all the branches of the cotton manufacture in 1767; whereas, in consequence of those very inventions which the workmen en¬
deavoured to destroy, there are now upwards of 1,000,000 directly engaged in its different departments! There is, in fact, no idea
sa groundless and absurd as that which supposes that an increased facility of production can, under any circumstances, be injurious to
the labourers.
572
ARMAGH.
Armagh.
Extent.
Ecclesias¬
tical ar¬
range¬
ments.
Parishes.
Tithe.
Arch¬
bishop’s
income.
Popula¬
tion.
Soil.
Moun¬
tains.
Orior, and Turaney. The superficies of the county has
been estimated at 293,919 acres, or nearly 458 square
miles.
Considered in its ecclesiastical relations, it forms part
of the archiepiscopal province of Armagh, which com¬
prises the dioceses of Armagh, Clogher, Meath, Down,
Connor, Derry, Raphoe, Kilmore, Dromore, and Ardagh.
The archbishopric of Armagh extends over 468,500 acres,
in the counties of Armagh, Londonderry, Tyrone, Louth,
and Meath. It contains 111 parishes, consolidated into 80
benefices, having 78 churches, 75 glebe houses, and 16,324
acres of glebe, which, if equally apportioned among the
incumbents, would give an average of 204 acres to each.
Of these benefices the king presents to 4; the archbishop
to 43; other dignitaries of the diocese to 14; laymen to
11; Trinity college, Dublin, to 4; St Patrick’s cathedral,
Dublin, to one ; besides which, there are two joint presen¬
tations, and one disputed. The tithe paid by 48 of these
parishes, which have conformed to the provisions of the
tithe composition act, amounts to L.l9,292, being at the
rate of L.402 annually to each parish. If the aggregate
of the tithe of those which have not yet compounded bear
the same proportion to the number of parishes as those
which have, the total tithe of the diocese would amount
to L.44,613, which, divided among the 80 incumbents,
would afford an income to each of L.557 per annum, in¬
dependently of glebes, manses, or occasional dues. The
archbishop’s income, derived from lands, is estimated at
L.22,000 per annum.
The county of Armagh contains 22 entire parishes, and
5 parts of parishes, the remainder of which are in some
of the adjoining counties. The total population, according
to the last census, taken in 1821, amounts to 197,427
souls, being at the rate of one individual to every acre and
a half, or one family to every eight acres. Of this popu¬
lation, 28,905 are stated in the same census to be employ¬
ed in agriculture, 67,182 in trade, manufactures, and com¬
merce, and 14,521 in other occupations, leaving 86,819 of
both sexes and of every age unoccupied.
The county of Armagh returns three members to the
imperial parliament,—two for the county at large, and
one for the city. The election for the county is vested,
as in all the other counties of Ireland, in the freeholders,
whose number, previously to the passing of the Catholic
Relief Bill in 1829, amounted to 8746,—a large number
for a county, one of the smallest in superficial extent.
These were classed as follows,—203 freeholders holding
tenures of L.50 value; 124 of those of L.20; and 8419 of
those of L.2, or, as they are more commonly called, forty
shilling freeholders. The abolition of the last-named
class, which took place at the period just mentioned, re¬
duced the number of electors to 1361, viz. 235 freeholders
of L.50; 186 of L.20; and 940 of L.10, which is now the
lowest value of a tenure entitling a freeholder to vote.
The nature of the soil, and the general character of the
land, are well adapted for agricultural purposes. Hills of
gentle ascent, of pleasing forms and various altitudes, di¬
versify the surface. Large tracts, particularly in the vi¬
cinity of Armagh city, and thence throughout the north¬
ern parts, are covered with a stratum of rich productive
soil; many of these are well adapted for the culture of
wheat, being composed of a strong clay resting on a sub¬
stratum of excellent limestone. The southern and west¬
ern parts rise into a rugged, and in many parts a barren
elevation, known by the name of the Lews Mountains.
Ihe highest ol these mountains, and the second in height
in the province, is named Slieve-Gallien. Its top is
crowned by a large cairn or pile of stones, which forms
the roof of a singular cavern of artificial construction,
seemingly intended for other than sepulchral purposes.
Two lower ranges, named the Newry and Fathom Moun- Arma
tains, lie nearer the sea. wy.
Indications of lead show themselves in several parts;Miner-
traces of deserted mines of this mineral have also been f
discovered, but none are now wrought. Marble of good
quality and some beauty is raised in large quantities near
the city of Armagh. A blue stone, well adapted for build¬
ing, is common in many places. The steatite or soap-stone
has also been found ; as likewise good potters’ earth, bril¬
liant cubic pyrites, and ironstone of very rich quality.
Chalybeate springs in several parts point out the existence
of iron; but this mineral has not been found in sufficient
quantities to justify the outlay of money towards raising
it. Pearls, the production of a species of shell-fish be¬
tween the oyster and the muscle, have been found in the
river Bann.
The county is well watered by numerous streams; the Rivers,
principal are the Callen, the Tynan, and the Tallwater,
which fall into the Blackwater, a river that, after forming
part of the boundary between this county and Tyrone,
empties itself into the south-western angle of Lough Neagh.
The Tara, the Newtoun Hamilton, the Creggan, and the
Fleury, flow into the Bay of Dundalk. The Cam or Cam-
lin joins the Bann, which, rising in the Mourne Moun¬
tains, in the southern extremity of the county of Down,
forms part of the western boundary of Armagh county,
and falls into Lough Neagh to the east of the Blackwater.
With the aid of a canal, the Bann is navigable for vessels
of sixty tons burden through part of its course.
Lough Neagh, which stretches along the north ofbakes.
Armagh, is confined by it and the four counties of Down,
Londonderry, Antrim, and Tyrone. It is of an oblong
form, and is computed to cover 94,274 acres. Seven
rivers and a number of smaller streams flow into it, while
the only vent for its accumulated waters is through the
channel of the northern Bann. Though estimable as a
means of water communication through an extensive tract
of country, it has little of the picturesque or romantic to
attract attention. Ram Island, near the Antrim shore,
and Derrywarragh, near the mouth of the Blackwater, are
its only islands. Some parts of its shores have long been
celebrated for the petrifying qualities of its waters. The
cause of this phenomenon is not satisfactorily ascertained;
for, though logs and branches of trees, in various stages of
the petrifactive process, have been found, this effect has
not been produced on any pieces of timber laid there for
the sake of experiment. Catnlough and Lough Clay, the
only lakes within the county, are of small dimensions.
Tillage cannot be said to be either in a very advanced Agricul
or a very backward state. Farm manure is much used,ture■
but lime still more; which latter, though abundant in
some parts of the county, is so scarce in others that it is
drawn eight or ten miles for the purposes of tillage. It is
chiefly burned with turf raised from bogs dispersed
throughout most districts, but chiefly in the northern
parts, where they are of fine quality and large dimensions.
Fifty barrels of lime are allowed to the Irish acre. The
chief succession of crops is oats repeated two or three
seasons after potatoes or wheat, with manure. Green
crops are every year more attended to, particularly among
the wealthier farmers, and the gentry, who hold land in
their own hands, and thus give a tone and example to the
country for agricultural improvements.
The farms are in general very small, yet their owners Size of
are generally in circumstances of comparative comfort, f'11™5.
There are few who do not keep at least one cow, or a
few sheep ; none but the poorest cottar is without a pig-
Their usual diet is oatmeal, potatoes, and milk porridge,
varied sometimes by salt herrings. The better description
of farmers use animal food, chiefly bacon and poultry.
ARMAGH.
_h. Cheese in small quantity, and butter more than sufficient
for domestic use, are obtained from their cows. Their
sheep furnish wool, which is manufactured into the coarse
cloths, blankets, and druggets, used by themselves and
their families.
L n( The manufacture to which the industry of the country
man ic- is chiefly directed, and which has given a peculiar tone to
ture the character of the population, is the linen. It is no¬
ways necessary to the promotion of this manufacture, that
the spinners and weavers should be congregated in large
towns, or united in crowded and unwholesome factories.
On the contrary, most of its branches can be carried on in
the cottages of the peasantry. The men devote to the
loom those hours which are not required for the cultiva¬
tion of their little farms; the women spin and reel the
yarn during the intervals of their other domestic occupa¬
tions. Every female servant is bound to produce a cer¬
tain quantity of yarn weekly, in addition to her other du¬
ties. Smooth lawns, perennial streams, pure springs, and
the open face of heaven, are necessary for perfecting the
bleaching process. Hence the extensive bleachers, with
all their assistants and machinery, dwell in the country.
Such is the effect of this combination of agricultural occu¬
pations with domestic manufactures, that the farmers are
more than competent to supply the resident population of
the county with vegetable, though not with animal food;
and some of the less crowded and less productive parts of
Ulster receive a considerable supply of oats, barley, and
flour from it. Apples are grown in such quantities as to
entitle the county to the epithet bestowed on it, of the
orchard of Ireland.
Ma ers. The cause now dwelt upon has had an effect equally
striking on the manners and appearance of the people.
The men are stout and well proportioned; nor does it ap¬
pear that their growth is checked or their general health
deteriorated by their early application to the sedentary
and stooping labour of the loom. The women are gene¬
rally handsome, and, in consequence-of being chiefly em¬
ployed within doors, fairer than those of other districts,
hff On Sundays, and at fairs and similar places of resort, the
dress and manners of both sexes indicate a superior de¬
gree of civilization. The interior of their cottages is neat,
'■'n e" the exterior and the appendages cleanly. Cockfighting
1111 ' was once a favourite amusement among them, but the
taste for it is rapidly declining. They delight in dancing,
and have frequent meetings for the enjoyment of it; but
hunting seems above all to be their darling recreation.
The moment the cry of the hounds is heard, the labourer
drops his spade, the weaver rushes from his loom, and the
chase is followed with ardour and activity almost incredi¬
ble; yet it rarely happens that redoubled exertions at
their employments do not compensate for the time thus
1 cteri lost. Lively gratitude for favours, and a quick sense of
injury or insult, yet seldom tinctured with feelings of re¬
venge, are leading characteristics of their moral tempera¬
ment.
Iil on* In the towns and level parts of the county the protest-
ant religion, in its two principal forms of the established
church and the presbyterian discipline, predominates; but
the Roman catholic is prevalent in the mountainous and
less cultivated parts. As far as may be conjectured from
the returns of the commissioners of education, the Roman
catholics appear to constitute nearly one half of the gross
Kdi a1 P°PulatioiV
10n• According to those returns, the number of children at
school in 1824 amounted to 13,800. If the total number
of children between five and fifteen years of age, which
may be called the period of education, be 49,000, as stated
in the population returns of 1821, upwards of two thirds of
the whole remain uninstructed. The religious persuasions
573
of those educated are as follows:—Established church Armagh.
4655, presbyterians 2864, other dissenters 511, Roman
catholics 5281. The number of schools is 333, of which
264, containing 9151 students, are supported wholly by
the fees of the pupils; the remaining 69 are maintained
either by grants of public money or by the voluntary con¬
tributions of the wealthier classes; viz. 44 schools, edu¬
cating 3153 pupils, are supported by the former means,
and 25 schools, educating 1540 pupils, by the latter.
The population, as may be inferred from the preceding Towns,
statements, is chiefly rural. The county can boast but of
four towns of more than 1000 inhabitants each, viz. Ar¬
magh city 8493; Lurgan 2715; part of Newry, the other
and more populous part being in the county of Down,
2543; and Tanderagee 1158: total population of the larger
towns 14,909. That of the remaining towns and villages,
17 in number, amounts but to 6987 souls; the rural po¬
pulation, therefore, is 175,431, being nearly in the ratio
of 12 to 1 with respect to that of the larger towns, and of
8 to 1 with respect to that of the towns and villages of
every description.
The city of Armagh is 82 miles north of Dublin, being Armagh
in 54° 20' 55" N. lat., and in 6° 37' 57" W. long. Though city,
now much reduced in population, it was once considered
as the metropolis of the island, and second only to Dublin
in the number of its inhabitants. The honour of being its
founder is attributed to St Patrick. It was built on an
eminence named Druimsailech, or the Hill of Willows ; its
present name is supposed to be a slight corruption of Ard-
macha, the High Place or Field. In 448 a synod was held
here, the canons of which are still in existence. During
the period anterior to the arrival of the English in Ireland,
it suffered extremely from the assaults of the Danes, by
whom it was repeatedly plundered and burnt. Nor was
its condition much bettered by the change of masters. De
Courcy, FitzAdelm, and De Lacy, pillaged it in turn in
their attempts to subdue Ulster; and it was exposed to
similar calamities during the wars by which the north of
Ireland was desolated in the reign of Elizabeth. Her suc¬
cessor, James L, granted it a charter, according to which
it has since been governed. Its decline was still farther
increased by the non-residence of the archbishops, who,
in consequence of the unsettled state of the northern pro¬
vince, fixed their residence for many years at Drogheda.
From this deplorable state it was raised by LprdRokeby,
better known by the name of Primate Robinson. When
he determined to make it the seat of his permanent resi¬
dence, this venerable city was little more than a collection
of cabins. He erected in it an archiepiscopal palace, a Public
college or grammar school for classical education, a library buildings,
now containing upwards of 12,000 volumes, and an ob¬
servatory well furnished with astronomical instruments.
Besides these, the city now contains a Roman Catholic
chapel and a Presbyterian meeting-house, both on a large
scale ; and several places of worship for other religious de¬
nominations. Its other public buildings are, the cathe¬
dral, a cruciform building, more remarkable for its anti¬
quity than its architectural beauty; the court-house, the Charitable
prison, the charter-school, the barrack, the county infir-institu-
mary, the lunatic asylum, and the fever hospital, whichtlons-
last was erected and is maintained at the expense of Lord
John Beresford, the present primate. The number of
poor relieved at the charitable institutions just mentioned
amounted in the year 1829 to 2678, and occasioned an
expenditure of L.2562. Besides these there are eleven
dispensaries in various parts of the county, the returns
from six of which give an aggregate of 9558 individuals
relieved during the same year, at an expenditure of L.967,
one moiety of which is derived from the contributions of
individuals, the other from grants of public money. In
574 ARM
Annamaxi Armagh city there is a mendicity society, which main-
11 . tained 500 paupers during the same year, at an expendi-
Aimema. ture being at the rate of L.l. 3s. ^d. each. The
1 city is governed by a sovereign and twelve burgesses,
who, when deaths occur, elect to the vacancies. The
elective franchise is confined to the burgesses, and they
uniformly return the archbishop’s nominee as their repre¬
sentative. Although the linen trade has declined consi¬
derably, both here and throughout the north of Ireland,
much of it is still manufactured in the vicinity of the city,
and is disposed of at the market held here every Tues¬
day. (See Wakefield’s Ireland; Barton’s Natural History
of Lough Neagh ; Coote’s Statistical Survey of Armagh ;
Shaw Mason’s Parochial Account of Ireland, articles
Creggan, Ballymoyer, and Seagoe; Erck’s Ecclesiastical
Register; Stewart’s History of the City of Armagh; Parlia¬
mentary Papers; Population Returns, 1821; Reports of
Commissioners of Education, 1814, 1824-26; Report of
Committee on the State of the Poor in Ireland, 1830.)
ARMAMAXI, in Antiquity, a kind of Scythian cha¬
riots or carriages, composed of two wheels, variously
adorned with crowns, shields, breastplates, and other
spoils, carried in procession after the images of the gods
and great men.
ARMATURA, in a general sense, is the same with
what we otherwise call armour. It is more particularly
used in the ancient military art to denote a kind of exer¬
cise performed with missile weapons, as darts, spears,
arrows, and the like. In this sense armatura stands con¬
tradistinguished from palaria ; the latter being the exer¬
cise of the heavy-armed, the former of the light-armed.
Ancient ARMENIA, a country of Asia, anciently divided into
Armenia. ^rmenja Major and Minor. Armenia Major was bound¬
ed on the south by Mesopotamia, on the east by Media,
on the north by Iberia and Albania, and on the west by
the Euphrates. The most considerable cities were Ar-
taxata, Tigranocerta, and Theodosiopolis. Armenia Mi¬
nor was bounded on the east by the Euphrates; on the
south by Mount Taurus, which separated it from Cilicia;
on the west and north by a long chain of mountains, call¬
ed in different places Mans Scordiscus, Amanus, and An-
titaurus, by which it was separated from Cappadocia.
Armenia is said to have been very early advanced to
the rank of a kingdom. Berosus makes one Sytha the first
founder of this monarchy, whose successor Bardanes,
he says, was driven out by Ninus, king of Assyria. The
Armenians were in course of time subdued by the Medes,
to whom Astyages made them tributaries, but allowed
them to be governed by their own kings ; but on the dis¬
solution of the Median empire by Cyrus, the kingdom was
reduced to the form of a province, and they were govern¬
ed by Persian prefects or lieutenants. On the destruc¬
tion of the Persian empire by Alexander the Great, Ar-
*menia fell into the hands of the Macedonians, to whom
it continued subject till the beginning of the reign of An-
tiochus the Great. This prince having appointed two
prefects, named Zadriades and Artaxias, to govern Arme¬
nia, they excited the people to a revolt, and paused them¬
selves to be proclaimed kings of the provinces over which
they presided. Antiochus being then very young, they
succeeded beyond their expectation, which encouraged
them to attempt the enlargement of their territories. Ac¬
cordingly, invading the neighbouring countries, they took
from the Medes the provinces of Caspiana, Phaunitis, and
Basoropida; from the Iberians, Chorzena and Gogorena
on the other side of the Cyrus; from the Chalybes and
Mossynasci, the provinces of Pareneta and Herexena,
which bordered on Armenia Minor. On this occasion the
division of the kingdom into Armenia Major and Minor
first tpok place. Artaxias became king of Armenia Major,
A R M
and Zadriades of Armenia Minor; and this distinction Anne
subsisted to later times.
By whom Artaxias was succeeded is not known ; neither
have we any account of the transactions of his reign, far¬
ther than that Antiochus led a powerful army against him
and Zadriades, but without being able to recover a single
province. Upon this he concluded a peace, designing to
fall upon them at a proper opportunity; but they having
entered into alliance with the Romans, by that means
secured themselves in the possession of their kingdom.
After this Artaxias was defeated and taken prisoner by
Antiochus Epiphanes, but seems to have been restored
to his kingdom.
From this time we meet with a chasm in the Armenian
history for 70 years, during which all we know is, that
Tigranes, the king’s son, was delivered up as an hostage
to the Parthians. On the news of his father’s death, the
Parthians set the young king at liberty, having first ob¬
liged him to give up a considerable part of his kingdom
by way of ransom. Tigranes, thus restored to his father’s
kingdom, wras prevailed upon in the beginning of his reign
to enter into an alliance with Mithridates Eupator against
the Romans, whose power began to give jealousy to all
the princes of Asia. By their joint arms Cappadocia was
conquered, and the son of Mithridates placed on the
throne. Shortly after, the Syrians being harassed with
a long and intestine war of the Seleucidae, invited Ti¬
granes to come and take possession of their country;
which he accordingly did, and kept it for 18 years, till he
was driven out by Pompey, and Syria reduced to the
form of a Roman province. Encouraged by this success,
he next invaded Armenia Minor, defeated and killed
King Artanes, who opposed him with a considefable army ;
and in one campaign made himself master of the whole
kingdom. From Armenia Minor he marched against the
Asiatic Greeks, the Adiabenians, the Assyrians, and the
Gordians, carrying all before him, and obliging the people
wherever he came to acknowledge him sovereign. From
this second expedition he returned home loaded with
booty, which he soon after increased by the spoils of Cap¬
padocia, invading that kingdom a second time at the in¬
stance of Mithridates, who had been obliged by the Ro¬
mans to withdraw his forces from thence. From Cappa¬
docia, Tigranes, besides other booty, brought back into
Armenia no fewer than 300,000 captives, having sur¬
rounded the country with his numerous forces in such a
manner that none could escape. These, together with
the prisoners he had taken in his two first expeditions, he
employed in building the city of Tigranocerta, which they
afterwards peopled.
In the mean time Mithridates, who had concluded a
peace with the Romans for no other end than to gain time,
sent a solemn embassy to Tigranes, inviting him to enter
into a second alliance against the common enemy. This
he at first declined; but in the end was prevailed upon
by his wife Cleopatra to send him considerable supplies,
though he never came heartily into the war, not caring to
provoke the Romans, who on their part kept fair with
him, taking no notice for the present of the supplies he
had sent Mithridates. That unfortunate prince being soon
after defeated by Lucullus, was forced to fly for shelter
into Armenia, where he met with a very cold reception
from his son-in-law, who would neither see him, treat with
him, nor own him as his relation ; however, he promised
to protect his person, and allowed him in one of his castles
a princely retinue, and a table suitable to his former con¬
dition.
Though this total overthrow of Mithridates might have
opened the eyes of Tigranes, and made him oppose with
all his might the growing power of the Romans, he fool-
ARMENIA.'
,\rn iia. ishly left them to finish their conquest of Pontus, while
he marched at the head of a very numerous army against
the Parthians, with a design to recover from them the
dominions they had formerly extorted from him before
they set him at liberty. These he easily retook ; and, not
satisfied with what formerly belonged to him, he added
to them all Mesopotamia, the countries that lay about
Ninus and Arbela, and the fruitful province of Mygdonia;
the Parthians, though at that time a mighty people, fly¬
ing everywhere before him. From Mesopotamia Tigranes
marched into Syria to quell a rebellion which had been
raised by Cleopatra, surnamed Selene; who, after the
death of her husband Antioclftis Pius, reigned jointly with
her sons in that part of Syria which Tigranes had not
seized on. The malcontents were quickly reduced ; and
the queen herself was taken prisoner, and confined to the
castle of Seleucia, where she was soon after put to death
by the king’s orders. From Syria Tigranes passed into
Phoenicia, which he subdued either entirely or in great
part, spreading far and wide the terror of his arms, inso¬
much that all the princes of Asia, except those who were
in alliance with the Romans, either in person or by their
deputies submitted and paid homage to the conqueror.
The king having now subdued all Syria to the borders
of Egypt, and being elated with a long course of victories
and prosperous events, began to look upon himself as far
above the level of other crowned heads. He assumed the
title of king of kings, and had many kings waiting upon
him as menial servants. He never appeared on horse¬
back without the attendance of four kings dressed in li¬
very, who ran by his horse; and when he gave answers to
the nations that applied to him, the ambassadors stood on
either side of the throne with their hands clasped together,
that attitude being of all others then accounted among the
orientals the greatest acknowledgment of vassalage and
servitude. In the midst of all this haughtiness, however,
he was unexpectedly visited by an ambassador from Lu-
cullus the Roman general, who, without any ceremony,
told him, that he came to demand Mithridates king of
Pontus, who had taken refuge in his dominions, and, in
case of his refusal, to declare war against him. Notwith¬
standing his high opinion of himself, Tigranes returned a
mild answer to this message, in which, however, he re¬
fused to deliver up his father-in-law; and being highly
provoked at Lucullus for not giving him the title of king
of kings in his letter, he did not even bestow upon him
the title of general in his answer. He now received with
the greatest pomp imaginable his father-in-law Mithri¬
dates, whom till that time he had not admitted into his
presence, though he had resided a year and eight months
in his dominions. They had several private conferences;
and at last Mithridates was sent back to Pontus with
10,000 horse, to raise there what disturbances he could.
Lucullus, on the other hand, hearing the king’s resolu¬
tion to protect Mithridates, immediately began his march
for Armenia, at the head of only two legions of foot and
3000 horse, having left 6000 men in Pontus to keep that
country quiet. Having passed the Euphrates without
opposition, he detached two parties ; one to besiege a city
where he heard that Tigranes’s treasure and concubines
were kept; and the other, under Sextilius, to block up
figranocerta, in order to draw the king to a battle. But
1 igranes, after having put to death the scout that brought
him the first intelligence of the approach of the Romans,
made towards Mount Taurus, which he had appointed for
the place of the general rendezvous. The Roman gene¬
ral then despatched Mursena in pursuit of the king; and
having overtaken him in a narrow pass, defeated him, and,
besides all the baggage, carried off a great many prisoners,
the king himself having fled in the beginning of the skir-
575
mish. After this he sent out several parties to scour the Armenia,
country, in order to prevent the innumerable forces ofv-'~r^-'
Tigranes from joining into one body. This, however, he
was not able to effect: Tigranes was joined by such num¬
bers of Gordians, Medes, Adiabenians, Albanians, Iberians,
&c. that before he left Mount Taurus, his army consisted,
according to Plutarch, of 150,000 foot armed cap-d-pie,
35,000 pioneers, 20,000 archers and slingers, and 55,000
horse.
Lucullus wras so far from being dismayed at this formi¬
dable army, that the only fear he had was lest the king
should follow the advice of Mithridates, which was, not to
engage the Romans, but, by ravaging the country, distress
them for want of provisions. In order to draw him to a
battle, therefore, he formed the siege of Tigranocerta,
imagining that Tigranes would never suffer that fine city
to be taken without making an attempt to relieve it. The
event fully answered his expectations: Tigranes having
called a council of war, it was unanimously resolved to
attack the Romans; and Taxilis, whom Mithridates sent
to dissuade the king from venturing a battle, was in danger
of losing his head on account of the advice he gave. The
Roman general finding Tigranes disposed to come to an
engagement, left Muraena with 6000 men to carry on the
siege, wdiile he himself marched against the king’s vast
army with only 10,000 men according to some, and the
highest computations make them no more than 18,000.
The Romans were at first greatly disheartened ; but beipg
encouraged by Lucullus, they immediately broke the
Armenian army, who betook themselves to flight almost
at the first onset. The Romans pursued them till night,
making a most terrible slaughter. Plutarch informs us,
that of the Armenians 100,000 foot were killed, and that
very few of the cavalry escaped; whereas of the Romans
only five men were killed and 100 wounded. Antiochus
the philosopher, mentioning this battle, says that the sun
never beheld the like; and Livy, that the Romans never
fought to such a disadvantage, the conquerors not amount¬
ing to a twentieth part of the conquered. Tigranes in
his flight having met with his son in as forlorn a condition
as himself, resigned to him his royal robes and diadem,
desiring him to shift for himself and save those royal en¬
signs. The young prince delivered them to a trusty friend,
who, being taken by the Romans, consigned them to Lu¬
cullus.
While the king was making his escape after this terri¬
ble overthrow, he was met by Mithridates, who was march¬
ing to his assistance at the head of a considerable army.
The king of Pontus cheered up his son-in-law as well as
he could, and encouraged him to continue the war; ad¬
vising him, instead of fruitlessly bewailing the present
disaster, to rally his troops, raise new supplies, and renew
the war, not questioning but that in another campaign he
might repair all the losses he had sustained: but while the
two kings were consulting upon these matters, Lucullus
made himself master of Tigranocerta. From this city he
marched into the small kingdom of Gordyene, where he
celebrated with the utmost pomp the obsequies of king
Zarbienus, whom Tigranes had put to death, lighting the
funeral pile with his own hand. In this kingdom, besides
immense sums of gold and silver, he met with such store
of provisions as enabled him to carry on the war without
putting the republic to any charge.
The two kings, having levied new forces, appointed
their troops to rendezvous in the spacious plains on the
other side of Mount Taurus; whereupon Lucullus leaving
Gordyene, and parsing by Mount Taurus, encamped close
by the enemy. Several skirmishes happened for some
time between the two armies without any considerable
advantage; but Lucullus could by no means draw them
576
ARMENIA.
Armenia, to a general engagement. Upon this he decamped, as if
he designed to march to Artaxata and lay siege to that
place, where Tigranes had left his wife and children, with
great part of his treasures. He had scarce formed his
camp when the enemy appeared, and sat down close by
him. Lucullus did not allow them to fortify their camp,
but immediately attacked them, and having put them to
flight after a faint resistance, pursued them all night with
great slaughter, took most of the chief officers piisoners,
and returned the next day loaded with booty.
The Roman soldiers now, finding the cold very severe,
though it was no later in the year than the autumnal equi¬
nox, requested their general to allow them to retiie into
winter quarters. This request he rejected with indig¬
nation, upon which they mutinied. Lucullus did all he
could to persuade them to continue in their duty ; and
prevailed so far that they consented to lay siege to Nisibis,
in hopes of booty. This place they took; and Lucullus,
to the great satisfaction of his troops, took up his winter
quarters there. The next year, however, his forces again
mutinied, accusing him of amassing immense wealth for
himself; and, throwing their empty purses at his feet, told
him, that as he enriched himself alone, he might carry on
the war by himself. He endeavoured to appease them as
much as possible ; but the sedition being fomented by a
party who favoured Pompey the Great, at that time as¬
piring to the command of Lucullus’s army, the latter found
himself obliged to sit still and see Mithridates and Ti¬
granes overrun Cappadocia, and recover all Armenia and
great part of Pontus. They would have gained much
greater advantages, had not a son of Tigranes taken arms
against his father, and obliged him to divide his troops.
The father and son coming to a pitched battle, the latter
was defeated, and forced to save himself in Parthia, where
he persuaded Phraates, king of that country, to assist him
with a numerous army against his father. Phraates hav¬
ing laid siege to Artaxata, Tigranes the elder was obliged
to hide himself in the mountainous parts of his kingdom ;
upon which the king of Parthia returned home. Of this
Tigranes the father being apprised, immediately aban¬
doned the fastnesses of the mountains; and falling upon
his son at Artaxata, dispersed the rebels with great slaugh¬
ter, and entered his metropolis in triumph. Tigranes the
son first fled to Mithridates; but finding him reduced to
great straits, having been overcome a few days before,
with the loss of 40,000 men, by Pompey, he went over to
the Romans, and led them into Armenia against his father
as an ally of Mithridates.
Tigranes being now thoroughly humbled, willingly yield¬
ed to the Romans, Cappadocia, Syria, Cilicia, and that
part of Phoenicia which he possessed, contenting himself
with his paternal kingdom; and not only paid the fine of
6000 talents laid upon him, but made large presents to
Pompey, and all the officers of his army, which procured
him the title of the friend and ally of the Roman people.
He afterwards entered into a war with Phraates, king of
Parthia, by whom he was overcome, and would have been
driven out of his kingdom, had not a peace been brought
about by the mediation of Pompey. He ever after culti¬
vated a strict friendship with the Romans. He died in
the 85th year of his age, and was succeeded by his son
Artuasdes, called by Josephus Artabazes, by Orosius Ar-
tabanes, and by others Artoadistes.
From this period to the time of Trajan, Armenia was
governed by its own kings ; but as they were plainly vas¬
sals to the Romans, though they did not take that title
till the reign of the emperor Nero, their history falls to be
considered under that of the Romans.
By Trajan the kingdom of Armenia Major was reduced
to the form of a Roman province; but it soon recovered
its liberty, and was again governed by its own kings in the Am
reigns of Constantine the Great and his successor, to
whom the kings of Armenia were feudatories. In the
reign of Justin II. the Saracens subdued and held it till
the irruption of the Turks, who possessed themselves of
this kingdom, and gave it the name of Turcomania. The
Turks, after the reduction of Armenia, invaded Persia,
and other countries subject to the emperors of the East;
which gave the Armenians an opportunity of shaking off
the Turkish yoke, and setting up kings of their own, by
whom they were governed till the country was again sub¬
dued by Occadan, or, as some style him, Heccata, the son
of Genghis, and first khan of the Tartars. The Armenians
were still permitted, however, to have kings of their own;
for in our chronicles we find mention made of Leo, king of
Armenia, who in the reign of Richard II. came into Eng¬
land to sue for aid against the Turks, by whom he had
been driven from his kingdom. In the year 1472 of the
Christian era, Ussan Cassanes, king of Armenia, succeed¬
ing to the crown of Persia, made Armenia a province of
that empire; in which state it continued till the year
1522, when it was subdued by Selim II., and made a pro¬
vince of the Turkish empire.
Respecting Armenia Minor, we find very little record¬
ed, except what has been already mentioned, and what
falls under the Roman history. It was made a Roman
province by Vespasian, continued so till the division of the
empire, when it was subjected to the emperors of the
East; and, on the decline of their power, was subdued, first
by the Persians, and afterwards by the Turks, who gave
it the name of Genech, and have kept it ever since.
Modern Armenia comprises the greater part of the Ar-Modi
menia Major of the ancients, and is bounded on thenorthAnm
by Georgia and Mingrelia, on the west by the Euphrates,
and on the south and east by the territories of Julame-
rick and the Persian province of Azerbijan. It is divid¬
ed among the Turks, Persians, and Kurds, though their
territorial rights are not very distinctly defined; nor would
it be possible to bind down the wandering tribes of Kurds
to any fixed limits. The Turkish pachalics are, Erzeroum,
Akiska, Khars, Bayazid, Moosh, and Diarbekir. Those
pachalics are divided into districts. The country is moun¬
tainous ; but the mountains are finely wooded, and are
interspersed with extensive plains and beautiful valleys,
which yield every kind of grain, and abundance of the
most delicious fruits, such as grapes, olives, oranges, peaches,
apricots, nectarines, mulberries, walnuts, melons, apples,
and pears. Those fertile regions are watered by the
Araxes, as well as by the Euphrates and Tigris, and by
their numerous tributary streams, and present all the
varieties of beautiful scenery which arise from the com¬
bination of wood, water, and mountains. Wax and honey
are obtained in the mountains, as well as raw silk, hemp,
cotton, and tobacco, which are exported to Constanti¬
nople and Russia. Manna is also produced in sufficient
quantities to be exported. The mineral productions are,
silver, copper, loadstone, saltpetre, sulphur, and bitumen.
Wheat and barley are the two crops most extensively cul¬
tivated; and of these three successive crops maybe obtain¬
ed in two years. The principal manufactures and trade
of this country consist in copper and iron, silk and cot¬
ton, wine, tobacco, and manna. The native Armenians
are industrious and commercial in their habits, and evince
a strong propensity to visit foreign countries. They form
the commercial class in the Persian empire, as well as in
Asiatic Turkey; and they are scattered in various other
parts of the world, where they are engaged in extensive
mercantile enterprises, and bear uniformly a high cha¬
racter for integrity in their dealings. The country con¬
tains several barbarous tribes, who are ruled by their own
TT 5^
A R M
\r2n- independent chiefs, and who are addicted to plunder rather
tils than to trade. Armenia contains several large towns, such
as Erzeroum, with a population of 100,000 ; Diarbekir, Eri-
! Indians. van)yanj p0pU]ati0n 50,000; besides others of inferior note,
^ as Bayazid, Argish, and Betlis. Besides its numerous
rivers, Armenia contains the great lake Van, the Arsisa of
the ancients, which is 168 miles in circumference.
ARMENTIERES, a small handsome town in the de¬
partment of the North, in France, containing 7600 inha¬
bitants. It was taken by Louis XIV. in 1667, who dis¬
mantled it. The river Lys traverses the town, and forms
a small harbour. Long. 3. 3. E. Lat. 50. 40. N.
ARMIERS, a town in France, in the department of the
North, seated on the river Sambre. Long. 3. 45. E. Lat.
50. 15. N.
ARMIGER, a title of dignity belonging to such gentle¬
men as bear arms ; and these are either by courtesy, as
sons of noblemen, eldest sons of knights, &c.; or by crea¬
tion, such as the king’s servants, &c. See Esquire.
ARMILLARY, in a general sense, something consist¬
ing of rings or circles.
Armillary Sphere, an artificial sphere composed of a
number of circles of the mundane sphere, put together in
their natural order, to ease and assist the imagination in
conceiving the constitution of the heavens and the motions
of the celestial bodies. The armillary sphere revolves
upon its axis within a silvered horizon, which is divided
into degrees, and movable every way upon a brass sup¬
porter. The other parts are the equinoctial, zodiac, meri¬
dian, the two tropics, and the two polar circles.
ARMILUSTRIUM, in Homan Antiquity, a feast held
among the Romans, in which they sacrificed, armed, to
the sound of trumpets.
ARMINIANS, a religious sect, which arose in Holland,
by a separation from the Calvinists. They followed Ar-
minius, who, thinking the doctrine of Calvin with regard
to free-will, predestination, and grace, too severe, began,
in the year 1591, to express his doubts concerning them ;
and upon further inquiry adopted sentiments more nearly
resembling those of the Lutherans. After his appoint¬
ment to the theological chair at Leyden, he thought it
his duty to avow and vindicate the principles which he
had embraced ; and the freedom with which he published
and defended them exposed him to the resentment of
those that adhered to the theological system of Geneva,
which then prevailed in Holland; but his principal op¬
ponent was Gomar, his colleague. The controversy which
was thus begun, became more general after the death of
Arminius, in the year 1609, and threatened to involve the
United Provinces in civil discord. The Calvinists, or
Gomarists as they were now called, appealed to a national
synod. Accordingly the synod of Dort was convened by
order of the States General, in 1618, and was composed
of ecclesiastical deputies from the United Provinces, as
well as from the reformed churches of England, Hessia,
Bremen, Switzerland, and the Palatinate. The principal
advocate in favour of the Arminians was Episcopius, who
at that time was professor of divinity at Leyden. It was
first proposed to discuss the principal subjects in dispute,
and that the Arminians should be allowed to state and
vindicate the grounds on which their opinions were found¬
ed : but some difference arising as to the proper mode of
conducting the debate, the Arminians were excluded from
the assembly, their case was tried in their absence, and
they were pronounced guilty of pestilential errors, and
condemned as corrupters of the true religion. In conse¬
quence of this decision they were treated with great se-
verity, they were deprived of all their posts and employ¬
ments, their ministers were silenced, and their congrega¬
tions were suppressed. However, after the death of
vol. m.
A R M 577
Prince Maurice, who had been a partisan of the Goma- Anninius
rists, in the year 1625, the Arminian exiles were restored II
to their former tranquillity ; and, under the toleration of v^™loric-
the state, they erected churches and founded a college at
Amsterdam, appointing Episcopius to be the first theolo¬
gical professor. The Arminian system has very much
prevailed in England since the time of Archbishop Laud,
and its votaries in other countries are numerous.
The Arminians are also called Remonstrants, from a
humble petition, entitled their Remonstrance, which, in the
year 1610, they addressed to the states of Holland. Their
principal writers are Arminius, Episcopius, Vorstius, Gro-
tius, Curcellaeus, Limborch, Le Clerc, and Wetstein ; not
to mention many others of more modern date.
ARMINIUS, James, whose real name in Low Dutch
was James Harmanni, a famous Protestant divine, was
born at Oude water, in Holland, in 1560. He was ordain¬
ed minister at Amsterdam on the 11th of August 1588,
where he soon distinguished himself by his sermons, which
were remarkable for their solidity and learning. Martin
Lydias, professor of divinity at Franeker, judging him a
fit person to refute a writing in which Beza’s doctrine of
predestination had been attacked by some ministers of
Delft, Arminius at his desire undertook the task ; but upon
thoroughly examining the reasons on both sides, he came
into the opinions he proposed to overturn, and afterwards
went still farther than the ministers of Delft had done.
In 1600 he opposed those who maintained that ministers
should subscribe the confession and catechism every year.
In 1602 a pestilential disease raged at Amsterdam, during
which he acted with the greatest resolution and courage,
in assisting the poor and comforting the sick; and Lucas
Trelcatius and Francis Junius dying of that disease at
Leyden, the curators of that university chose Arminius
professor of divinity there, and he was afterwards made
doctor of divinity. Disputes upon grace were soon after
kindled in that university; and he was at length engaged
in a new contest, occasioned by a disputation of his con¬
cerning the divinity of the Son. These contests, his con¬
tinual labour, and the concern of seeing his reputation
blasted by a multitude of slanders in relation to his opi¬
nions, impaired his health, and threw him into a fit of sick¬
ness, of which he died on the 19th of October 1609. Ar¬
minius was esteemed an excellent preacher; his voice was
low, but very agreeable; his pronounciation admirable;
he was easy and affable to persons of all ranks, and face¬
tious in conversation amongst his friends. The curators of
the university of Leyden had so great a regard for him,
that they settled a pension upon his wife and children.
He left several treatises, viz. 1, Disputationes de Diversis
Christiana; Religionis Capitibus; 2, Orationes, itemque
Tractatus Insigniores aliquot; 3, Examen modesti Libelli
Gulielmi Perkinsi de Prsedestinationis Modo et Ordine,
itemque de Amplitudine Gratiae Divinae; 4, Analysis Ca¬
pitis Noni ad Romanos ; 5, Dissertatio de vero et genuino
Sensu Capitis Septimi Epistolae ad Romanos; 6, Arnica
Collatio cum D. Francisco Junio de Praedestinatione, per
literas habita; 7, Epistola ad Hippolytum a Collibus. These
pieces were collected in a 4to volume, published at Ley¬
den in 1629, which has been several times reprinted.
ARMISTICE, in military affairs, a temporary truce or
cessation of arms for a very short space of time. The
word is Latin, armistitium, and compounded of anna,
arms, and sto, to stand or stop.
ARMOISIN, a silk stuff, or kind of taffety, manufac¬
tured in the East Indies, at Lyons in France, and at Lucca
in Italy. That of the Indies is slighter than those made
in Europe.
ARMORIC, or Aremoric, something that belongs to
the province of Bretagne or Britany, in France. The
4 d *
578 ARM
Armour name Armorica was anciently given to all the northern and
I! western coast of Gaul, from the Pyrenees to the Rhine,
irmstrong. unc[cr which name it was known even in Caesar’s time.
The word is of Bas-Breton origin, and signifies mari¬
time; compounded, according to M. Menage, of ar, upon,
and more, sea.
ARMORY, a storehouse of arms, or a place wherein
military habiliments are kept, to be ready for use. There
are armories in the Tower, and in all arsenals, citadels,
castles, &c.
ARMOUR, a defensive habit, wherewith to cover and
secure the body from the attacks of an enemy. In an¬
cient statutes this is frequently called harness. A com¬
plete armour anciently consisted of a casque or helm, a
gorget, cuirass, gauntlets, tasses, brassets, cuishes, and
covers for the legs, to which the spurs were fastened.
This formed armour cap-a-pie, and was used by the
cavaliers and men-at-arms. The infantry had only part
of it, viz. a pot or headpiece, a cuirass, and tasses ; but all
light. Lastly, the horses themselves had their armour,
wherewith to cover the head and neck. Of all this furni¬
ture of war, scarce any thing is now retained except the
cuirass; the gorget or neck-piece worn by officers being
at present only a badge of honour, and of no defence.
Armour, Coat, is the escutcheon of any person or
family, with its several charges, and other furniture; as
mantling, crest, supporters, motto, &c. Thus we say, a
gentleman of coat armour, meaning one who bears arms.
ARMS, Arma, in a general sense, includes all kinds of
weapons, whether for defence or offence. Arms of stone
and of brass appear to have been used before those of iron
and steel. Josephus assures us that the patriarch Joseph
first taught the use of iron arms in Egypt, arming the
troops of Pharaoh with a casque and buckler. What con¬
tributed most to render the Romans masters of the world
was, that having successively warred against all nations,
they constantly renounced their own methods, arms, &c.
wherever they met with better. Thus Romulus, during
his war with the Sabines, a bold and warlike nation, adopt¬
ed their broad buckler, in lieu of the small Argian buckler,
which he had used till that time.
Arms, or Armories, in Heraldry, marks of dignity and
honour, regularly composed of certain figures and colours,
given or authorized by sovereigns, and borne on banners,
shields, coats, &c. for the distinction of persons, families,
and states, and passing by descent to posterity. They
are called arms, in regard they were borne principally on
the buckler, cuirass, banners, and other apparatus of war.
They are also called coats of arms, coat armour, &c. be¬
cause anciently embroidered on surcoats, &c. See He¬
raldry.
ARMSTRONG, John, M.D. an eminent physician,
poet, and miscellaneous writer, was born in Castletown
parish, Roxburghshire, where his father and brother were
ministers; completed his education in the university of
Edinburgh, where he took his degree in physic, February 4,
1732, with much reputation; and published his thesis, as
the forms of that university require; the subject of which
ARM
was De Tabe Purulenta. In 1735 he published a little hu-Armstror
morous fugitive pamphlet in 8vo, entitled An Essay for |j
abridging the Study of Physic ; to which is added, a Dia- Armuvde
logue betivixt Hygeia, Mercury, and Pluto, relating to the'^^'**
practice of Physic as it is managed by a certain illustrious
Society ; as also an Epistle from Usbeck the Persian to
Joshua Ward, Esq. This piece contains much fun and
drollery; in the dialogue, he has caught the very spirit of
Lucian. In 1737 he published A Synopsis of the History
and Cure of the Venereal Disease, 8vo. This was soon fol¬
lowed by the Economy of Love, a poem which has much
merit, but, it must be confessed, is too strongly tinctured
with the licentiousness of Ovid. It is said, however, that
his maturer judgment expunged many of the luxuriances
of youthful fancy, in an edition “ revised and corrected by
the author” in 1768. It appears by one of the cases on
literary property, that Mr Millar paid 50 guineas for the
copy-right of this poem, which was intended as a burlesque
on some didactic writers. It has been observed of Dr
Armstrong, that his works have great inequalities, some
of them being possessed of every requisite to be sought
after in the most perfect composition, while others can
hardly be considered as superior to the productions of
mediocrity. The Art of preserving Health, which was
published in 1744, is his best performance. In 1746 Dr
Armstrong was appointed one of the physicians to the
hospital for lame and sick soldiers behind Buckingham
House. In 1751 he published his poem On Benevolence,
in folio ; and in 1753, Taste, an Epistle to a young Critic.
In 1758 appeared Sketches or Essays on various subjects,
by Launcelot Temple Esq. in two parts. In this produc¬
tion, which possesses much humour and knowledge of the
world, and which had a remarkably rapid sale, he is sup¬
posed to have been assisted by Mr Wilkes. In 1760 he
was appointed physician to the army in Germany, where,
in 1761, he wrote a poem called Day, an Epistle to John
Wilkes of Aylesbury, Esq. In this poem, which is not
collected in his works, he wantonly hazarded a reflection
on Churchill, which drew on him the vengeance of that
severest of satirists. In 1770 Dr Armstrong published a
collection of Miscellanies, in 2 vols., containing, 1, The
Art of preserving Health ; 2, Of Benevolence, an Epistle
to Eumenes; 3, Taste, an Epistle to a young Critic, 1753;
4, Imitations of Shakspeare and Spenser ; 5, The Univer¬
sal Almanack, by Noureddin Ali; 6, The Forced Mar¬
riage, a tragedy; 7, Sketches. In 1771 he published A
short Ramble through some parts of France and Italy, by
Launcelot Temple ; and in 1773, in his own name, a quarto
pamphlet, under the title of Medical Essays ; towards the
conclusion of which he accounts for his not having such
extensive practice as some of his brethren, from his not
being qualified to employ the usual means. He complains
much of the behaviour of some of his brethren, of the herd
of critics, and particularly of the reviewers. He died in
September 1779.
ARMUYDEN, a seaport town of the United Provinces,
in the island of W’alcheren, formerly very flourishing, but
now inconsiderable. Long. 3.40. E. Lat. 51. 30. N.
579
A R M Y.
A v. An army, says Dr Johnson,1 is “ a collection of armed
v^ -^men obliged to obey one man.” This definition, however,
Di"*- has little else than its brevity to recommend it. An army,
us- ^ is true, is “ a collection of armed men,” and such a
« collection” is generally “ obliged to obey one man,” that
is to say, it is commonly placed under the exclusive con¬
trol and direction of an individual chief or leader. But it
does not follow that “ a collection of armed men obliged
to obey one man” is the distinguishing or principal cha¬
racteristic of an army, since a gang of robbers or banditti
would equally answer this description. To be at all ap¬
plicable, therefore, the definition of army must be at once
more comprehensive and more precise ; in other words, it
must include the specification of those peculiar circum¬
stances or attributes, the aggregate of which constitutes
the complex idea sought to be resolved. Hence an army
may, we think, be more accurately defined, a certain por¬
tion of the community selected, raised, or assembled, for
the defence of the state, by means of conscription, volun¬
tary enrolment, tenure of military service, or otherwise;
armed, disciplined, and organized, conformably to a given
system, which is considered best calculated for giving full
development and efficacy to its collective force; and com¬
manded by a chief or leader, with subordinate officers in
regular gradation, to carry his orders into effect, and move
the living machine, thus constructed, as he shall think pro¬
per to direct. It is an artificial or scientific combination
of a great number of powers, individually small or insig¬
nificant, so as, by their union and concentration, to ac¬
complish mighty and important deeds; a force which
states and nations create out of the elements of their
strength, as mechanicians form engines by taking advantage
of and skilfully combining the action of the primary me¬
chanical powers ; an instrument, in short, so contrived as,
though originally intended for the best, to be equally
available for the worst purposes, being alike fitted for de¬
fence or aggression, for protection or conquest, for restrain¬
ing and punishing the dishonest ambition of others, or
affording the means of gratifying our own. An army,
therefore, may be considered a species of movable engine,
composed of a vast number of individual parts or powers,
so arranged and organized as not only to act in concert,
but to exert their whole aggregate force in any direction
and upon any point which may be ordered or required.
At the present day this denomination is applied to any
given number of soldiers, consisting of artillery, infantry,
and cavalry, of various descriptions, all completely armed
and provided with engineers, a train of artillery, ammuni¬
tion, magazines, commissariat, and other necessary ad¬
juncts, subject to the command of a general, having un¬
der him lieutenant-generals, major-generals, brigadier-
generals, colonels, majors, captains, and subalterns :2 And
an army is now composed of battalions or squadrons, regi¬
ments, brigades, divisions, and sometimes corps d’armee;
two or more battalions or squadrons forming a regiment,
two or more regiments a brigade, two or more brigades
a division, and two or more divisions a corps d’armee. So
much for definition and description.
^ al Were we called upon to trace to its origin the history
tCi 3' war’ we should find it necessary to ascend through
every form and gradation of society to the very cradle
of the human race. Admitted on all hands to be one of Army,
the greatest evils, war is also, unhappily, one of the old-
est. “ II est triste d’imaginer,” says a celebrated mili¬
tary writer, “ que le premier art qu’aient invente les
hommes, ait ete celui de se nuire, et que, depuis le com¬
mencement des siecles, on ait combine plus de moyens
pour detruire fhumanite que pour la rendre heureuse.”3
This is a truth which cannot be disputed. The passions
of rivalry, jealousy, hatred, revenge, cupidity, thirst of
power or ambition, were born with the world; and these,
in their turn, gave birth to war, which again produced the
desire of conquering or combating with success. But, in
proportion as this desire came to prevail, men would na¬
turally be led to reflect as to the means best fitted to
insure its gratification: and as experience must soon
have convinced them that the battle was not always to
the strong, nor the race to the swift,—or, in other words,
that mere brute force, openly applied, was in many cases
insufficient to secure the victory, and, in most, productive
of a loss that countervailed it,—they must early have
discovered that some degree of combination was requi¬
site, and certain extrinsic qualities necessary, to render
it effectual; that violence might find an auxiliary in cun¬
ning, and resistance be paralysed by stratagem and sur¬
prise. Such, accordingly, is the state of things which
generally obtains amongst savage tribes, however warlike
and enterprising. They seldom go down to battle openly
and boldly; nor do they consider victory, when dearly
purchased, as either honourable or desirable. Artifice
is their main resource. The first principle of their sim¬
ple tactics is to steal unperceived upon the enemy, and
overwhelm him, while unsuspicious of attack and unpre¬
pared for resistance. In this and similar principles, how¬
ever, we discover the origin and primary development of
the military art. Its source is in the forest or the wil¬
derness. But as war is the first art which men invented,
so it is also that which was soonest cultivated and im¬
proved. It kept pace with the progress of society;—as
mankind multiplied, and communities extended them¬
selves, it received a corresponding expansion;—more
means were combined, and a greater number of men were
assembled. This was the second stage of the art, where
it remained long stationary, and in nearly the same state
in which we find it at the present day among some of the
Asiatic nations. Science had not digested nor systema¬
tized the rude and shapeless mass of knowledge which ex¬
perience had supplied, or suggested new combinations of
existing means. But ambition at length gave a fresh sti¬
mulus to improvement, by opening up a new theatre for
its expansive energies ; and successive conquerors contri¬
buted largely to the cultivation of an art which became
the instrument of their glory. In their hands, according¬
ly, it determined the destiny of nations ;—it raised up or
destroyed empires ;—it produced mighty revolutions ;—it
overthrew old dynasties, and created new ones in their
stead ;—and, amidst all the havoc and desolation occasion¬
ed by the pursuit of false glory, it contributed, upon the
whofe, to the cultivation of those sciences and arts which
have a tendency to mitigate the natural ferocity of man,
and ultimately to render conquest itself less destructive,
and war less sanguinary.
1 Dictionary, voce Army. 2 James’s Military Dictionary, voce Army.
3 Etsai General de Tacticiue, par Guibert, vol. i. p. 59, Disc. Prelim. Paris, 1803.
580
ARMY.
Arniy. Results so vast leave no doubt whatever, that the art
which was principally instrumental in producing them,
must have made considerable progress at a very remote
period of the world. It is in fact in the early and semi-
barbarous stage of society that the military virtues are
found in the greatest perfection. The mind is then fierce,
ardent, energetic, and daring ; peculiarly accessible to the
illusion of warlike renown, and undistracted by any of
those influences or impressions which act so powerfully
upon man in civilized life; while the body, unpampered
by luxury, unenfeebled by indulgence, is a fit companion
for such a spirit, and capable of enduring, without diffi¬
culty, the fatigues and privations incident to war. Add
to this that, at the period of which we speak, the only
law generally recognised and respected is the law of the
strongest; that the necessity of self-defence, of protect¬
ing person and property from violence and spoliation,
keeps men continually prepared to repel force by force,
or to retaliate one aggression by another; that, conse¬
quently, the disorders which distract society re-act upon
and foster the turbulent spirit in which they have their
origin ; that war thus becomes a trade which all are either
disposed or compelled to pursue ; that, to bold and adven¬
turous spirits, it opens up the only path which leads to
fortune and to fame, and thus holds out irresistible temp¬
tations to embark in military enterprises. At such a pe¬
riod all men are soldiers, and war is their natural employ¬
ment ; in it they live and move and have their being.
But necessity is the parent of invention, and the mother
of arts ; and to it the science of war was indebted for its
first improvements. Armies are unwieldy machines, which
cannot be moved without some degree of organization,
nor supported without considerable care and foresight,
nor led into action with an enemy without a certain know¬
ledge of tactical combinations. It is obvious, therefore,
that wherever we read of such masses of men having been
assembled, whether for purposes of aggression or defence,
we may safely consider this fact as of itself conclusive,
that the military art had there reached the second stage
of its progress, or, in other words, had made considerable
advances. History may be silent as to the precise extent
to which improvement had been carried, and the records
of the past may afford no clue to direct our inquiries con¬
cerning the composition and organization of the armies of
remote antiquity ; but if it be once admitted that such
armies existed, and that they defended some countries
and overran or conquered others, this admission will im¬
ply no inconsiderable knowledge of the art of war on the
part of those by whom they were organized and directed.
Discipline of some kind or other is the bond which keeps \
together large bodies of men : without it they are a mere
mob or rabble, incapable alike of action or direction, and ^
formidable to none save the people of the country where
they happen to have congregated. Even the Tartar
hordes of Genghis Khan and Timour had an organization
and discipline of their own, by means of which these bar¬
barian conquerors were enabled to impel their fierce and
warlike masses against the enfeebled and effeminate sol¬
diery of countries advanced in wealth and in civilization11
and the same observation applies still more forcibly to the
Asiatic and Turkish armies of our own time. In a word
we may adopt with some qualification the remark of Gui-
bert, when speaking of the progress of the military art:
“ II preceda,” says he, “ chez tous les peuples, les arts et
les sciences, et y perit a mesure que celles-ci s’eten-
dirent.”^ The details into which we are about to enter
will fully illustrate the truth of these general observa¬
tions.
The earliest military establishment of which history has Ancient
preserved any record is that of Egypt under the reign ofEgyptiar
Sesostris, or, as he is denominated in the monumental armJ''
sculptures of that wonderful country, Rhamses ;3 who
was considered the greatest of the Egyptian kings after
Osiris,4 and has generally been supposed by chronologists
to have flourished about seventeen centuries before our
era.5 But Osiris was an ideal being, the offspring of my¬
thology, and the hero of fable, adored by the Egyp¬
tians sometimes as a deified mortal, sometimes as a per¬
sonification of the Nile, and sometimes as the symbo¬
lical representative of the solar orb. Sesostris, on the
contrary, is claimed by history as a real personage; and
although the accounts which have been preserved of
the reign of this prince, chiefly by the Greek historians,
are dashed with a considerable admixture of exaggera¬
tion and romance, we cannot reasonably doubt the ex¬
istence of the monarch, however we may be inclined to
question the exploits of the hero and the achievements of
the conqueror. The substance of these accounts, indeed,
when considered in connection with the corroborative evi¬
dence supplied by the Egyptian monuments, and the
traces of his expedition which remained even in the age
of Herodotus, may be regarded as the more deserving of
credit thdt, while scepticism has little to oppose to them
except its own incredulity, the statements of the Greek
historians are not only consistent with one another, but
in strict accordance with the uniform tradition and be¬
lief, as well as w ith the records, of that country, the mo¬
ther of arts and civilization, which, under this renowned
Timour or lamerlane, of whom unfortunately we know so little, has left an institutional or elementary treatise on war and the
art of conducting armies, each page of which affords proof of a natural genius for commanding men, as well as of tact and skill in em¬
ploying them to the best advantage. See Instituts de Timour, par Langles; also Jomini, Traitt des Grandes Operations Militaires, tome
vm. p. G78. Paris, 1616.
2 Essai General de Tactique, vol. i. p. 60.
One of the difficulties which occur in our inquiries concerning Sesostris arises from the different names by which he has been de¬
signated by ancient writers. He has been variously called Sesostris, Sesoosis, Sesochis, Sesonchosis, Sethosis, Sethos, Harnesses, Rameses,
ithamses, Hamestes, liampses, Vexores, and ^Egyptus. But most of these appellations were probably titular. Thus, Sesostris may
be Se-sios-t-re, which signifies,yJft'za domini, donum soils; Sesoosis may, in like manner, be a corruption for SE-sios-sios,y?/h« domini
dominorum ; and Rhamses or derived from Re, sol, and Mes, gignere, may signify Begotten by the Sun. But it is not always
possible to render ancient Egyptian names according to the grammatical rules established in the Coptic language, and, therefore, such
etymologies as those now proposed are to be received as purely conjectural. The common designation of this monarch on the monu-
ments is Itameses-Meiamoun, Rhamses beloved of Ammon ; or, adopting the etymology of Rhamses iust proposed, Begotten by the Sun,
Beloved of Ammon ; in which case both appellations would be merely titular. Vide Sir W. Drummond’s Origines, book iv. chap. 13,
and Champoliion s Precis du Systeme Hieroglyphique, p. 223. Paris, 1824.
4 Manetho apwd Euseb. Chron. lib. i. In Manetho apud Josephum contra Appionem, lib. i. p. 1053, this monarch is indifferently called
Harnesses ana Rampses.
cVr^r10110^0^818 ^,ave ^een, u,n^e,to Ax the precise date of the reign of Sesostris. Larcher, the celebrated translator of Dionysius
Hohcarnassus, adopts and defends with much warmth the chronography of Herodotus; while others, rejecting the authority of
le father of history, endeavour to determine the era of the Egyptian monarch from the scanty data furnished by Diodorus and
be^erfectly unanswerable0 ^ COnclusions of Larcher> stated by Sir William Drummond in his Origines, book iv. chap. 13, appear to
sovereign, is supposed to have reached an unprecedented
height of military glory.
Sesostris, however, did not create the military spirit to
which he appears afterwards to have given such ample de¬
velopment. This was in a great measure the work of his
father, Amenophis III., who, shortly after the birth of his
son, is said to have assembled all the male children born on
the same day, and to have given them the same educa¬
tion. No distinction was made between the young prince
and his companions. They were alike engaged in the
same studies, trained to the same exercises, inured to the
same hardships, and instructed in the use of the same
arms. A rigid discipline prescribed unremitting exertion,
while daily privations and fatigue hardened and prepared
them for the duties of war. In establishing this military
seminary, Amenophis appears to have intended placing
around his son a faithful band of soldiers, attached to
him by the associations of early friendship, and the ties
of brotherhood in arms. Nor did the result disappoint
his expectations. Arrived at manhood, the prince and
his companions soon evinced how much they had pro¬
fited by their education,—how well they merited the con¬
fidence reposed in them. With bodies rendered vigorous
and athletic by labour and exercise, and with minds cul¬
tivated by the best studies, they were already fitted to
act both as soldiers and as generals, to serve with energy,
or to command with skill. Sent by his father at an early
age to command an expedition against the Arabians, the
prince, accustomed, as well as his companions, to suffer
long both from hunger and from thirst, could meet upon
equal terms the wandering and yet unconquered tribes,
who chiefly trusted for their defence to the barrenness of
their inhospitable deserts. Arabia was subdued and an¬
nexed to the Egyptian monarchy. He afterwards direct¬
ed his march to the west, and his father lived to see the
greater part of Libya conquered by his victorious son.
When Sesostris mounted the throne, therefore, his mili¬
tary fame was established. The qualities of his mind, his
dauntless courage, and his daring ambition, seemed to be
announced by his personal appearance ; and the people,
no doubt, easily associated the character of the hero with
the robust frame and gigantic stature1 of their new mo¬
narch. But it is more material to state, that the success
of his arms, in his wars with the Arabians and Libyans,
had inspired him with the hopes of making 3'et more ex¬
tensive conquests ; and, if we may credit the Greek histo¬
rians, the perilous project of subjugating the world must
have been already familiar to the mind of Sesostris when
he succeeded to the crown. Amidst the burning sands
of Libya, and in the depth of the Arabian deserts, the
phantom of universal empire showed itself, and he vowed
to pursue it.2
His resolution being thus taken, no time appears to have
been lost by the new sovereign in preparing his subjects
for an enterprise, which could not be undertaken but in
defiance of all the counsels of prudence. He caused va¬
rious reports to be spread abroad, artfully attributing his
project to other causes than his own ambition. His
daughter Athyrtis, famed for her wisdom, as a sort of
Egyptian Cassandra, proclaimed the facility with which
her father would conquer the earth : the success of the
enterprise was prognosticated by omens, by sortilege, and
by divination: and the people were reminded that, at the
birth of Sesostris, Phtha had appeared to his father in a
dream, and had predicted to Amenophis that the new¬
born boy should one day become master of the world.3
Nor did the Egyptian king content himself with influen¬
cing opinion in his favour by means of prophecies, prodi¬
gies, and visions. His natural sense taught him that other
and more rational precautions were necessary; that a
king who is not popular at home, should not think of
making conquests abroad. His first object, therefore,
was to secure the affections of the Egyptians: and for
this purpose he employed all those arts which, exercised
by sovereigns, are so powerful in conciliating popular fa¬
vour. Some he won by his munificence, others by his
clemency; the selfish were secured by his liberality, the
vain were flattered by his condescension and affability;
even traitors to the royal authority were allowed to escape
with impunity, and public debtors were liberated from the
prisons in which they were confined.4 On the other
hand, that he might provide for the tranquillity of his
kingdom, and leave none behind him who either would or
could attempt a revolution in his absence, he made a par¬
tition of power among the chief men of the nation, divid¬
ing the whole territory of Egypt into thirty-six nomes or
prefectures, over which he appointed as many governors,
each of whom was charged with the collection of the royal
revenues, and the administration of the laws within his
own particular district. He at the same time elevated
his brother Armais to the rank of regent of the kingdom ;
and, except that this prince might not wear the royal dia¬
dem, he was permitted to assume all the pomp of a mo¬
narch ; an indulgence which he so far abused as to usurp
the crown in the king’s absence, and to attempt his life on
his return home from his long and perilous expedition.5
Having completed these and other necessary arrange¬
ments, Sesostris next proceeded to raise an army. The
peace establishment of the kingdom, as previously orga¬
nized by this prince, appears to have consisted of a nume¬
rous militia, divided into two classes, denominated kala-
sires and harmatopoii, and amounting, according to He¬
rodotus, to 410,000 men, distributed throughout the dif¬
ferent provinces as a species of military colonists, each
man being allowed a portion of land adequate to the main¬
tenance of himself and family. This formed the nucleus
of the mighty force which Sesostris now raised for the con¬
quest of the world, consisting, if we may believe Diodorus
Siculus, of 600,000 infantry, 24,000 cavalry, and 27,000
war chariots; a force certainly equal to the magnitude of
the enterprise in which he was about to engage, though
it is difficult to conceive how the population of a small
country like Egypt, supposing it ever so dense, could have
supplied so vast a body of men, exceeding, by more than
200,000, the numerical strength of the army with which
the Emperor Napoleon invaded Russia, and which was by
far the largest ever assembled in modern times. No pre¬
cise information has reached us as to the composition, or¬
ganization, and discipline of this expeditionary army. We
only learn, incidentally as it were, that the king chose as
the leaders of his less experienced troops, the companions
of his youth, trained, like himself, to the use of arms, and
exceeding 1700 in number; that disgrace or infamy was
attached to disobedience of orders and neglect of duty,
and that meritorious or valorous deeds were liberally re¬
warded ; circumstances which, taken in connection with
the particulars above stated, seem to warrant the conclu¬
sion, that the military system of Egypt had reached no
small degree of improvement, and that the science of war,
in all its branches, had made considerable advances. With
] Sesostris was four cubits and four palms, or about seven feet in height, and seemed formed by nature to sustain all the toils and
fatigues to which his active life was afterwards exposed. Diodorus, lib. i. sect. 55.
a Drummond’s Origines, book iv. c. 13. 4 Diodor. Sic. lib. i. sect. 54.
* Diodor. Sic. lib. i. sect. 53. * Drummond’s Origines, loc. supr. cit.
582
A R M Y.
Army.
a view to the ulterior objects of the expedition, Sesostris
also collected or fitted out a fleet of 400 sail; and the
ships are said to have been of large dimensions, adapted
to the purposes both of war and transport.1
With these immense preparations the warlike monarch
at length commenced his perilous enterprise. He invad¬
ed Ethiopia, and compelled the inhabitants to pay him a
tribute in ebony, gold, and ivory. Even the ferocious
Troglodytes yielded to the conqueror. Advancing far¬
ther to the southward, he passed the frontiers of Ethiopia,
and entered the country extending beyond Sennaar to the
Mountains of the Moon, where he left various monuments
both of his power and of his piety. In the Straits of Dira
or Babelmandeb he joined his fleet, consisting, as above
stated, of 400 sail, which had already compelled the in¬
habitants of the islands in the Erythrean Sea, and of the
adjacent continent, to acknowledge his authority. The
victorious monarch next proceeded to India, which he
completely overran, extending his conquests beyond the
Ganges, and subduing some of the countries which lie
between that river and the Eastern Ocean. He then di¬
rected his course towards the country of the five rivers
or Punjab; crossed the immense reticulation of streams,
which ultimately unite their waters with the Indus; and
ascended the table-land of central Asia. Nor were the Scy¬
thian nations able to resist the torrent as it rolled west¬
ward through Tartary, behind the mountains of Imaus, and
north of the Caspian, to the river Tanais and the Palus
Moeotis. Having entered Europe, Sesostris passed through
Sarmatia, Dacia, and Mcesia, nor halted until he arrived
in Thrace, where he erected columns to perpetuate the
memory of his victories, and to prove the extent of his
conquests. From Thrace he crossed over into Asia Minor,
and advanced into the plains of Colchis (rendered so fa¬
mous in Grecian story by the expedition of the Argonauts
and the fable of the golden fleece), where he founded a
colony on the banks of the Phasis, and erected monu¬
ments, some of which were in existence in the age of He¬
rodotus. He then marched against the Assyrian empire,
which he conquered, and thus seated himself on the
throne which had been occupied by Ninus and Semira-
mis. Finally, surrounded with the trophies of victory,
and enriched with the spoils of nations, Sesostris return¬
ed to Egypt in triumph, after having been thirty years
engaged in an expedition, undertaken in defiance of all
the dictates of prudence, yet, if we believe the concur¬
rent testimony of historians, terminated without a single Arn
reverse of fortune.2 Such is the military story of the re-
nowned Rhamses.3 That it involves many improbabilities
is obvious; but what portion of ancient history is free of
them ? Mankind, in every age of the world, have taken
delight in the marvellous; and if the ancients appear to
have been pleased with reading romances in history, the
moderns seem equally disposed to read history in romances.
The great difficulty in forming an accurate judgment as
to the story of the Egyptian monarch arises from the
total want of details. We hear nothing of the generals to
whom he was opposed, of the cities which he besieged, nor
even of the battles which he fought. Historians relate
his triumphs, but ai’e silent respecting the skill which ob¬
tained them. At the same time, it cannot reasonably be
doubted, we think, that there is a large substratum of
truth in the narratives which have reached us respecting
this extraordinary personage. By the concurrent testi¬
mony of the ancient authors, confirmed by the evidence
derived from the Egyptian monuments, he is represented
as a great warrior and conqueror; as the first, and, we may
almost add, the last, of the Pharaohs who pursued the
phantom of military renown, and sought for glory in dis¬
tant expeditions: nor are there wanting circumstances
which warrant the conclusion, that he overran some coun¬
tries, conquered others, and left traces of his progress in
many parts both of Asia and Europe. That he establish¬
ed a regular army, and provided a fleet to co-operate with
it in his expedition against the countries of the East, are
facts which seem to be as well attested as any in ancient
history.4
“ C’est chez les peuples d’Asie, chez les Perses sur-Persiai
tout,” says Guibert, “ que fart de la guerre commen^a aarmies'
prendre quelque consistancebut he adds, “ apres la
mort de Cyrus, le luxe lui fit quitter la Perse, et il passa
chez les Grecs.”5 This remark, however, must be taken
with some important qualifications. As a general propo¬
sition, it . is doubtless true that the military art first as¬
sumed consistence among the Asiatic nations, particular¬
ly the Persians; for the warlike spirit of Egypt seems to
have expired w ith its first and only conqueror. But it is
utterly absurd to maintain that the death of Cyrus was
productive of any change in the military system of Persia,
or that this event led to the transference which Guibert
has so gratuitously supposed. Cyrus, in as far as we are
able to distinguish his character,- and form a judgment
1 Origines, ubi supra.
2 Diodorus, lib. i. sect. 54 and 55 ; Strabo, lib. xvi.; Herodotus, lib. ii. c. 103 and 110; Manetho apud Joseph, contr. Apion.; Julius
Africanus apud Syncellum. In all the countries through which he passed, Sesostris left monuments behind him; and where he encoun¬
tered serious resistance, the columns he erected bore this inscription : “ Sesoosis, King of Kings, and Lord of Lords, has subdued
this region by force of arms.” Diodorus, ibid.
3 The information given to Germanicus when he visited the ruins of Thebes, by some of the elder Egyptian priests, relative to
this monarch, and the military establishment he had created, is thus recorded by Tacitus in the second book of his Annals: “ Mox
(Germanicus) visit veterum Thebarum magna vestigia; et manebant strvictis molibus litterse jEgyptiae, priorem opulentiam com-
plexae ; jussusque e senioribus sacerdotum patrium sermonem interpretari referebat habitasse quondam septingcnta. millia setati mili-
tari : atque eo cum exercitu regem Rhamsen Libya, ^Ethiopia, Medisque et Persis, Bactriano ac Scytha potitum; quasque terras
Suri Armeniique et contigui Cappadoces colunt, inde Bithynum, hinc Lycium ad mare imperio tenuisse,” &c. The strength of the
army of Sesostris, as here stated, very nearly coincides with the amount given in the text, on the authority of Diodorus. According
to the latter, this army consisted of 000,000 infantry, 24,000 horse, and 27,000 armed chariots ; which, as at least three men fought
in one chariot, would make a total of 695,000 men, or only 5000 less than the number reported by the priests to Germanicus on the
faith of the monuments.
_ 4 Origines, ubi supra. “ It would be in vain,” says Sir William Drummond, “ to deny to the traditions of ages, to the records of
history, and to the authority of monuments, that Sesostris must have been one of the greatest princes that ever lived ; while we may
fairly confess our doubts of the extent of his conquests, and acknowledge that we cannot ascertain at what period he flourished. I he
existence of the monarch we may consider as certain ; and some of the achievements of the conqueror we may admit to be probable,
though we eannot fail to perceive, that the number of his triumphs has been amplified by exaggeration, and the history of his reign
crowded with fictions. It is known that the great Ramesses or Ramestes created at least one obelisk, on which he announced
himself to be loved and gifted by all the gods of Egypt; but it may be questioned whether he had a right to call himself the master
of the whole habitable world. We may believe that Sesostris obtained many victories, and subdued many regions ; while we may
still avow that we are unable to tell when this mighty monarch reigned, where were the limits of his empire, what humbled nations
bowed down before his throne, or what captive kings were yoked to his triumphal car.”
* Essai General de Tactique, vol. i. p. 61.
A R
irn of his achievements, appears to have been a wise prince,
a warlike monarch, and a great conqueror j1 while the vic¬
tories achieved by the Persians under his command, con¬
trasted with the fatal reverses which they afterwards ex¬
perienced, may induce superficial observers to imagine
that the knowledge of the art declined after the hero’s
death. No opinion, however, can possibly be more erro¬
neous; except, indeed, it be that which represents the
Greek tactics as having been primarily derived from the
Persian, to which, as will appear in the sequel, they bore
not the slightest resemblance. The qualities of the Per¬
sian troops may, perhaps, have deteriorated, and, under
the influence of luxury and refinement, the military cha¬
racter of the nation may have declined; but the system
of organising armies and making war continued, in a great
measure, unchanged: nor, as far as the military art is
concerned, would it be easy to discover any material dif¬
ference between the tactics of Cyrus, who was uniformly
victorious, and those of Xerxes, Mardonius, and Darius,
who experienced the most disastrous defeats. It should
also be remembered, that the former led Asiatics against
Asiatics, and that the nations he subdued were among
the most effeminate and voluptuous of the ancient world :
whilst the latter were called to contend with the Greeks in
their best days, when their bodies were robust, their hearts
strong, and their discipline admirable; and when their ar¬
mies were commanded by men fired alike with the love of
liberty and of glory, and not only conversant with the sci¬
ence of war, theoretically considered, but eminently skilful
in all those resources which neutralize superiority of num¬
bers, and enable handfuls of men to snatch the victory
from masses apparently overwhelming and invincible.
The strength of the Persian army consisted in its ca¬
valry, which wms always of excellent quality, and capable
of achieving great things had it been properly command¬
ed. This was emphatically evinced at the passage of the
Granicus, where its gallant conduct attracted the admira¬
tion of every officer in the Macedonian army, from the
king to the humblest dilochite in the ranks.2 Notwith¬
standing the absurd principle upon which it was formed,
and the total want of support, owing to the treachery or
terror of the Greeks in the pay of Darius, who had been
brought forward to sustain it, this cavalry bravely disput¬
ed the passage ; drove Ptolemy, who commanded the van¬
guard of the Macedonian army, back into the river; charg¬
ed the heads of the columns as they successively ascended
the bank in order to deploy, with the utmost impetuosity;
and maintained the combat until it was attacked by the
formidable phalanx in front, and by the light infantry on
both flanks, when it was at length forced to retire.3 The
Persian infantry had none of the qualities for which the
cavalry was distinguished, and seems, in fact, to have
been little better than a military mob, without coherence
or solidity; while the vast numbers of this arm which
were commonly brought into the field impeded the action
of the cavalry, which they were incapable of supporting,
and served only to create confusion, and supply food for
the slaughter, when opposed to disciplined armies com-
583
manded by men conversant with military combinations. Army.
Marathon, Plataea, and Mycale, all bear witness to the v—
truth of this observation. The war-chariots formed ano¬
ther source of disorder and weakness. Their number, like
that of the infantry, was excessive ; and as these vehicles
could only act upon level ground, they were altogether
useless and unavailing in a broken country, or against a
skilful commander. With regard to the numerical strength
of the Persian armies, we have no precise information, and
can only form a conjecture from the statements, almost
always exaggerated, of the Greek historians as to the
numbers actually brought into the field. Xerxes, who
had taken by descent a hereditary hatred of the Greeks,
invaded Europe, it is said, and entered Greece at the
head of an army, which, with its retinue of servants,
eunuchs, and women, amounted to upwards of 5,000,000
of souls ; a statement which, if true, would imply that the
Persian nation had risen en masse to overrun the countries
of the West. Yet this vast multitude, or rather horde, was
arrested in its progress by 300 Spartans at the pass of
Thermopylae; and that mountain gorge would have be¬
come the scene of its total defeat and destruction, had not
a base Trachinian betrayed this devoted band of heroes,
and enabled the Persians to attack it at once in the front,
the flank, and the rear. At Marathon, Datis and Arta-
phernes, lieutenants of the Great King, brought into the
field 100,000 foot and 10,000 horse,4 which were beaten
by 10,000 Athenian infantry and 1000 Plataean auxiliaries,
commanded by Miltiades. At Plataea, the Persian force,
consisting in all of 300,000 men, was again defeated with
great loss by a handful of Lacedaemonians and Athenians
under Pausanias. And at the battle of Mycale, fought
on the same day with that of Plataea (22d September
479 b. c.), 100,000 men, the wrecks of that portion of the
army more immediately under the command of Xerxes,
which had just returned from the unsuccessful expedition
to Greece, were completely overthrown and dispersed by
a small body of Greeks, who stormed their entrenched
camp, slaughtered several thousands, and carried off an
immense booty. On comparing these various numbers,
and making due allowance for casualties, it would appear
that the Persian monarch must have entered Greece with
about 600,000 fighting men; an enormous force numeri¬
cally considered, but not too great to provoke incredulity,
when we reflect on the mode in which the eastern na¬
tions have always made war, and further take into account
the circumstance, that nearly the whole of one reign and
part of another were consumed in making preparations for
this ill-fated expedition.
Of the state of the Persian army in the reign of Alex¬
ander, Arrian has furnished us with many important par¬
ticulars, especially in his account of the battle of Arbela,
which is the more interesting, as it gives us some insight
respecting the Persian tactics under the last Darius. Ac¬
cording to this writer, who had consulted the memoirs of
Ptolemy, one of Alexander’s generals, but who, neverthe¬
less, seems to have possessed the Greek talent for exag¬
gerating numbers, the army which Darius brought into
M Y.
Hie achievements of Cyrus, like those of Sesostris, have been so exaggerated by historians, and embellished by fabulists, that
■i most every grain of truth has to be separated from a bushel of fiction. The Cyropsedia is merely a philosophical romance, with no
more of truth or fact in it than is sufficient to give verisimilitude to the story.
t he Persian cavalry, 30,000 strong, was, on this occasion, commanded by Memnon, who drew it up in a single line of equal ex-
ent with that occupied by the Macedonian army on the other bank of the river. The ground on which it was posted sloped gradual-
y towards the bank of the Granicus, which was here steep and difficult, and hence no position could have been chosen more favour-
nv °r ^le e^ecbve action of such a force. Put its energies were paralysed, or, which comes nearly to the same thing, its full capa-
h dies were never brought into play, in consequence of its linear formation, which admitted only of detached efforts, without ensemble
or ®ul’P°r*'- (Guischardt, Memoires Militaires sur les Grecs et les Romains, tom. i. p. 251-258. Lyons, 1760.)
Luischardt, ubi supra.
/,!. totld number of Persians engaged at Marathon was, according to Valerius Maximus (1. v. c. 4), 300,000; according to Justin
' 9)5 double this amount, or 600,000 men. No attention whatever is due to such extravagant exaggerations.
584
Army, the field on this occasion consisted of 1,000,000 infantry,
40,000 cavalry, 200 chariots armed with scythes, and 15
elephants; a statement which appears equally incredible,
whether we regard the absolute amount here assigned, or
attend to the glaring disproportion between the relative
numerical strength of the different arms. Quintus Cur-
tius, who reduces the infantry to 600,000, and raises the
cavalry to 145,000, exaggerates at least with method, and
thus avoids an objection fatal to the numerical accuracy
of the military historian. The disposition of this enor¬
mous force, as described by Arrian, shows the incongru¬
ous elements of which it was composed. According to
the custom of the Persians, the king placed himself in the
centre, having around him his relations and the officers of
his court, with his ordinary guards, foot and horse, which
sometimes amounted to 15,000 men. These he support¬
ed by a body of Greeks in his pay, upon whom he placed
great reliance, and by other corps delite furnished by the
native army. The Persians, the Susians, and the Candu-
sians composed the left; on the right were the Syrians,
the Assyrians, and other nations, subjects or allies of Per¬
sia ; and the whole was formed into squares or masses of
prodigious depth, evidently with the intention of resisting
the compact formation of the Macedonian phalanx, of
which the Persians had already had woeful experience.
These different nations were variously armed, some with
missile weapons, others with pikes, hatchets, maces, &c.;
and cavalry were stationed in the intervals between the
squares. The reserve was composed of those for whom
no place could be found in the first line; and being drawn
up too close to it, served only to augment the confusion.
The infantry of the left was flanked by the main body of
the Persian cavalry, and part of that of the Bactrians;
together with two corps, one Scythian and the other Bac-
trian, a little in advance. On the right, the Armenian and
the Cappadocian cavalry were posted in a similar manner,
though not in equal force. Two hundred armed chariots
were drawn up before the left, and fifty before the right
of the infantry, while the elephants and fifty more chariots
were placed in advance of the centre.1 Such was the dis¬
position of the army of Darius on this memorable and de¬
cisive day. It was doubtless bad in many respects, par¬
ticularly in the disproportionate crowding of all arms on
the centre and left, while the right was left comparative¬
ly weak and uncovered; but its greatest defect, insepar¬
able, perhaps, from the heterogeneous composition of the
army, consisted in this, that the defeat of any one part of
the line was certain to throw the whole into irretrievable
disorder, and to end in a complete rout. Still it showed
very considerable knowledge of the military art; while the
battle which followed, and which was bravely contested,
is even yet considered a study for tacticians.
I’he.Greek From the earliest times, the genius of the Greeks, ad-
aiimes. venturous and free, inclined them to war. This, at first
a consequence of their position, became in time an attri¬
bute of the national character, and gave rise to institu¬
tions which, in their turn, served to diffuse and confirm
the spirit in which they had originated. Divided into a
number of petty states, which were separated often by
imaginary boundaries, and naturally jealous of one another,
Greece was a scene of never-ending contention, and the
theatre of almost continual war. New causes of difference,
M Y.
in the shape of injuries, encroachments, or insults, real Anm
or imaginary, were incessantly arising; and as each state
was alike proud of itself, suspicious of its neighbours or
rivals, and, above all, watchful of its independence, the
wrong done, or believed to have been done, was promptly
followed by retaliation, which again provoked a repetition
of the offence, and thus led ultimately to war. Such a
state of things naturally fostered a warlike spirit, and
gave birth to military institutions; while the necessity of
self-defence, still more than the love of conquest or of
glory, rendered it imperative that every citizen capable
of bearing arms should be ready to appear in the field at
the call of his country. But experience soon taught the
important lesson that numbers did not constitute strength,
and that a small body of men prepared by early training
for the duties of war, and subjected to a system of regu¬
lar discipline, were capable of contending, on equal terms,
with great numerical pdds. When this discovery was first
made, we have no means of ascertaining precisely; but it
is one which must early have occurred to the rulers and
governors of small states like those of Greece, the scanty
population of which imposed upon them the necessity of
devising the best means for rendering its disposable
strength effective and available. Hence we find, that
one great object of the early statesmen and legislators of
this country was to organize a system of physical and mo¬
ral education adapted to its peculiar position and circum¬
stances ; to engraft the military spirit on those institutions
which were destined to form the general character of
their countrymen; and, amidst the pursuits of peace, to
prepare the minds and bodies of their citizens for encoun¬
tering the fatigues, privations, and perils of war. Nor did
their labours prove fruitless or vain; for the institutions
thus prepared being suited alike to the genius and condi¬
tion of the people, soon struck their roots, as it were, into
the soil, and ere long produced those fruits which have
for ages been the wonder and admiration of mankind. But
less perhaps of this wonder and admiration is due to the
bravery of the Greeks, eminent as it always was, than to
their discipline, organization, and conduct in the field.
Among them all the branches of the military art were si¬
multaneously cultivated, and received the most import¬
ant improvements. Their formation was rendered com¬
pact and formidable; combining solidity and the power of
resistance, with a mobility which made these qualities
available on different points, even in action. Their tac¬
tics were singularly adapted to the peculiar character of
their troops, and were founded on the most certain prin¬
ciples of the art.2 And, in later times, we find strategy
recognised and taught as a science in the schools ;3 while,
in the field, it received, in several respects, a development
which no other nation, ancient or modern, has yet been able
to surpass. Lastly, we may observe, that until the reign of
Philip, the father of Alexander the Great, Greece had no
standing army. Her strength consisted in her militia; and
to this description of force she was indebted for the im¬
perishable glories of Marathon, Plataea, and Mycale, when
the myriads of the Persian invader were successively
overthrown. But, from the causes above indicated, and
the incessant contests in which the different states were
engaged with each other, this militia had acquired the
principal characteristics of a regular force, both as regards
A R
1 Guischardt, Mtmoires Militaires sur les Greet et les Romains, tom. i. p. 260-61. „
2 Guibert, in his Disconrs Prelimmaire, part second, underrates the tactics of the Greeks. “ Je compare les guerres des Grecs,
says he, “ et la plupart des guerres des anciens, a celles de nos colonies dans I’autre continent. J’y vois cinq ou six mille homines ies
uns contre les autres, des champs de bataille etroits, oil I’oeil du general peut tout embrasser, tout diriger, tout reparer. Un bon major
conduiroit aujourd'hui la manoeuvre de Leuctre et de Mantinte, comme Epaminondas” p. 82. It will be fortunate for modern armies when
their “ good majors” are as skilful and as brave as Epaminondas.
3 Guischardt, Memoircs Militaires, tom. ii. p. 155.
Awy*
The par-
tan :ny.
ARM Y. 585
organization and discipline, and consequently was of nearly, ent parts of the phalanx were classed according to a re- Army,
equal avail against an enemy in the field. gular system, and, in particular, the covering file was
To the institutions of Lycurgus Sparta was indebted matched in quality as nearly as possible with the file in
for her military pre-eminence among the states of Greece, front; so that if the whole or any part of the front rank
To exclude all refinement and luxury, to cultivate the failed, the vacancies were supplied by the second files,
sterner virtues of abstinence and self-denial, to inure the without disordering the line. The arms, offensive and
body to hardships and the mind to suffering, to inculcate defensive, of the soldier, consisted of a spear or pike, a
self-sacrificing patriotism, and to form great characters, short sword or dagger, and a shield or buckler of an oval
appear to have been the principal objects of this iron- form, which was fastened round the neck and at the left
hearted legislator; who accordingly laid the foundations shoulder by means of straps. But latterly Cleomenes
of his institutions in a system of primary education, in- changed this clumsy encumbrance for the Macedonian
tended and calculated to convert the free male popula- shield, originally invented by the Carians, which was fast-
tion of the state into a military community, and to deve- ened on the left arm by a ring or belt, so as to leave the
lope to the utmost all those physical and moral qualities soldier free to employ both hands in giving force and di-
which render men invincible in war. Nor did the results rection to the pike. The Spartans were also familiar with
disappoint the calculations upon which this system had the most approved evolutions, which they performed with
been founded. Trained from their earliest years to suf- equal celerity and precision. The rear of the phalanx *
fer the extremes of heat and cold, hunger and thirst, to en- became the front, or the front the rear, by the shortest
dure pain with unflinching fortitude, and to despise danger and simplest operation; while, by redoubling its forma-
and death ; habituated to the most implicit and unques- tion, it became a solid square, bristling on every side with
tioning obedience to all placed in authority over them ; pikes, and, in locked order, wholly impenetrable to attack,
and continually exercised in running, wrestling, swimming, except upon broken ground. Bapid changes of front
ball-playing, and martial games of all sorts, as well as even in the presence of an enemy, refusing or advancing
in stratagems, surprises, and ambuscades ; the Spartan a wing at a critical moment, turning an enemy’s flank, and
youth, when called to take the field, were prepared at many other manoeuvres, which are still considered equally
once to enter upon the duties of war with alacrity and delicate and difficult, were frequently executed with the
vigour, and to regard with indifference all the privations most complete success by the commanders of these for-
and fatigues of the severest campaign. Nor were their midable columns. In a word, the Spartans may be re¬
discipline and organization inferior to their military qua- garded as the founders and first improvers of that military
lilies. The Spartan phalanx, which formed the basis of system, which attained its perfection under Alexander,
the Macedonian, consisted of eight files in depth.1 The and placed the crowns of Asia at his feet.2
files were placed at intervals of six feet from one another The Athenian military force consisted of three classes ; The Athe-
when disposed in open order; in close order the distance first, the heavy troops, 6wX/ra/, armed with a spear, a dag-nian army,
was three feet; in locked order one foot and a half; the ger, a cuirass or corslet, and an oval shield, and reserved
intervals being thus diminished one-half at each approxi- for the phalanx or main battle ; secondly, the light troops,
mation. The open order was that observed on the march, ‘iriXraarcu, armed with a light spear, a javelin, and a target,
and in evolutions or manoeuvres; the close order was for and destined for skirmishing, seizing or maintaining posi-
the attack; and the locked order was that in which an tions, and covering the movements of the phalanx; thirdly,
attack was received. The front rank consisted of picked irregular troops, yv/xvtjrai, without defensive armour, but
men; the rear rank was also select; while those upon whom provided with missile weapons, such as javelins, bows
least dependence could be placed had their station in the and arrows, and slings, for harassing an enemy on his
centre, in order to give impetus and momentum to the march, or performing the duties of light troops in the
column by their weight and physical power. The differ- field.3 The phalanx or main battle consisted entirely
1 There is some confusion among the ancient writers on the subject of the division of the Spartan force. Thucydides, describing
the arrangement and proportions of the Spartan army at Mantineia, informs us that a battalion or lochos consisted of four penteccsties
or companies, a pentecostie of four enomoties or platoons, and each enomotie of 32 men ; thus making the whole strength of the bat¬
talion 512 men. But he makes no mention of the number of battalions in a regiment, and indeed acknowledges that the subject was
obscure, and his information imperfect. According to Xenophon, the Spartan mora or regiment consisted of four foc/ti, the lochos of
two pentecosties, and the pentecostie of two enomoties. The number included in the last denomination is not given ; but, if we assume
that it consisted of 32 men, as stated by the historian first named, the regiment of Xenophon would amount to 572 men, or 50
more than the battalion of Thucydides. How are these discrepancies to be reconciled ? It is scarcely probable that the division of
the Spartan force underwent any change in the interval between the time of Thucydides and that of Xenophon ; but it is very pro¬
bable that neither may be correct, considering that the Spartans studiously concealed from the observation of foreigners the internal
organization and strength of their armies.
2 The Spartan phalanx advanced to meet the enemy’s at a regular step, in accord with the cadence of military music, and, even
when beaten, generally retired from the field in perfect order, however reduced in number. After battle, every soldier was obliged
to produce his shield, as a proof that he had fought, or retired, as a soldier ought to do, bravely and steadily. If he had lost or thrown
away his shield he was disgraced for ever; the brand of indelible infamy was fixed upon him. But this was of rare occurrence; for
the love of military glory was the only passion which the Spartan people were allowed to cherish ; and both education and discipline
had combined to eradicate fear from their bosoms. It was a word unknown in their vocabulary. In this singular country' all pas¬
sions merged in one. The Spartan mother and the Spartan wife rejoiced when a son or a husband had fallen honourably in the field
01 battle, and sometimes refused to recognise as of kindred with themselves such of their relatives as had survived a defeat. The
only mourners on account of the disaster at Leuctra were those whose friends and kinsmen had escaped the slaughter of that bloody
3 These classes may be considered as analogous, the first to the grenadiers, the second to the light infantry, and the third to the
riflemen or sharpshooters of modern armies. Their armour, however, was different at different times ; for the Greeks, like the Ro¬
mans, made several changes in this respect; and hence the apparent discrepancies which we meet with in the accounts of historians,
lor example, when Arrian mentions the militia of the ancient Greeks, he speaks of the times which preceded the constitution and or¬
ganization which Philip and Alexander the Great gave to their troops. The oval buckler, larger than common, and the long pike or
sanssa, were introduced by these sovereigns, and found to add incalculably both to the defensive and offensive power of the phalanx.
Some of the Greeks, however, piqued themselves on not adopting the changes of Alexander ; but Philopcemen at length persuaded
the Achaeans to lay aside their ancient arms, and assume those of the Macedonians.
VOL. III. 4) E
586
Army.
ARMY.
of natives of Attica, and was drawn up according to
tribes or communities, probably with the view of ex¬
citing a geUerous rivalry in deeds of arms. The light
armed troops were partly native and partly foreign;
the slingers and archers were wholly foreign. 1 he ca¬
valry, like the heavy-armed infantry, consisted of natives
alone, and were of a good description, being remarkably
alert, intelligent, and enterprising. Thus composed, the
Athenian army was prepared for every species of warfare,
and equal to the most arduous achievements. The intel¬
ligence, activity, quick perception, and daring spirit of
enterprise for which the native of Attica, the french¬
man of Greece, was distinguished, rendered him formi¬
dable in desultory warfare, alert in his movements, and
prompt in taking advantage of every favourable circum¬
stance ; insomuch that the Athenian light troops foiled, and
on some occasions even discomfited, the renowned Spartan
phalanx. The Athenian phalanx was less compact than
that of Sparta, and, owing to the character of the people,
as much perhaps as to its formation, less adapted to receive
and repel an attack; but in the charge it was perfectly ir¬
resistible. Its onset was terrible, and overthrew all be¬
fore it. The cause of this must be sought in the difference
of national character. The Spartan was chiefly celebrated
for his passive, the Athenian for his active courage.
Hence the one was powerful in resistance ; the other for¬
midable in attack. The Spartan was steady, devoted, and
firm; the Athenian bold, enterprising, intelligent, and
full of address and dexterity. If the one was less capable
of resistance, the other was more ardent and impetuous;
their military qualities were as opposite as their natural
characters, but both were admirable of their kind ; and if
it had been possible to combine them together in equal
proportions, perfect soldiers might have been formed, and
a perfect army organized. The Athenians, we may ob¬
serve, were the first of the Greeks who advanced upon
the enemy at an accelerated pace corresponding to what
is now called double-quick time. This innovation was
first introduced by Miltiades at Marathon, in order to
give increased momentum to the charge which he direct¬
ed against the Persian masses; and it was consecrated in
Athenian tactics by the glorious result of that ever-me-
morable day.1
The Mace- But the very principles which had saved the states of
Greece from foreign invasion, and enabled them to main¬
tain their independence, were destined to form the basis
of a military establishment, more formidable, because
more complete in all its parts, than any which that or
other countries had yet produced, and organized for the
express purpose of serving as an instrument for subverting
Grecian liberty. We allude of course to the Macedonian
army in the reigns of Philip and his son Alexander the
Great. The founder of this establishment, Philip of Ma-
cedon, was a man of unquestionable talents, of convenient
principles, and of boundless ambition, tlaving improved
his natural parts by associating with the scholars, states¬
men, and philosophers of his age; and having been ini¬
tiated into the scientific principles of the art of war under
Epaminondas, the most celebrated master of the time; he
was early fired with a love of military glory, and a lust of
conquest and dominion. But although the brilliant period
in the annals of the Greek states was past when Philip made
his appearance, and these communities had already begun
donian
army.
to show symptoms of decline, enough of the ancient spirit Armv
still remained to convince him, that, without creating new
means, and organizing a force different from any which had
yet existed, he could never hope to realise his ambitious
projects, by rendering himself the master of Greece. The
sagacity of Philip was fully on a level with his ambition.
He saw that in the rude shepherds and hunters of Mace¬
donia might be found the raw material of an army; that
discipline and organization were alone wanting to convert
this material into an invincible force ; and that to render a
military force completely effective, or, in other words, to
derive from it the utmost benefit it was capable of affording,
it was indispensably necessary to depart from the militia
system which had hitherto prevailed, and to start from the
principle that no army could be good which was not per¬
manent. Pie was thus the first who fully comprehended
the importance of a standing army, both as regards the
efficiency of a military body itself, and also with reference
to projects of conquest or ambition; and he may further
claim the distinction of having been the first to organize
a permanent force. In prosecuting this design he showed
a skill, and a knowledge of the principles of military or¬
ganization, equal to the sagacity evinced by its concep¬
tion. Adopting the Spartan phalanx as the basis of his
system, he gave it greater depth and solidity, so as to
render it irresistible in the attack, and impenetrable when
drawn up in position. He changed or improved its ar¬
mour both for offence and defence; and, in particular, in¬
troduced the large oblong buckler, and the sarissa or Ma¬
cedonian pike, the most formidable weapon of ancient
times. The light-armed troops were also placed on a bet¬
ter footing than they had ever before been among the
Greeks, being formed in demi-phalanges, which, without
materially lessening their mobility, rendered them ca¬
pable of combining their efforts in an effective manner
with those of the heavy-armed infantry. The equipments,
arms, and discipline of his cavalry were in like manner
improved, and their organization perfected, with the ut¬
most care and diligence. In a word, all that was ex¬
cellent in the different Greek systems was combined in
the Macedonian; while their defects were avoided, and
improvements introduced wherever these seemed to be
either expedient or necessary. Such was the general
character of the military establishment which Philip
created for enabling him to trample on the liberties of
Greece, and which Alexander employed in subjugating
the world. We shall now speak of its different parts in
detail.
The phalanx was composed of files of a certain depth,
and of regular combinations of those files. The lochos or
file was a number of soldiers ranged in line, one behind
the other, from the head to the serre-jile or ouragos. The
file consisted at different times of different numbers of
men, as eight, ten, twelve, and sixteen. Alexander chose
the last, because it formed the best proportion relative
to the extent and depth of the phalanx; nor did it pre¬
vent the archers and slingers, stationed behind, from
launching their missiles at the enemy, over the heads of
the phalangites. If the phalanx was doubled to form a
solid column, or reduced to one half in order to extend
its front, the respective depths of 32 and 8 still remained
proportional; but if the original depth of the file had
been only 8, as in the Spartan phalanx, the latter evolu-
1 It is very much to be regretted that no military or scientific description has been preserved of the battle of Marathon. The ac¬
counts which have reached us, being written by men ignorant of military affairs, are meagre, confused, and unsatisfactory; contain¬
ing details, indeed, of the numbers engaged, and the amount of the slain, but giving little or no information respecting the combina¬
tions and manoeuvres which decided the fortune of the day. One thing only is certain,—the victory was the result of consummate
generalship on the part of the commander, and of heroic valour on that of the soldier.
A R
v. tion Could not have been performed with safety, because
it Would have reduced the depth to 4, and thus deprived
the formation of its peculiar characteristic of solidity.
The preference given to the number 16, therefore, was
on account of its divisibility, and its admitting of evolutions
consistently with the nature of the phalanx, which could
not have been attempted with files composed of any other
number, greater or less. The best man was chosen as the
head of the file, and named lochagos or protostate ; the se¬
cond was called epistate; the third bore the same name
as the first, the fourth the same as the second, and so on
to the last; so that each file was composed of protostates
and epistates, ranged alternately from the lochagos to the
mragos, who was also a picked man.1 The junction of
two or more files was denominated syllochism. It was
effected by placing the protostates and epistates of the one
exactly opposite the protostates and epistates of the other ;
and one man, considered in reference to his juxtaposition
with another, was called parastate. The junction of all
the files formed the phalanx; of which, therefore, the
bchagi, or heads of files, constituted the front rank, and
the remaining parastates in alignement, as far as the ou-
ragi or serre-Jiles, the depth.
The phalanx, thus composed, was divided into two equal
parts; one called the right wing or head, and the other the
left wing or rear. The point of separation or division was
variously denominated the navel, the mouth, and the joint¬
ure of the phalanx. And as the principle of this formation
was, that every combination should be divisible into two
equal parts, so the phalanx, as finally constituted by Alex¬
ander, was composed of 16,384 heavy-armed men, the
half of which number was considered sufficient for light
troops, and the half of that again, or the fourth of 16,384,
sufficient for cavalry; while the divisibility into equal
parts afforded great facility for executing with precision all
manner of evolutions, and extending or diminishing at plea¬
sure the front of an army. The total number of the phalanx
being, as already stated, 16,384, and each file consisting of
16 men, it follows that there were in all 1024 files. But
each combination of files had its peculiar and appropriate
denomination. Two files united formed a dilochie, under
a dilochite ; four files, a tetrarchie, under a tetrarch; two
tetrarchies, a taxiarchie, under a taxiarch or centurion;
two taxiarchies, a syntagma or xenagie, under a syntag-
matarch or xenagos ;2 two syntagmata, a pentecosiarchie,
under apentecosiarch ;3 two pentecosiarchies, a chiliarchie ;
587
two chiliarchies, a merarchie or telarchie; and two me- Army,
rarchies, a phalanx of 4096 men in 256 files, which was
commanded by a general, under the name of phalangarch.
Again, two phalanges formed a diphalangarchie; and
two diphalangarchies, a tetraphalangarchie, or the grand
phalanx, which thus consisted of two wings or dipha¬
langarchies, four phalanges, eight merarchies, 16 chili¬
archies, 32 pentecosiarchies, 64 syntagmata, 128 taxi¬
archies, 256 tetrarchies, 512 dilochies, 1024 files, and
16,384 men. The front might be extended by simply
augmenting the distance between the files; the phalanx
was closed by lessening the distances between the ranks
and the files, and thus diminishing both its front and its
depth. Its locked order was called synapism, in which the
ranks and files were so closely approximated that the
soldier could not turn.4 In this formation the men at the
exterior of the mass held their bucklers before them; the
next rank raised their bucklers over the heads of those
immediately in front of them; the third rank held their
bucklers over the heads of the second, and so on; thus
forming a sort of roof, over which the archers in the rear
sometimes passed to the front, and which, from the buck¬
lers being joined like the scales of a crocodile, resisted and
threw off the heaviest missiles discharged by the enemy.
As every thi$g depended on the steadiness of the heads
of files and their epistates of the second rank, both were
gens d'elite or picked men. When the phalanx was closed
for action, each man occupied only three feet of ground
in rank and file. The pikes or sarissce were 24 feet in
length, 6 feet being behind and 18 feet before the grasp;
consequently (as the ranks were three feet separate), the
second rank advanced the pike 15 feet, the third 12, the
fourth 9, the fifth 6, and the sixth 3 feet; thus present¬
ing an array of points such as never bristled along the
front of any other military mass or column. The soldiers
of the other ranks, as they could not employ their pikes,
pushed on those before them, and, by their weight, served
to augment the violence of the shock.5 In this case every
thing depended on the serre-Jiles or ouragi, who were the
keys of the phalanx, and, like the lochagi, picked men.
Such was the Macedonian phalanx,6 which was destined
to conquer the world, and to be, in its turn, conquered
by the world’s conquerors. It yielded to superior tactics
and greater mobility.
The light-armed infantry were drawn up in different
ways, according to the nature of the ground and the dis-
M Y.
1 Some authors designate a file stichos, others decuria. They who apply the latter epithet seem to suppose that it consisted of ten
men, which is not true as respects the Macedonian file. We have followed, in the text, the nomenclature of Arrian, whose authority
on this subject is decisive. With regard to the term enomotie, which has so much puzzled commentators, we have already shown that
it means something different from a file, or part of a file. It was a term peculiar to the military system of Sparta, whence it passed
into the other systems of Greece, including the Macedonian ; but no data have been given from which its precise import can be as¬
certained.
5 The syntagma or xenagie had four supernumerary men; a standard-bearer, an officer who marched behind and performed the duty
of our major, an adjutant, and a crier to repeat the orders. This section, ranged in order of battle, formed a perfect square. (Arrian’s
Tactics.) 4 *
3 The pentecosiarchie of the Macedonians answered to the lochos of the Spartans. This must be kept in mind in the perusal of Thu¬
cydides and Xenophon, otherwise both will be unintelligible.
4 It was to this locked order that Epaminondas was indebted for the victories which he gained over the Lacedaemonians at Leuctra
and at Mantineia. The Theban army was formed in columns of attack, upon a front considerably less than the depth. The shock,
therefore, proved too much for the Spartan phalanx, which was only eight deep. Xenophon compares it to that of a heavy vessel
striking a light one amidships with her bow, and dashing her to pieces by the collision.
5 The loss of men in the day of battle, or the necessity of sending out detachments, made no change in the form and disposition of
the phalanx. The sections were always kept up to their full complement of ranks and files. The effective diminution fell, not upon
the ranks and files, but upon the number of the sections, which were retrenched in proportion as they filled up the void in the
phalanx.
6 The Macedonian phalanx, says Arrian, was as formidable in appearance as it was in reality; and Paulus iEmilius confesses,
that, when he saw, for the first time, this imposing mass, with its front bristling with the terrible sarissce, he was struck with con¬
sternation. Guischardt alleges that it was “ plus terrible a 1’aspect que dans reffetand adds that Paulus “ ne laissa pas que de la
battre avec ses Itomains epars et distribues en plusieurs pelotons.” But if Alexander had commanded it, the Roman would have told
a different tale. Guischardt has himself demonstrated that the loss of the battle of Cynocephale was mainly, if not exclusively, ow¬
ing to the stupidity of Philip in committing the phalanx upon broken ground, where its flanks were uncovered, and the principal ad¬
vantages of its formation lost.
ARMY.
588
Army, position of the enemy; sometimes before the phalanx,
sometimes behind it, sometimes on both wings, sometimes
only on one. Their formation was in all respects similar
to that of the phalanx, and their files, eight deep, were
combined upon analogous principles. The Macedonian
cavalry was of various descriptions, as kataphracti, light
horse, and acrobolistce. The kataphracti or cuirassiers were
completely covered with defensive armour; the man with
a cuirass and cuisses of iron scales, the horse with a
frontlet and mail. Their offensive arm was the Macedo¬
nian pike. The light cavalry, unencumbered with heavy
armour, carried lances and missile weapons. The acrobo-
listcc had no lances, and, like the Armenian or Turkish
cavalry, used only the bow and arrow. They were a spe¬
cies of Cossacks or irregular horse, and performed the
duties of such. The usual formation of the regular cavalry
for attack was the cuneiform, which had been introduced
by Philip, from an idea that it was the order best calcu¬
lated to pierce an enemy’s line ; but they were sometimes
drawn up in squares, sometimes in the form of a rhombus,
and sometimes also in a line.
The numerical strength of the Macedonian, like that of
other ancient armies, can only be conjectured from the
numbers actually brought into the field. In the time of Phi¬
lip it probably never exceeded a grand phalanx, with its pro¬
portional complements of light troops and cavalry, 28,603
in all, and a few thousands of auxiliary troops. At the pas¬
sage of the Granicus, Alexander’s army consisted of above
30,000 infantry and 5000 cavalry; from which we may
conclude that it was composed of one grand phalanx, with
its proportional complements of light troops and cavalry,
and about 6000 auxiliaries. But it was afterwards power¬
fully reinforced; for Alexander paid great attention to
recruiting, especially in Greece, and had always generals
detached from the army for the purpose of raising new
levies in that country. Accordingly we find that, at the
battle of Arbela, the Macedonian army consisted of two
grand phalanges, or 32,768 heavy armed infantry, two
corps of peltastcc,1 each 8186 strong, and 4096 cavalry, in¬
cluding the Thessalian horse, besides several thousand
auxiliaries, chiefly irregular troops; thus making a grand
total, including auxiliaries, of at least 60,000 fighting men,
or 54,000 regular and 6000 irregular troops.
It has been supposed by some that this army, like that of
Carthage, was heterogeneous in its composition ; that men
of all nations were to be found in its ranks ; and that a stern,
unrelaxing discipline constituted the only vinculum or tie
by which the naturally discordant mass was held together.
There cannot possibly be a greater mistake. The Mace¬
donians, it is true, formed but the nucleus, as it were, of
the army; and, both in the reigns of Philip and Alexander,
recruits were obtained in considerable numbers from the
neighbouring states of Greece. But whatever shades of
difference might have been produced by local circumstances
and diversity of institutions, the inhabitants of all these
states Were essentially one and the same people; identical
in origin, distinguished by like peculiarities physical and
moral, and possessing a general national character. In
what respects, then, can the Macedonian army be consi¬
dered heterogeneous ? None but Greeks were admitted
into the ranks of the phalanx, or those of the light infan¬
try and cavalry; no barbarians were received even as
auxiliaries. It was composed exclusively of people of
the same country and the same general character, who
all spoke dialects of the same language, shared a common
temperament, and were distinguished by their physical Amu
configuration, no less than by their intellectual and moral Urv>
attributes, from the inhabitants of the surrounding na¬
tions. If ever there was an army, therefore, which dis¬
cipline could render more completely homogeneous than
another, it was that of Macedon during the reigns of
Philip and Alexander; nor do we know of any modem
army to which this epithet can with equal justice be
applied. The British army is composed of English,
Scotch, Irish, Welch, and Highlanders; the French, of
Bretons, Normans, Gascons, Alsatians, Savoyards, and
many other tribes; the Austrian, of Hungarians, Bohe¬
mians, Transylvanians, Croatians, and Germans; the Prus¬
sian, of Silesians, Saxons, Poles, Pomeranians, and Bran-
denburgians; and the Russian, of Muscovites, Poles,
Sclavonians, Tartars, Circassians, Armenians, and innu¬
merable other races; yet all these are considered na¬
tional armies, and have each, in fact, a national character.
But if such assemblages are to be regarded as homoge¬
neous, we know not upon what principle the Macedonian
army, composed exclusively of Greeks, can possibly be
viewed in a different light, or supposed to have had no
other bond of union than what was created by discipline
alone.
The only other Greek armies which seem to require The Thf
notice are those of the Thebans and of the Achaean^112111!
League. The Theban army, like Theban independence,
may be said to have been created by Epaminondas, andarraifcJ'
to have expired when that great captain fell in the arms
of victory upon the field of Mantineia. Still it is a strik¬
ing example of what genius and discipline may effect, even
when called to work upon the most unpromising mate¬
rials. Epaminondas found it a rabble, and he left it the
most formidable military force which Greece had ever yet
known. He gave it that organization which rendered it
victorious at Leuctra and Mantineia, and which shook
to the very foundation the power of the Lacedaemonians.
Aware that the Spartan phalanx was invincible by any
similar formation, and that he could only hope to pre¬
vail by bringing against it a greater concentration of
physical energy, he organized the Theban army in co¬
lumns upon a front less than their depth, so as to enable
him to direct the whole or any part against a given point
of the enemy’s line, and to bear it down by an irresistible
superiority of force; and he adapted his tactics to this
organization. At the battle of Leuctra, accordingly,
Epaminondas, observing the Lacedmmonians advance their
two wings before the centre, so as to form the order
which the Greeks called the half-moon, instantly attacked
the centre of one of these wings, and, having penetrated it,
soon succeeded in throwing the whole into irretrievable
confusion. Ilere the onset was made by one wing in
column against another in comparatively open formation;
and hence the Theban order of attack became the oblique,
which is erroneously supposed to be a discovery of mo¬
dern times. At Mantineia the Lacedaemonians carefully
avoided the blunder for which they had paid so dear at
Leuctra, and kept their forces more concentrated; but
Epaminondas, forming the whole of his infantry in a single
column, precipitated it upon a part of the enemy’s line,
overthrew it, and thus decided the fortune of the day.
The Theban army, immediately after the battle of Leuc¬
tra, is said to have amounted to 50,000 men. This, how¬
ever, is probably an exaggeration.—With regard to the
army of the Achaean League, it continued insignificant for
1 For an able and learned account of the pckastce, who sometimes formed considerable bodies, particularly in the armies of Alexan*
der and his successors, and whose reputation almost equalled that of the phalanx itself, see Guischardt’s note to his Translation ot
Arrian’s Tactics, in the second volume of his Mcmoires MUitaires, p. 177.
A R
A,iy, the greater part of a century after that celebrated corife-
deracy was entered Into. Aratus was the first who placed
it on a respectable footing, and taught it to conquer at Ca-
phyae; and he was succeeded by Philopoemen, incomparably
the most scientific commander of ancient times, who com¬
pleted its organization, and led it to victory at the second
battle of Mantineia, where the Spartans, under Macha-
nidas, were completely defeated, and the tyrant himself
slain by the hand of the Achaean chief. This victory was
exclusively owing to the superior tactics and dispositions
of Philopcemen; who, instructed by the successes of the
Romans, had contrived, with infinite skill, to combine, in
the formation and arrangement of his troops, the advan¬
tages of the legionary order with those of the phalanx.
The invaluable fragment of Polybius, containing a de¬
scription of the battle of Mantineia, gives no account of
the numbers engaged. We learn, however, that Philopce¬
men having assembled the troops of the League, spent
eight months in perfecting their discipline and organiza¬
tion before he ventured to commit them in the field
against so experienced and warlike an enemy as the
Spartans.1 An army is a piece of mechanism which only
acts effectively when all the parts are combined and ad¬
justed together so as to insure the most complete con¬
cert and unity of operation ; and discipline is the mean by
which this important result is produced. It is in fact the
art of creating a new power; and so great is its efficacy
that it sometimes developes in men those qualities which
it only professes to direct and regulate.
Tin w- ^11S remark 18 strikingly exemplified in the history of
thaj hm the Carthaginian army. That army was almost entirely
arm composed of mercenaries, or at least of levies drawn from
countries differing in language, in manners, in customs, and
in character. In its ranks were to be found Africans, Spa¬
niards, Gauls, Boians, Insubrians, Etruscans, and various
other races; yet such are the fusing effects of discipline,
that this apparently heterogeneous mass vanquished the
Romans on the Ticino; overthrew their legions in three
pitched battles, at Trebia, Thrasymenus, and Cannae ; and,
if Hannibal had known how to profit by victory, might
have planted the Carthaginian standards amidst the ruins
of Rome. The advantages of a truly national army are
great, especially in reverses: it may be beaten, but can¬
not easily be destroyed: and even its disasters may teach
it that experience which will ultimately conduct it to vic¬
tory; as happened to the Romans in ancient, and to the
Russians under Peter the Great, in modern times. But,
on the other hand, many instances might be produced to
show, that the most effective armies may be organized out
of the most discordant and unpromising materials; and
that, while nothing can supply the want of discipline, dis¬
cipline can almost atone for and remedy every thing.
With an army composed as we have already described,
Hannibal maintained, during sixteen years, the war against
the Romans in Italy, without sustaining any serious re¬
verse; nor did he withdraw, until his presence was ren¬
dered necessary for the defence of his country ; which the
successive defeats of the other Carthaginian commanders,
both by sea and land, had uncovered, and exposed in its
turn to the attacks of an invader. Finally, he was van¬
quished at Zama from the same cause which had render¬
ed him so often victorious—namely, superiority of disci¬
pline : for although his military genius never shone forth
more transcendently than in his last field, and although
his dispositions were in all respects worthy of his high
M Y.
589
reputation, yet the raw and undisciplined levies which Army,
formed the strength, or rather the weakness, of his army, r'-
were in no condition to contend with the Roman legions,
whom sixteen years of incessant warfare had improved both
in discipline and experience.2 In reflecting upon the is¬
sue of this decisive conflict, which terminated the long
and sanguinary struggle between the rival republics of
Carthage and Rome; and, above all, in considering the
precarious nature of that power which is built on the un¬
certain foundation of military glory; the mind insensibly
passes from the contemplation of the fate of the Cartha¬
ginian chief to that of a still greater commander, which
in some measure resembles it—from the days when these
warlike republics contended for the empire of the world,
to our own times, when, in a new field of Zama, another
Scipio conquered another Hannibal.
_ With regard to the numerical strength of the Cartha¬
ginian army, it appears to have varied at different times.
The force with which Xantippus defeated Regulus, and
made him prisoner, did not probably exceed 20,000 men;
and we learn incidentally that the heavy-armed infan¬
try which the Lacedaemonian had formed in phalanx, con¬
formably to the tactics of his country, amounted to be¬
tween 8000 and 9000 men, and were all native troops.
But when the Carthaginians afterwards invaded Spain,
they recruited their armies from the population of the
country, and that of the neighbouring provinces of Gaul,
until the total numerical strength of these must have consi-
derably exceeded 100,000 men. Livy assures us that Han¬
nibal set out on his expedition to Italy at the head of
100,000 foot and 10,000 horse, but that he lost 30,000
men in crossing the Alps ; so that, according to the Roman
historian, he must have entered Italy with about 80,000
men. But the numbers actually brought into the field
completely disprove this statement: for it is admitted by
Livy himself that, at Trebia, Hannibal had only 30,000
infantry and 10,000 cavalry, and that he vanquished at
Cannae with 40,000 foot and 10,000 horse. We shall be
nearer the truth, therefore, if we suppose that the inva¬
sion of Italy was undertaken witl\ little more than half the
number of troops mentioned by Livy; and that the losses
sustained in crossing the Alps were, in a great measure,
repaired by the recruits which Hannibal drew from the
Boians, Insubrians, and his other allies; a supposition which
seems completely borne out by the authority of Polybius.
But when the Carthaginian general set out from New Car¬
thage for Italy he left two other armies in Spain ; and, if we
assume these to have been each about 30,000 strong, while
the force under his own command exceeded 50,000, it
will follow that, at this time, the Carthaginians had con¬
siderably more than 100,000 men of all arms in the field.—
Let us now attend to the composition and organization of
that strictly national force with which these well-disciplined
condottieri were called to contend, and by which, after sus¬
taining many reverses, they were ultimately overthrown.
The army of Rome, in the days of her conquests, was The lio-
perhaps the most perfect, certainly the most formidable, man army,
which the world had yet seen; and the superiority which
it ultimately obtained over the military force of every na¬
tion to which it was opposed, seems to have been exclusive¬
ly owing to the pre-eminent excellence of its discipline and
organization. “ Nulla enim alia re videmus populum Ro~
manum orbem subegisse terrarum,” says Yegetius, “ nisi
armorum exercitio, disciplina castrorum, usuque militiae.
Quid enim adversus Gallorum multitudinem paucitas Ro-
1 See Guischardt’s commentary on this battle, Mtmoires Militaircs, tom. i. p. 177-
* We must again refer to Guischardt, tom. i. p. 216, more especially as this very able military commentator exposes the misrepresen¬
tations of Folaru, who seems to have been alike incapable of comprehending the narrative of Polybius, or the dispositions of HannibaL
590 A R
Army, mana valuisset ? Quid adversus Germanorum proceritatem
brevitas potuisset audere? Hispanos quidem non tanfeum
numero, sed etiam viribus corporum nostris prsestitisse, ma-
nifestum est. Afrorum dolis atque divitiis semper impares
fuimus. Graecorum artibus prudentiaque nos vinci, nemo
unquam dubitavit. Sed adversus omnia profuit tyronem
solertem eligere, jus(ut ita dixerim) armorum docere, quo-
tidiano exercitio roborare, quaecunque evenire in acie, at¬
que in prceliis possint, omnia in campestri meditatione prae-
noscere, severe in desides vindicare: Scientia enim rei
bellicae, dimicandi nutrit audaciam. Nemo facere metuit,
quod se bene didicisse confidit. Etenim in certamine bel-
lorum, exercitata paucitas ad victoriam promptior est:
rudis et indocta multitude, exposita semper ad caedem.”1
The military age was seventeen; and, when the exigencies
of the state required it, every citizen, from seventeen to
forty-six, or even fifty, was obliged to enrol himself as a sol¬
dier. Except on pressing emergencies, however, the more
youthful part of the population was preferred, as that which
could be most effectually trained to the exercises and form¬
ed to the discipline of war.2 These were of the most severe
description, and had for their object not merely to instruct
the soldier in the use of arms, in marching, and in evolutions,
but to develope and improve to the utmost his physical
powers; to inure him to labour, fatigue, and hardships of all
kinds; to qualify him for surmounting with ease the va¬
rious obstacles and difficulties incident to a state of active
warfare ; to give precision and rapidity to his movements ;
and, above all, to create that confidence in himself, and
that unbounded reliance upon the efficacy of order, subor¬
dination, and combined action, which nourish audacity,
yet temper it with coolness and steadiness. Besides the
use of arms, of which we shall hereafter speak, the young
soldier was, accordingly, trained to the exercises of running,
leaping, vaulting, wrestling, and swimming, armed as well as
unarmed: he was required to perform long and frequent
marches, at the rate of four miles an hour, carrying a load
of sixty pounds weight: he was carefully instructed in the
use of the tools necessary for throwing up all manner of
field-works, particularly fortifying the camp: and, even
after he had been found qualified to join the legion, he was
constantly employed, while in camp, either in the prac¬
tice of these manly exercises, or in acquiring greater dex¬
terity and precision in the use of his weapons. The Ro¬
man soldier knew no intervals of idleness, and was not al¬
lowed time to indulge in dissipation. The camp was his
home: war was his business: its exercises formed his
amusement: its success constituted his glory. In the
legion to which he belonged were concentred all his hopes,
all his thoughts, and all his affections.
In raising troops to constitute the legions, the method
adopted by the Romans was that which they denominated
election ; because the magistrates chose from the different
M Y.
tribes the citizens whom they considered best fitted for Army
the military service. The consul or the praetor assembled
in the Campus Martius, or in the Capitol, all the citizens,
who were bound to concur in the formation of the legions,
raised every year, conformably to a decree of the senate;
and this obligation included all Romans within the age
above specified, who had not served twenty campaigns
as foot soldiers, or ten campaigns as horsemen or knights;
with the exception, however, of the lowest class, which was
exempted from military service on account of its poverty.
The number of legions commonly raised was four ;3 and
the first step consisted in the appointment, either by the
people or the consuls, of six tribunes to each legion. The
conscripts being classed according to their tribes, the ma¬
gistrate, charged with the levies, then elected four succes¬
sively from each tribe. Of every four thus designed the
tribunes of each legion in their turn chose one, whose name
was immediately inscribed in its muster roll; and this
operation, which established a perfect equality in the
composition of the legions, was repeated until they had
received their proper complement of men. On the ter¬
mination of the election each legionary individually took
the sacramentum or military oath ; swearing to be obedient
to his general, and to execute his commands in all things
to the utmost of his power and ability. Nor was this a
vain ceremony; for the Romans, trained up in the fear of
the gods, had a peculiar reverence for the sanctity of an
oath. Roman citizens alone were admitted into the
legions, until the time when the civil wars led to the sub¬
version of the republic, and the violation of all established
rules. Those, however, who had completed the prescribed
period of service, or had attained their fiftieth year, were
no longer obliged to take arms in defence of the state,
and were only liable to be called out in the event of the
city being threatened with some imminent danger. But
these brave veterans, habituated to a military life, fre¬
quently inscribed themselves as volunteers, and thus served
both as models and examples to the young legionaries, who
seldom failed to profit by their experience, and generally
showed an ambition to come up to their standard.
As soon as the military oath had been administered, the
tribunes dismissed the legionaries, having first indicated
the time and place where they were afterwards to assemble
in order to be embodied. At the general muster, on the day
fixed for this purpose, the youngest and poorest in each le¬
gion were selected as velites ; the next in order were chosen
as hastati; the class immediately above constituted the
principes ; and the triarii were formed of the oldest and
richest citizens elected to serve in the legions; the differ¬
ent classes being thus arranged according to their arms,
their fortune, and their age. The legion was commonly
composed of 1200 hastati, 1200 principes, 1200 velites, 600
triarii, and 300 cavalry or knights; thus making its total
1 Yegetius, Da Re Militari, 1. i. c. 1. Itaphengii, 1607.
2 “ Adolescentes legend! sunt, sicut ait Sallustius: nam primum juventus, simul ac belli patiens erat, in castris per laboris usum
militiam discebat. Melius enim est, ut exercitatus juvenis causetur setatem nondum advenisse pugnandi, quam doleat prseteriisse.
(Yegetius, 1. i. c. 4.)
3 A consular army consisted of two legions, and of a certain number of troops furnished by the som or allies of Rome. The infan.
try of the allies, according to Polybius, did not surpass in number the legionary infantry in a consular army, but their cavalry was
double the number of the knights. The fifth part of their infantry and the third part of their cavalry formed a corps d'elite, called
extraordinary or elect, under the immediate orders of the consul; while the remainder of the social troops were divided into two corps,
one called the right and the other the left wing. Hence a consular army consisted, in Roman troops, of 6000 legionaries of the line,
2400 velites, and 600 knights; in social troops, of 6700 infantry of the wings, 1700 extraordinary infantry, 800 cavalry of the wings,
and 400 extraordinary cavalry; making a total of 18,600 men. But when Rome had a difficult war to carry on, two consular armies
were raised, and both the consuls took the field; which, in fact, happened almost every year. Lastly, when urgent circumstances re¬
quired it, the consular armies were doubled and united in order to contend with a formidable enemy. Thus the Romans assembled
at Cannae four consular armies, or nearly 80,000 men, to try the fortune of arms against Hannibal; and, in the heat of the second
Punic war, they raised as many as twenty-three legions, or considerably more than 100,000 men. “ Alors,” says Rogniat, “ les ar-
mees se multiplierent en raison de ce grand nombre de legions; les deux consuls choisissaient celles qui leur convenaient, et le com-
mandement des autres etait confie ii des pre'teurg, a des proconsuls, et a des propre'teurs.” {Considerations sur l'Art de la Guerre,
A R
y. strength 4500 men. The tribunes, in concert with the
v-w1 centurions, divided the three classes of hastati, principes,
triarii, into ten ranks, manipules, or companies each: the
velites were distributed in equal portions among these thirty
manipules: and the cavalry were divided into ten parts,
called turmce or troops. Such is the account given by
Polybius, who, doubtless, describes the legion as it was
constituted in his time.
The hastati, so called from the hasta or spear with
which they were originally armed, commonly formed
the first line in the order of battle; the principes were
placed in the second line; whilst the oldest and best
legionaries, classed under the name of triarii, consti¬
tuted a reserve in the third line. The triarii were ori¬
ginally the only troops armed with the pilum, a species
of heavy javelin, which will be described hereafter; and
hence they are sometimes designated by the ancient his¬
torians under the name of pilani, while the principes and
hastati are denominated antepilani: but these denomina¬
tions necessarily ceased when the three lines adopted the
same arms. The velites, distributed among the manipules,
as already mentioned, were the light infantry of the legion,
of which they formed about a fourth part; and known at
first under the name of rorarii and accensi, they were af¬
terwards called velites, and ultimatelyBut the
reader must be careful not to confound these light troops,
which always formed part of the legion, with the cohorts
of archers and slingers attached to the armies in the time
of Caesar; since the latter were merely auxiliary troops,
and had nothing whatsoever in common with the legion.
The legionary cavalry, composed of a body of 300 horse,
denominated the ala or wing, and forming about the
twentieth part of the legion, was divided into ten turmce,
of thirty horsemen each ; while the turma was again subdi¬
vided into three decurice, of ten cavaliers each; and the
whole was chosen from among the equites or knights,
who formed one of the first orders at Rome.
When the classification had been completed, the tribunes
of each legion proceeded to the appointment of centurions.
They commenced by naming ten first centurions in each
class, except that of the velites; after which they proceeded
to the nomination of an equal number of second centurions ;
and the legionary infantry being divided into ten mani¬
pules of hastati, ten of principes, and ten of triarii, among
which the velites were equally distributed, they assigned
a first and a second centurion to each manipule; the first
commanding the right, and the second the left of the ma¬
nipule, under the orders of the first, whose place he sup¬
plied in the case of absence or death. The tribunes also
named three decurions in each of the ten turmce of horse ;
but the decurion first named had the sole command, and
the two others were only his lieutenants. Thus a legion
had sixty centurions or officers of infantry, thirty decurions
or officers of cavalry, and six tribunes or officers of the staff.
The tribunes commanded the legion each in his turn du¬
ring two months; and this continued to be the practice until
the epoch of the civil wars, when, for reasons sufficiently
obvious, the command was intrusted to a legatus or lieuten¬
ant-general. The tribunes on service superintended the
establishment and fortification of the camp, disposed the
guards necessary for insuring its safety, transmitted to
the centurions the orders of the general, took care that
these were duly executed, and attended to the discipline
and exercise of the troops ; whilst the others were placed
by the legatus or the consul at the head of detachments,
reconnoissances, or foraging parties, and intrusted with
591
the command of posts, or employed on particular missions, Army,
for raising contributions of money, provisions, clothing, ''-''y'-*'
and arms in the conquered countries; in a word, they
were staff officers disposable for all kinds of service. The
centurions were divided into several grades. Besides the
distinction of first and second, established with reference
to the manipule, they took precedence among themselves
according to the relative distribution of the classes to
which they belonged; so that a centurion of the triarii
ranked above a centurion of the principes, and a centu¬
rion of the principes above a centurion of the hastati.
And the first centurion of each class, that is, the primi
hastati centurio, the primus princeps, and the primipilus
or primipili centurio, commanded the whole of his class,
or one of the lines of battle of the legion ; which accounts
for the high consideration that these three superior officers
enjoyed among the Romans. They were commonly ad¬
mitted to the council of the general, along with the tri¬
bunes; and the primipilus, the chief of all the centurions,
by reason of the pre-eminence of his class, commanded
the whole legion in the absence of the tribunes. Further,
each centurion and decurion chose for himself, or received
from the tribunes, a sub-officer to aid him in the details
of the service; and we learn from Vegetius, that there
was moreover placed at the head of each squad or tent
of ten soldiers a decanus or corporal, who performed the
duties of that humble rank.1
Such was the constitution of the legion in the time of
Polybius, the friend and contemporary of the second
Scipio. But an important, we might almost say a radi¬
cal, change in its organization was afterwards introduced ;
a change which has been ascribed to Marius, and which
appears to have commenced at the epoch of the wars
against Jugurtha. The legions then ceased to be ranged
in lines of hastati, principes, and triarii; for the last or¬
der of battle, according to the ancient formation, of which
historians give any account, is that of Metellus against
Jugurtha, as described by Sallust. From this period we
always find the legions ranged by cohorts, without dis¬
tinction of classes, in a double or a triple line. The clas¬
sification which had been originally occasioned by differ¬
ence of arms no longer served any purpose, after all the
troops of the line were armed in the same manner; except
to divide the legion into three large bodies of about 1600
each, including the velites, which formed part of them.
But experience proving that such bodies were too nume¬
rous to be easily directed by a single commander, and too
heavy and lumbering for the exigencies of Roman tactics,
their place was supplied by a number of smaller and more
manageable bodies, and the legion, consequently, divided
into ten cohorts, each consisting of three manipules, under
six officers, who preserved their denomination and com¬
mand in their respective manipules. The force of the
cohort was raised from 400 to 600 men, thus making the
total strength of the legionary infantry 6000; and the
first cohort was composed of picked men, who were in¬
trusted with the eagle, under the orders of the primipilus.
A new order of battle was also adopted, the legions being
commonly drawn up in two lines of five cohorts each, leav¬
ing small intervals between each cohort. But Caesar,
justly considering these lacunce dangerous, and thinking
the new formation deficient in solidity, preferred a con¬
tinuous alignement, and recurred to the ancient forma¬
tion in three lines, placing four cohorts of each legion
in the first, three in the second, and three in the third
line.
M Y.
1 Erant decani, decern militibus pnepositi, qui nunc caput contubernii vocantur. (Vegetius, De Re Militari, 1. ii. c. 8. See also
liogniat, Considerations sur VArt dc la Guerre, p. 7, et seqq. Paris, 1820.)
ARMY.
592
Army. The civil troubles which led to the subversion of the re-
public produced still further changes. For a time the le¬
gionary cavalry entirely disappeared, and their place was
supplied by auxiliary horse: strangers, and even slaves,
were admitted into the legions, the force of which varied
from 4000 to 6000 men : and the social troops disappear¬
ed by the admission of all the natives of Italy to the rank
of citizens. In the imperial times, as we learn from Ve-
getius, the legion consisted of 6100 infantry and 726 caval¬
ry. The decimal division of the infantry into cohorts re¬
mained the same. “ The cavalry,” says Gibbon, speaking
of that attached to an imperial legion, “ without which the
force of the legion would have remained imperfect, was di¬
vided into ten troops or squadrons ; the first, as the compa¬
nion of the first cohort, consisted of 132 men, whilst each
of the other nine amounted only to 66 : the entire estab¬
lishment formed a regiment, if we may use the modern
expression, of 726 horse, naturally connected with its re¬
spective legion, but occasionally separated to act in the
line; and to compose a part of the wings of an army.”1
This is at once clear and precise. But it has, nevertheless,
been supposed, and not without reason, that when the
legionary cavalry was augmented, the number of turmce
was proportionally increased; and that no such inequality
as that mentioned by Gibbon existed between the turma
attending the first cohort and those attached to the others.
In fact the turma or squadron, at this period, consisted of
32, or, including the decurion, 33 men; and as the total
number of cavalry belonging to the imperial legion was
726, it follows that there were in all twenty-two turmce,
of which four, or 132 men, were attached to the first co¬
hort, and two, or 66 men, to each of the remaining nine.
The result in both cases, however, is the same; while
Gibbon’s statement may perhaps be preferred as proceed¬
ing upon the more ancient division.2
The armour of the Roman infantry consisted of the demi-
cylindrical buckler or shield, the cuirass or pectoral, the
casque or helmet, and the ocrea or greave. The demi-
cylindrical buckler or shield, four feet in length by two
feet and a half in breadth, and constructed in the form of a
tile, was composed of two or three pieces of timber fashioned
and secured together in the manner of staves, covered
with leather, strengthened at each extremity by a band
of iron, and provided in the middle with an umbo or boss Arniv
of metal, for the purpose of turning aside the missiles and y>
pikes of the enemy. The casque, helmet, or head-piece
of brass was variously formed, but generally fitted with
projections at the base for protecting the neck and shoul¬
ders, and attached under the chin by mentonnieres, covered
with scales of brass. The cuirass or pectoral was a hollow
plate of brass about a foot square, adapted to the form of
the chest, and fastened with thongs of leather protected
by metallic scales; but the centurions and foremost le¬
gionaries rendered themselves still more impenetrable to
the steel of the enemy by using chain armour covered
with brass scales. Lastly, the ocrea was a species of boot
or greave, fortified with iron, and worn on the right leg,
which the soldier advanced in striking his adversary.3 Their
offensive arms were the javelin, Xhepilum or heavy dart, the
pike, and the sword. The sword called Spanish4 was com¬
mon to all the infantry of the legion. It had a short broad
blade of excellent temper, which served either to cut or
thrust,5 and was worn by the soldier on the right thigh. The
javelin belonged exclusively to the light infantry or velites.
It was a species of dart, with a round shaft about three feet
in length and an inch in diameter, shod at one extremity
with iron about four inches in length, and tapering to a very
sharp point. In the day of battle the light troops had
each seven of these weapons, which they launched at the
enemy with much dexterity and precision. When it be¬
came necessary to have recourse to the sword before the
whole or any part of the javelins were thrown, the soldier
passed them to his left hand, which remained free in con¬
sequence of the buckler being attached to the left arm.
The light troops were also provided with bows and ar¬
rows, and slings, which they used in skirmishing at a dis¬
tance. The pilum or heavy dart, intended to serve prin¬
cipally as a missile, was originally borne by the triarii
alone, whence the name of pilani, but was afterwards ap¬
propriated to the hastati and the principes. Its shaft was of
such a thickness as to be easily grasped by the hand ;6 and
the weapon, including both wood and iron, was about seven
feet in length. The iron, however, was of the same
length as the wood, extending to the middle of the shaft,
which was firmly inserted in it, and made fast by nails
driven transversely ; and it was of a square form, of an inch
1 Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, vol. i. chap. iii. p. 13, 14, 8vo ed.
“ Ihe turma of the Romans,” says the Count von Bismark, “ had, according to Vegetius, eight files and four ranks ; ien turrm
formed a legion ; the distances between the turmse were equal to their front.” {Cavalry Tactics, p. 273, Engl, transl.) It would be cu-
i ious to learn in what edition of Vegetius the Count discovered that the turma of the Romans had eight files and four ranks, and that
ten turma; formed a legion, or brigade of infantry and mwa/ry/united in very unequal proportions. Unless the Count has found out.
something to which the Romans themselves were strangers, he must have fancied that, in describing the formation of the infantry of
the legion, Vegetius was speaking of the cavalry.
Av hen the Roman soldiers threw their pila or heavy darts, they had the left leg foremost; but when they engaged in close com¬
bat with the sword, they were taught to advance the right leg, which was accordingly protected by the iron-covered greave or boot
aD04V^en‘10ned- .(Vegetius, lib. ii. cap. 15 and 16; Justus Lipsius, lib. iii. dial. 2, De Mil. Rom.; Guischardt, tom. ii. p. 160.)
le gladius llispaniensis is thus described by Polybius:—’Ayu Si ru Hngiui ya^ai^av, raurw Si tsci ‘rov SsS-iov tpigu ynoov, KaXoum St auro*
* lX'S‘ xai xxratpogav e% aytyeiv roo> ftictiav, S/a ro rot ojiskuoxot aurtif ur%vi>ov xui yotiyot atai. The name
o this weapon sufficiently indicates its origin. An unknown writer, quoted by Suidas, says that “ the Celtiberians excelled all others
in the manufacture of swords, strongly-pointed and double-edged ; wherefore the Romans, laying aside the swords which had been in
use among their ancestors, replaced them, in the time of Hannibal, with the Spanish blades. But (he adds) although they assumed
,|1C ijim’ ^ lcy ^ere unable to imitate the temper of the steel and the beauty of the workmanship.” Josephus says that, in his time,
le Romans had two swords—one of considerable length, which hung at the left side, and another about a foot long, which they carried
on e ng it thigh ; m other words, a sword and a dirk, like the Scotish Highlanders. Similar changes in the arms of the soldiery
may be remarked every century.
u p / jie ®,omans invariably gave the point, and derided the practice of those who depended on the cut rather than on the thrust.
iseterea non casirnf says Vegetius, “ sedpunctim ferire discebant. Nam caesim pugnantes non solum facile vicere, sed etiam de-
iiseie vomam. Caesa emm quovis impetu venial, non frequenter inteiRcit; cum et armis vitalia defendantur, et ossibus. At con-
la puncta, uuas uncias adacta, mortalis est. Deinde dum caesa infertur, brachium dextrum latusque nudatur. Puncta autem tecto
corpore mtertur, et adversarium sauciat ante quam videatur.” {De Re Militari, 1. i. c. 12.) This, we believe, is still accounted sound
doctrine of fence. ’ ' ’ ’
,. seems to be the meaning of the Greek word waXa/ar/a/oj, applied by Polybius to the shaft or helve of the pilum; for,
■ ing i in its ordinary acceptation, the shaft of the pilum would have been four inches in diameter; a size which, considering the length
o. ie weapon, and the weight of its iron, would have rendered it an impracticable arm. Dionysius of Halicarnassus confirms this opi-
fiia1’ ^ escn in£ *■16 P'i!'a as X,uZ071'^n!!n or weapons that completely fll the hand. Polybius compares this formidable arm of ofleupe
A R M Y.
A ny. and a half at its greatest thickness, but its diameter gra-
dually diminished to the point, which was exceedingly
sharp, and near to which was placed a hook or barb, that
served to retain the weapon wherever it penetrated. Be¬
sides this arm, which was necessarily heavy, the soldiers
were sometimes provided with another of the same kind,
but less massive both in the wood and the iron, which they
held in the left hand, and discharged immediately after
the former. The pilum was a weapon peculiar to the Ro¬
mans. *As soon as they came within a proper distance of
the enemy, they began the combat by launching these
heavy darts, with a force which, from their weight and
the temper of the steel points, caused them frequently
to penetrate both buckler and cuirass, so as to indict the
most hideous and desperate wounds. Having discharged
these missiles, the legionaries instantly drew their swords
and rushed upon the enemy with the utmost impetuosity,
before he could recover from the effects of the volley of
pila, by which his first ranks were generally overthrown.1
The pike of the triarii, a weapon equally adapted for attack
or defence, onset or resistance, was longer, less thick, and
consequently more manageable, than the pilum, which was
of little use except at the moment of commencing battle.
Armed with this weapon, the veteran reserve of the legion
often awaited, de piedferme, the shock of cavalry as well as
infantry; and Livy assures us that they seldom or never
quitted their pikes in battle. “ The triarii” says he,
speaking of a particular occasion, “ disfigured the faces
of the Latins with their pikes, the points of which had
been blunted in the combat.” These troupes d'elite, there¬
fore, may be considered as the pikemen of the legion;
although instances are to be found where they abandoned
the pike and had recourse to the sword, which was always
the weapon in which the Romans placed the greatest con¬
fidence, and with which, indeed, their most celebrated
feats in arms were achieved. It may be proper to add,
that, although this description principally applies to the
legion as constituted in the time of Polybius, and although
great changes were subsequently introduced, yet the arms,
offensive as well as defensive, of the legionaries, remained
nearly the same ; with this exception, however, that all the
troops of the line were at length armed in precisely the same
manner, namely, with the Spanish sword and the pilum.
The horse had very nearly the same armour as the foot,
and they were latterly provided with offensive arms simi¬
lar to those used by the cavalry of the Greeks ; namely,
with a lance, having a shaft resembling two cones joined
together at their bases, and pointed at both extremities,
and a long, large sword, suspended by a shoulder-belt at
the right side. There was a time, indeed, when they had
only slender lances, pointed at one extremity, and wore
no cuirass; but experience soon showed the necessity of
adopting the Greek arms and equipments. The Roman
cavalry was generally composed of a superior description
of men, denominated knights, who on all occasions dis¬
played the greatest valour; but they seldom mustered in
force sufficient to produce great results, and their organi¬
zation appears to have been in many respects defective.
It is evident, that a man placed on the back of a horse
without a saddle, or stirrups to serve as a fulcrum for re¬
action, can never exert half his proper force, nor combine
it effectively with the momentum acquired from the ve¬
locity and weight of his horse. “ Ces cavaliers,” says
Kogniat, “ ne pouvaient etre choisis que parmi les che¬
valiers, qui formaient un des premiers ordres a Rome.
L etat leur fournissait ordinairement des chevaux; mais,
peu habitues a 1’equitation, ou persuades qu’on est plus
tort a pied qua cheval, ils mettaient souvent pied a terre,
pour prendre une part plus decisive aux combats serieux.
Idle etait (he adds) 1’opinion des Romains, de la supe-
nonte de Hofanterie sur la cavalerie, que, non content de
n avoir qu un petit nombre de cavaliers, ils les transformai-
ent encore en fantassins dans les occasions critiques.”2
The Roman generals, even in the time of the consuls, do
not seem to have followed any particular order of battle,but
to have changed it according to circumstances, or the na¬
ture of the enemy they had to contend with. This is evinced
by the various dispositions which were made at the battles
ot I unis, of Cannae, of Zama, and many others that might
be mentioned. But still the chequer order or quincunx
was that most frequently employed in the earlier times of
the republic; owing, doubtless, to the facility it afforded
of forming line or column at pleasure. Leaving the ve-
lites or light troops out of view, as constituting no part
of the main battle, the reader will observe that the mani-
pules of the first line, or the hastati, were formed upon a
front varying according to the depth, which was generally
ten, but not unfrequently six; and that the interval be¬
tween each manipule was exactly equal to its front. Thus,
supposing the legion 5000 strong, a manipule of 140 men
would be ranged ten deep upon a front of fourteen; and
as each soldier occupied three feet,3 the extent of front
presented by a manipule would accordingly be fourteen
yards. Since the first line, therefore, consisted often mani-
pules, it contained of course nine intervals of fourteen yards
each ; exactly opposite to which, but at a considerable dis¬
tance in the rear, were stationed nine of the ten mani-
pules of the second line, or principes, drawn up in the same
manner as those of the first, upon fronts of equal extent;
the tenth manipule of the latter outflanking by the whole
length of its front the right or the left wing, as it might be,
of the first line. The triarii, of less depth than the hastati
and principes, but for the most part in continuous forma¬
tion, occupied the third line. Now, it must be obvious at
the first glance, that this order of battle presented several
important advantages. By advancing the manipules of the
principes through the above-mentioned intervals, until they
dressed with those of the hastati, line was at once form¬
ed : again, by moving them fourteen yards either to the
right or left, the depth of the formation was doubled;
while, by placing the manipules of the triarii exactly be¬
hind those of the principes, as was done when the legions
were menaced by elephants, the whole was formed into co¬
lumns, separated into intervals equal to their respective
fronts, through which these animals, pursued and goaded
by the velites, might be driven to the rear, without doing
593
Armv.
For a particular description of the use of the pilum in commencing the attack, see Caesar’s Commentaries dc Bello Civili, lib. iii. can. 92
ine weight of this arm “ ne permettoit pas de le darder de loin,” as Guischardt says. It was the business of the velites to harass the
lie my with their javelins and other missiles before the action became general. As the hostile lines approached, the light troops retired
ot! °U h r inte.rval* or b-v the hanks, where they generally took their station ; and when the former were within a short distance of each
bv V 5 llastat\ and principes darted their pila, and then rushed on, sword in hand, to close combat. Hence the proverb employed
y vegetius to describe the proximity of two armies : Ad pila et spathas ventum est. 1 J
“ Considerations sur VArt de la Guerre, p. 10, 11. Paris, 1820.
^ Ihe ranks of the manipule being also drawn up at the distance of three feet from one another, the whole space occupied by the
oman soldier was consequently nine square feet of ground ; and this open order was seldom departed from, even in the charge. It
cnv fv ohserye<J; however, that the second rank of the manipule was so disposed as to cover the intervals of the first, the third to
01 too second, the fourth to cover those of the third, and so on to the last; in other words, the arrangement of each ma-
puie individually was a precise type of their collective disposition in order of battle.
vol. m. 4 j.
594
ARM Y.
Army, any mischief. Lastly, if it was desired to form the legion
in three continuous lines, this was instantly effected by
simply closing up the intervals between the manipules of the
first and second lines; the triarii or reserve being, as we have
already said, drawn up in a continuous formation, except
when it became necessary to open a passage for elephants.
And all these various evolutions were performed with a
rapidity and precision which have seldom been equalled
and never surpassed by the troops of any other nation.
At a later period, however, the Roman tacticians em¬
ployed a different order of battle, distinguished for its
greater compactness and solidity, as well as for the facility
and rapidity with which it might be formed from the order
of march, even in presence of the enemy. According to
this method each manipule of the legion formedonly a single
rank in its order of battle; consequently the two classes
of hastati And jrrincipes, ranged each upon its first manipule
as a front, formed two lines ten deep. But as each man
occupied three feet every way, and as the lines were se¬
parated by an interval equal to half the extent of their
front, it is obvious that each line occupied a front of 120
yards, by from ten to twelve yards in depth; and that
they were separated from each other by an interval of about
60 yards. Again, at an equal distance in rear of the prin-
cipes, the triarii formed the reserve of the legion in the
third line; and the whole, ranged in this manner in three
lines, constituted a square order, as deep as it was broad;
while the turmce of the cavalry covered the flanks of the
lines, and the eagle or standard of the legion was intrust¬
ed to the keeping of \he primipilus on the right of the line
of the triarii. This order, usually denominated legio quad-
rala, was that adopted by all skilful generals when in pre¬
sence of an enemy. But the different legions composing an
army were ranged upon the same principle, with reference
to one another, as the different ranks of the same legion;
in other words, they were formed en echelon ; each legion¬
ary line thus making one of the sections of the column,
and the baggage occupying the intervals, while the velites
covered the flanks. In this order of march, if the enemy
threatened an attack on the front, each legion in succes¬
sion formed line with that at the head of the column; the
second almost in an instant, the third somewhat later, and
the fourth, or the most remote, in about seven minutes,
which were accounted sufficient for developing the order
of battle on the front. But the order of battle on the
flank was of still more rapid formation. For, the baggage
withdrawing from between the sections, and assembling
on the side opposite to the enemy, each legion executed
what is technically called a quart de conversion on its has¬
tati, and the whole army immediately found itself in order
of battle; two minutes being sufficient for the performance
of this simple evolution. It seems evident, then, that the
celebrated quadratum agmen of the Romans, which has
hitherto been so often treated of, and so little understood,
consisted of a certain number of legiones quadrates dispos¬
ed en echelon, or at least in column, as we have just de¬
scribed ; and, from the advantages of this order of march,
particularly its rapid convertibility into an order of battle
either on the front or the flank, it is easy to understand
the reason why the Roman historians have censured so
severely the generals who neglected to adopt it in presence
of the enemy. So much, then, for Roman tactics, as con¬
nected with the elementary formation of those brigades
or divisions which constituted the units of Roman armies.
The distinguishing characteristic of the legion consisted Arm
in its astonishing mobility, united with its power of pre-
serving its order of battle undisturbed, and of constant¬
ly rallying when forced to give way. It possessed a sort
of flexibility which enabled it to adapt itself to every
change and variety of circumstances; and no other mili¬
tary body, perhaps, ever executed so numerous evolutions
in the presence of an enemy. Its attack was impetuous
and formidable; but if that failed, it then displayed its
most characteristic excellence, by fighting in retreat. In
this way it vanquished the phalanx, although it was un¬
able to withstand the direct shock of that dense body in
the open field. At the battle where Flaminius defeated
Philip in Thessaly, the Macedonian phalanx gained con¬
siderable ground on the legions ; but the Romans, although
forced to give way, preserved their order,—returned repeat¬
edly to the charge,—and, even while in the act of retiring,
extended their line so as to gain the flank of the Greeks.
Philip durst neither accelerate his march, nor send out
any detachment in pursuit; so that twenty manipules had
time to turn his flank and fall upon his rear, which
speedily decided the fate of the battle. As the phalanx
acted with long pikes, and in close order, the least de¬
rangement caused by the. ardour of the soldier in pursuit,
or by inequality of ground in its march, necessarily ex¬
posed it to the legion ; which, dividing itself into a number
of separate corps with the same facility that it formed one
corps and one line, possessed the power of attacking it on
two or more sides at the same time. “ La legion doit
done,” says Guischardt, “ etre envisagee sous deux faces.
Comme infanterie en bataille contre une autre infanterie,
elle eut son ordonnance particuliere a rangs et files ouverts,
conformement a ses armes; et aim’s elle n’eut rien de
commun avec la phalange. Lorsqu’elle a eu de la cava-
lerie en tete, elle cessa d'avoir son ordonnance particu¬
liere.”1 This wise distinction rendered the legion formi¬
dable alike to every nation on which Rome chose to make
war ;2 but neither as infantry against infantry, nor as in¬
fantry prepared to resist cavalry, which duty was princi¬
pally performed by the triarii, until all distinction of
classes and arms merged in a homogeneous formation, had
it any thing in common with the phalanx; for its victo¬
ries, no less than its reverses, had demonstrated the in¬
utility of deep formations, and showed that its real power
depended on its distributive rather than its concentrative
energies,—on its mobility and flexibility rather than on
its weight or impulsion. Hence, on the day of Pharsalia,
it was remarked, as an extraordinary circumstance, that
Pompey had formed his legions ten deep; a novelty which,
as every schoolboy knows, served no other purpose, on
that occasion, except to add to the carnage.
In following the Romans in their wars under the em¬
perors, we find their discipline and their tactics declining
from age to age, in the same manner as they had advanced
and improved. The spirit of change, though productive
of some ameliorations, proved ultimately fatal to the le¬
gion. As long as the Romans continued faithful to the
precepts and rules of the ancient masters, their infantry
maintained its superiority: in proportion as these were
departed from it declined; until at length, having lost
all its distinctive qualities, it was constantly beaten and
overthrown by the numerous cavalry of the barbarians.
To ascribe the gradual declension and ultimate fall of this
infantry to luxury, refinement, love of ease, corruption of
* Mtmoircs MilUavrcs, tom. i. p. 84.
2 The cavalry of the Parthians, though peculiarly formidable, durst not attack the legions commanded by Marc Antony, and con¬
fined itself to harassing them from a distance with its arrows. At the battle of Nicopolis, a single legion of the army of Domitius
defeated and put to flight the whole cavalry of king Pharnaces ; and, with a handful of infantry and some horse, Pompey defied the
numerous cavalry of king Oroses.
A R
i>ny. manners, or other analogous causes, is merely to indite
silly common-places, displaying the most profound igno¬
rance of history and of human nature. Its catastrophe
was occasioned by the decay of discipline alone. For ex¬
perience shows that hardy and effective soldiers may be
formed in the most polished as well as in the rudest and
most uncivilized periods of society; and that nothing
more is necessary to produce this result than an uncompro¬
mising system of discipline. Accordingly, under Vespasian,
and Titus, and Trajan, and Hadrian, and Aurelian, and
other warlike emperors, who enforced the precepts of the
ancient masters, and restored the ancient discipline, the
Roman infantry regained its reputation, and proved itself
as formidable as it had ever been in the best times of the
republic. The corruption was not in the soldiers, but in
the men by whom they were organized; in those whom the
experience of so many ages, and the conquest of the world,
had failed to impress with a due conviction of the value
of that system of discipline by which such prodigies had
been performed. “ On ne peut voir sans indignation,” says
Guischardt, “ la mauvaise ordonnance que les Remains
au terns de Vegece avoient substitute aux anciens modeles.
Ils etoient ranges sur six de hauteur, et meme quelque-
fois sur trois. Chaque rang avoit des armes differentes,
dont la plupart etoient des armes de jet, comme des arcs
et des frondes. D’un rang a 1’autre il y’avait six pieds
d’intervalle, et dans les files on avoit retranche les trois
pied de distance, parcequ’on ne se battoit plus avec
1’epee: on avoit meme oublie le veritable usage du pi-
lum. Le troisieme et le quatrieme rangs devoient de
terns en terns se detacher, et charger a la tete de la ligne,
et revenir ensuite a leur poste. On ne sauroit rien ima-
giner de plus pitoyable. Ces deux chapitres de Vegece
marquent bien clairement 1’ignorance de i’auteur, et la
decadence de la bonne discipline chez les Remains.”1
From innovations like these, and others still more absurd
which succeeded them, what results could be anticipated
except those which history has recorded; namely, dis-
raceful defeats, calamitous reverses and, at length, the
nal overthrow of the Roman power itself? The legions,
degenerated into a feeble militia, sold the empire which
they were incapable of defending; and having neither the
courage which sometimes supplies the place of discipline,
nor the discipline which supplies that of mere courage, they
fell an easy prey to the swarms of Goths, Huns, and Van¬
dals, by whom it was successively overrun, and at last
completely destroyed.
Am i of The fall of the Western Empire, like that of a colossal
a,4 structure, was succeeded by a thick cloud, which over-
lfl spread Europe, covering it with darkness and desolation.
All that remained of science or of art perished in its ruins,
and the only relic of the catastrophe was the shadow of a
mighty name. But the barbarians who had subverted the
Roman power appear to have brought with them, from
their forests and wildernesses, the elements of a system
which was destined to thicken the darkness in which it
originated; to bind Europe for ages in the fetters of the
most abject thraldom; nay, even to maintain a long and
fierce struggle against the reviving energies of the human
mind, and the regenerative powers of society. Its foun¬
dations were laid in their peculiar character and habits,
as affected by their position and their wants; and, as
they had fought neither from the love of glory, to which
they were insensible, nor from a thirst of vengeance,
which nothing had contributed to stimulate, the only
fruits they dreamt of reaping from victory were the spoils
°f the vanquished. The countries which all had con-
M Y. 5g
quered were considered the property of all, and each Army,
claimed a share proportionate to his services and the num-
ber of his retainers. Subsisting rights or possessions weigh¬
ed as nothing in the estimation of these wild hordes, who
sought for establishments in genial climates and fertile re¬
gions. They demanded a territorial division and appor¬
tionment, which was accordingly made upon some rude
principle of equalization. But, as these lands were the
reward of military service, so they were to be held by that
tenure alone. The common interest and the common
defence required that this condition should be annexed
to the allotment, or, as it was afterwards called, the feu.
Each great vassal of the liege lord was bound to have in
constant readiness to take the field, a certain number of
men, clothed, armed, and equipped at his own expense.
Hence arose the feudal system, which, founded on military
rather than civil principles, was an aggregation of petty
sovereigns and petty principalities, under a nominal head,
to whom all swore fealty, but few or none owned obedi¬
ence; a military aristocracy, in short, under the mask of a
monarchy. But this system, however well calculated to
keep alive a spirit of ferocity, seemed to oppose a formidable
barrier to the revival of the military art. Its maxims, ne¬
cessarily hostile to the establishment of a standing army,
by which the great barons might have been coerced, limited
the force of the state to the contingents of feudal militia,
which the crown vassals could bring into the field; a tu¬
multuary mass, without coherence, which the first victory
or the first reverse generally dispersed. During this period,
accordingly, the wars of Europe were desultory and inde¬
cisive. An incursion constituted a campaign, and a foray
an expedition. Armies were everywhere without order
and without science; battles were gained by accident or
by valour, never by discipline ; while conquests, rapid as
torrents, were generally as destructive and as transitory.
The love of military glory was extinguished; petty wars,
occasioned by baronial feuds, raged fiercely, preying upon
the vitals of society ; and the fruits of organized barbarism
were general misery and desolation. The people were
abject serfs, the barons ferocious brutes, the sovereign an
absolute cipher. Anarchy, tyranny, ignorance, and spiri¬
tual thraldom, formed the characteristics of the first ages
of feudalism.
At length, in the eleventh century, arose a monk, called xhe cru-
Peter the Hermit, who preached with all the fervour, sades.
and more than all the success, of any known apostle, the
duty of recovering the Holy Sepulchre from the infidels ;
and as the church lent her powerful aid to second the
efforts of Peter’s enthusiasm, the contagion soon spread
throughout every part of Europe, and thousands of all
countries rushed forward to enlist under the banner of
the cross. The history of mankind affords no parallel to
the madness that was thus produced, either as regards
its universality or its duration. It affected all Christen¬
dom in nearly an equal degree; and, during two centu¬
ries, army after army marched for Palestine, to melt away
under the sultry sun of Syria, or to be mowed down by
the swords of the Saracens. But it agitated the minds
of men by a new and powerful impulse; and although
its essence consisted in the wildest fanaticism which had
ever taken possession of the species, yet that inexplicable
frenzy, combining with a spirit of enterprise and adven¬
ture, gave birth to institutions which were destined to
exert a powerful influence upon the whole frame of society,
and which have left a marked impression even on the
manners, customs, and feelings of modern times. Viewed
in a military light, the armies of the crusaders were mere
1 Manoircs Militaires, prel. disc. xxiv.
596
ARMY.
Army, tumultuary masses, impelled by fanaticism to deeds of covered either with chain or plate armour, or with both; Army,
heroic valour, but as destitute of order and discipline as and these men ot iron carried a long and powerful lance
their leaders and chiefs were ignorant of military science; armed with an iron head, a long sword, a short sword, a
nor had all the reverses they sustained the effect of incul- dagger, and a mace or battle-axe. I heir formation for
eating the simplest principles of the art of war, or teach- combat was exceedingly simple. T ley ought man to
ing the necessity of adopting some kind of organization, man; each armed knight singling out his opponent, and
Every thing was trusted to numbers without combination, riding against him with his couched lance, m order to throw
and to individual bravery exerted as chance or impulse him out of his saddle, or to make him pusoner. The
happened to direct. And so deeply engrained in men’s esquires, or armour-bearers, followed as a second rank, or
minds was the spirit of feudalism, and so incompatible did at least acted as seconds to the knights, whom they as-
that spirit show itself with the slightest advancement in sisted in battle, bringing them fresh arms and horses when
the military art, that the mailed chivalry of the ages im- required, and seeking opportunities of distinguishing them-
mediately succeeding the crusades, although offering the selves in order to obtain the honour of knighthood. No-
finest elements that ever existed for the organization of thing, however, wras known of scientific movements, un-
an invincible force, appears at no time to have had any til Charles the Bold compiled an exercise book in 1473,
principle of effective combination, or to have been capable instructing cavalry how to attack in close and extended or-
of acting with unity and concert in any grand operation, der, or to link the horses and fight on foot. An engagement
Yet the principal strength of armies ‘in the middle ages was generally-commenced by single knights riding forward
consisted in their cavalry; which, composed of men of su- and challenging opponents fiom the hostile aimy; and
perior grade, and formidable from its bravery no less than the result of these single combats sometimes determined
from the armour of proof in which it was encased, easily the fate of the day.2
proved itself superior to infantry without formation, and The second period, from the campaign of Charles VIILSecond p
with no other discipline than that which instinct dictates in Italy to the beginning of the wars in the Netherlands, ornotl-
even to the most barbarous tribes. from the end of the fifteenth to the middle of the sixteenth
Invention But a new epoch approached. Gunpowder was invent- centuries, comprises the wars ot the Trench, Spaniards, and
of gun- ed, or at least improved, by Berthold Schwartz, a Francis- Germans, in Italy. During this period chivalry gradually
powder. can monk of Cologne, and w7as first employed in warlike declined, and war began to assume a new aspect. At the
operations in the early part of the fourteenth century, close of the contest with England in 1445, Charles VII.
This discovery, as Guibert justly remarks, did not lead to of France established the first standing army, consisting
any immediate improvement in the art of-war: indeed a of 16,000 infantry and 9000 cavalry, divided into fifteen
century and a half was necessary in order to make the use campagnies d'ordonnance ;3 he appropriated funds for the
of fire-arms general; but it is nevertheless to be considered payment of these troops, and appointed officers to discip-
as the real cause of the complete reform which was at line and command them; and, although apprehensive at
last effected in the constitution of armies, as well as in first as to the success of the experiment, he at length suc-
their discipline and tactics. Since the first employment ceeded in organizing a force, which enabled his successor
of gunpowder, there have been seven principal periods in to repress the turbulent spirit of the feudal aristocracy, to
the history of the military art. strengthen the power ol the crown, and to carry on foreign
First pe- The first begins with the employment of cannon, and operations with a consistency and vigour hitherto un-
riud. * extends to Charles VIII.’s campaign in Italy; or from the known. The Italian campaign of Charles VIII. proved the
early part of the fourteenth until towards the end of superiority of a standing army over an assemblage of feu-
the fifteenth century. This period, during which the art dal militia, and consequently established its reputation,
of war began to revive from the state of barbarism into With a force of about 20,000 men, he overran the whole
which it had sunk since the downfall of the Roman em- of Italy ; and, had his ambition been equal to his success,
pire, includes the wars of the Spaniards against the Moors, or rather had he known how to reap the fruits of victory,
of the English against the French, and finally, of the Ita- he might have rendered himself permanent master of that
lian republics against each other. The cavalry, composed country. Other nations imitated the example or Trance:
of the nobility and gentry, still constituted the flower of a change took place in the military system of Europe:
armies, and formed the chief support of princes and their the practice of calling out knights ceased of itself: and
kingdoms. At the storming of fortresses, or when irn- mercenary, or at least paid troops, regularly disciplined
portant posts were to be occupied and defended, and a and organized, became the only force that was trusted or
bold, determined soldiery wras required, the knights dis- employed. The characteristic of this period was dee/
mounted and fought on foot. They were the dragoons of formation, both in the cavalry and the infantry,
that age. Each knight wrasattended by his esquire; and, The third period comprehends the great war of inde-Tlj1'1'Pl
besides these there were also archers, generally the vas- pendence, carried on by the Netherlanders, in order to™ '
sals of the knights, who, being more lightly armed, and emancipate themselves from the yoke of Spain; and it
riding smaller horses, served as a kind of light horsemen, extends from 1568 to the general suspension of hostilities
At the beginning of the fourteenth century, indeed, the in 1609. Here fought, on one side, art, and an army
distinction of heavy and light horse was common in Euro- formed by the experience of more than half a century of
pean armies. The former, consisting of tenants in capite, war, under Charles V. and his son Philip II.; on the other,
holding of the crown by tenure of military service, or their the inhabitants of the Low Countries, living only by trade
substitutes (servientes), were denominated men-at-arms, and the arts of peace. A people, consisting chiefly of
from their being armed the latter, composed of manufacturers and merchants, inhabiting a country of
yeomen, were named holders. The knights rode what were small extent, and already much exhausted by a long-con-
denominated war-horses, which, like their riders, were tinued exercise of tyranny and oppression, scrupled not
1 Meyrick’s Critical Inquiry into Ancient Armour, vol. i. p. 174. Chain-armour first became covered with plates at the beginning
of the fourteenth century ; but entire plate-armour did not make its appearance until about a century after.
- The only military productions of this period were the regulations of Charles the Bold, above-mentioned, with those of Louis
VII. of France, and of John Ziska, general of the Hussites.
3 See Pere Daniel, vol. i. p. 155.
A R
Ar V. to draw the sword, in defence of their liberties, against
v.'w' the richest monarch of the age, the sovereign of Spain
and the Indies, and master of the most numerous as well
as the best-disciplined forces, commanded by generals dis¬
tinguished above their contemporaries by their skill in the
art of war.1 A more unequal contest cannot well be ima¬
gined ; and never was the issue of any dispute more con¬
trary to what the parties had reason to anticipate. But the
struggle was protracted ; and in proportion as the Nether-
landers were formed to war, the bravery and discipline of
the Spaniards relaxed. Under the skilful tuition and able
conduct of Nassau, the foe which had at first appeared
so contemptible to the haughty Spaniards, tore the laurels
from their brows, and at length drove them, defeated and
disgraced, from the country which had suffered so long
under their grinding oppression and their insolent misrule.
This war was followed by great changes, both in the or¬
ganization and tactics of armies. The cavalry was divid¬
ed into cuirassiers and light horse; the use of the lance
was discontinued,2 and its place supplied by the sword
and pistol for the heavy, and the carbine for the light
horse; and these were now trained to execute a variety of
movements and manoeuvres at full speed. The infantry
was also placed upon a better footing, both in respect to
discipline and formation; although the prejudice in fa¬
vour of columns or masses seems still to have continued,
notwithstanding frequent experience of their inutility, as
well as of the destruction to which they were exposed from
the concentric fire of artillery.
1 m The fourth period comprises the Thirty Years War, the
l*"'1 pretext forwhich, according to Bulow, was the happiness of
heaven, but the motive the goods of the earth : it extends
from 1618 to 1648. The peace which had terminated the
struggle for independence in the Low Countries, after a
protracted contest of above half a century in duration,
lasted only nine years ; when a new war broke out, which
can only be considered a continuation of the former. The
hero of this war was Gustavus Adolphus; and he, like
Prince Maurice of Nassau,3 was the creator of new tactics.
Ihis warlike monarch departed from the dense formation
of his predecessors, and drew up his infantry six deep;
which was considered an innovation that nothing but his
success could justify. His opponents, Tilly and Wallen¬
stein, formed their infantry in solid masses thirty deep;
which, nevertheless, proved unable to contend with the
linear formation of the Swedish troops. Until about the
middle of this war, it still continued the practice to form
cavalry in from four to eight ranks. But Gustavus also
departed from this rule, and formed it in three ranks;
although it appears from Harte, that, at the battle of
L'eipsic, it was drawn up four deep, probably on account
of the dense formation of the imperial cavalry, which was
formed in eight ranks. In the intervals he stationed pla¬
toons of infantry, fifty arid upwards strong, as well as light
guns ; doubtless from a conviction that cavalry, unless sup¬
ported, were unable to contend with infantry. His great
object appears to have been, to give greater mobility to the
M Y.
597
two principal arms of a military force, and thus to gain in Armv.
celerity of movement what he had lost in weight or im- ^re¬
pulsion. He knew that the momentum would remain the
same, if the motion was increased proportionally to the
diminution in weight.
The fifth period comprehends the wars of the French Fifth
in Italy, in Germany, and in the Netherlands, as well asPeriod.
the northern and Turkish wars, and embraces a period of
ninety years; namely, from 1648 to 1738. The peace of
Westphalia put a period to nearly a century of war. The
results of this conflict were the secularization of ecclesi¬
astical property, the complete establishment of the Pro¬
testant religion, the recognition of mental freedom, the
decay of the Papal power throughout Europe, and the
triumph of national independence. But during the long-
continued struggle in Germany, two hereditary enemies
appeared,—the lurks and the trench, The former were
expelled in a single campaign, and never again attempted
any serious invasion. The latter entered upon a series of
wars of which we have not yet probably seen the termi¬
nation. The ambition of Louis XIV., however, and the
wars to which it gave rise, rapidly developed the art of
carrying on military operations, and formed generals whose
names adorn military history. Opposed to a French Tu-
renne, Luxembourg, and Conde, stand Montecuculi, Marl¬
borough, and Eugene of Savoy; Louis of Baden may rank
with Catinat or Vendome; and many other generals of
eminence illustrate this period, which was less remarkable
for changes in the constitution and organization of armies
than for the talents displayed in conducting their operations
in the field. It w^as the era of great commanders. In the
north the Swedes, Poles, Brandenburgians, and Muscovites,
fought alternately on the plains of Poland and the steppes
of the Ukraine. Under Charles XII. the Swedish infantry
attained a high degree of perfection, and proved uniform¬
ly successful until it was so rashly committed at Pultowa;
while the cavalry, without defensive armour, which the
chivalrous monarch rejected, consisted almost entirely of
dragoons.4 The principal improvements of this period,
however, are chiefly due to the French, who made rapid
advances in all the branches of military science.
The sixth period includes the three Silesian wars;Sixth
namely, from the beginning of the first Silesian war in period.
1740, to the breaking out of the French revolutionary war
in 1792. For a century previous to this, Prussia appears
to have been chiefly employed in preparing herself for the
brilliant part which she acted under Frederick II. To
the celebrated elector, Frederick William, the Prussian
military power in a great measure owed its origin. This
prince grew up, as it were, in a camp, and. even in his boyish
days, was present at the sieges of Breda and the Schen-
kenschantze. Arrived at the government, he endeavoured
to infuse a new spirit into the army; and so well did he
succeed, that, in 1672, he was enabled to promise the re¬
public of Holland an auxiliary force of 20,000 men. At the
period of his death the elector left behind him a well-orga¬
nized army of 30,000. When Frederick the Great (or, as he
1 Watson’s History of Philip //. vol. i. p. 428.
. La lance,” says Montecuculi, “ est la reinedes armes pour la cavalerie.” (Memoires, liv. i. c. 2.) And this opinion seems to be
gaming ground at the present day; for experience has shown, that cavalry can never make any serious impression by means of fire¬
arms, while, with swords alone, they are wholly unfit to contend with infantry.
s Bismark’s Cavalry Tactics, p. 307 ? Guibert, Essai Gintral de Tactique, p. 68.
4 Charles XII., not content with making the cavalry, without any Connection with or dependence upon other arms, but from con-
ndence in itself, charge the enemy’s horse at full speed, without firing, led it equally against intrenchments and batteries, and always
with success. “ He knew,” says Count Bismark, “ that by the rapidity of motion, the natural vivacity of the majority of mankind is
increased, and, often mounting to a blind fury and foolhardy enthusiasm, leaves no time for consideration or calculation of danger ;
hat at such a moment death loses its terrors, and Victory !—but with living colours—presents itself to the soul of the wildly-rush¬
ing warrior.” (Cavalry Tactics, p. 319, 320, 321.) At the same time Charles appears to have had a love of fighting for its own sake;
and it was probably this peculiarity of temperament, as much as any calculation of results, which gave to his movements that impe¬
tuosity, which neither natural nor artificial obstacles could check or resist.
ARMY.
is called by the Germans, der Ivinzige, the Unequalled) as¬
cended the throne, he found the army about 80,000 strong,
and drilled to a precision of movement, as well as a ra¬
pidity in firing, until then unknown. This was owing to
the exertions of Prince Leopold of Dessau, who may be
considered the founder of the modern system of tactics,
having invented the iron ramrod and the equal step,—
reduced the formation of the infantry from four to three
ranks, thereby increasing the effect of musket fire,—and,
in short, laid the foundation of the system which Fre¬
derick afterwards improved, by giving to infantry-move¬
ments greater lightness and facility. With an army thus
prepared for action, Frederick took the field in 1740.
But the first two wars passed quickly by; and the inter¬
vals of peace were employed in reforming whatever expe¬
rience had shown to be defective in his system,—in prac¬
tising a vast variety of deployments,—and, above all, in
introducing that celerity of movement which had become
so essential in modern armies, with reference both to their
numbers and the extent of their front. When the third
Silesian or Seven Years War broke out, Frederick, forsaken
by his allies, and menaced on all sides by powerful ene¬
mies, seemed on the very verge of destruction. But if he
stood alone, he stood unmoved, like the oak, braving the
storm, and conscious of the power to weather it. Nor
was he without some peculiar and decided advantages.
On the one hand, his natural coup d’ceil, which was per¬
fect; the unity and power of his will; the habit of his troops
to remain firm in all situations, and to execute every
movement with precision, even in the very tumult of battle ;
the never-shaken confidence in their leader, and the en¬
thusiasm with which he was regarded by them: and, on
the other, the division, weakness, and want of system or
connection in the enemy’s plans of operation; their par¬
tial and lukewarm mode of execution; together with the
inferiority of their troops in organization, and of their com¬
manders in genius :—these were the causes which enabled
Frederick to retire from this bloody seven years conflict
with a prodigious increase of fame, and without the loss of
an acre of territory.1 “ Depuis la guerre de la Succession,”
says Guibert, “ on n’avoit pas vu tant d’armees en cam-
pagne et reunies centre un seul prince. Sa science et
leurs fautes furent le contrepoids de tant de forces. Ja¬
mais guerre ne fut plus instructive, et plus feconde en
evenemens. 11 s’y fit des actions dignes des plus grands
capitaines, et des fautes dont les Marsin auroient rougi.
On y vit quelquefois le genie aux prises avec le genie,
mais plus souvent avec 1’ignorance. Partout ou le roi de
Prusse put manceuvrer il eut des succes. Presque par-
tout ou il fut reduit a se battre, il fut battu: evenemens
qui prouvent combien ses troupes etoient superieures en
tactique, si elles ne 1’etoient pas en valeur.”2 Such was
the character of the Prussian army of this period, and
such the military genius of the great monarch by whom it
was commanded. Mere tactical details are foreign to the
object of this article, and therefore we abstain from enter¬
ing into them, excepting in as far as they may seem ne¬
cessary to throw light upon the constitution and composi¬
tion of armies. That of Prussia was long considered a mo¬
del for imitation. Under Generals Siedlitz and Ziethen its
cavalry attained a degree of perfection unequalled either
before or since. “ There was but one Seidlitz,” says Count
von Bismark. In playing the mighty game of war, its in- Army
fantry was also superior to any other of that age ; and if
subsequent events somewhat tarnished its reputation, it
has never ceased to be one of the best organized and most
completely equipped bodies of foot in Europe. The Aus¬
trians, as their wont is, only improved on compulsion, and
when fairly beaten out of their old system of masses and
deep formations.
The armies and the science of this period, however,Seventh
were destined to be far outnumbered and surpassed in period,
the seventh and last, which embraces the military sys¬
tems and establishments of our own times. These, ac¬
cordingly, we shall now proceed to describe in detail;
confining our accounts principally, if not exclusively, to
their actual rather than to their former condition and
strength; and commencing with the army of France, which
has not only played a most conspicuous part since the
commencement of the revolutionary wars, but has latterly
served as a sort of model on which the other armies of
Europe have been more or less formed.
From time immemorial, the Gauls were inhabited by a French
race of men distinguished for their bravery. Hardy and army,
enterprising under the two Brenni, obstinate and perse¬
vering in their attacks against Caesar, we find them cutting
a conspicuous figure as auxiliaries in all the wars of ancient
Home. They passed through the middle ages with equal
distinction ; and if they were forced to yield to the irrup¬
tion of the Franks, the amalgamation of the two nations
had only the effect of adding to their energy. The wars
of Charlemagne and the crusades; the successive inva¬
sions of Italy by Louis XIL, Charles VIII., and Francis!.;
and, lastly, the struggles maintained against all Europe
by Louis XIV., shoved what might be expected from
French armies when property commanded. But the fatal
results of the Seven Years War, the wretched intrigues of
the court of Louis XV., and still more the spirit of infatua¬
tion which appears to have become endemic after the dis¬
graceful Hanoverian expeditions, eclipsed, in an instant,
ages of glory, and rendered the army of France an object
of ridicule to Europe. After the peace of 1762, some mea¬
sures were taken with the view, as was pretended, of re¬
medying the supposed defects in the constitution of tbe
army, and restoring its character. But the French minis¬
try of that day, ignorant of the real circumstances which
had led to its successive defeats, and incapable of com¬
prehending the dispositions and strategical movements by
which success in war is attained, contented themselves
with searching into the most minute details of discip¬
line and instruction for the causes of failures which were
solely attributable to a bad choice of generals, and a faulty
direction of great operations. They imagined that the
armies of Frederick had triumphed in consequence of
oblique marches, the particular cut of their uniforms, and
a thousand other absurdities which it would be impossible
to credit, were not the amusing discussions of that period
embodied in public documents of unquestionable authen¬
ticity ; they disputed about ployments and deployments
en tiroirs, about tranches and plesions, about a Prussian
order and a French order; they formed camps in order
to judge of the advantages of these different systems;
and they fancied that they had discovered the sublime of
the art in the mechanism of the instruction of platoons.
1 Bismark s Cavalry Tactics, p. 323. 2 Guibert, Essai General de Tactiqne, tome i. p. 77, 7^
3 “ On dtoit si fort engoue de tout ce qui ressemblait a la tactique Allemande,” says Jomini, “ qu’il suffit a cette epoque de por¬
ter un nom ludesque pour faire une fortune militaire. Un certain capitaine Pirch, sorti des rangs de I’armee Prussienne, passa pour
un emule de Frederic, sur la simple presentation d’un memoire dans lequel il donnait des idees pour aligner des bataillons sur les
drapeaux ; on se crut heureux qu’il daignat accepter un regiment et I’instruire suivant sa methode.” (Histoire Critique et Militaire des
Guerres de la Revolution, tom. i. p. 214.) Under the government which promoted Pirch, and indeed under that which succeeded it,
Kleber, Moreau, and even Napoleon himself, would have been condemned to an eternal nullity.
A R
Ar « Encore un pas retrograde,” says Jomini, “ et les troupes
^,0 Francaises se fussent trouvees au niveau des soldats du
pape.”1 But the American war gave a check to these
mischievous fooleries, and revived the spirit of emulation,
which is the source of the most brilliant feats in war; while
the expeditions to Grenada and St Eustatius, together with
the campaigns of Lafayette, Saint-Simon, and Rocham-
beau, in a great measure restored the reputation of the
French arms, and prepared the way for still more import¬
ant achievements. The staff, the government, and the
faiseurs were still divided between different systems. But
while the chiefs were perplexing themselves with theories,
the troops improved both in discipline and manoeuvres; and
had it not been for the repeated shocks which their orga¬
nization experienced in consequence of frequent changes
of ministry, and the introduction of certain radical inno¬
vations, which completely broke up the old battalions in
order to amalgamate them with new levies, Louis XVI.
would have possessed an army capable of defending the
monarchy, and might have been able to restrain and re¬
sist that revolutionary frenzy to which he was destined
soon to become a victim. In consequence of the disorga¬
nization thus introduced, the regiments of the line were in
a wretched condition at the breaking out of the war in
1792. But a single measure saved them from destruc¬
tion. The nomination officers taken from the tiers-etat
filled the ranks with an ambitious and warlike youth, burn¬
ing to distinguish itself; while emulation, the chances of
preferment, and the love of country, supplied for a time
the want of discipline, and formed powerful motives for
stimulating improvement.
At the end of the year 1791, the French infantry con¬
sisted of 105 regiments of two battalions each, 14 bat¬
talions of light troops, and 170 battalions of national vo¬
lunteers ; or 394 battalions in all. By the decree of the
5th May 1792, the number of the volunteer battalions was
raised to 200, and the strength of each was increased from
226 to 800 men. The cavalry was composed of two regi¬
ments of carabineers, consisting of four squadrons each ;
24 regiments of heavy cavalry of three squadrons each ;
18 regiments of dragoons of three squadrons each; 12 regi¬
ments of chasseurs of four squadrons each; and 6 regiments
of hussars of three squadrons each; in all 206 squadrons.
So that the total strength of the French army at this period
did not exceed 160,000 infantry, 35,000 cavalry, and 10,000
artillery; while 20,000 men were still wanting to bring the
different regiments to their full complements. But this
deficit was soon supplied by the multitude of volunteers
who flocked to the national standards when the duke of
Brunswick invaded France at the head of the Prussian
army.2 The revolution, however, had not yet developed
its energies; nor had the world as yet any suspicion of the
prodigies which the system of terror, afterwards organized,
was destined to achieve. In 1795, France presented the
formidable aspect of a vast camp. The decrees of the 23d
August and the 5th September 1794 had hurried the whole
youth to the frontiers. Nearly 1,200,000 men were in the
pay of the republic; and, after deducting those employed
in accessory services, and in the navy, the number of com¬
batants in the field cannot have amounted to less than about
700,000. The official state of the force of the French
armies, as at the 5th April 1794, presents an aggregate of
794,334 men, including garrisons, but exclusive of the army
of the interior, whose head-quarters were at Paris ; which,
allowing one fifth for those in the depots and for the sick,
would give an effective force, present under arms, of at
least 650,000 men; the most formidable which Europe
599
had ever seen assembled in the field. “ Ce developement Army,
de forces, sans exemple dans les annales modernes,” says
Jomini, “ tenait d’autant plus du prodige, que la nation
se trouvait livree a tous les dechiremens d’une guerre ci¬
vile, et aux persecutions d’un gouvernement odieux. Mais
ce ne fut pas aux levees seulement que ces efforts se
bornerent: tout ce qui compose les elemens de la puis¬
sance nationale, avoit ete porte a un degre de tension in-
connu dans les siecles modernes.”3 Nor did the “ prodigy”
stop here. In the month of March 1795, France had ten
armies in the field, the active force of which amounted
to 449,930 combatants, besides 120,850 in garrisons, and
388,450 sick, prisoners, or detached; in all 959,190 sol¬
diers. But the active force, or number present under
arms, did not form the half of the effective, and scarcely a
third of the complete military strength of France at that
period; for, as 200,000 men were still wanting to bring
the effective force up to the full establishment, and as the
most active measures were in progress to make up the de¬
ficit, the total number of Frenchmen under arms in 1795
cannot have fallen much short of 1,100,000 men. It will
not be denied, therefore, that the Comite du Solid Publi-
que possessed extraordinary energy, and that terrorism
proved the salvation of France.
But this state of exertion was too violent to be of long
continuance; and neither the population of the country,
nor its exhausted resources, were sufficient to maintain so
enormous a force in the field. Accordingly, in the suc¬
ceeding years of the republic, the aggregate of the differ¬
ent armies seldom exceeded 480,000 effective men, and
generally fell short of this number. But when Napoleon
had mounted the throne, and had organized the system of
conscription, he obtained an unlimited command over the
whole of that part of the population capable of bearing
arms; and as he acted upon the principle, first recom¬
mended by Cato, of making vrar support itself, he was
not only able to repair the losses sustained in his various
campaigns, but, on most occasions, to take the field with
a predominating superiority of numbers. The establish¬
ment of the French army, in 1805, amounted to 341,412
infantry of the line, 100,130 light infantry, 77,488 cavalry,
46,489 artillery, and 5445 engineers; making a total of
650,964 men, or a force equal to that organized by the
terrorists in 1794 and 1795. But this establishment was
afterwards greatly increased; and it is calculated that,
at the time of the Russian campaign, there were in the
depots, in the hospitals, and in the field, not less than
1,200,000 men, of whom about 850,000 might be consi¬
dered as effective. Hence, we are enabled to account for
the extraordinary phenomenon of Napoleon’s appearance
in Germany at the head of a new and formidable army,
within a few months after the annihilation of his veteran
masses amidst the steppes, snows, and frosts of Russia,
and making head for more than a year afterwards against
the utmost efforts of the allied powers.
One of the first cares of the Bourbons, on their se¬
cond restoration in 1815, was to re-model the army, and
place it on a footing adapted to the new order of things.
The most obvious maxims of policy recommended a pro¬
ceeding which alone could give stability to the restored
dynasty. But such changes are necessarily the work of
time; and we need not therefore wonder that nearly ten
years should have elapsed before this important object
was accomplished. The French army was re-organized,
augmented, and placed on nearly the same footing on
which it now stands, in virtue of three royal ordonnances,
dated the 27th February 1825 ; the first of which relates
M Y.
1 Guerres de la Revolution, ubi supra.
Ibid. tom. i. p. 224-25.
3 Ibid. tom. v. p. 20.
ARMY.
600
Army, to the infantry, the second to the cavalry, and the third
to the artillery and engineers.1 The actual military esta¬
blishment of France has been deduced partly from these
documents, and partly from others of a more recent date,
containing particulars of the modifications and changes
subsequently introduced.
The infantry is composed of 6 regiments of the guards
and 64 of the line, 20 regiments of light infantry, and 7
foreign regiments; in all 97 regiments. Each regiment con¬
sists of a stalf and three battalions, and each battalion of
eight companies, viz. one of grenadiers or carabineers, ano¬
ther of voltigeurs, and six of fusileers or chasseurs. The
peace establishment of a battalion was fixed by the ordon-
nance of the 27th February 1825 at 600, and the war esta¬
blishment at 900 men ; nor has any very material change
since taken place. The staff of all the regiments of the
guard and of the line consists, in time of wrar as well as
peace, of a colonel, a lieutenant-colonel, three chefs-de-ba-
taillon, a major, three adjutant-majors, a paymaster, a su¬
perintendent of clothing, a standard-bearer, a chaplain, a
surgeon-major and two assistants ; in all 16 officers. The
officers of companies, 72 in number, consist of 6 captains
of the first class, 18 of the second, 12 lieutenants of the
first class, 12 of the second, and 24 sub-lieutenants or
ensigns. The total of non-commissioned officers in a
regiment of the guards amounts to 380, in one of the line
to 259 ; while the entire strength of both, including offi¬
cers, non-commissioned officers, and soldiers, is very near¬
ly the same.
The cavalry is composed of 2 regiments of grenadiers,
2 of cuirassiers, 1 of dragoons, 1 of chasseurs, 1 of lancers,
and 1 of hussars, forming the two divisions of the royal
guard ; and of 2 regiments of carabineers, 10 of cuirassiers,
12 of dragoons, 18 of chasseurs, and 6 of hussars of the
line. Each of the regiments of cavalry of the guard and
of the line is composed of a staff and six squadrons. The
staff consists of the colonel, a lieutenant-colonel, chefs
d'escadron, major, instructor-in-chief, adjutant-majors, pay¬
master, superintendent of clothing, standard-bearer, chap¬
lain, surgeons, captains, lieutenants, and sub-lieutenants,
65 in all. The non-commissioned officers amount to 167
for war, and 163 for peace; and the entire strength of a
regiment of the guards is 940 and 748, of a regiment of
the heavy cavalry 926 and 734, of a regiment oflight ca¬
valry 1022 and 734, for war and peace respectively.
The royal corps of artillery is composed of an appropri¬
ate staff, of artillery troops attached to the royal guard,
and of artillery troops of the line. The staff consists of
390 officers, including the general officers, inspectors
of this arm, who also form part of the general staff of
the army,—and of 560 employes. The officers composing
the staff are, 1 lieutenant-general, inspector-general of the
central service; 9 lieutenants-general; 16 major-generals;
36 colonels, directors of artillery, inspectors of establish¬
ments, commanding en second the military schools, and
attached to the general direction of the powder manufac¬
tories and to the central depot; 86 lieutenant-colonels,
sub-directors, heads of establishments, and adjuncts to
the commandants of schools and the central depot; 72
chefs-de-bataillon, sub-directors, heads of establishments,
adjuncts to the central depot and to the ministry, com¬
manding the artillery in fortified places, and aides-de-camp;
110 captains, heads of establishments or acting under
them, adjuncts to the central depot and to the ministry,
commanding the artillery in places of strength, and aides-
de-camps; 60 in fixed residence; and 50 sub-lieutenants, Arm-
pupils. The employes consist of 1 examinator of artillery • ^A
10 professors of mathematics, and 10 tutors in the same
branch; 11 professors of design; 15 master artificers; 290
artillery guards, viz. 16 of the first class, 64 of the second
and 210 of the third; 103 workmen; 31 controllers of the
manufacture of arms, and 38 of management; 36 account¬
ants; 3 controllers of the founderies, with 3 assistants; and
3 controllers of the forges, with 3 assistants. The troops
of the artillery of the guard form a brigade under the or¬
ders of a major-general of the corps, who is permanent in¬
spector ; and this brigade is composed of one regiment of
foot, one of horse-artillery, and one of the train. A regi¬
ment of foot-artillery is composed of a staff, of eight com¬
panies of cannoneers, and of a detachment of workmen;
amounting in all to 916 and 668 for war and peace re¬
spectively. A regiment of the horse-artillery is compos¬
ed of a staff and 4 companies of cannoneers, or 454 and
382 respectively as above. A regiment of the train of
artillery is composed of a staff, with 12 companies in time
of war and 6 in time of peace, or 1474 and 524 respec¬
tively. Eight employes are specially attached to the artil¬
lery of the guard for the service of the school and the
direction of the materiel, viz. a professor and a teacher of
mathematics, a master artificer, three guards, and one prin¬
cipal workman. The artillery of the line is composed of
8 regiments of foot, 4 regiments of horse-artillery, 1 bat¬
talion of a pontoon-train, 12 companies of workmen, 1 of
armourers, and 8 of the train. Each of the 8 regiments
of foot-artillery consists of a staff and 20 companies; each
of the regiments of horse-artillery af a staff and 8 com¬
panies. The pontoon-train is divided in 12 companies;
and each of the 8 squadrons of the train is composed of a
staff with 16 companies in time of war, and 8 in time of
peace.
The corps of engineers consists of three regiments, each
composed of a staff and three battalions, with a skeleton
company as a depot, while each battalion is formed of 8
companies, 2 of which are miners and 6 sappers. The
regimental staff of each regiment of engineers consists of
1 colonel, 1 lieutenant-colonel, 4 chefs-de^bataillon, one of
which is commandant of the regimental school, 3 adju¬
tant-majors, 1 paymaster, 1 superintendent of clothing, 1
standard-bearer, 1 chaplain, 1 surgeon-major, 2 assistants,
and 3 professors attached to the regimental school; in all
16 officers. The sub-officers and workmen are 23 in num¬
ber ; the strength of a company of sappers or miners is
102 in peace and 150 in war ; while that of a regiment,
including the cadre de la compagnie de depot, is 2604 and
3756 respectively.
It follows, then, taking the totals of the different corps
d’armee conformably to this analysis, that the peace esta¬
blishment of the French army is fixed at 280,270 infan¬
try and 57,057 cavalry; and the war establishment at
395,500 infantry and 105,347 cavalry. In point of fact,
however, the effective force of 1826 consisted of no more
than 227,667 infantry and 47,834 cavalry.2 Nor have these
respective numbers been since materially increased; for
the effective force of 1829, as estimated in the budget of
that year,3 amounted only to 232,367 infantry and 47,258
cavalry ; while, in the budget for 1830, the infantry is es¬
timated at 231,597, and the cavalry at 46,416. But some
important changes have taken place since the revolution
of July 1830.4 The Swiss guard has been discharged;
the garde royale has been dissolved; and the whole of the
‘ t0“- P- 153. See also tome v. p. 117, and Annuaire dc I'Etat Militaire de France pour Fannie 1828-
- Budget des Depemcs du Mmutere de la Guerre pour VExercise de 1826. Paris, 1825, 4to.
See abstract of the budget in the Bulletin des Sciences Mililaircs, tom. v. n. 177.
* bee budget in the Bulletin, tom. vi. p. 343.
ARMY.
My. garde du corps has been broken up. The effective force
wr-O of each regiment of infantry of the line has also been fixed
at 1500, of each regiment of cavalry at 700, and of each
regiment of artillery and engineers at 1200 men. This
may at first sight appear a considerable reduction ; but if
we take into account the numerous battalions of national
guards which have been organized since the expulsion of
the elder branch of the Bourbons, we shall find that the
reduction is more apparent than real.
The French army is at present recruited partly by vo¬
luntary enrolment for a term of years, and partly by requi¬
sitions ; in other words, on nearly the same principle which
obtained before the revolution of 1790. The system of re¬
quisition is of course subsidiary or supplementary to that
of voluntary enlistment; but, in the event of another war,
it would unquestionably become the principal, if not the
only, resource of the army. And this applies to other na¬
tions as well as to France. Modern manners, customs, ha¬
bits, and pursuits, are primarily adverse to the military ser¬
vice ; and this opposition can only be overcome by a con¬
scription of one kind or other. Napoleon laid it down as
a principle, “ que la conscription est le mode de recrute-
ment le plus juste, le plus doux, le plus avantageux au
peuple.”1 But without being prepared to go this length,
it may be admitted that it is equal in its operation; that
its results are certain; and that the supplies it furnishes
are of the best quality: whilst voluntary enlistment is at
best a precarious resource, and sends to the ranks little else
than the scum and dregs of the people. At the same time,
the French army, as at present constituted, bears a much
smaller proportion to ’the entire population of the country,
and is consequently less burdensome, than that of any
other nation of Europe, England only excepted. Russia, for
example, requires one man in 97 for her peace establish¬
ment, and one in 57 for war: Austria takes one in 60 during
peace, and one in 40 during war: Prussia, maintaining a
war establishment in peace, withdraws one man in 22 lor
the service of her army : whilst France requires only one
in 13? for peace, and one in 80 for war.2 The peace es¬
tablishment of Great Britain presses even more lightly upon
the general mass of the population; but, in the event of
a war, the proportion would, all in probability, become as
unfavourable for the people as that of the French con¬
scription under Napoleon, namely, one in 33 or 34. Such,
at least, was the case during the greater part of the last
war, particularly after the rupture of the short-lived peace
of Amiens.
The national character of every people is commonly
developed in a very striking manner by its army. “ The
frenchman,” says Count Bismark, “courageous, impetuous,
nay, even terrible in attack, does not possess that cold¬
blooded, quiet circumspection and endurance which is so
indispensable in a defensive war and hence he concludes
that a war against the French ought to be carried on offen¬
sively. “ A cautious but not the less uninterrupted offen-
601
sive, must be the ruling principle in all projects of opera- Army,
tion against the French.’’^ Major Beamish delivers a simi-
lar opinion. “ The French,” says this officer, “ have, with
much judgment,^ generally endeavoured to become the at¬
tacking party. They thus not only derived the usual ad¬
vantage of that system, but adopted the mode of warfare
which was peculiarly suited to their national character.
The French soldiers are impetuous; but their courage re¬
quires excitement, to which motion so much contributes.
Abstract motion, however, is not sufficient to impel the
hrench soldier into action : he must be first excited by the
example of his officer; and were it not for the extreme
and universal gallantry displayed by the officers of the
French army, few instances of impetuous courage would
be recorded on the part of the men. It has been said
that ‘ the French officers will always lead, if the men will
follow; and there have been instances where the former
have nobly sacrificed their lives to produce this effect”4
General Foy, whose endeavours to depreciate the British
are at such variance with the better points of his charac¬
ter, says that “ to Frenchmen you must always speak,”
and that “ the intoxication of the French is gay, spark¬
ling, and daring ; a foretaste to them of the battle and the
victory.”J A still higher authority confirms these opinions.
“ Le Fran^ais, naturellement brave, actjf, et impetueux,”
says Baron Jomini, “ fait aisement des conquetes, mais
il les perd avec la meme facilite. Des qu’il cesse de
marcher en avant, une sorte de degout s’empare de lui;
il est difficile de le contenir. Depuis la revolution, surtout,
cette disposition s’etait accrue de plus en plus: les liens
de la discipline ne retenant plus le soldat, il etait devenu
mutin, raisonneur, et indocile.”6 Colonel Napier s opinion
appears substantially to coincide with that of Jomini and
other competent judges.7 In fact, no military nation of
Europe has gained so many splendid victories, and sus¬
tained so many disgraceful defeats, as the French; whose
whole history, indeed, consists of an extraordinary alter¬
nation of the most brilliant successes and the most cala¬
mitous reverses, of triumphant ascendancy and abject hu¬
miliation. “ Aucune nation,” says Guibert, “ n’a perdu
de batailles aussi honteuses, aussi decisives, que la notre ;
aucune n’en a gagne si peu de decisives et de complettes.”8
The Spanish army, which, under Charles V., Pescaira, Spanish
the Duke of Alba, and the Constable of Bourbon, hadarni3-
proved itself so formidable—extending the theatre of its
exploits from the Pyrenees to the Po and the Adige on
the one hand, and to the Elbe, the Meuse, and the Waal
on the other—degenerated rapidly under the disastrous
reigns of the last princes of the House of Austria. When
Philip V. ascended the throne at the beginning of the last
century, it scarcely amounted to 15,000 men. By that
prince and his successors, however, it was gradually increas¬
ed, until, in the year 1792, its establishment amounted to
116,000 infantry, 12,200 cavalry, with upwards of 10,000
artillery, and its effective force to about 120,000 men of
Napoleon having established “ qu’un million d’ames fournit chaque anne'e 7000 d 8000 consents, et que les besoins de 1’administra-
uon etdes divers etats n’en reclaimait que moitid,” he therefore concluded, “qu’une levee annuelle de 3500 hommes n’offrait, de-
ilucUon faite des morts, que 30,000 hommes en dix ans,” or about a 33d part of the entire population. (See Rogniat, Rtponse aux Notes
piques de Napoleon. Paris 1823.) But the draughts on the population of France were never carried to the full extent of the prin¬
ciple, and seldom exceeded one in 43 or 44.
Mtmoire sur 1'Organisation de la Force Militaire dc la France, p. 38. Dijon, 1825.
3 Cavalry Tactics, p. 336, Engl, transl.
^ See Major Beamish’s Note to the passage in the Cavalry Tactics above quoted.
History of the War in the Peninsula under Napoleon, vol. i. p. 158, Eng. transL.
Histoire Critique et Militaire des Guerres de la Revolution, tom. iii. p. 125.
’ Napier, History of the War in the Peninsula, vol. i. p. 10. See also vol. iii. p. 329, where, in describing the attack of the British
position on the crest of the Sierra de Busaco, 27th September 1810, Colonel Napier renders justice to the “ astonishing efforts of
valour’’ on the part of the French, and ably discriminates the respective characteristics of the troops engaged on that occasion. The
onset of the French was truly terrible, and at one moment had very nearly succeeded.
Essai General de Tactique, tom. L p. 176.
VOL. III. 4 G
C02
Army.
A R M Y.
all arais. At present its effective amounts to 90,000, and
its disposable force to 75,000 combatants. It is compose
of the general active staff, of the staff of the fortresses, ot
the household troops and royal guard, of the infantry and
cavalry of the line, with artillery, engineers, and veterans.
Its staff consists of 6 captain-generals, 77 lieutenant-ge¬
nerals, 122 major-generals, 350 brigadier-generals, with
inferior officers in proportion. There are 15 captaincies,
viz. 12 territorial and 3 colonial. In Spain, and its posses¬
sions contiguous to the Peninsula, there are 150 fortresses,
posts, forts, citadels, or open towns where troops are in
garrison. The household troops consist of six squadrons
of the body guard and a company of halberdiers : of these
four squadrons are Spanish, and two foreign, called Saxons,
in honour of the queen. The royal guard is organized like
that of France, and consists of two divisions of infantry, one
division of cavalry, and three companies of artillery, one of
which is horse-artillery. The first division consists of fom
regiments of grenadiers, each composed of two battalions,
divided into eight companies of 120 men each ; and the
second of two regiments of the elite of the provincial mi¬
litia, divided into three battalions of four companies each.
The cavalry forms a division of two brigades; and the ar¬
tillery consists of three companies of 100 men, each stav¬
ing a battery of six pieces mounted. The infantry of the
line consists, first, ot 10 regiments of three battalions each ,
secondly, of the Swiss regiment Wimpffen, one battalion
only; thirdly, of a regiment, fixed at Ceuta, composed of
four companies of 100 men each, the refuse of the army.
Seven regiments, of two battalions each, of the same number
and composition as those of the line, form the light inf anti y.
The miiitia consists of 42 regiments of one battalion each,
which is divided into eight companies. The cavalry consists
of 13 regiments, of which 5 are of the line, and 8 light horse,
each of four squadrons, composed like those of the royal
guard ; together with two companies of cuirassiers at Ceuta,
one formed of native Spaniards, and the other of Moors.
The royal corps of artillery is divided into the theoretical
and practical. The troops of this arm consist, first, of 6
battalions of foot artillery, in garrison at Barcelona, Car-
thagena, Seville, Corunna, and Valladolid; secondly, of 4
companies of horse-artillery, in garrison at Carthagena
and Seville ; thirdly, of 5 companies of artificers; fourth¬
ly, of 5 battalions of the train ; fifthly, of 3 brigades and
15 companies fixed in garrison, but exclusive of the per¬
sonnel in America. This arm has a splendid museum at
Madrid, besides a theoretical and practical school, direct¬
ed by a brigadier-general or colonel,' in the principal town
or place of each province. The engineers are a corps of
officers not regimented or brigaded, consisting of an en¬
gineer-general, 10 directors sub-inspectors, 17 colonels,
20 lieutenant-colonels, 34 captains, and 56 lieutenants;
together with a regiment of sappers, consisting of 2 bat¬
talions of 8 companies each, viz. 5 of sappers, 1 of miners,
1 of pontoneers, and 1 of workmen. The establishments
of this arm are, a topographical depot-general, or collec¬
tion of maps, plans, and military memoirs; a museum,
containing representations in relief of the fortresses, and
different models of’ fortifications; and an academy for
the instruction of young officers intending to enter this
branch of the service, after they have passed through the
primary school of Segovia. Ail these establishments are
situated in the capital.
The Spanish army is recruited by voluntary enrolment, Am
and, in case of insufficiency, by ballot or conscription. The
term of service is eight years for the first enrolment or
ballot, and two or four for the second, when the soldier
becomes entitled to an increase of pay. Before the war of
independence no one could attain the rank of officer with¬
out having been a cadet; and each cadet was bound to
prove his nobility. But since the return of Ferdinand these
proofs have been dispensed with, and serjeants now obtain a
third of the sub-lieutenancies; the other two thirds being
reserved for the eleves of the military school of Segovia,
who have passed the customary examinations at the end
of their course of study. The dress and equipment of the
Spanish army are in the worst state ; the pay of the troops
is exceedingly irregular; and their discipline is, in con¬
sequence, as bad as it is possible to imagine, or rather,
there is scarcely such a thing known.1 “ L’Espagnol, sobre,
vigoreux, infatigable,” says Jomini, “ possede de grandes
vertus guerrieres, mais il manque d’activite soutenue. Si
dans ces dernieres revolutions, son caractere se soumit
difficilement a la discipline, nous avons ete induit a pen-
ser, en observant I’esprit du peuple, que dans les temps
ordinaires, il y serait plus facilement ploye. Son courage
tumultueux pretait beaucoup a une prompte desorganisa-
tion, car la deroute est toujours compagne de cette dispo¬
sition naturelle des esprits chez les peuples meridionaux.”2
In a word, the Spaniards afford a striking illustration of
the truth of Napoleon’s maxim, that in war the moral is
to the physical force as three parts to one.
After the general peace of 1814, when all the powers of Portu.
Europe had reduced their military establishment, Portugal g®*1
alone did not follow their example, but fixed the peace ern)-v’
establishment of its permanent army at 49,268 infantry
and 5230 cavalry; which, with the militia, made a force of
59,325 men, or about 22 soldiers for every 100 inhabitants.
Such a state of things, however, was much too violent to be
durable. Accordingly, one of the first cares of the con¬
stitutional government of 1821 was to reform a military
system so disproportionate to the population and the fi¬
nancial resources of the kingdom. The armed force since
that period has therefore consisted exclusively of the per¬
manent army and the militia. The permanent army is com¬
posed of a general staff, an engineer corps, 24 infantry re¬
giments of the line of one battalion each, 6 regiments of
chasseurs a pied, and 12 regiments of chasseurs d cheval of
3 squadrons each, 4 regiments of artillery, a battalion ot
engineer artificers, a company of soldiers of the train, a
police guard, and 30 companies of veterans. The general
staff consists of an indeterminate number of lieutenant-
generals, 16 major-generals, 24 brigadier-generals, 6 su¬
perior officers, 6 subalterns, 12 aides-de-camp, 12 secre¬
taries, 10 employes, and a veterinary surgeon-in-chief;
in all 100. The engineer corps (corpo de engenheiros) is
composed of 4 colonels, 4 lieutenant-colonels, 8 majors,
12 captains, 12 lieutenants of the first class, and 12 of the
second; in all 64. Each regiment of infantry of the line
and of light troops consists of 44 officers and 780 non¬
commissioned officers and soldiers. The effective strength
of a regiment of artillery is 551 men, including 33 officers.
The corps of the train of artillery (artilheros conductores),
reduced to a single company by the organization of 182b
is composed of 12 officers, 30 soldiers, and 70 mules (bestas
muares). The battalion of engineer artificers consists of
1 Notice sur I'Armee Espar/nolc, rcdigde sur El Est ado MUUar de 1828 et sur un manuscrit. Paris, 1829. Bulletin des Sciences
Militaircs, tom. v. p. 420. With regard to the present state of discipline, or rather of indiscipline, of the Spanish army, the author
of the Wo tier observes, “ La discipline n’a jamais suhsiste dans I’armee Espagnole. Ce n’est pas qu’il manque tie rdglement; den
existe un fort dtendu, redige avec sojn d’apres le notre (le Franqais) de 1792; mais e’est un freln qu’on n’a pu jusqu’ici amend
1’Espaguol a supporter. Au respect pres que le soldat a pour son officier, il n’y a pas I’ombre de discipline.”
2 Histoire Critique et Militairc des Gucrres de la Revolution, tom. il p. 942.
A R
A |T. 201 men, including 12 officers. Each of the 30 companies
of veterans is from 70 to 80 strong, including 2 officers.
The police guard of Lisbon consists of a battalion of in¬
fantry of 8 companies and 980 men, including officers ; to¬
gether with a battalion of gens tfarmerie a cheval 238 strong,
divided into 4 companies. The effective force of the perma¬
nent army on the peace establishment is therefore 29,645
foot, and 4411 horse. But the events of which Portugal
has since 1821 been the theatre, and the circumstance of
six battalions having been sent to Brazil, render it pro¬
bable that, at the period of the insurrection of the Mar¬
quis de Chaves, the regular army did not exceed 24,000 or
at most 25,000 men. The militia form 48 regiments of
infantry, of the same strength and composition as those
of the line; together with six separate corps, of which
three are infantry, two cavalry, and one artillery; amount¬
ing in all to 38,542 men, and, with the army of the line,
making the total of land forces 68,187 men of all kinds
and arms. The ordinenzas, which formed 441 legions or
capitanea mores, were abolished by the Cortez in 1822, to
the great satisfaction of the nation, which justly regarded
this institution as a most grievous scourge. They were a
sort of levy en masse, which all individuals between the age
of 16 and 60, unless serving in the regular army or in the
militia, might be called upon to join at the shortest notice.
The army, which is indebted for its organization to mar¬
shal Beresford, is w^ell disciplined and instructed. Its
equipment and arms are the same with those of the Eng¬
lish troops.1
Air .an At the period when the emperor of Germany engaged
m' in war with revolutionary France, the Austrian army was
on a very effective footing, both in regard to organization
and numbers. The infantry, it is true, though well train¬
ed and disciplined, wanted vivacity, and its physical was
superior to its moral force. But the cavalry, which was
composed of admirable materials, rivalled the Prussian
squadrons in instruction, and surpassed them in other par¬
ticulars. The artillery and engineers were also good, al¬
though the materiel, less perfect than that of the French,
was either too heavy for pieces in position, or too light for
efficient service in the field. Nor was the staff deficient
either in erudition or in talents; but its theories were anti¬
quated and vague, resting partly upon the system of cor¬
dons attributed to Lascy, and partly also upon certain hy¬
potheses, which it was gravely proposed to put to the test
of experiment in the field. At the commencement of the
war with France, the imperial army consisted of 232 bat¬
talions of infantry and 220 squadrons of cavalry ; and as
the battalions wrere very strong, being raised by means of
reserves to 1200 men and upwards each, the whole of the
Austrian force at this period may be estimated at 240,000
foot, 35,000 horse, and 10,000 artillery.2 But the reverses
it experienced in consequence of an obstinate adherence
to a vicious system, and the exigencies of the long and
protracted struggle with republican and imperial France,
led to successive augmentations of the effective force, un¬
til at one time it considerably exceeded 700,000 men of
all arms. At the general peace of 1814, however, Austria,
exhausted by a war of five-and-twenty years, reduced her
military establishments nearly one half; adjusting the scale
of peace so as to render it commensurate with that which,
M Y. cog
it was conceived, France would adopt as soon as the Bour- Army,
bons felt themselves in a condition to re-organize a perma- —
nent force. Several changes, indeed, have since been made;
but the account which follows, derived from the most au¬
thentic sources,3 will be found to exhibit a correct view of
the actual force and organization of the Austrian army,
consisting of the troops of the line, and the militdr-grdnzen,
or military of the frontiers.
_ The infantry, exclusive of the 17 regiments of the fron¬
tiers, is composed of 58 regiments of the line, 1 regiment
of chasseurs, 12 battalions of chasseurs, and 5 garrison
battalions ; besides, in time of war, the infantry of the staff
and the landwehr. Of these, 3 are recruited in Lower and
2 in Upper Austria, 5 in the interior and in the Illyrian
provinces, 9 in Bohemia, 5 in Moravia, 11 in Gallicia, 4 in
the Venetian States, 4 in Lombardy, 12 in Hungary, and
3 in Transylvania. The different regiments are designated
respectively by the names of their provinces, and those of
the officers who are proprietors therein (inhaber). A regi¬
ment of the line consists, in time of peace, of a staff’,
2 companies of grenadiers, and 18 of fusileers. The com¬
panies of fusileers form 3 battalions, each of 6 companies ;
and 2 companies make a division. In time of war a fourth
battalion is organized, called that of the depot, and is com¬
posed of 4 companies. The companies of grenadiers form
separate battalions, commonly consisting of three divisions
or six companies ; but there are at present two battalions
which have only four companies. The Hungarian and
Transylvanian regiments consist, in time of war, of 4 bat¬
talions of 6 companies each; and the company contains
200 men. The force of the infantry of the line amounts,
therefore, on the peace establishment, to 1044 companies
of fusileers and 116 of grenadiers, or 174 battalions of fusi¬
leers and 20 of grenadiers; and, during war, to 1134 com¬
panies of fusileers, or 189 battalions, and the same number
of companies or battalions of grenadiers. By the military
frontiers are understood the provinces and districts con¬
terminous with Turkey, to the east and south of the em¬
pire ; which, by reason of the military service, internal as
well as external, that their male population is subject to,
have an organization entirely military; some districts of
Transylvania alone excepted. These military provinces
furnish 17 regiments of national infantry, a battalion of
tschaikists or watermen of the Danube, and a regiment of
hussars (szekler), who, in as much as they are liable to be
called to join the army, really form part of it, but who, in
respect of their particular organization, may be considered,
in time of peace, as constituting a distinct force. Mili¬
tary Croatia comprehends six districts, each of them fur¬
nishing a regiment, which bears the name of the chief place
of the district, and consists of 12 companies. The service
of these regiments in time of peace is confined to guard¬
ing the cordon. The light infantry is composed of the
imperial regiment of Tyrolese chasseurs, consisting of 4
battalions of 4 companies each; and of 12 battalions of
chasseurs, 4 companies each in time of peace, and 6, with
a depot company, in time of war. A company of chasseurs
consists of 195 men, including officers. The garrison bat¬
talions, composed of a sort of demi-invalids, unfit for the
service of the line, are stationed, 1 in Buckowina, 1 in
Esclavonia, 1 in Hungary, 1 in Dalmatia, and 1 in Lom-
' Notice sur VAmite Portugahe, extrait analytique de I'Essai Statisiique sur le, Royaume de Portugal et d'Algarve, par Adrien Balhii
laris, 1827. Bulletin dcs Sciences Militaircs, tom. iv. p. 121. Some alterations have, we believe, been introduced by Don Miguel,
but we have not been able to ascertain their nature or extent. /
* Jomini, Gucrres de la Revolution, tom. i. p. 282. /
3 The account of the Austrian army, given in the text, is derived partly from the Allgemeine Militiir-Zeitung, which appeared at
jCipsig and at Darmstadt in 1826, partly from the Constitution de tAmite Autrichicnne of Bergmayr, and partly also from the An-
n/wtre MUitaire Autricliien, together with a variety of papeis in the Bulletin des Sciences Militaires, tom. iv. v. vi. and vii. 1827, 1828,
604 A R
Army, bardy, and consist each of* six companies, with the same
complement of officers and non-commissioned officers as the
companies of the line. The divisions of infantry of the
staff (stabs-infanterie-division), are composed in the same
manner, and organized, in time of war, for the purpose of
guarding the head-quarters and the magazines of the army,
and of removing the wounded from the field of battle to
the nearest hospitals. The number of battalions of the
landwehr is seventy. In each district of country (Hungary,
Transylvania, and Italy excepted) assigned for the recruit¬
ment of a regiment, two battalions of landwehr are raised
and attached to such regiment; the one containing the
men who are the least necessary to their families, and the
most proper for the service, and the other, the surplus of
those who are obliged to form part of the landwehr. The
first battalion is exercised fifteen days in the year, the
second only eight hours. The commandants receive their
orders from the colonel of the regiment of the line to Avhich
their battalions are respectively attached. The landwehr
is principally destined for the service of the interior; but
it may also be sent to an active army. In either case it
is paid the same as the troops of the line.
The cavalry consists of 8 regiments of cuirassiers, 6 of
dragoons, 7 of light horse, 11 of hussars (exclusive of the
frontier regiment), and 4 of hulans ; together with, in time
of war, the dragoons of the staff {stabs-dragonner); all
raised, like the infantry, in different provinces, viz. 3 regi¬
ments of cuirassiers in Bohemia, 3 in Moravia, 1 in Lower
Austria, and 1 in Central Austria; 3 regiments of dragoons
in Moravia, 1 in Upper and Lower Austria, and 1 in Lower
and Central Austria; 1 regiment of light horse in Moravia,
4 in Bohemia, 1 in Gallicia, and 1 in Italy. The hussars
of the 11 regiments are all either Hungarians or Transyl¬
vanians. The regiments of hulans consist of inhabitants
of Gallicia and volunteers. In time of peace, the regi¬
ments of cuirassiers and dragoons consist of 6 squadrons,
and the other regiments of 8; making in all 260 squadrons.
Two squadrons make a division; and, in regiments which
have 8 squadrons or 4 divisions, 2 are commanded by the
majors. The dragoons of the staff, of which there are
several divisions in time of war, have the same destination
as the infantry attached to it, and are besides employed
in repressing disorders committed by marauders, and in
other like services.1
The artillery is divided into three parts, or distinct
corps, viz. the field artillery (feld-artillerie); the artillery
of the arsenals and magasins (feld-zeugami) ; and garrison
artillery (garnison artillerie). The field artillery consists
of a corps of bombardiers, 5 regiments of field artillery,
and a corps of fire-masters. The corps of bombardiers
has a staff, and 5 companies of 204 men each, including
officers. It is recruited by corporals of artillery, and per¬
forms the most difficult as well as important service to the
army. A regiment of field artillery is composed of a staff
and 4 battalions, one of 6 companies and three others of 4
companies each ; making in all 18 companies. A company
serves three or four batteries of 6 pieces ; and each battery
is commanded by a lieutenant or major-firemaster. The
train of the army furnishes the horsing of the batteries,
M Y.
which is under the command of officers of that corps, and Army,
generally independent of the chiefs of batteries, but sub- wyv '
ordinate to them in this particular service. The corps of
firemasters is established at Neustadt, near Vienna, where
it is at present occupied in attempting to fabricate Con¬
greve rockets, we know not with what success. The artillery
of the arsenals and magazins, consisting of a staff eaiA per sou¬
nd of the necessary workmen, furnishes the field artillery,
and the equipages of war, with the requisite arms and muni¬
tions, and it guards them when in magazine. The garrison
artillery, charged with the service in fortresses, is divided
into fourteen districts, determined by the provinces, and
proportioned in numbers to these districts. The district of
garrison artillery of Vienna comprehends an arsenal, con¬
taining all the equipage of sieges ; and attached to it are
a foundery, an establishment for boring cannon, and manu¬
factories of saltpetre and gunpowder.
The engineer department comprehends a corps of en¬
gineers, with the sappers and miners. The pontoon train
is attached to the staff, and is under the direction of an
oberst-schiffamt or chief of boats. The train or corps of mi¬
litary equipages (militdr-fuhrwesens-corps) is wholly inde¬
pendent. The engineer corps is composed of 4 generals, 6
colonels, 9 lieutenant-colonels, 18 majors, 42 captains, 30
captains en second, 30 lieutenants, 30 sub-lieutenants, and
12 cadets. Each command or military division embraces a
district of fortification; consequently there are fourteen
such districts, to each of which is attached a director, who
is taken from the generals or officers of the engineer staff.
In each place there is also an engineer-in-chief, who is an
officer of the staff or a captain of engineers; but in Vienna,
Milan, Peterwaradin, and Venice, the director performs
the functions of chief engineer. The corps of miners is
composed of a staff, five companies, and a garrison detach¬
ment ; and the corps of sappers, of a staff like that of the
miners, six companies, and a garrison detachment. The
pontoon corps consists of a staff and 2 battalions of 4 com¬
panies each. In time of war the number of battalions is
three, two of which have 6 companies and one 4 ; besides a
company in depot. The train or corps of military equi¬
pages consists, in time of peace, of 12 divisions of trans¬
port (transports-divisiori), and 20 sets of horses for field
batteries {exercier-batterie-bespannung'). Each division is
provided with 90 horses ; and all the detachments of the
corps stationed in a province are under the orders of a
commandant. In time of war the military equipage train
consists of seven principal divisions, viz.: 1. the artillery
transport division ; 2. that of pontoons ; 3. that of Hying
bridges ; 4. that of baking ; 5. that of health for the trans¬
port of the wounded ; 6. that of victualling ; and, 7. that
of general transport.
Two regiments of the same or different arms form a
brigade, which is under the orders of a major-general; and
two or three brigades form a division, which is command¬
ed by a field-marshal-lieutenant. In time of war, corps
d’armee are organized, each consisting of several divisions,
and under the orders of a general of cavalry or artillery,
or of the oldest field-marshal-lieutenant. In the Austrian
army there are at present 10 field-marshals, 18 generals of
1 Jomini has particularly remarked the superior composition, organization, and discipline of the Austrian cavalry, which has proved
its excellence in many bloody encounters, and, when led with talent, has never failed to distinguish itself. At the battle of Wiirtz-
burg, 3d September 1796, Wartensleben passed the Maine with twenty-four squadrons of cuirassiers, attacked the French cavalry
under Bonneau, overthrew it, and thus decided the victory. “ This brave veteran,” says the Archduke Charles, “ impressed with
the importance of the order which he had received, dashed into the Maine at the head of his cavalry, and swam across.” “ This
manoeuvre,” he adds, “ was completely successful: the French cavalry, which had awaited the charge without stirring, was over¬
thrown.” At the battle of Leipsic, the Austrian cuirassiers, commanded by Nostitz, “covered themselves with glory.” On the
16th October, at one o’clock in the afternoon, Nostitz, having scarcely passed the Pleisse at Grbbern, attacked the lancers and dra¬
goons of the French imperial guard, overthrew them, and then broke several squares of infantry. Other instances of a similar kind
might be mentioned.
ARMY.
605
Arr. cavalry and artillery. 67 field-marshal-lieutenants, and 118 battalions of youthful volunteers. He had been taught a
major-generals, in actual service; 9 generals of cavalry and lesson by which he did not fail to profit; and after the
artillery, 30 field-marshal-lieutenants, and 92 major-gene- unsuccessful campaigns on the Rhine, he'sneaked inglo-
rals, unemployed. The guards form no part of the army, riously out of the contest which he had been so eager to
They are divided into the noble body guard of arque- commence; leaving the empire and Austria to the^undi-
busiers, the Hungarian body guard, the guard called tra- vided resentment of the conquerors. But he re-establish-
bans, and the civic guard. The military institutions of ed his army, while his late ally was maintaining a death-
the first order consist of the company of cadets at Olmutz, struggle. The parades and manoeuvres of Potzdam were
that of (jratz, the military academy for cadets at Vienna, resumed with their wonted eclat; confidence revived; and
the five regimental schools of artillery, the school of bom- Frederick began to flatter himself that he alone could
bardiers, and the academy of engineers. The total of the re-adjust the disturbed equilibrium of Europe. He failed,
peace establishment of this army is 270,000 infantry and however, to observe the prodigious development which the
50,000 cavalry, with a reserve of 250,000; while its war military art had received in the course of the revolutionary
establishment, which can be organized in four months, war; or at least he neglected to profit by the discoveries
may be estimated at 750,000 infantry and from 70,000 to to which it had given birth: and, as he had formerly de-
75,000 cavalry. . serted his ally at the beginning of the contest, so now he
Frusta At the death of krederick the Great, the army of the took the field just at the moment when that same ally was
arimi Prussian monarchy, amounting to about 200,000 combat- being overthrown at Austerlitz, and compelled to accept
ants, was accounted the best of Europe. Proud of a struggle the terms dictated by the conqueror. And at Jena as at
without example in modern annals, and of the superiority Auerstadt, at Halle as at Lubec, he paid the price of his
of the genius of their king, the victors of Leuthen, Rosbach, procrastinating folly. But misfortune, a rough school-mis-
and Torgau added to this force of opinion an instruction in tress, had inculcated some useful lessons. The military
great manoeuvres, which the troops of no other nation ap- constitution of Prussia was changed ; foreign recruitment
proached, much less rivalled.1 The successor of Frede- ceased; a national army was formed; the privileges of
rick, to whom this superb army descended, though pos- the nobles were abridged; old institutions were reformed;
sessed neither of his genius nor his ambition, was at great discipline was improved by being simplified ; the arming
pains to maintain the reputation which it had acquired; and equipment of the army were improved in all their
and some laurels that had been easily gathered in the Low branches ; the best parts of the French military system
Countries seem to have inspired him with the notion that were adopted ; the patriotism of the nation was roused;
it was still capable of equalling, perhaps surpassing, the in short, during five years, Prussia was silently but actively
brilliant achievements which had established its renown, employed in preparing those elements of strength which, in
In this spirit, and, doubtless, believing that the French 1812, delivered the monarchy from the yoke of the stran-
nation might be reduced with the same facility as the in- ger, and re-established her at the head of the second-rate
surrection in Holland, the Prussian monarch put himself powers of Europe.
at the head of the confederacy formed to crush a people The armed force of the Prussian monarchy is composed,
who had risen in arms to assert their liberties and preserve first, of a permanent army ; secondly, of a war reserve or
the integrity of their territory. But the issue proved how landwehr in two bans ; thirdly, of a landsturm, or seden-
much he was at fault in his calculation. For a mercenary tary national guard. The permanent army is composed
and mechanical army, however perfect its discipline and of young men of family who are destined to the profession
instruction may be, can never triumph over a generous of arms, and are named officers after undergoing certain
people, inspired by patriotism, endowed with high military examinations ; of volunteers who clothe, equip, and sup-
qualities, and resolved to conquer or to die in defence of port themselves for a year at their own charge ; of persons
their liberties. Besides, the Prussian army of this period2 between the ages of 17 and 40 who enlist voluntarily and
was not a national one, nor was it animated by a common receive regular pay ; of a part of the youth from 20 to 25
feeling. 1 he half of it, as at Frederick’s death, was still years of age, raised by means of requisition ; and, lastly,
composed of deserters from all nations, or volunteers enlist- of veterans or soldiers who consent to remain in the ser-
ed in every circle of the empire :3 it was neither inspired vice beyond the term prescribed by the law. The infantry
by the genius of its chief, nor excited by any feeling cal- consists of 36 regiments of 3 battalions and 9 regiments of
cu ated to improve its moral force: discipline formed the 2 battalions, besides six battalions of chasseurs and carabi-
pnly tie by which it was held together. Nor was it long ere neers, forming in all 132 battalions; the cavalry, of 38 regi-
Us inferiority was proved, and its pride severely humbled, ments of 4 squadrons each, 10 of which are cuirassiers, 5
1 he affair of Valmy opened the king’s eyes ; and hence- dragoons, 13 hussars, and 10 hulans, in all 158 squadrons ;4
orth, more docile to the suggestions of prudence, he ne- the artillery, of 9 brigades, each consisting of 3 companies
gociated for permission to withdraw to the right bank of of horse, 12 of foot artillery, and 1 of artificers; and the
tie Rhine the wrecks of that army the glory of which cjens-d’armerie, of 8 brigades, divided each into 2 detach-
la J118*' been eclipsed in the plains of Champagne by ments.5 All the youth who have not served five vears
Army.
541 ^ la ^vo^ution' t'om- i* P- 228. Notice sur le Systeme Militaire de la Prusse, Bullet, des Scien. Milit. tom. iii. p. 417 481
^dGcschtciaedl Irl^part 2df 1817/“r Geschichte, vol. i. part 1st, and Zeitschr.fur Kunst, IVhsenschaft,
commencement of the French Revolution the Prussian army consisted of about 120,000 infantry, 35,000 cavalry, and from
men nf ii artlllf17’ Wlth a most respectable corps of engineers. (Guerres de la Revolution, i. 232.) In 1806, it amounted to 260,000
V j . .arm5* \Etat Comparatifde I'Armee Prumenne en 1806 et en 1827. Bullet, des Scien. Milit. tom. v. p. 417.)
we nrrriT?.!nfC.i°nS t7f nun?.b?r of‘foreigners serving in the Prussian army at this period at only a third part of its entire strength ; but
,.mirP • .111 rhe author of the Notice sur le Systeme Militaire de la Prusse in thinking it amounted to a half. The data on which this
usion is tounded appear amply to warrant the statement made in the text. (TTist. rv;/ rt iiruu ; oqq \
   premier rang en Europe. {Hist. urn. et mutt. i. zai. see also Cavalry Lectures, p. 329.)
of corn epen ' armifne is of three kintls : the arm'eegcns-d'armerie, divided into detachments stationed at the head-quarters of generals
1 armee; the land gens-d'armerie, consisting of 80 wachtmeister and 1240, gens-d’armes, of whom 1080 are mounted ; and the
s -gens-d armerie, which assists the employes of the customs in discharging their duties on the frontiers.
A R M Y.
in the active army or in the reserve form part of thc jirst
ban of the landwehr, until they attain the age of 30 years
complete. The second embraces those from 32 to 40 years
of age; and both classes, during time of peace, remain
at home, pursuing their ordinary avocations. But, in the
event of war, the first ban is destined to reinforce the per¬
manent army; and the second, to form the garrisons of
strong places, and even, in case of need, to send detach¬
ments to the army in the field, i he landwehr, like the
permanent armv, is composed of infantry, cavany, and ar¬
tillery. In the year 1827, the infantry of the first ban con¬
sisted of 116 battalions, and the cavalry of 104 squadrons.
Hence, if we include 54 garrison companies, and 18 of
invalids at Berlin, Stolpen, and Rybnik, the total of the
peace establishment of the Prussian army will amount to
122,000 men, while that of war would not be less than
250,000 men of all arms: and such is the admirable mili¬
tary organization of the country, that two months only
are necessary to raise the army to the full complement of
the war establishment. In Prussia the cavalry is a prepon¬
derating arm. Of the 122,000 men composing the peace
establishment, 37,000 belong to this branch of the service.
The landsturm is a levy en masse of men from the age
of 17 to that of 50, and, in cases of imminent danger, it is
called out by a royal ordonnance. It is formed into urban
and rural companies, and, like the French national guard,
performs, if necessary, the duties of the interior; thus leav¬
ing the whole of the permanent army and the landwehr
available for the service of the field. The actual consti¬
tution of the Prussian army is strictly economical in all its
parts, and the number of military functionaries is reduced
to the lowest possible scale consistent with the efficiency
of the service. In Prussia every man who wears a uniform
works hard for his money.
All Prussians, from the age of 20 to 50, are held liable
to military service, but they only serve regularly from 20
to 26. The duration of service is consequently fixed at
five years ; but, in time of peace, the requisitionary youth
remain only the first three years under their colours, after
which they return to their homes, and are not called out
again, except for a few weeks towards the expiry of the
fifth year, when they are inscribed in the landwehr of the
first ban. The population of Prussia being 11,500,000
souls, about 98,000 males will annually attain the twentieth
year of their age. Hence, if we deduct 38,000 for such
as are excepted from military service on account of their
age or their status in society, the total number of dispo¬
sable persons, between the age of 20 and 25, will amount
to 395,000. And if to this we add that portion of the male
population from 25 to 32 years of age who are eventually
called to the service, it will follow that Prussia, without
having recourse to the second ban of the landwehr, could
raise 900,000 men trained to the use of arms; while France,
even since 1824, when the re-organization of her army
commenced, could scarcely bring into the field more than
480,000 men, of which the one half would be nearly unin¬
structed in the use of arms. The annual renewal of this
army by thirds renders it necessary to push, with the ut¬
most activity, the instruction of both infantry and cavalry,
and to pay little regard to that martinet precision which
formerly characterized the Prussian tactics, but which is
of so small use in the presence of an enemy. The showy on
parade has consequently been sacrificed to the useful in the
field; and the mere foppery of war has given place to move¬
ments and evolutions, which are recommended alike by
their simplicity, and by the testimony which experience,
the best of all instructors, has borne in their favour. So
long ago as the year 1808, the degrading discipline, intro¬
duced by the father of Frederick the Great, was abolish¬
ed by the kriegs-artikel or the martial law; and military
punishments are now principally confined to hard drills, Arm
confinement of various degrees, retrogradation in rank, and C-pj
some others of a still milder description. Finally, the first
grades are the reward of merit established by examination,
and as such open to all; while, from the rank of sub-lieute¬
nant to that of general, and even beyond it, seniority, that
conservative law of acquired rights, regulates the advance¬
ment of officers, and ultimately insures the veteran his re¬
ward. Thus, after sustaining the greatest disasters, the
Prussian army has survived its dispersion in 1807, and
risen, as it were out of its ashes, stronger and better con¬
stituted than at the period when it was so rashly opposed
to the undivided power of France, wielded by the master-
hand of the greatest warrior of modern times. “ Heureux
les gouvernemens,” says a French military writer, “ aux-
quels les malheurs servent de lemons !” Nor would their
“ happiness” have been much diminished had such govern¬
ments remembered in victory the promises made to the
people in misfortune, and shown but half as much zeal to
improve their condition as to rectify the defects of their
military systems.
At the period of the emperor Alexander’s death, the Russian
distribution of the Russian and Polish forces was that ofa™y'
an army ranged in order of battle, with its front facing
the west. 1. The advanced guard of this army was form¬
ed by the Polish army and the corps d’armee of Lithuania;
presenting a mass of 80,000 combatants, under the com¬
mand of the grand duke Constantine. In point of me¬
chanical instruction, no army in Europe could be compar¬
ed to it. Disposed in cantonments of about 150 leagues
in length, from Lowicz to Minsk, and 146 in breadth,
between Kowno and Dubno, it could be concentrated, at
Warsaw or at Brzecs-Littowsky, in less than three weeks.
2. The army of the right was composed of the corps
d’armee, cantoned in Courland and Livonia, of the corps
of the guard, and of the first corps of the cavalry of re¬
serve; which, united, formed also a mass of 80,000 com¬
batants. These were perhaps the only troops which, in
point of mechanical perfection, rivalled the army of the
advanced guard under Constantine. Their cantonments
extended from Polangen to Pleskof, about 132 leagues,
and from Revel to Wilkomirsz; and eighteen days at the
most were sufficient for assembling them on the Niemen.
3. The army of the left, denominated the second army, was
equally formed of a mass of 80,000 combatants, cantoned
in the Chersonesian governments. The greatest depth
of its quarters, from Choczym on the Pruth to Czerkasy
on the Dnieper, was about 106 leagues; and the greatest
breadth 180 leagues, between Machnowka, near the south¬
ern frontier of Volhynia and Simpherapol in the Crimea.
Three weeks were necessary for concentrating it on the
Pruth. 4. The army of the centre, called also the first or
grand army, formed a mass equal to the three preceding
armies, and consequently consisted of 240,000 combatants.
Its cantonments extended on one side to more than 234
leagues, or from Kaszin, on the frontier of the government
of Tver and of Jaroslaf, as far as Saratotv; and, on the
other, to upwards of 320 leagues, from Ostrog to Moroum,
on the frontier of the government of Vladimir and of Nijei-
Novogorod. It required six weeks at least for concentrat¬
ing itself in the province of Volhynia. 5. Besides these four
armies, consisting of 480,000 men, Russia had also seve¬
ral corps, of various descriptions, amounting to more than
267,000 men ; viz. the corps of Finland, of Orenburg, and
of Siberia, 45,000 strong; the corps of the Caucasus,
85,000 ; the military colonies, 67,000 ; and the troops in
garrison, 70,000: thus making a grand total of 747,000
men, exclusive of the Kirgishes, Baschkirs, and other lar-
tar hordes, of whom from 250,000 to 300,000 may in case
of exigency be brought into the field. The whole mili-
ARMY.
Ate
. tary force of the Russian empire, at this period, may,
therefore, be estimated at about a million of men, or a
forty-ninth part of the entire population; while the coun¬
try, as we have just seen, was organized into one vast camp,
arranged upon strategic principles, so as to render the
transition from a state of peace to a state of war easy and
expeditious, and, with formidable means of aggression, to
combine defensive resources of almost incalculable extent.1
The contest with Turkey in 1828 and 1829 produced no
sensible derangement of this system, and only altered for
a time the relative proportions in the numbers of the four
principal armies, according as troops were moved upon
the various strategic points in the theatre of war. But the
lacunce created by the casualties of the two campaigns in
Moldavia, Bulgaria, and Rumelia, have been already filled
up; and consequently the above account of the military or¬
ganization and force of the Russian empire is as applicable
in 1831 as it was from the death of Alexander in 1826 to
the commencement of the Turkish war in 1828. A fact,
however, is mentioned by M. Tolstoy, lately an officer of
the Russian staff, which shows the utter groundlessness of
the fears generally entertained of the aggressive powers
of Russia at the commencement of the late contest with
Turkey. From a variety of data, derived from authentic
sources, that officer exhibits the situation and force of the
Russian army at different periods of the campaign of 1828,
and proves, we think to demonstration, that it never had
more than 88,000 men in its first line;2 a force which was
not calculated, certainly, to excite any very great degree of
alarm in the minds of other nations. M. Tolstoy, it is true,
alleges that political reasons prevented the employment of
a greater force ; and that if the Russians only brought for¬
ward 88,000 men in the first campaign, “ c’etait qu’ils ne
voulaient point effrayer I’Europe et reveiller des jalousies
qui sommeillaient.” But closer observers will perhaps see
reason to believe that the real cause why the campaign was
undertaken with a force comparatively so small, did not con¬
sist in any particular respect for the“ slumbering jealousies”
of other nations, but in the inability of Russia to take the
field with a larger army; that her physical means are out of
all proportion greater than her financial resources or power
of developing them in a foreign war; and that, however
formidable or invincible she might prove to an enemy in¬
vading her own territory, a long period must yet elapse be¬
fore she can be in a condition to occasion any serious uneasi¬
ness to the nations of the south and west of Europe. Even
in the campaign of 1829, when so many losses were to be
repaired, and the reputation of the Russian arms, if pos-
s:ble, freed from the tarnish they had contracted in the
course of the preceding one, Count Diebitsch was com-
pelled to attempt the passage of the Balkan with no more
than 30,000 men ; and, in point of fact, he appears to have
arrived at Adrianople in the month of October, with less
than the third of that small force; a miracle of fortune,
certainly, but, at the same time, a conclusive proof of the
exhausted state of the Russian finances, and of the inabi-
% °/ the czar to carry on a distant and protracted war.
Biebitseh owed his success to two causes: the powerful
co-operation of the fleet, and the despairing fatalism, or
cither infatuation, of the Turks. But the fortunate result
of the enterprise cannot blind the world as to the cir¬
cumstances under which it was undertaken, nor conceal
t >e weakness which preternatural folly, on the part of the
Csmanlees, at length gilded with victory.
The Russian infantry regimfents consist of3000 men each,
under a pulkovnick or colonel, and are divided into three
battalions of four companies, each under a chef-de-bataillon
Ihe company .consists of 200 men, exclusive of officers,
sub-officers, and other persons attached to it, so that four
companies make up a battalion of 1000 men; and it is
under the command of a capitan, a parooschick or lieute¬
nant, a putpoi ooschich or suo-heutenant, and aptaperchich
oi ensign. Four officers may appear a small allowance
for a company: but, in the first place, Russian soldiers
are much more easily managed than our dare-devil fel¬
lows, in whose blood tne wild spirit of freedom revels so
fiercely; and, secondly, the fundamental principle upon
which the army of the czar is organized is that of eco¬
nomy in every branch of the service, particularly in the
number of officers. Flence, for an effective regular force
of 747,000 men, there are no more than 14,224 officers, or
one for every 52 men; a proportion, we believe, consider¬
ably lower than that which obtains in any other Euro¬
pean army, except perhaps that of Prussia. This reduced
number, however, has been found to answer well enough
in practice; and, indeed, a multitude of officers is only ne¬
cessary for armies like that of France, which require to
be encouraged and stimulated by the example, the voice,
and the gestures of its officers, when in presence of an
army. Every company has a small green yaschick or wag¬
gon attached to it, containing sixty rounds of ball cartridge
for each man, in addition to those” he carries in his pouch,
besides the company's books and cash-chest. To each
battalion there is attached one standard, beside which is
kept a.drum for assembling the men. There is only one
band for the three battalions composing a regiment. The
imperial guard, consisting of the elite of the three arms of
infantry, cavalry, and artillery, amounts in all to forty
thousand men.3
The Russian regular cavalry consists of 8 regiments of
the guard, 4 of which are cuirassiers and 4 light horse;
and 79 regiments of the line, 9 of which are cuirassiers,
17 dragoons, 12 hussars, and 22 hulans. Supposing each
regiment, therefore, to consist of 900 men, as stated by
Captain Alexander, the total number of the Russian re¬
gular cavalry would amount to 78,000. The irregular
cavalry is composed of more than 20,000 Cossacks, who
are only called out during time of war, and on the return
of peace are sent back to their steppes to resume their no¬
madic course of life. All the regiments of the regular
cavalry which are not colonized have 6 active squadrons
and one in depot; the colonized regiments, though com¬
posed of 12 squadrons, have only 6 disposable. The de¬
pot squadron may be considered the nursery of the regi¬
ment to which it belongs. The cavalry is organized upon
the same principle as the infantry. It forms, including
that of the guard, nine corps d’armee, of 2 divisions each";
and as each division consists of 2 brigades, each brigade
of 2 regiments, and each regiment of 6 squadrons, every
corps d’armee of cavalry consists of 8 regiments or 48
squadrons. Two batteries of horse-artillery are attached
to each division, or 48 pieces to a corps d’armee. The
light division of the guard is composed of a regiment of
dragoons, one of hulans, one of hussars, and one of chas¬
seurs. The division of heavy cavalry of the guard con¬
sists of the regiment of chevaliers-guards, of the regiment
ol horse guards, and of the cuirassiers of the emperor and
empress. The two last regiments, as well as the chasseurs
607
Jlrm^cs Russe ct Polpnnaise a Fipoque dc la mart de VEmpereur Alexandre, ou comparaison entre ces deux armies ft les autres
‘ llm'cesarmtes dc l'Europe. Paris, 182G. Mauvillon, MUifdr Blatter for lfS2G, part 1st. Bulletin.des Scien. Milit. tom. iii. p. 385.
Tnl t l^"e. a ^ Pi pause de M. Mtignicr aux Observations d'un officier d'etaUmajor Russc sur la derniere campa^nc de Turquie, par J.
Pont laVo101611 ol!ficier d’etat-major Itusse. Paris, Ledoyen, 1823. Die chapitrcs sur la Guerre d'Orient. Paris, Delaunay et Du-
* ^ 3 Captain Alexander’s Travels, i. 100.
608
ARMY.
Army, of the light division, belong to the young guard. The
guard is recruited in the regiments ot the line from which
it draws all the finest men, and to which it never fails to
send back every one who has given the slightest cause for
dissatisfaction. The clothing and equipments are supeib;
and the greatest attention is paid to the appearance of the
troops, which has of late years been much improved.
Equitation is also anxiously cultivated, and vast pains have
been taken to improve the men in this art. But the system
pursued in Russia is considered bad, inasmuch as the
ambling pace introduced into the schools is apt to spoil the
horses, and to produce any thing rather than bold riders.1
The Russian, like the French, artillery, is divided into
horse and foot. The horse-artillery is divided into bri¬
gades or battalions, of two divisions or squadrons, each
serving 12 light pieces. The foot artillery is divided into
brigades or regiments, each commanded by four superior
officers, and divided into two companies of battery, and
two light companies. The two former are destined each
to serve 12 pieces in battery; the two latter, 12 light
pieces each. A brigade of foot-artillery with 48 pieces
of cannon is attached to each division of infantry of 6 re¬
giments ; while each division of cavalry, composed of 4
regiments, has a brigade of horse-artillery of 24 pieces.
There is also in each corps d’armee a general of artillery,
who receives the orders of the inspector-general of artillery.
The personnel of the companies is determined and orga¬
nized according to the service which the different kinds
of artillery require; so that the personnel of the battery
companies is considerably stronger than that of the light
companies. The train is well organized, and the attelages
of the different batteries and pieces are ample. The en¬
gineer department is also on a respectable footing, though
inferior in science to those of the other great military na¬
tions. The Russians have never been remarkable for skill
in fortification, but their field-works have in general been
judiciously executed.2
The system of recruiting in Russia is exceedingly auto¬
cratical. When new levies are wanted, orders are issued
to the headmen of villages; each of which is required to
furnish a certain number, according to the amount of its
population. The selection is made by the headman, who is
perfectly absolute in the matter; and Jews are now obliged
either to serve or to pay for substitutes, who are not easily
procured in a country like Russia, where so few of the
lower class are their own masters. Formerly, it was very dif¬
ficult to prevent the men from deserting on the road to the
depots; since the circumstance of being selected as a soldier
was considered as tantamount to perpetual banishment
from family and friends. Hence, it was no uncommon
spectacle to see numbers of these wretched serfs fastened
together like a cordon of felons going to the hulks, or tied
on telegas or carts, and thus conveyed to the depot. But
since leave has been given to soldiers to visit, at intervals,
their native villages, and the period of service has been
limited to twenty years, the dislike to the army has be¬
gun to abate, and recruits show less disposition to desert,
although the military profession is still sufficiently unpo¬
pular. When the recruit, or rather conscript, arrives at
the depot, he is immediately stripped, washed, and shav¬
ed : if he wishes to retain any article of the dress which
he brought with him, he is obliged to purchase it back.
The only thing he is allowed to retain, without paying for
it, is the cross of silver or brass which he wears round his
neck. This, superstition spares him as the only consola- Armv
tion of his miserable existence; and because, however pas-
sive in other respects, the most abject serf would become
dangerous, if deprived of an emblem which had probably
been handed down from father to son for many genera¬
tions, and the loss of which is considered the greatest mis¬
fortune.
The Russian soldier is docile, submissive, and brave:
like all slaves, he is supple, subservient, and cunning: like
all natives of the northern regions, he is hardy, patient,
and enduring. He has no other thought than to do im¬
plicitly as he is desired; and there is a pertinacity in his
nature which inclines him to persevere, or to stand firm,
as the case may be, without troubling himself about con¬
sequences. His courage is the result of insensibility
rather than of moral force of character; and h^nce it is
commonly more of a passive than of an active charac¬
ter. But there is, nevertheless, an element of indomit¬
able ferocity in his composition: amidst all the apparatus
and parade of civilization he is still three parts a barba¬
rian. Hence his most brilliant achievements have been
performed under men upon whom the force of civilization
had made as little impression as on himself, and whom the
instinct of sympathy had taught to develope his natural bar¬
barism. The Italian campaign of Suwaroff affords a striking
illustration of this rensark. When that “ hero, buffoon,"
arrived in Italy at the head of his 20,000 Russians, to take
the command-in-chief of the allied forces, General Chas-
teler, head of the staff of the army, proposed to him to
make a reconnaissance of the French, who had retired be¬
hind the Oglio. “ Des reconnaissances !” exclaimed the
Muscovite chief, “ je n’en veux pas; elles ne servent qu’aux
gens timides, et pour avertir fennemi qu’on arrive; on
trouve toujours 1’ennemi quand on veut. Des colonnes, la
ba'ionnette, farme blanche, attaquer, enfoncer,—voila mes
reconnaissances!” At Novi, at the Trebbia, and during
his extraordinary campaign in the mountains of Swit¬
zerland, this wonderful barbarian, who had the instinct of
genius, and a coup dceil which has never been surpassed^
proved that these were not empty words. By a kind of
rude but infallible inspiration he discerned intuitively the
true strategic points on which to move; and by the spell
of his barbaric genius he rendered the Muscovite soldier
invincible. Again, in the campaign of 1812, we discover
another, though less striking, illustration of this peculiar
characteristic of the Russian troops. Barclay de Tolly,
a German and a foreigner, commanded in the early part
of it; displaying a watchfulness, a prudence, and a saga¬
city in divining the intentions of his adversary, which
proved him a great master in the art of war, and, beyond all
question, saved the Russian empire. But still the army
was discouraged; and Alexander felt it necessary to place
at its head, as well as second in command, two of the ancient
companions in arms of the conqueror of Italy. Its courage
instantly revived; and the bloody day of Borodino attests
how well it repaid this compliance with its wishes. The
Russians have a strongly marked national character, which
foreigners can never duly appreciate; nor will its best
energies be displayed in war, except under the command
of men who feel its influence as powerfully as the mean¬
est soldier in its ranks. The moral force of their army
consists in a certain nondescript fanatical ferocity, whic
such men as Suwaroff, Bagration, and Kutusoff can alone
fully develope.3
1 Bulletin des Scien. Milit. tom. iv. p. 489 and 529; Allgemeine Milit'dr Zeitung, Nos. 17, 18, and 19.
* Ibid. tom. ii. p. 493; Zeitsch.fur Kriegswissetischqft, 1826, part 3d, p. 254.
3 Lieutenant-General Baron Jomini describes the Russian soldier with that predilection in his favour which may not unnatura y
be expected from the aide-de-camp general de S. M. L'Empereur de Bussie, and grand croix de pleusieurs ordres. But even while e
paints en beau that infantry “ qui avait prouve' a Pultava, a Kunersdorf, a Choczim, a Ismael, et dans mille actions centre les lures
A R
Anf. In Sweden, union and confidence have always subsist-
v^^ed between the soldier and the citizen; and hence the
Siresh desire of military service is so common among all classes
arr • of the nation, that sending a man to the army is not there,
as elsewhere, a punishment. In 1811, when the peasantry
broke out in insurrection against the conscription by bal¬
lot, they offered to take arms without exception in the
event of war, to submit to be drilled together in time
of peace, and to equip themselves at their own charge,
provided the obnoxious innovation was abolished ; tenders
which were wisely accepted on the part of the govern¬
ment. The present military establishment of Sweden is
considerably below what a nation constitutionally war¬
like might be supposed to maintain; but as the aim of
the government is to husband the public money, and, if
possible, to relieve the country from the pecuniary diffi¬
culties entailed upon it by the folly and extravagance of
the ex-king, all the departments of the public service have
been placed on the most economical footing. The actual
standing army, accordingly, does not exceed 35,000 men
of all arms. The militia, however, is more numerous;
and, from the peculiar aptitude of the Swedes for military
exercises, it exhibits a very soldier-like appearance, though
only trained for a few weeks annually. Like the regular
army, it is composed both of horse and foot, and must afford
a ready resource in the event of war. The organization
of the whole is excellent. The regiments of the line are
recruited neither by voluntary enrolment nor by conscrip¬
tion, but by a kind of intermediate system; every landed
proprietor furnishing a certain number of soldiers, to each
of whom a house and a portion of land are allotted for his
maintenance. The Swedes have been long and justly
celebrated for their martial qualities; and no modern na¬
tion of so small extent has made so conspicuous a figure in
history. They are brave, hardy, and naturally heroic men ;
of superior physical and corresponding moral power; and,
as soldiers, equal to any in the world.1
Danis: The Danish army consists of rather more than 30,000
“fniy. men, with a reserve of about 14,000. Of this force 2157
are divided throughout the kingdom of Denmark, and 9655
stationed in the duchies; while the remainder are employ¬
ed in garrison, or occupy cantonments in the vicinity of
the capital. The whole is composed of a staff of 23 of¬
ficers ; a corps of engineers of 32; an artillery corps of
3202 men, divided into 22 companies; 6126 cavalry, di¬
vided into ten regiments, one of which is a regiment of
guards; 13,412 infantry, divided into thirteen regiments
of two battalions each, one of which is also a regiment of
M Y.
609
guards; 2753 chasseurs, divided into five battalions of four Army,
companies each; and, lastly, a rocket corps, amounting to
156 men. The two regiments of guards are composed of
very fine men, and have a noble appearance. In 1828
the artillery was re-organized, and placed upon a more
effective footing, both as to the mcitEviel and personnel.
It now consists of eighteen batteries of eight pieces each ;
besides a company of sappers and miners, one of pontoon
men and pioneers, with a detachment of artificers, and a
laboratory establishment. These eighteen batteries are
divided into two brigades of nine batteries and 72 guns
each. In time of war the battalions of reserve furnish
other two brigades, one Danish and the other Holstein;
consisting in all of 2640 men, including officers, with a pro¬
portional allotment of guns. The Danes are naturally brave,
but they have been more distinguished as seamen than as
soldiers, in which capacity they have gathered few laurels.2
The electorate of Saxony, with a superficies of 717 Saxon
square miles, a population of 2,104,336 souls, and a reve-army.
nue of about 780,000 thalers, maintained in 1792 an army
of about 32,000 men, being a 66th part of the population;
and on this footing it remained till 1800, when it was in¬
creased to 38,000 men, being a 56th part of the population.
But Saxony having in 1802 gained a small increase of
territory in consequence of the treaty of Luneville, though,
at the same time, it lost about 1,778,000 thalers of revenue,
the army was reduced to 31,000 men, of which 22,000
were infantry and 6700 cavalry. This state of things
continued until 1806, when the military force was raised
to 36,000; Saxony having then a population of 2,276,000
souls. In the year 1809 she furnished a contingent to France
of 16,000 men, who, under the command of Bernadotte, the
present king of Sweden, took part in the memorable cam¬
paign of that year, and fought at the battle of Wagram; but
the emperor Napoleon was so little satisfied, either with
the conduct of these troops, or that of their leader, on this
occasion, that he was with difficulty prevented from stigma¬
tising both in the orders of the day. After the peace of
Vienna in 1810, the Saxon army was re-organized upon the
model of the French, and its contingent of 16,000 men
formed the seventh corps of the grand army which invaded
Russia in 1812. It was commanded by General Reynier.
On the disastrous termination of the Russian campaign, its
wrecks, re-organized from the troops remaining in Saxony,
entered into line in 1813, after the battle of Lutzen; and on
the conclusion of the armistice with the Hessian corps and
that of General Durutte, it formed again the seventh di¬
vision. The defection of the Saxon divisions at Leipsig,
ou les Suedois, ce qu’on peut attendre de son inebranlable fermete,” he shows his usual discrimination of military character, and makes
several observations which appear to us equally striking and original. “ L’opinion gene'ralement accreditee en Europe,” says he,
que le paysan Russe, ne posse'dant rien, gagne beaucoup a devenir soldat, est denue'e de fondement. Un grand nombre d’entre eux,
outre les champs de ses maitres, cultive des fruits, des legumes, travaille et trafique a son compte. Beaucoup sont a leur aise ; et la
vie du soldat dans 1’interieur du pays, ne leur porte pas envie au point de la desirer. Mais quand ce paysan est sous les drapeaux, il
sy attache comme a une seconde patrie.......Eleve de la maniere la plus rude, sous un climat terrible, il est le plus robuste de
1 Europe, le plus capable de soutenir les fatigues et les privations. Il ne connait rien de plus sacre que ses devoirs; soumis a I’ordon-
nance comme aux precepts de sa religion, aucune fatigue, aucune intemperie, ne peut lui faire negliger les obligations qu’elle impose.
Un voit danstoutes les marches et durant une campagne entiere, le cannonier pres de sa piece, au poste qui lui est assigne par le
reglement, et a moins d’etre frappe par le fer ennemi ou autorise par son chef, il ne la quitterait pour rien au monde. Le soldat du
tram are son harnais au bivouac par 15 degres de froid et au jours fixe's, comme il le ferait dans un bon cantonnement pour aller a
une parade. Cet esprit admirable d’ordre et de precision, joint a 1’instinct naturel que le soldat a de se pelotonner au lieu de fuir
quand u est enfonce, rend les defaites extremement rares. Sans doute, une telle troupe est moins facile k rallier sur le terrain qu’une
armee rranqaise, oil I’intelligence du soldat supple'e souvent au defaut d’ordre ; mais elle est aussi plus difficile a rompre Cet in¬
stinct qu’aucune des troupes de 1’Europe ne possede au meme degre, s’est fortifie chez les Russes par les guerres centre les Turcs.
-,a’tout luyard est sabre' par les nue'es de cavaliers qui se repandent sur les flancs et les derrieres de 1’arme'e. Ce n’est qu’en restant
ermes et re'unies qu’on e'chappe a une destruction inevitable. This is a tolerably good reason for the “ instinct” of which the gal-
ant author speaks. He adds, “ La plus parfaite egalite' regne dans I’arme'e, car une fois dans la carriere des armes, aucun obstacle
n empeche de la parcourir. Pour s’en convaincre, on n’a qu’k voir les noms des ge'ne'raux distingues dans I’histoire militaire de Russie;
on y trouvera autant de ple'be'ians, ou de bas-officiers parvenus par leur me'rite, que dans tout autre pays.” (Guerres de la Revolution.
tom. i. p. 254-256.) t j \ >
1 Alexander’s Travels, vol. ii. p. 267*
Bulletin dcs Scien. Milit. tom. ii. p. 417- JVyt Magazinfro MUitair Videnskabelighed, No. 2, p. 323. 1826.
VOL. nr. 4 JJ
ARM Y.
Hanove¬
rian anmr
Bavarian
army.
on the 18th of October 1813, is known to every body. The
king of Saxony having lost his liberty in consequence of
the result of that disastrous day, his army was dissolved
and replaced by a landwehr of from 10,000 to 12,000 men,
which followed in the train of the allied armies when they
invaded France. In 1815, however, the army was recon¬
stituted to the extent of a third of its former strength;
and underwent various changes until 1824, when it was
finally placed on the footing on which it now stands. The
infantry at present consists of two companies of grenadier
guards of 100 men each, four regiments of infantry of
three battalions each, two battalions of light infantry, one
battalion of carabineers and one of chasseurs; in all six¬
teen battalions, of four companies each, or 9984 men.
The cavalry, which formerly consisted of horse guards,
cuirassiers, hulans, and hussars, has been transformed into
four regiments of light horse, consisting of four squadrons
of two companies each, or 467 men, on the footing of peace;
in all 1872. The artillery consists of one regiment making
twelve companies, two of which are horse, amounting to
1060 sub-officers and soldiers, together with a train of 189
men and as many horses. A dozen officers without troops,
and a company of sappers 67 strong, compose the engi¬
neer department. The institutions connected with the
army are a school for cadets, and a military academy,
both at Dresden. The reputation of the Saxon infantry
is low; but the cavalry is better than the infantry, and is
well qualified for the service of the advanced posts, which
was its usual destination under Napoleon.1
The composition of the Hanoverian army was fixed by
■ a royal decree of the 14th July 1820. The infantry con¬
sists of twelve regiments of two battalions each, and the
battalion is divided into four companies. There are two
of these regiments guards; and the whole are divided into
three brigades, the first consisting of five regiments, the
second of four, and the third of three. Each regiment
consists of 42 officers and 1284 men. There are eight
regiments of cavalry, two of cuirassiers of the guard, four
of hussars, and two of hulans ; and each regiment is com¬
posed of four squadrons, 48 officers, 433 men, and 403
horses. The artillery consists of one regiment of two
battalions, each divided into three companies, one of
which is horse, and contains 70 officers, 1158 men, and
210 horses. The corps of engineers osid artificers consists
of 19 officers and 46 men. The artillery is of the English
model and calibre, and its batteries, both horse and foot,
consist of six pieces and a howitzer each. The total
strength of the army, therefore, including the staff, amounts
to 825 officers, 20,091 men, and 3431 horse. The period
of service in the infantry of the guard is four years only,
but in all the other corps six years. The cavalry and
artillery are recruited as much as possible from volunteers.
The Hanoverians make excellent soldiers; and it is well
known that, during the Peninsular campaigns, no part of
the Duke of Wellington’s army more frequently distin¬
guished itself than the King’s German Legion, which was
almost exclusively composed of Hanoverian volunteers.2
The Bavarian is one of the largest of the third rate ar¬
mies. Its infantry consists of a regiment of grenadiers of
the guard in three battalions, of 16 regiments of the line
in twTo, and of two battalions of chasseurs; presenting an
effective force of 37 battalions, or 43,561 men. Its caval¬
ry is composed of a regiment of gardes du corps, two regi¬
ments of cuirassiers in four squadrons each, and six regi- Arm
ments of light horse in six squadrons; forming a total of
48 squadrons, or 9549 men, and 6000 horse. The artil¬
lery corps, commanded by a lieutenant-general, consists
of one regiment of cannoneers of four battalions, one bat¬
talion of train in four divisions, and four companies of ar¬
tificers, pontoneers, sappers, and miners. Each battalion
of artillery is divided into six companies, one of which
consists of light troops; and the companies of pontoneers,
miners, and sappers, have each an effective force of 100
men, including officers. The engineer corps is composed
of a general, a colonel, a lieutenant-colonel, two majors,
two captains, eight lieutenants of the first class, eight of
the second, and six conductors, and is divided among the
five directions of Munich, Augsburg, Nuremberg, Wiirtz-
burg, and Lindau. The Bavarian army, therefore, con¬
sists of 43,561 infantry, 9547 cavalry, 3515 artillery, 1464
train, and 150 artificers; in all 56,919 men, with 6420
horse. Every Bavarian, the clergy only excepted, is ob¬
liged to bear arms in defence of his country; but, in prac¬
tice, students and persons necessary to their families are
usually exempted; and permission is likewise granted to
serve by substitute. The method of recruitment is con¬
scription. Besides the permanent army, there is a reserve
destined to reinforce it; and, in the event of war, the
landwehr may be equally called upon to support the army,
when reinforced by the battalions of the reserve, but only
in the interior. The landwehr is divided into two classes,
one of which comprehends those who are least capable
of performing active service, and who cannot in any case
be employed beyond the limits of their district. In time
of peace it co-operates in the maintenance of public tran¬
quillity, when put in requisition for that purpose, and when
the troops of the line are deemed insufficient. The Ba¬
varian army is well organized, and has always maintained
a respectable character for discipline and bravery. The
cavalry is considered superior to the infantry.3 *
The small army of Wurtemberg requires only a briefArmie
notice. Its infantry consists of 8 regiments of 2 battalions,
divided each into 4 companies; its cavalry, of a squadron
of guards, a squadron of chasseurs, and4regimentsof horse,
each divided into 4 squadrons; its artillery, of a regiment
of 6 companies, 3 horse and 3 foot, besides a garrison com¬
pany : but it has no engineer corps distinct from that of
the artillery. Its peace establishment is composed of 368
officers, 1504 sub-officers, and 5184 soldiers; or 6996 com¬
batants, and 1806 horse : on a war footing it would amount
to 520 officers, 2302 sub-officers, and 14,508 soldiers, or
17,330 combatants, and 5228 horse. The Wurtemberg
army is recruited by voluntary enrolment and forced levies.
The military age is from 18 to 30 for enrolment, and from
20 to 25 for levies; and, in both cases, the elite of the po¬
pulation only is taken. This little army is well-officered,
and enjoys some consideration. Count Bismark, the able
author of Lectures on Cavalry Tactics, is colonel of tfce 3d
regiment of Wurtemberg horse, and served with distinction
as general of brigade in Napoleon’s Russian campaign.'1
The grand duchy of Baden, the seventh state of the Ger¬
manic confederation, has a superficies of 279 square miles,
with a population of 1,108,000 souls, and supports a mi¬
litary establishment of 12,433 men, although it is onl)
bound to furnish a division of 10,000 men (the 2d of the
third corps) as its contingent.5
1 Coup d'CEll sur la Force et VOrganisation de VArmie Saxonne depuis 1792 jusqu'en 1824. Paris, 1825. _ Geist der Zeit. Feb. 18^4*
Bulletin des Scien. Milit. ii. 49.
2 Mitttar Blatter, vol. i. p. 183. 1821. Bulletin des Scien. Milit. ii. 55. 1825.
3 Zeitschriftfur Kriegswissenschaft, No. 24, p. 242. Hofund Staats Handbuch des Konigreichs Bayern. Munich, 1828.
* Bulletin des Scien. Milit. tom. iv. p. 402. Konigb. Wurtemb. Hofund Staats handbuch. Stuttgardt, 1828.
6 Al/gemeine Militdr Zeitung, No. 10, 1828. Bulletin des Scien. Milit. tom^j&p. 65.
ARMY.
lV. The organic law of the military constitution of the Ger-
Ji 'O manic confederation, adopted on the 9th April 1821, in the
An of fifteenth full sitting of the diet, and forming the basis on
the ^ which the federal army has been organized, is exceedingly
mas: C°n-complex, and altogether unsusceptible of analysis within
ted ition Space which the limits of this article afford. Its lead¬
ing provisions, however, may be shortly stated, and are
as follow:—The army of the confederation is composed
of the contingents of all the states members thereof,
raised according to the formation of their particular ma-
tricuk or computation in the diet. The proportion of the
different arms is regulated conformably to the principles
of the new tactics. The federal army is formed of corps
d’armee of a single nation or of combined corps, and both
are subdivided into divisions, brigades, and regiments.
No state of the confederation, whose contingent forms
one or more corps d’armee, can combine contingents of
other states with its own in the same division; and the
states which have corps or divisions combined, concert
together the manner of forming and organizing them, and
in case of dispute the diet decides. In the organization
of the federal army regard is had to the interest result¬
ing from the particular relations of different states, in as
far as can be done consistently with the general object of
the confederation; and as the rights and duties of all the
confederate states are the same, it is specially provided
that every appearance of supremacy on the part of one
state over another is to be avoided. The contingent of
each state must always be completely equipped and ready
to take the field as soon as it shall be called to do so ; but
the force and assembling of the army to be raised, as well
as of the reserve, are regulated by particular dispositions
of the diet. 1. The ordinary contingent of each state is
one hundredth part of its population, conformably to a
table prepared and rectified from time to time by the
diet. 2. The proportion of the cavalry of the federal
army is fixed at one seventh of the total of the troops;
and two field-pieces are required for every 2000 men of
the contingent, besides one for every 1000 of the reserve
in arsenal. 3. The federal army consists of 10 corps
d’armee, 7 simple and 3 combined, designed in the order
of the digits or primary numbers; and every corps has at
least 2 divisions, each division at least 2 brigades, each
brigade at least 2 regiments, each regiment of infantry at
least 2 battalions of 800 men each, and each regiment of
cavalry at least 4 squadrons of 140 men each. The mi¬
nimum of a contingent of cavalry is 300 horse, of infantry
400 men, and of artillery a battery of six or eight pieces.
4. As the contingent of each state must be ready to take
the field in a month after it is called upon, all the materiel
of armament and provisions necessary for the contingent
must be deposited in the arsenals of each state, and all
the contingents of the army must be kept up to their full
complement even in time of peace. 5. The generalissimo
of the confederation is chosen by the diet in ordinary as¬
sembly, and his functions cease when the federal army is
dissolved. 6. The commanders of the corps of every nation
or state have the rights which the sovereign whose troops
they command may think proper to confer upon them, with¬
out deviating from the principles upon which the military
constitution is founded. There is a great number of other
dispositions and regulations, touching a variety of matters ;
but those above specified are the principal, and may serve
to convey an idea of the military constitution of this great
confederacy, organized in imitation of that which, while
it seemed to strengthen the hands of Napoleon, proved
eventually, by the defection of its members, one of the chief
causes of accelerating his fall.1
611
The military power of the United Provinces dates its Army,
commencement from the middle of the fifteenth century,
when, after a long and sanguinary struggle, they succeed- Nether-
ed in emancipating themselves from the yoke of Spain; lands
and, in the following century it received considerable de- arn1^'
velopment in consequence of the wars which they had to
maintain against Louis XIV. In 1702 they had in their
pay upwards of 100,000 men, exclusive of 30,000 who were
in the service of the Dutch East India Company. But
this period may be regarded as the highest condition of
the army of Holland, which subsequently declined both in
number and reputation ; so that in 1775 it did not exceed
30,000 men, fully one third of whom were foreigners. In
1789, Holland, with a population of 2,340,000 souls, in¬
habiting a country of 625 square miles, supported an army
of 36,000 men, consisting of 40 regiments of infan try and 10
of cavalry; and with this force it joined the first coalition
against the French republic. In 1792 the Dutch army
had been increased to 39,000 infantry, 3450 cavalry, 1560
artillery, and 260 miners and pontoneers; making a total
of 44,270 combatants. But in the campaigns of 1793 and
1794 they afforded the Prince of Orange occasion for dis¬
playing considerable military talents, put his army to a
decisive test, and impressed all with a conviction that its
degeneracy in moral force was equalled only by the radi¬
cal defects of its organization. The conquest of Holland
by the French, however, was followed, in 1795, by the re¬
organization of the army on new bases ; and so great was
the effect of the changes thus introduced, that the Bata¬
vian troops, led by Dumonceau and Daendels, rivalled the
French, by whose side they fought, both in discipline and
valour, and at Alkmaer, on the Rednitz, and on the Da¬
nube, bravely upheld the ancient reputation of the Dutch
arms. At the peace of 1815, Belgium having been united
to Holland in order to form a constitutional monarchy,
and England having restored the greater part of the
Dutch colonies which had fallen into its hands during the
republican and imperial regime, the new kingdom of the
Netherlands at once, and as it were per saltum, took its
place among states of the second order, with a continen¬
tal superficies of 1165 square miles, and a population of
6,166,854; and lost no time in organizing a military system
suited to its position and rank among the nations of Europe.
This system rests on a permanent army of about 50,000
men on the footing of peace, and 82,000 on tha't of war;
with an eventual army of national guards estimated at
40,000 during peace, and 124,000 on a war establish¬
ment. The kingdom is divided into 6 great and 17 pro¬
vincial commands, 6 directions of artillery and engineers,
and 50 cantons for the levy of the militia and the organi¬
zation of the national guard. The great commands are
confided to lieutenant-generals, the provincial commands
to major-generals, the directions of artillery and engineers
to general officers, and the militia cantons to old officers
of a superior grade. The infantry consists of 18 divisions
of 4 battalions from 3 to 6 companies each, with a depot
company; the cavalry, of 9 regiments 4 squadrons each,
of which 4 are cuirassiers, 2 light dragoons, 2 hussars,
and 1 lancers ; the artillery, of 10 battalions, 4 of the line
and 6 of the militia, each of 6 companies, a corps of light
artillery, and a battalion of the train ; and the engineers,
of a battalion of miners, sappers, and pontoneers. There
is also included in the army a colonial depot, to which
are attached 2 correctional divisions, 5 garrison compa¬
nies one of them artillery, and 9 companies of marechaus-
see, stationed in the southern provinces of the kingdom.
The army of the Netherlands is recruited exclusively from
the natives of the country, first, by voluntary enrolments ;
Bulletin des Sciences MiliU tom. ii. p. 45. bt^prganipie de let Constitution MUituivc de la Confederation Getnianitfue, 18-1.
0
612
ARMY.
Army, secondly, by engagements and re-engagements for two,
four, and six years, with a bounty; thirdly, by calling out
the whole or part of the militia; and, lastly, by the recal of
men absent on leave, or by having recourse to the reserve.
The militia is composed of youth between the ages of 19
and 23, and draughts are made every year in the month
of March, in the presence of the commissaries of militia
and the local authorities. Advancement is principally re¬
gulated by seniority; but every soldier distinguished for
intelligence and good conduct may aspire to the rank of
officer. The army of the Netherlands has still a character
to make for itself. As a national force it has never as yet
been put to the test. But it has been organized with great
care, and unless political dissensions interfere to destroy
its morale, there can be little doubt that it will conduct
itself respectably when called to serve in the field. The
Belgian troops, it is true, behaved ill at Waterloo; but
they were evidently disaffected to the cause for which
they were called to fight.1
Sardinian The kingdom of Sardinia, containing a superficies of
andNeapo-1363 square miles, and a population of 4,334,000 souls,5
litan supports an army of about 31,000 men on its peace esta-
arnnes. blishment, and 62,000 during war, exclusive of militia.
The permanent army consists of the household troops, the
royal guard, the troops of the line, and the carabineers.
The household troops consist of four companies of horse-
guards, called the Savoyard, the Piedmontese, the Sardi¬
nian, and the Genoese. The royal guard is composed of
a brigade of grenadiers, and a regiment of chasseurs a pied,
of the same composition and force as a regiment of the
line. The infantry of the line consists of 9 brigades of 2
battalions each in time of peace, and 4 during war; the
cavalry, of one regiment of dragoons, two of light horse, and
one of the line, each consisting of 8 squadrons or 4 divi¬
sions. The carabineers amount to 3100 men, including
officers and 100 eleves, and form a sort of nursery for the
army. Since the 3d January 1823, the corps of artillery
has consisted of 4 battalions, of which 2 are of the line,
1 light artillery, and 1 partly garrison artillery and partly
artillery of the train. The royal corps of engineers is com¬
posed of a supreme council, a staff, a company of miners,
and some sappers. At the beginning of the French revo¬
lution, the Sardinian army amounted to 30,000 infantry,
3600 cavalry, and upwards of 2000 artillery and engineers.
In the year 1815, its total force, exclusive of the royal
guard, was not less than 70,000 men. “ La Piemontais,”
says Jomini, “ est un excellent soldat; la service des re¬
gimens provinciaux a familiarise toute la nation avec les
armes; la peuple, comme la plupart des habitans des mon-
tagnes, est frugal, endurci a la fatigue, et brave.”3 But
the cavalry is much inferior to the infantry; for the horses
are bad, and the men ill adapted by habit and character
to this branch of the service.4—The Neapolitan army is
scarcely deserving of notice, either in a political or mifi- Arm'
tary point of view; for, next to the soldiers of his Holi-
ness the Pope, those of Naples are beyond all dispute the
worst in Europe. In 1792 the Neapolitan army amounted
to 30,000 troops of the line, as they were called, and 15,000
militia; a force which was increased, in 1799, to 60,000
men of all arms; 40,000 of whom invaded the Roman states
during the campaign of that year, and conducted them¬
selves rather like banditti than a regular army. Formida¬
ble only to its allies, and to the country which it serves to
retain in abject servitude, this army has since experienced
the most violent mutations; but its number at present may
be estimated at from 35,000 to 40,000 men of all arms.
At the period when the Ottomans first became formi-ottoma
dable to Europe, they maybe said to have composed one army,
immense army. Every Osmanlee was a soldier, and from
the age of sixteen to sixty held himself at the disposal of
the state ; whilst all were animated with a martial fanati¬
cism, which in fact constituted the main sinew of their
strength. They were brave, ardent, enterprising; and if
their services in the common cause (which they could not
withhold as long as they were able to bear arms) remained
unpaid, they were not unrequited. A third of the con¬
quered land was distributed amongst them, and held on
the tenure of military service; the peasantry cultivated
the fields thus ceded to the soldiery, and paid the rents to
their military landlords; and the holders of the ziamets
and timars, or greater and lesser grants, received from the
fund of conquest rewards proportioned to their services.
But this system, although it placed a large numerical force
at the disposal of the chief, was nevertheless attended
with serious inconveniences. It created a sort of feudal
militia, but was incompatible with the existence of a per¬
manent force; it supplied means for a short expedition or
campaign, but a continued series of operations was con¬
stantly liable to be paralyzed by the soldiers returning to
their homes while these were still in progress. To obviate
this evil, it was resolved to raise a body of mercenaries,
whose services should be at all times available. According¬
ly, sultan Amurath, at the suggestion of his vizier, claim¬
ed as his right the fifth part of the Christian youth cap¬
tured in Bulgaria, Albania, Servia, and Bosnia; who, being
instructed in the law of the prophet, and inured to arms,
formed a body of soldiers totally distinct from those liable
to serve in virtue of their military holdings, and unconnect¬
ed with the rest of the empire by the ties either of birth
or of kindred. Such was the origin of the janissaries. Or¬
ganized into a regular force, at a time when the armies of
Christian powers consisted of a disorderly militia, and unit¬
ing courage and enthusiasm with a species of discipline, and
a blind obedience to the will of their commanders, this pow¬
erful body swept all before them, and spread far and wide
the terror of the Ottoman arms. Nor did the splendour
Notice sur l Arviee Neerlandaise: Extrait d’un ouvrage inedit de MM. Urbain et Geehender, capitaines Neerlandais. Bulletin tk
Sciences Milit. tom. viii. p. 1, !!1. The above account of the Netherlands army was written before the revolutionary convulsions in
e gium had effected the separation of that country from Holland ; but we allow it to remain unaltered, because, finding it impossible
to tell what now is, we^ have judged it best to leave the reader to infer what may be from that which has recently been, and to form
an estimate for himself of the military force of each of these countries separately, from that which was either organized or capable of
being brought into the field under their federative union.
On the continent Sardinia has only 918 square miles of territory, and 3,839,000 souls. The terra Jirma of this kingdom, situated
e ween Switzerland, L ranee, and Italy, forms, on the side of the last-mentioned country, a great basin, which the principal chain of
ie. ps separates from Savoy, the department of the Isere, and the county of Nice. It may be considered a vast entrenched camp,
laving, on the side of I ranee, Savoy and the county of Nice as advanced posts. In fact, these transalpine provinces have a free com-
munication with each other only by the plain of Piedmont, where the debouches from Savoy are by the Great and Little St Bernard,
am uun the county of Nice by the Col di Tende and the route of La Corniche. This position, which constitutes the king of Sardi-
ma t le natural guardian, or porter of the Alps, as he has been called, causes his alliance to be eagerly sought for both by France and
y Austria, particularly the latter, who, conscious that her hold of Italv is by no means firm, has an interest in raising up every ob¬
stacle to prevent Prance, in the event of a war, from attacking her on her weakest side.
s Guerres de la Revolution, tom. i. p. 244.
\antat deJa. Sarflfne depute la Restauration en 1814. Paris, 1824. Zeitschr. fur Kunst, mss. und Gesch. dcs Krieges, No. 5,
n. 197. Bulletm des Scien. Miht. tom. ii. p. 1, and tom. viii. p. 297.
\
a n
A*jr. of their achievements suffer any eclipse as long as Chris-
w-."-' tian captives could be obtained to fill the vacancies in their
ranks. But when the janissaries ceased to form a class
distinct from the great mass of the nation; when they were
allowed to marry and enrol their children; and when the
odas or regiments became encumbered with men who pre¬
ferred inglorious ease in the bosom of their families to the
toils and dangers of the battle-field; they at the same time
ceased to be formidable to their enemies, and, like the prse-
torian cohorts of ancient Rome, were dreaded only by their
emperors. They could raise an insurrection in the capi¬
tal, demand the head of an obnoxious vizier, and depose
or murder an unpopular sultan; but “ the yellow-haired
Giaours” had learned to despise them in the field; and, in
their degeneracy, they seemed destined to accelerate the
ruin of that empire which, in their better days, they had
contributed so largely to extend and consolidate.
On this class of men, however, did the Porte, until re¬
cently, depend in a great measure for defence against
her enemies; and although their inefficiency was daily be¬
coming more apparent, and reform more necessary, every
attempt to effect a change of system, and regenerate these
Osmanlee praetorians, had proved either abortive or disas¬
trous. In vain did Selim try to remodel them, and restore
discipline. The attempt cost him his life. In vain did Mah¬
moud, on his accession, manifest an intention to enforce
the regulations of Suleiman the Magnificent. An insurrec¬
tion was the consequence. During three days the streets
of the capital ran with blood; and the sultan, in order to
save his own life, was obliged to command the execution
of his brother. But Mahmoud was not of a disposition to
be daunted by this failure, although it induced him to
change his mode of proceeding. He now saw that nothing
less than the complete destruction of the janissaries would
enable him to improve the condition of his empire, by
carrying through the reforms which he already meditated;
and he waited patiently until he could strike the blow with
a certainty of success. In 1826, the janissaries, who per¬
ceived the storm gathering, again mutinied. But it was
now too late. They found the sultan prepared for them ;
and, in raising the cry of insurrection, they only gave the
signal for their own destruction. The artillery-men and
other troops, faithful to Mahmoud, surrounded them in
the Etmeidan: they attempted to defend themselves, but
without success : 20,000 perished in the conflict: and the
janissaries as a body were from that moment annihilated.
This achievement, though accomplished at a terrible sacri¬
fice of life, was in reality an act of humanity as well as of
sound policy; and, viewed in its proper light, it reflects
equal honour on the wisdom and firmness of the sultan,
who planned so judiciously and executed so vigorously a
measure full of peril in itself, yet absolutely indispensable
as a preliminary step to improvement of any kind.
The suppression of the corps of janissaries having left
Mahmoud at liberty to remodel his army conformably to
the principles of European science and tactics, he hasten¬
ed to supply the void occasioned by the destruction of the
force to which the country had hitherto trusted for its de¬
fence ; and orders were immediately issued directing the
enrolment of a certain number of men in every province
of the empire, excepting Albania, Bosnia, and the African
states. But the sultan experienced greater difficulty in
laising new troops than he had probably anticipated; for,
M Y.
613
although the law which places the services of every Mos-
lemin at the disposal of the sultan existed in full force, it
applied only to a state of war; and on no previous occa¬
sion had such a system of enrolment been resorted to dur¬
ing time of peace; a circumstance which rendered it ex¬
ceedingly obnoxious to the populace. Another obstacle to
the speedy reconstruction of the army consisted in the
necessity of excluding from the new corps all persons sus¬
pected of what may be called janissarism; and as it had
been customary for every Moslemin, on attaining the age
of manhood, to inscribe his name in some oda or regi¬
ment of janissaries, the only method by which Mahmoud
could hope to secure his troops from the contamination of
that proscribed sect was by enrolling none but boys in his
army. But the adoption of such a plan necessarily creat¬
ed a proportionate difficulty in filling the ranks; while, to
add to the embarrassments of the Ottoman reformer, the
new system had scarcely been twelve months in operation
when Russia declared war against the Porte. That this
was a politic proceeding on the part of the M^uscovite go¬
vernment, no one can doubt. Mahmoud was caught in the
very act of transition from a bad system to a better one;
the regiments of the Ottoman army were still incomplete;
and the unpopularity of the contest, with a dread of the
Russian arms, acted as an additional check to enlistment,
and thus aggravated the evils with which the sultan had
to contend. The new troops were, however, brought into
action. They were as yet too ignorant of the advantages
of discipline to benefit by the instructions they had re¬
ceived; their manoeuvres served but to confuse them;
the officers were superior to the men only in name, and
the generals were equally destitute of talent; the interior
organization of the army was lamentably defective; and
the troops had but little confidence either in their officers
or in themselves. YeL, with all these disadvantages, the
first campaign terminated favourably for the Turks; and
it cannot reasonably be doubted that the second one (that
of 1829), would have had a similar result, if the Osmanlees
had been commanded by a man possessed even of ordinary
military talents and enterprise. The grand vizier was un¬
questionably a brave man; and, unlike Yusuff Pasha, he
was faithful as well as brave. But, with 40,000 regular
troops, superior to any that the Porte had ever sent into
the field, he allowed himself to be surprised at Kiulewts-
cha or Kuleftscha, and, having lost more than the half of
his force, was compelled to retire to Shumla with the re¬
mainder. The succeeding events of the campaign were the
natural corollaries of this disastrous battle: But without
dwelling upon these, which are foreign to the objects of
the present article, we shall proceed to give some account
of the Ottoman army as it is at present constituted.1
The Ottoman army is composed of regular and irregu¬
lar infantry and cavalry, a corps of artillery, and a regi¬
ment of bombardiers or miners. The Assakiri Mansurei
MohamediyeSy2 or regular infantry, are said to amount to
50,000 men, of whom 10,000 compose the imperial guard,
quartered in and around Constantinople. They are re¬
cruited from the mass of the people without distinction;
and although Mahmoud did not oblige the children of his
nobility to enter into the service, yet, at the beginning of
the late war, many enlisted voluntarily, and even some of
the Ulemas, or expounders of the law, forsook their peaceful
profession and enrolled themselves. The black and white
Army.
to O-mS %Far™twe °f« Burney through Greece m 1830, p. 364, et seqq. We take this opportunity of acknowledging our obligations
nr™ .! S Hi0rk f°r ? VeIy, considerable Potion of the details respecting Sultan Mahmoud’s military reforms, as well as the
ain TronfilT and strength of the Ottoman army. There are many points, in regard to which it could have been wished that Can¬
to lip Jraflc 1 cbeenuSOm,e.what niore ?Pecific 5 but on a subject where exact information was not easily attainable, military men ought
2 a ,, lor what this respectable officer has been able to collect concerning it.
•Literally, “ victorious troops of Mohammed.”
614 ARM Y.
Army, subjects of the sultan are alike received as soldiers; and, in their profession, in order to qualify them for discharging the Ann
' y'^-^ ^ single regiment, may be seen every shade of u the human duties of commandj as well as to ensure the respect and
face divine,” from the jet-black complexion of the Ethiopian obedience of the ti oops.
or Nubian to the white-visaged inhabitant of Ilumelia.1 The Turkish cavalry had so long been celebrated for
Once enrolled, a soldier is obliged to serve for life; but its gallantry and enterprise, that the policy of remodelling
it frequently happens that discharges are granted. Ihe it seems exceedingly questionable. This, however, has
regular troops are organized on the model of the French been attempted, though, as it appears, with very indifferent
army, and are divided into corps d’armee, divisions, bri- success, hour squadions of dragoons are attached to the
gades, and regiments. The corps d’armee is commanded guard, and compose the only regular cavalry in the em-
by a seraskier, the division by a pasha of three tails, the pire. These are mounted and equipped m the European
brigade by a pasha of two tails, the regiment by a miri- fashion; but the horses are small in size, ill-conditioned,
alay or colonel, and the battalion by a bimbashee or chef and badly groomed ;2 and the men find so great difficulty
de bataillon. A regiment consists of a regimental staff in accommodating themselves to the European method of
(including the miri-alay or colonel, the caimacan miri-alay riding with long stirrups, that their seat is loose and un-
or lieutenant-colonel, and the alay-eminy or major) and graceful, and they are not unfrequently thrown from their
three battalions, each composed of one bimbashee or chef saddles, to their own infinite mortification. The scimi-
de bataillon, one sagh-col-aghassy or adjutant-major, one tar, so effective in the hand of a Turk when mounted in
sol-col-aghassy or adjutant, 8 yuzbashees or captains, 16 the fashion of his country, has also been exchanged for
mulazims or lieutenants, 32 tchiaouclies or serjeants, 48 the French light dragoon sabre; a weapon so differently
on-bashees or corporals, and 720 men; making a total of balanced from that which the Osmanlees have long been
2484 officers and soldiers, exclusive of a drum-major, an accustomed to handle, that they are not likely soon to ac-
imaum or chaplain, and a kiatip or clerk. The inveterate quire much dexterity in the use of it. These changes, in
prejudices of the Moslemins against the employment of fact, seem the very wantonness of innovation; for whilst
European officers in the service have prevented Mahmoud they have destroyed all that is national or characteristic
from placing any foreigners in command of his troops ; and in this description of force, they have substituted nothing
these have hitherto been disciplined, partly by officers who effective in its stead; and Mahmoud will probably find to
had served under Selim in the Nizam Djedid, partly by per- his cost that he has sacrificed a superb light cavalry for
sons sent from the Egyptian army. The only footing on wretched dragoons. His policy should have been, to leave
which the Turks will consent to tolerate an European offi- to the Turks their national horsemanship and their Ra¬
cer is as an instructor; and in this capacity Signor Calosso, tional weapons, and to direct his attention exclusively to
a ci-devant captain ofdragoons in the Italian army of prince field tactics and manoeuvres, in order to give unity and
Eugene Beauharnois, has been employed by the sultan to effect to those daring charges which they are so admirably
superintend the discipline of his cavalry. But the infantry fitted to execute effectively in their own way. Without
have not been equally fortunate, and are consequently h- firmness in their saddles or confidence in their weapons,the
bouring under very great disadvantages. The officers, taken new troops may make a tolerable appearance on parade;
from the same class of society with the common soldiers, but if sent into the field, they will, in all probability, be
differ from them in nothing but rank and name: in the Turk- found unable to contend with the worst description of horse
ish army there is no one to look up to, no natural aristocracy to which they may be opposed.
created by superiority of condition and of knowledge : the The artillery is of two kinds, viz. foot and horse. The
same ignorance and the same prejudices pervade all ranks: topejees or foot artillery are said to be at present 6500
and, having the benefit neither of examples nor of models, strong; and although their new organization has not taken
their progress in discipline has been necessarily slow. The place, it is understood to be the intention of the sultan to
Turks seem to think that performing the manual and pla- form them as soon as possible into regiments. The horse-
toon exercises with tolerable precision, marching in com- artillery, though in a very inefficient state compared with
panics instead of independently, and wearing a peculiar ours, has made considerable progress in discipline. It is
uniform, is sufficient to class them with disciplined troops, divided into two regiments of four troops each; and every
But, in their anxiety to attain the end desired, they have troop consists of one captain, three subalterns, 180 men,
overlooked some of the most essential means. The sol- 180 horse, and 10 guns; thus making the total effective
dier, for example, is placed in the ranks before he knows strength of a regiment 786 men, 720 horses, and 40 guns,
how to march; and provided he goes through the manual which are commonly nine-pounders and five-and-a-half-
and platoon exercises, it matters not whether his carriage inch howitzers. The officers are supplied with horses by
be steady or the reverse. When in the ranks, the men the government; and the forage allowed to each horse is
talk and laugh without restraint, and even address them- nine pounds of barley and twelve pounds of chopped straw
selves to their officers; whilst the latter, instead of check- per diem. The corps of bombardiers and miners amounts
ing, encourage these improprieties, by joining in or retort- to about 2000 men ; but they are still quite undisciplined,
ing the rude ribaldry of the troops. Field-officers are in- and as ignorant of the scientific as they are negligent ot
deed treated with the most obsequious respect by their the practical part of their profession; their gun carriages,
inferiors; but the line which has been drawn betwixt the platforms, and ammunition waggons, being in a shameful
privates and subaltern officers is by no means sufficiently state, and totally unfit for service. The education of ar-
distinct; and it is easy to perceive throughout, that the tillery officers has hitherto been entirely neglected; but a
hand of a master is wanting to combine all the elements of college has recently been established for their instruction
discipline, which are now but imperfectly understood, and in the theory and practice of gunnery,
to impress upon the higher ranks the necessity of studying The irregular army may be said to comprise the whole
1 “ Ah !” said a janissary to Captain Trant, while observing a body of troops inarching past, “ what kind of soldiers are these.
You see every race and every colour on earth amongst them !” Granted; but martial qualities are not necessarily connected
with colour; and discipline, if rigorously enforced, will in time mould even these variegated elements into a fine and formidable army.
2 This may seem singular, considering the ideas generally entertained of Turkish horses: but, in the first place, these are very much
exaggerated; and, secondly, the government were obliged to purchase horses wherever they could be found—in Asia, Itumelia, and
Wallachia. The best horses belong to the irregular cavalry.
A R
/ oy. Mahommedan population of the Ottoman empire; since, as
already stated, every Moslemin, if required, is obliged to
join the army during time of war. The irregular cavalry is
raised by the Znaims and Timariots, who hold feudal grants
from the Porte on tenure of military service. The irregu¬
lar infantry is assembled by the pashas and inferior officers
in the provinces. Sixty years ago, the irregular cavalry
constituted by far the most formidable and effective force
belonging to Turkey; but the country whence it was de¬
rived having been wrested from the Porte by Catherine II.,
her enemies now use it with great effect against her.1 The
Khans of the Crimea were most useful tributaries of the
Porte, and were at all times ready to take the field with
from 40,000 to 50,000 horse of the very best description,
considered as irregular troops. Brave, hardy, accustomed
to support fatigue and privation, inured to riding from
their infancy, and obedient to their leaders, the Crim
Tartars formed the main strength of the Turkish armies;
and, superior to the Timariots, who had become enervated
by peaceful habits, were prepared for all kinds of service,
nay even to encounter the best regular cavalry that could
be brought against them. The loss of the Crimea, therefore,
and of the enterprising troops it supplied, inflicted a sOvere,
if not an irreparable, injury on the military resources of
Turkey. The irregular cavalry .is now principally drawn
from the Asiatic provinces; but as the Mahommedan po¬
pulation has much decreased, this force is consequently
less numerous than formerly. The irregular infantry,
called Seimens, is furnished by the pashas, ayans, mous-
selims, and voivodes; and, during the last war, some re¬
giments so raised received pay from the Porte. The men
were drawn from Rumelia and Asia; and it is not a little re¬
markable, that of those who distinguished themselves most
in the field, the majority had belonged to the proscribed
corps of janissaries, many of whom are still to be met
with in all parts of the empire, notwithstanding the severe
measures adopted for their extermination. The spirit of
janissarism, indeed, is still latent in a large portion of the
population. The sultan has scotched the snake, not killed
it; and the utmost vigilance will be necessary on his part
to prevent its resuscitation.
The military establishments of Turkey have yet, in a
great measure, to be created; but the sultan is indefatiga¬
ble in urging on improvement to the utmost extent of his
crippled means. The only founderies for casting cannon
are in Constantinople. They are three in number: one of
two furnaces, attached to the military arsenal at Tophana;
another, also of two furnaces, near the naval arsenal; and
a third of one furnace at Hassquiou, the bombardier bar¬
racks. In one of these establishments sufficient metal can
be melted to cast from five to seven guns at a time; but
in all, the tools are of the coarsest description, and every
thing is effected by manual labour, without the aid of ma¬
chinery. The workmen are Turks and Armenians. The
M Y.
615
military arsenal at Tophana contains a large stock of artil- Army,
lery or various calibres, and some of extraordinary length.2
The field-pieces are in tolerable order, but the guns have
neither sights nor scales. ■ A manufactory of muskets has
existed for some years; but although as many as 120 can
be made daily, the supply is found insufficient, and the
troops are mostly armed with French muskets purchased at
Marseilles. There are eight handsome barracks in and
near Constantinople, viz. Daoud Pasha, Ramah Chiflic, the
Seraskiers, Tophana, Scutari, Hassquiou, and the two Pera
barracks, which have been erected either by Selim or Mah¬
moud, and are said to be capable of containing 72,000 men,
although this is most probably an exaggeration. They
are by far the most splendid edifices in Constantinople,
and are considered equal to any structures of the kind in
Europe. Schools or colleges of medicine, of the marine,
of music, and of military instruction, have been recently
. established at Constantinople. The medical school con¬
tains about 100 students, and the number will probably be
soon increased, as each regiment is to have both a physi¬
cian and surgeon attached to it.3 Between three and four
hundred young men are instructed at the military school,
which is under the superintendence of the chief bombardier,
in mathematics and the principles of fortification and gun¬
nery ; and some few French works upon military subjects
have been translated into Turkish for the benefit of the
students. Sultan Mahmoud has also established a kind of
commissariat department, under the control of the Asker
Naziry, or superintendent of the troops; but the establish¬
ment is yet in its infancy, and the arrangements are very
imperfect. Greater progress has, however, been made in
reforming the pay department, in which enormous abuses
formerly prevailed; the troops and the sultan having been
alike plundered by the knaves intrusted with this import¬
ant branch ot the public service. But since the manage¬
ment of the finance, commissariat, and general organiza¬
tion of the army has been vested in the Asker Naziry, con¬
jointly with the seraskier and other high official persons,
matters have been placed on a much better footing, and
the soldiers have now little to complain of. The new mili¬
tary code has been modelled upon that issued by Sultan
Suleiman, when he reformed the corps of janissaries, and
restored their ancient discipline ; and although it is still in
many respects imperfect and defective, it seems, upon the
whole, calculated to ameliorate the moral condition of the
Ottoman soldier.
The reforms effected by Sultan Mahmoud in the military Greek
organization of the Turks rendered it expedient for the army.
Greeks to attempt to form regular corps, in order to keep on
a level with their enemy in point of discipline and tactics.
Accordingly, on the 27th February 1827, the president or¬
dered a military force to be organized in regiments (cAi-
liarchies) of two battalions (jpentacosiarchies), divided into
five companies (hecatoncharchies) each ; a regiment to con-
1 During the last campaign the Turks had generally bad information, frequently none at all, respecting the movements of the
Russians; whilst clouds of Cossacks scoured the country in every direction, cut off the Ottoman eclaireurs, explored all the routes and
even bye-paths, and conveyed to head-quarters prompt intelligence of the slightest movement on the part of the enemy. It was this
entire command of the communications which gave Diebitsch so great a superiority during the latter part of the campaign, and ena¬
bled him to surprise the vizier at Kiulewtscha, to mask the celebrated march by which he turned the barrier of the Hsemus, and to
acquire for himself the well-merited distinction of Zabalkansky, or Passer of the Balkan. The troops sent to intercept him in the
mountain gorges arrived too late, and Zabalkansky was thus enabled, with a handful of troops, to dictate peace in the ancient capital
of the empire.
2 Near the seraglio are several enormous guns carrying stone balls like those fired at our fleet when passing the Dardanelles in
1808. But cannon of this description can only be discharged with effect when the object passes their line of fire, as they are not
mounted upon carriages, but built in a wall. Some of the guns at the Dardanelles carry balls twenty-six inches and a half in diameter.
s There was nothing in Turkey which stood more in need of reform than the healing or rather the killing art. With all their
predestinarian prejudices, the Osmanlees place unbounded faith in the skill and knowledge of physicians; and although they have
been at all times ready to acknowledge the superiority of Europeans in the science of medicine, they have nevertheless for the most
part been obliged to intrust the welfare of their bodies to empirical adventurers, whose knowledge had been acquired much in the
same manner as that of the learned hakim Yacoob, so admirably described in “ Anastrsius.” Mahmoud’s medical school, if it prosper,
may in time have the effect of putting down those pernicious quacks.
616
ARMY.
Army, sist of a colonel (chiliarch), two chefs de bataillon (penta-
cosiarchs), 10 captains (hecatojitarchs), 20 lieutenants (pen-
tacontarchs), 40 sub-lieutenants (eikosi-pentarchs), 80 ser-
jeants (dodecarchs), 160 corporals (pentarchs), and 800
soldiers; in all 1122 men. Another decree of the 17th
October ordains the formation of a battalion of artillery of
six companies, with a suitable cortege of officers; and em¬
bodies in it a sort of provisional code of military law. But
little or no progress has as yet been made in the organiza¬
tion of a standing force ; for the battle of Navarin and the
war between Russia and Turkey removed the immediate
stimulus of fear, which alone can make the Greeks carry
through any thing; whilst the favourable turn which affairs
have since taken, and the certain establishment of Greek
independence, have rendered the measure in some degree
unnecessary. We may add, that the decrees are drawn up
in a very crude manner, and make no mention whatsoever
of the number of chiliarchies or regiments which it was in- _
tended to raise.1
American The American armies require only a very cursory notice.
armies. That of the United States, exclusive of militia, does not
amount to 10,000 men. It consists of seven regiments of
infantry, four of artillery, some engineers, and a sort of
general staff; and it is formed into three divisions, each
under the command of a general officer. That called the
eastern, under the orders of major-general Gaines, is com¬
posed of 53 companies, consisting of 233 officers, and 2662
non-commissioned officers and privates. The western di¬
vision, commanded by Brigadier-General Atkinson, is also
composed of 53 companies, amounting in all to 2463 men,
including 178 officers. The third division, which has no
relative territorial denomination, consists solely of recruits
enlisted for the regular service in different parts of the
union, and does not exceed 2500 men. The republicans of
the west have a great aversion to a standing army, and
only maintain a sort of skeleton, to be filled up, in case
of need, from the militia force. The troops of the United
States excel in bush-fighting; but they have neither or¬
ganization nor discipline, and on any other soil than their
own would be any thing but formidable.2—The Mexican
army is considerable. A few years ago it consisted of 3
brigades of artillery, 12 battalions of infantry, 13 regiments
of cavalry, 31 garrison companies, and 12 fixed companies
of infantry and cavalry; making a total of 22,750 men :
besides a militia of 42,017 men, of whom 21,577 were in
active service. At the period referred to, therefore, the
whole armed force of Mexico amounted to 64,697 men, of
whom 44,327 were then in active service. Menaced with
invasion by the mother country, and torn by contending
factions, this new state cannot at present have fewer men
under arms than at the time when the returns were made
from which this brief notice has been drawn up.3—The
black army of Hayti consists of the president’s guard, with
the infantry and artillery of the line. The guard, which
ranks at the head of the army, consists of two regiments
of infantry, one grenadiers and the other chasseurs, and
three regiments of cavalry, one of carabineers, one of gre¬
nadiers, and one of chasseurs. There are 33 regiments
of infantry of two battalions each, and every battalion has
six companies, viz. one of grenadiers 80 strong, one of
chasseurs 50, and four of fusileers 44 men each. At¬
tached to this infantry, and distinct from the guard, are
two regiments of dragoons of two squadrons, divided into Am
two companies of 70 men each. The artillery consists oU-^v
five regiments of two battalions, divided into nine compa¬
nies of 50 men each, including officers. There is also an
engineer corps, with 26 companies of 50 men each of ar¬
tificers and pioneers. The whole of the Haytian force,
therefore, including the staff and the president’s guard,
amounts to about 26,000 or 27,000 men.4—We are not in
possession of any accurate details respecting the compo¬
sition and force of the various South American armies.
The Brazilian is estimated at from 35,000 to 40,000 men,
including militia; the Colombian or Venezuelan at from
15,000 to 20,000; the Peruvian at 20,000; and the Chi¬
lian at from 10,000 to 12,000 men of all arms. But these
numbers are in a great measure conjectural. The military
force of the Argentine republic is probably not greater
than that of Chili or Venezuela; while that of Paraguay
amounts to about 5000 regulars and 20,000 militia.5
From time immemorial the inhabitants of the British BritisI i
Islands have been distinguished for a determined bravery,army-
united with a degree of physical power, which belongs to
the people of no other nation ; and hence, as soldiers, they
have never yet, when properly commanded, found their
match in the field of battle. “ L’Angleterre,” says Count
Turpin, in his commentaries on Montecuculi’s Memoires,
“ est elle peut-etre la nation ou la bravoure se soutient
depuis le plus long temps.” “ Our nation,” observes Dr
Johnson, “ may boast, beyond any other people in the
world, of a kind of epidemic bravery, diffused equally
through all its ranks ; we can show a peasantry of heroes,
and fill our armies with clowns whose courage may vie
with that of the general.” The valour of a Briton is in¬
nate. It is a national instinct, co-existent with and inse¬
parable from the man himself, and requiring no artificial ex¬
citement to bring it into action; and it is as powerful at the
present moment as it was in the chivalrous days of Cressy,
Poictiers, and Agincourt. Hence, although the fortune
of our arms may have varied, the character of the soldier
has always remained the same; and at Waterloo as at
Blenheim, and Ramifies, and Malplaquet, he established
his superiority in all those high military qualities which
render a nation invincible. But, from various causes, the
reputation of the British army, which the campaigns of
Marlborough had raised to the highest pitch, and which
the various actions of the Seven Years War had gloriously
sustained, began subsequently to decline; while the di¬
sastrous results of American revolutionary war created an
opinion, which succeeding events appeared to confirm, of
its total unfitness for prosecuting a lengthened series of
operations, or contending with any prospect of success
against the armies of other nations, particularly those of
the Continent. It was conceived to be little better than a
body of marines, well qualified to co-operate with the navy
in partial expeditions, or in making descents on the sea-
coasts of any country with which Great Britain happened
to be at war, but incapable of maintaining itself in the
field, or of engaging in regular campaigns; and, to say
the truth, there wTere not wanting plausible reasons which
might be alleged in support of such an opinion. For, as
if they had been determined, not merely to countenance
this impression, but really to render the army as ineffi¬
cient and as utterly destitute of consistence and energy
1 Abeille Greque, 18th September 1828.
2 Documents accompanying the President’s Message to Congress at the commencement of the first Session of the 19th Congress-
Washington, 1825. General Report on the Army of the United States, extracted from documents communicated to Congress, Niles’
Register, January 1830.
3 Memoria del Secretario de Estado y del Despacho de la Guerra. Mexico, 1826. Bulletin des Sciences Milit. tom. iii. p. 386.
* Almanack National pour 1827. Bulletin des Scien. Milit. tom. v. p. 473.
* Essai Historiquc sur la Revolution du Paraguay, par MM. Rengger et Lonchamp. Paris, 1827.
A R
A,y. as it was generally believed to be, the British ministry
w' ^ persisted for a series of years in wasting its strength in
paltry expeditions, or in effecting partial descents upon
this or that country, instead of combining one great effort
calculated to influence the general result of the contest.
Yet, in 1795, the regular army, including the force under
the Duke of York in North Holland, exhibited a total of
119,000 men, besides about 42,000 employed in the co¬
lonies, in Corsica, in Gibraltar, and in Portugal; a force
which, directed with skill and judgment, might have saved
the country from many humiliations, prevented an enor¬
mous accumulation of debt, and accelerated the termina¬
tion of a sanguinary and ruinous contest, from the effects
of which the nation is still suffering. The campaign of
Egypt, in 1801, showed, it is true, some small degree of
energy, and, above all, afforded the army an opportunity
of proving its undiminished excellence. But, unfortunate¬
ly, on the renewal of the war in 1803, the old system was
resorted to, and all the prejudices which had previously
existed against the army were revived with tenfold force;—
prejudices which outlasted the first successes of the Penin¬
sular campaigns, and which were only at length overcome
by an unexampled series of victories, obtained over the
ablest generals and the best troops of which France could
boast.
“ The French army,” says Colonel Napier, “ was un¬
doubtedly very formidable from numbers, discipline, skill,
and bravery; but, contrary to the general opinion, the
British army was inferior to it in none of these points
save the first, and in discipline it was superior, because
a national army will always bear a sterner code than
a mixed force will suffer. With the latter the mili¬
tary, not the moral crimes, can be punished; men will
submit to death for a breach of great regulations which
they know by experience to be useful, but the constant
restraints of petty though unwholesome rules they will
escape from by desertion, or resist by mutiny, when the
ties of custom and country are removed; for the dis¬
grace of bad conduct attaches not to them, but to the na¬
tion under whose colours they serve. Great, indeed, is
that genius that can keep men of different nations firm
to their colours, and preserve a rigid discipline at the
same time. Napoleon’s military system was, from this
cause, inferior to the British, which, if it be purely admi¬
nistered, combines the solidity of the Germans with the
rapidity of the French, excluding the mechanical dulness
of the one, and the dangerous vivacity of the other ; yet,
before the campaign in the Peninsula had proved its ex¬
cellence in every branch of war, the English army was
absurdly underrated in foreign countries, and absolutely
despised in its own. It was reasonable to suppose that
it did not possess that facility of moving in large bodies
which long practice had given to the French; but the in¬
dividual soldier was (and is still) most falsely stigmatised
as deficient in intelligence and activity, the officers ridi¬
culed, and the idea that a British could cope with a French
army, even for a single campaign, considered chimerical.
The English are a people very subject to receive and to
cherish false impressions. Proud of their credulity, as if
it were a virtue, the majority will adopt any fallacy, and
cling to it with a tenacity proportioned to its grossness,
fhus an ignorant contempt for the British soldiery had
M Y.
617
entertained before the ill success of the expe- Army,
ditions in 1794 and 1799 appeared to justify the generaP'-^v-^
prejudice. The true cause of those failures was not traced,
and the excellent discipline afterwards introduced and
perfected by the Duke of York was despised. England,
both at home and abroad, was, in 1808, scorned as a mi¬
litary power, when she possessed, without a frontier to
swallow up large armies in expensive fortresses, at least
two hundred thousand1 of the best equipped and best dis¬
ciplined soldiers in the universe, together with an im¬
mense recruiting establishment, and, through the medium
of the militia, the power of drawing upon the population
without limit. It is true, that of this number many were
necessarily employed in the defence of the colonies; but
enough remained to compose a disposable force greater
than that with which Napoleon won the battle of Auster-
litz, and double that with which he conquered Italy. In
all the materials of war, the superior ingenuity and skill
of the English mechanics were visible; and that intellec¬
tual power that distinguishes Great Britain amongst the
nations, in science, arts, and literature, was not wanting
to her generals in the hour of danger.”2
It is almost needless to add how conspicuously this brave
and unequalled army disproved the calumnious prognos¬
tications of its contemners and revilers; how gloriously
it established, in seven campaigns and more than twenty
pitched battles, its superiority over the veterans of France,
crowned with the laurels of a hundred victories, and ac¬
counted invincible till called to contend with the men of
our soil. Let us now direct our attention to its composi¬
tion and organization.
By the constitution of this country the king is the su¬
preme head and captain-general of the army, which can re¬
ceive no orders except such as emanate from him, and is
bound to obey all his orders, unless at variance with the
fundamental laws of the land ; in which case submission to
his authority would be declared rebellion against the con¬
stitution of the state, and the nation at large. To him
belongs the power of declaring war and concluding peace,
of granting subsidies to his allies and indemnities to his
enemies: but no treaty is valid or binding unless it be
signed by a responsible minister ; and without the autho¬
rity of parliament he cannot touch a sixpence of his sub¬
jects’ money for this or any other purpose. Further, it is
expressly declared in the bill of rights, and annually re¬
peated in the preamble to the mutiny-act, which forms
the martial law of the British army, “ that the raising or
keeping a standing army in time of peace, unless it be
with the consent of parliament, is against law in other
words, no military force can be raised or maintained
in this country, except with the consent of the three
estates composing the legislature, by which, in their col¬
lective capacity, the sovereign power of the state is exer¬
cised. But in regard to the existing army, all measures
and all acts deemed necessary for its regulation, direction,
and employment, are decided upon by the king in coun¬
cil ; and it is the duty of the commander-in-chief of the
forces for the time being to direct the execution of such
measures or acts, in all those operations which are exe¬
cuted within the united kingdom, as well as to superin¬
tend the organization, instruction, and discipline of the
troops belonging to the different branches of the service.
1 At the period in question the British army consisted of 30,000 cavalry, 6000 foot-guards, 170,000 infantry of the line, and 14,000
artillery; in all 220,000 men. Of these between 50,000 and 60,000 were employed in the colonies and in India ; but the remainder
",er^ disposable, because from 80,000 to 100,000 militia, differing from the regular troops in nothing but the name, were sufficient for
the home duties. If to this force we add 30,000 marines, the military power of Great Britain, at the time referred to, must have
exceeded 400,000 men, exclusive of local militia and volunteers.
* History of the War in the Peninsula and in the South of France, from the year 1807 to the year 1814. By W. F. P. Napier, C. B. Lieu¬
tenant-Colonel, H. P., 43d regiment, voL i. p. 10 and 11.
VOL. in. 4 i
G18
ARMY.
Army. The secretary at war Is, by the terms of his commission or
appointment, bound to give effect to the orders of the
commander-in-chief, issued with the approbation and con¬
sent of the sovereign ; excepting in as far as these shall
appear to be contrary to the rules of the service, or to
make any alteration in the expenditure of the army: in
which cases it is his duty to make reference to the lords
of the treasury, and to act in strict conformity to their in¬
structions. This minister, in fact, who is not a member
of the cabinet, is specially charged with the administra¬
tion of the war department in all its branches. He is
the organ of communication between government and the
army on the one hand, and between the army and the
government on the other; and he acts as a check upon
the commander-in-chief, while he is in his turn restrain¬
ed by his responsibility to parliament, to the country, and
to the laws.
The departments exclusively military are those of the
adjutant-general, the quarter-master general, the barrack-
master-general, the commissary-general, the paymaster-
general, and the board of ordnance.
The adjutant-general’s department consists of the ad¬
jutant-general himself, the deputy-adjutant-general, the
assistant-adjutant-general, and the deputy-assistant-adju¬
tant-general, with ten or eleven clerks, three messengers,
and a keeper. The adjutant-general belongs to the per¬
sonal staff of the king, and accompanies his majesty and
the commander-in-chief in all their reviews and military
inspections. He is named directly by the king, on the
recommendation of the commander-in-chief, and has the
rank of lieutenant-general, though for the most part only
a major-general. The deputy-adjutant-general is also ap¬
pointed by his majesty; but the secondary offices of the
department are filled by persons nominated by the adju¬
tant-general himself. This officer may be considered as
the director of the personnel of the British army. Every
thing relating to the effective or non-effective state of the
troops ; to formation, instruction, and discipline ; to the di¬
rection and inspection of the clothing and accoutrements
of the army; to recruitment, leaves of absence, or boun¬
ties to soldiers; to the employment of officers of the staff;
and to ordinary or extraordinary and official returns rela¬
tive to these different matters, whether required by his
majesty, by the ministry, by the secretary at war, or by
parliament; falls within the province of the department
over which the adjutant-general presides. He is the re¬
gular channel through which commanders of corps com¬
municate with the commander-in-chief; and all orders, spe¬
cial instructions, and general regulations issued by the
commander-in-chief, relative to the organization, discipline,
or instruction of the army, are prepared, addressed to the
commanders of corps, and published by the adjutant-ge¬
neral, conformably to the direction of the commander-in-
chief of the forces, acting in the name and on behalf of
his majesty. The troops stationed in Scotland, however,
instead of communicating directly with the adjutant-ge¬
neral’s office in London, address themselves to the deputy-
adjutant-general who resides at Edinburgh; and Ireland
has an adjutant-general of its own. It is also the duty of
the adjutant-general to prepare, weekly, for the com-
mander-in-chief and the king, returns of the troops sta¬
tioned in Great Britain and Ireland; and, monthly, for the
commander-in-chief, the ministers, and the king, a general
statement of all the forces both at home and abroad.1
The quarter-master-general holds the same rank, and
is appointed in the same manner, as the adjutant-general.
His principal duties are to prescribe routes and marches,
to regulate the embarkation and disembarkation of troops, Ar
to provide quarters for them, to mark out ground proper for ^ j
encampment, to execute military surveys, and to prepare
plans and arrange dispositions for the defence of a territory,
whether such defence is to be operated by the troops alone
or by means of field-works. Every British army on ser¬
vice has a quarter-master-general, with deputies and assist¬
ants, who perform functions altogether analogous to those
which are discharged in the department of quarter-master-
general of the British forces; and it is admitted on all
hands that, during the Peninsular campaigns, this branch
of service was, under the very able direction of Sir George
Murray, carried to a high degree of perfection. Whenever
the army, established for the time in any position what¬
ever, had to move in advance and in a given direction, all
the officers of the quarter-master-general’s staff, charged
with the reconnaissances, immediately set out and spread
themselves over the ground, each individual taking the di¬
rection indicated to him, and pushing his reconnaissance to
the extent of a day’s march of the army. About five in the
afternoon these officers returned to head-quarters; and by
combining their different partial sketches, a general plan
was prepared, according to which the quarter-master-ge¬
neral and the commander-in-chief traced the routes to be
followed, and the positions to be taken up, by the troops
who were to march on the morrow. This was the duty of
every day while the army was in motion; and no better
evidence can be produced of the ability with which it was
performed, than the circumstance that, during the whole
of the Peninsular campaigns, the army never once took
up a position in which it could be assailed by the enemy,
however superior in numbers, with the remotest chance
of success. Attached to the office of quarter-master-ge¬
neral of the forces is a board of topography, with a depot
of maps, plans, and military memoirs, and a library con¬
taining the best military works that have been published
in different countries.2
The barrack-master-general’s department is a numerous
one, consisting of ninety functionaries in London, and eight
in Edinburgh, exclusive of barrack-masters, store-keepers,
hospital-store-keepers, barrack-sergeants, and clerks. His
principal duty is to provide barracks, permanent as well
as temporary, for the reception of the troops; to super¬
intend their construction or repair ; and, generally, to take
care that the troops are properly accommodated, both as
to room and otherwise. Subordinate to him, of course, are
all the local barrack-masters, whose duty it is to furnish
bedding and other necessaries for the troops in their respec¬
tive barracks. Ever since 1805, Great Britain has had 84
barracks built of stones or bricks, 12 constructed of timber,
75 temporary barracks, and 48 hired for rent, in all 212;
which, it is calculated, are sufficient for affording accom¬
modation to 100,000 infantry and 15,000 cavalry.
The commissariat department, when complete, consists
of a commissary-general, a deputy-commissary-general,
an assistant-commissary-general, and a deputy-assistant-
commissary-general, with upwards of two hundred subor¬
dinate functionaries. The head of the department is the
commissary-general, who resides in London, and directs
the whole of this branch of the service, whether at home
or abroad. Subordinate to the treasury in as far as re¬
gards financial matters, he is at the same time under the
control and direction of the war-office in reference to mi¬
litary operations. His duties, which have been greatly
increased since the report of the special committee of
finance in the year 1797, consist in supplying provisions,
forage, and camp as well as barrack equipage, to the troops;
1 Dupin, Force Militaire de la Grande Bretagne, 1. ii, p. 54.
Ibid. 1. ii. p. 59.
A
A R M Y.
619
in providing the materials of the medical department of
the service; and, generally, in directing and superin¬
tending all those furnishings which usually enter into the
army extraordinaries of the year, of which he prepares a
monthly account for the treasury, and an annual return
to be laid before parliament. Three months after the
close of every year, he also lays before the auditors of
public accounts a financial statement of the receipts and.
disbursements of the preceding year; before the comp¬
trollers of the army, a general view of the receipt, deliver¬
ance, and consumption of supplies furnished by his de¬
partment; and before the lords of the treasury, a detailed
account of the various items of expenditure, of the pay
and half-pay of persons attached to the commissariat, as
well as of the expense of field-works and signals. All
the furnishings of provisions, forage, &c. made to the
troops stationed in Great Britain are supplied by army
contractors; but, for other articles, the commissariat finds
it more advantageous to pass a contract at the moment of
need, and for the quantity required, than to enter into any
permanent engagement beforehand for the supply of par¬
ticular articles. The accounts of the contractors, after
being compared with the regimental receipts, as certified
by the commanders of corps, are then transmitted to the
war-office to be again compared, by the superintendent of
army accounts, with the effective force and distribution of
the different corps, as well as with the regimental returns;
and the concordance of these different verifications serves
in the first instance as a guarantee to the ministry. The com¬
missary-general has neither the custody nor the delivery
of any supplies or materials whatever; nor does he keep
any account of disbursements made out of Great Britain.1
Every army in active service has its own commissariat, un¬
der the orders of a commissary-general, who is responsible,
in the first instance, to the general-in-chief, for the regu¬
lar supply of the troops under his command. In Portugal
and in Spain, the provisioning of the army was effected by
all the means to which recourse could be had in countries so
poor and exhausted; but the greater part of the necessary
supplies was obtainedby purchases effected by commissaries
stationed at different places or attached to brigades, and
paid from funds supplied by the commissary-general of the
army, consisting partly in cash, and partly in bills or de¬
bentures on the English government. Immense abuses
appeared to have prevailed in the commissariat depart¬
ment during the early part of the peninsular campaigns.
This is evident from the repeated orders of the day is¬
sued by the Duke of Wellington against malversations on
the part of subordinates in this department; and not less
so from the fact that, notwithstanding all the care and vi¬
gilance exercised by his Grace, many of these functionaries
managed to realise fortunes.2
The paymaster-general is the head of the army pay-
office, whence the issues for the payment of every descrip¬
tion of military service are made. This office consists of
the paymaster-general himself, two deputies, an account¬
ant-general, a cashier, book-keepers, clerks, and other sub¬
ordinates ; and there are several deputy-paymasters abroad
subordinate to the general department at home. The pay- Army,
master-general has no active control over the expend!- V—
ture of the public money. His duty is merely to make
payments ministerially and without discretion, in pursu¬
ance of the warrants directed to him by the secretary at
war, the treasury, or both, as the case may be ; or in ho¬
nour of the drafts of the deputy-paymasters abroad, for the
ordinary services of the army. The pay-office must there¬
fore be looked upon as an office of account merely, and as
affecting the public expenditure only in as far as it per¬
forms the duties of an office of accounts with regularity
and expedition. The materials and documents, which com¬
pose a considerable part of the account of the paymaster-
general, originate with persons over whose conduct he ex¬
ercises no manner of control. Indeed there is a regular
succession in preparing them, from the regimental pay¬
master to the agent, and from the agent to the secretary
at war, who finally delivers them at the pay-office. Differ¬
ent classes of accounts and documents are delivered in at
certain periods prescribed by the pay-office act. But large
balances of the public money are not now, as formerly, al¬
lowed to remain in the hands of the paymaster-general, or
at his credit in the bank; nor can he derive any profit from
the custody of the public money, the balances being confin¬
ed within the narrowest possible limits. The establishment
of a regiment, with the king’s regulations and warrants,
is in fact the instrument which regulates the pay of the
army, and is consequently the basis of all the documents
which enter or go out of the pay-office under that head
of the service.3 Other details are foreign to the immediate
object of this sketch, which is merely to give a brief out¬
line of the constitution and functions of those departments
immediately connected with the army.
The ordnance department, which comprehends the artil¬
lery and engineers, is administered and commanded by a
master-general, assisted by a council or board, composed
of the lieutenant-general of the ordnance,4 who in the ab¬
sence of the master-general directs the military part; of
the inspector-general, who, with his agents, has the control
of the munitions and stores, as well as of the accounts;
of the commissary, who has the direction of the accounts
both in money and materials, and who prepares every
month for the treasury, and every year for parliament,
the ordnance estimates; of the principal storekeeper, who
is responsible for the existence and conservation of the
whole materiel; and of the clerk of deliveries, who has the
superintendence of whatever goes out of the magazines.
The written orders of the master-general are of course exe-
cutary in all the branches of this department; but he com¬
monly intrusts to the board the administration of the ma¬
teriel and of the expenditure. Iji case of absence or vacancy,
and when the master-general does not of himself exercise
any part of his authority, the board in like manner offici¬
ates in his stead. The ordnance has a special paymaster
or treasurer, who advances the funds necessary for the de¬
partment, on orders or drafts, signed by at least three mem¬
bers of the council. Almost all the officers of the board
are at the same time members of the House of Commons.
1 Dupin, Force Milit. de la Grande Bretagne, 1. iv. c. iii. p. 149. James’s Military Dictionary, voce Commissary-General.
s La tresorerie (says M. Dupin) faisait toutes les avances de fonds a Parmee d’Espagne sur les estimations anticipees du commis-
saire-general, vues et approuvees par le ge'neral en chef, et par lui transmises (comme duplicatum) au secretaire d’e'tat de la guerre
et des colonies. Ensuite le commissariat payait moitie en espece, moitie en obligations du gouvernement Anglais.” (Voyages dans la
Grande Bretagne, pre'm. part. Force Militaire, p. 153.) From the ignorance of the Spaniards, however, or rather perhaps from their
experience of the faithlessness of their own government, these “ obligations” or bills became speedily depreciated to the extent of 26
or 30 per cent., and were purchased from the peasantry and farmers at this discount by the commissaries, who, of course, realized an
enormous profit on these transactions. At one period of the Peninsular war the depreciation exceeded 50 per cent.; but the avidity
ot the commissaries to purchase the debentures increased the confidence of the people in their validity, and thus reduced the depre¬
ciation to the amount above stated.
* James’s Military Dictionary, voce Pay-office. * This office it is now proposed to abolish.
620 A R
Army. The sums voted for the support of this department pro-
ceed upon estimates of the ordinary and extraordinary ser¬
vice, and of services unprovided for. The ordinary service
comprehends the provision for the ordinary establishment,
civil and military, for the year ensuing ; the extraordinary
includes every service known beforehand, of a temporary
and contingent nature, during the currency of the year;
and the services unprovided for consist of services which
have either been actually paid for in the course of the
past year, or which are supposed to have been paid, but
which were not foreseen when the estimates of the pre¬
ceding year were prepared. Among these unforeseen ex¬
penses are included various exceedings which may have oc¬
curred in the individual services voted in the ordnance esti¬
mates of the previous year; to which are commonly add¬
ed such sums as may be considered necessary to make up
the deficiency of the sum allotted to the ordnance for
the use of the naval service. So much for the military de¬
partments.1 Let us now attend to the composition of the
army itself. *
The British army consists at present of 8818 cavalry
and 95,786 infantry; but of this force 2804 cavalry and
17,312 infantry are employed in the East India Company’s
territories; leaving an available force provided for in the es¬
timates of the year 1830 of 6014 cavalry and 78,474 infan¬
try, or 89,284 men of all arms, including officers. This force
is divided into cavalry, infantry, artillery, engineers, and
some corps immediately connected with the two latter
branches of the service, as the royal artificers, the artil¬
lery-drivers, and the royal waggon train.2
The cavalry on home service consists of the first and
second regiments of life-guards, and the royal regiment of
horse-guards (blue), each of 344 rank and file and 274
horses, with nineteen other regiments of dragoon-guards and
dragoons ; namely, seven of dragoon-guards, three of dra¬
goons, and nine of light-dragoons, including lancers and
hussars, amounting to 5897 rank and file, with 4892 horses;
or, including the regiments of life-guards, 6919 rank and
file, and 5714 horses. In this enumeration, however, the
cavalry serving in India, the waggon-train, and the Cape
corps of mounted riflemen, are not included. The first
regiment of dragoon-guards consists at present of 407 rank
and file, and 307 horses; but the remaining regiments of
the cavalry of the line have only 305 rank and file and 253
horses each. The officers and non-commissioned officers
of a regiment of life-guards, on its present establishment,
amount to 89; of a regiment of the cavalry of the line, to
between 60 and 70.3 Thus, supposing the latter to con¬
sist of 368 privates, divided into 8 companies or squadrons,
such a regiment would have 1 colonel, 2 lieutenant-colo¬
nels, 2 majors, 8 captains, 8 lieutenants, 8 cornets, 1 pay¬
master, 1 adjutant, 1 quarter-master, 1 surgeon, 1 assist¬
ant-surgeon, and 1 veterinary-surgeon, or 35 officers in all;
besides 28 sergeants and 8 trumpeters; making a total of
71 officers and non-commissioned officers, and raising the
entire strength of the regiment to 439 men. And the
same relative proportion obtains, whatever be the footing in
point of effective force, on which the regiment is placed.
Since the peace of 1815, various changes have been made
in the arms and equipments of our cavalry. In the first
place, armour was given to the life-guards, immediately
after they had proved its total inefficiency in the field of
battle, and torn the laurels of Waterloo from the re-
M Y.
doubted cuirassiers of France. That armour must prove Am
a decided impediment to the efficiency of a dragoon on W
service, is what no one can for a moment doubt. Its enor¬
mous weight,4 the constant cleaning which it requires, the
pain which its inflexibility must occasion under fatigue
and the obstacles it opposes to the free and full action of
the muscular powers of the human body, greatly detract
from its advantages. These, moreover, have been over¬
rated ; and we are much mistaken if it will not one day be
shovvn that the life-guards, encumbered with the cuirasses
are immeasurably less formidable than they were when
their natural strength, weight, and activity, had full free¬
dom of action allowed them. In the next place, four of our
regiments of light horse have been converted into lancers.
We agree in opinion with Montecuculi that the lance “est
la reine des armes pour la cavalerieand we also think
with Major Beamish, that lancers should constitute the
standard cavalry of England. But we do not the less ob¬
ject to the particular kind of lance introduced into our
service, and the description of cavalry to whom it has been
assigned. No nation possesses such materials as Britain
for the formation of redoubtable lancers ; no nation has the
command of such means of bringing them to perfection:
and if solid squares of infantry are ever to be penetrated
by cavalry, it must be performed by cavalry armed with the
lance. But this will never be achieved by such a weapon
as that at present in use. It must be effected by a lance
of sufficient length to overcome the infantry bayonet,
which, thus opposed, would no longer be formidable ; and
this lance must be put into the hands of our heavy ca¬
valry, particularly the household troops, which, thus armed,
would be able to contend on equal terms with the best
infantry in the world, and would unquestionably be capable
of penetrating its closest formation.
The British infantry on home service is composed of
3 regiments of guards, viz. the 1st or grenadier regiment,
the Coldstream regiment, and the 3d regiment, amount¬
ing together to 5104 rank and file; of 79 regiments of the
line, consisting of 1 battalion each, 740 strong; of one re¬
giment (the 60th foot) and the rifle brigade, two battalions
each ; of 2 West India regiments, the royal waggon train,
2 companies of the royal staff corps, 3 Newfoundland and
3 royal veteran companies, the African corps, the Ceylon
regiment, and the Cape corps of mounted riflemen ; making
a total of 66,240 men, exclusive of the guards. The regi¬
ments of infantry of the line have only one battalion as a
constant nucleus. When additional battalions are raised,
they are employed separately, and commanded each by a
lieutenant-colonel. With regard to the colonelcy of a re¬
giment, it is in a great measure a sinecure. The ordinary
staff of a battalion of 800 men, rank and file, consists of 1
lieutenant-colonel, 2 majors, 10 captains, 12 lieutenants,
8 ensigns, 1 paymaster, 1 adjutant, 1 quarter-master, and
1 surgeon with 2 assistants; in all 39 officers. The petty
staff is composed of a sergeant-major, a quarter-master
sergeant, a paymaster sergeant, an arm sergeant, a school¬
master sergeant, 10 colour sergeants, 30 sergeants, a
drum-major, and 21 drummers; in all 106 men. Hence
the total strength of such a battalion would consist of 39
officers, 106 non-commissioned officers, 40 corporals, and
760 soldiers, or 906 men in all.5
The force at present serving in India consists of 4 re¬
giments of light dragoons, each 701 strong, or 2804 in all;
1 Dupin, 1. v. c. 1, p. 175.
^ TheTmestfs£dLfr^wnrn0rnthtv,yra/ 1830 (Parl.iamentary paper). 3 Army Estimates for 1830.
ine order weighs unwards r,c 9- <0 ^ L16 hfe-_guar(ls weighs 15 pounds ; the smallest 12 pounds 6 ounces. A life-guardsman, in marc
are weighty and <nve to the renll supp031!15 ^ man personally to weigh 13 stone ! Besides, these cuirasses are as ugly as th(
* Anny Estimftes for 1830 7 ^ ^ compelled to '^ar them an appearance of being humpMed.
A R
Atlj. and 21 battalions of infantry, each 740 strong, or, in-
eluding supernumeraries and others, 17,312 in all.
The royal artillery forms only one corps, which is ab¬
surdly denominated a regiment, since, in time of war, it
is increased to more than 24,000 men. The master-ge¬
neral of the ordnance has the title and powers of colonel
of the regiment of artillery ; the lieutenant-general of the
ordnance is lieutenant-colonel; and a general officer, with
the title of deputy-adjutant-general, performs the func¬
tions of head of the artillery-staff, but is in no way de¬
pendent upon the adjutant-general of the British forces.
The board of the deputy-adjutant-general of artillery is at
Woolwich, which may be considered the head-quarters of
the ordnance. The royal artillery corps consists of the
brigade of horse-artillery, and of the artillery serving on
foot. The horse-artillery is subdivided into companies
called troops, varying in number from six to ten. Of these
two served in the Peninsula in 1808, five in 1813, and
seven at Waterloo in 1815. It is under the orders of 2
colonels commanding, 2 colonels en second, 2 lieutenant-
colonels, and 1 major; while each company or troop is
commanded by a captain of the first rank, a captain of
the second, and 3 lieutenants. The foot artillery is di¬
vided into battalions of ten companies each, under the or¬
ders of 2 colonels, first and second, 2 lieutenant-colonels,
1 major, 1 adjutant, 1 quarter-master, and a surgeon with
2 assistants in time of war, and 1 during peace. In the
year 1792, there were 4 battalions of foot artillery of 820
men each, with one of invalids containing 483; making
3707 in all. In 1814, there were 16,157 artillery-men,
forming 11 battalions of 1459 men each. In 1819 there
were only 9 battalions of 8 companies and 638 men each,
or 5742 in all; which is pretty nearly the actual strength
of this arm. The rocket corps is attached to and forms
part of the artillery ; and the same thing holds of the royal
artificers, the royal waggon train, and the artillery drivers.1
In the war which preceded the peace of Amiens, and
even in the early campaigns in Portugal, the engineer de¬
partment was in a very ineffective condition ; particularly
from the want of the necessary means of transport, and
partly also from a deficiency both in the number and qua¬
lity of military artificers. In order to remedy these in¬
conveniences, the Duke of Wellington, in 1814, caused
a brigade of engineers, consisting of a company of sappers
and miners, with horses, cars, and drivers, to be attached
to each division of the army, and to be regularly trained
and exercised in field duties, as well as in those which
might be required of them in sieges. A captain and a cer¬
tain number of subalterns were specially attached to each
brigade, and were held responsible for the effective con¬
dition both of the men and the horses. Thus the remain¬
der of the engineers, free from any embarrassments rela¬
tive to the materiel and 'personnel of that department of
the service, were enabled to give their undivided atten¬
tion to important military operations, and to contribute, in
a most essential manner, towards the success of the suc¬
ceeding campaigns. Five companies of sappers and miners
also served with the pontoon-train, which consisted of eighty
pontoons, besides forges, waggons, &c. drawn by about 800
horses ; the whole under the orders of a major of the bri¬
gade of engineers. Since the peace great attention has been
paid both to the instruction and organization of this impor¬
tant branch of the service ; which, in the event of another
war, will be found on a very different footing, in point of
efficiency, from that on which it stood during the greater
M Y. 621
pait of the Peninsular campaigns. Experience taught im- Army,
portant lessons, which have been suitably and effectually
improved. J
The portion of the British army presently serving in In¬
dia amounts, as we have already seen, to about 20,000 men.
The European troops in the company’s service consist of
8000 infantry and 4000 artillery; while the native regular
troops are, according to the best information, composed
of 10,000 cavalry, 130,000 infantry, and 8000 artillery;
and the native irregular force, of 7000 cavalry and 17,000
infantry. Our Indian army, therefore, may be consi¬
dered as amounting to 19,000 cavalry, 168,000 infantry,
and 12,000 artillery, or, in all, about 200,000 men. The
organization of the native army being, in all essential re¬
spects, the same as that of the British army, no particular
description of it seems to be required under this head.2
The character of the British army has been earned in
battle and attested by victory. Wherever it has been
even tolerably led, it has conquered; nor is there any army
in the world which has sustained so few serious reverses.
The elements of which it is composed are such as, if
fairly developed in action, must, on any thing like equal
terms, insure victory: for not only are the soldiers more
robust, and possessed of greater physical power (or, as it
is technically called, bottom), than those of any other na¬
tion, but they are also distinguished by an unflinching,
indomitable courage, which may be safely reckoned upon
at all times and in all circumstances ; which it is often dif¬
ficult to restrain, but never necessary to excite ; and which
always rises to a pitch of sublime elevation at the prospect
of the charge and the close combat. They are the only
troops in the world who look with indifference on naked
points, and who are constantly impelled by a powerful in¬
stinct to close with their enemy; who maintain the distant
battle with unyielding stedfastness, yet rejoice when the
moment arrives that is to rest the issue of the conflict on
the bayonet’s point, and a struggle hand to hand with the
enemy. Hence their fire is close, steady, and destructive ;
their charge, where it can be given, irresistible. “ Les
troupes Anglaises,” says General Jomini, “ se distinguent
par leur bonne discipline et leur sang-froid; le soldat s’y
enrole pour la vie [this is a mistake; soldiers may enlist for
any pei’iod], ce qui est bien extraordinaire chez un peuple
si jaloux de sa liberte, mais ce qui ne surprend pas moins,
e’est qu’il est docile et soumis: ces qualites essentielles
qui constituent une armee solide, sont peut-etre prefer¬
ables a une valeur brillante mais passagei*e. Les unes
sont permanentes; 1’autre, justifiant le proverbe Espagnol,
depend de tel jour et de telle circonstance. La resigna¬
tion et la discipline unies au courage froid, ont des resul-
tats invariables et surs; elles produisent 1’ensemble sans
lequel il n’est point de veritable force.3 M. Dupin, in
that part of his able work in which he treats of the mili¬
tary force of Great Britain, delivers an opinion somewhat
similar to that expressed by Jomini, though shaded by cer¬
tain qualifications and abatements.
“ II faut de dire,” says he, “ apres les Francais, tels qu’ils
ont ete pendant vinq-quatre ans dans nos armees, les Anglais
sont les militaires les plus actifs de tout 1’Europe; ils le sont
d’une maniere qui leur est propre. Leur activite n’a pas les
elans prodigieux dont nous avons tant fois offert de me-
morabies exemples; mais elle n’a jamais d’intermittence,
et se montre toujours la meme. Cela lui fait produire, au
bout d’un temps donne, une somme de resultats plus grande
qu’on n’aurait pu le prevoir, d’apres la vue d’une action
1 Dupin, Force Milit- de la Grande Bretagne, 1. v. c. 4, p. 196.
* Dupin ; Army Estimates for 1830 ; and Bulletin des Sciences Militaires.
* Jomini, Guerres de la Revolution, tom. ii. p. 252.
622
ARMY.
Army, isolee meme la plus brillante. Le soldat Breton a gene-
ralement moins d’esprit naturel et de penetration que le
soldat Fran^ais; mais Timmobilite de son imagination rend
ses actions plus mesurees. Moins distrait par la vue des
objets exterieurs, par les souvenirs du passe, par les espe-
rances ou les terreurs de 1’avenir, il est toujours tout en-
tier au moment present. Plus attentif au commandement
actuel, il compense ainsi Vinferiorite de son intelligence.
Incapable de juger les grands mouvemens qui s’executent,
et surtout ceux qui vont s’executer, pour ou centre lui,
le danger futur ne se peint pas meme a sa pensee. Il va
done a la mort presente sans s’inquieter de la mort d venir.
Voila pourquoi le moral de 1’armee Britannique est presque
impossible a detruire par la mauvaise fortune.”1
In this passage there is some truth, mixed up with much
nonsense and misrepresentation. The British soldier, it
seems, is inferior to the French soldier in intelligence.
And why? Because he does not concern himself about
“ grand movements executed and to be executedand
because he is more attentive to command, and goes to
present death without disturbing himself about death to
come. These appear strange grounds upon which to rest
the alleged superiority of the French or the inferiority
of the British soldier in point of intelligence. That a na¬
tive of this country, admitted on all hands to be at least
one of the most intellectual on the face of the earth,
should be at once metamorphosed by a red coat into a
mere automaton or lump of living but impassible matter,
would indeed be an extraordinary phenomenon ; nor must
it appear less singular that the French armies, with all their
intellectual superiority, and all their attention to “ grand
movements,” should have been constantly overthrown by
our animated machines. But the plain fact is, that the
assertion is wholly erroneous. The English soldier is
inferior to no other that ever existed in point of intelli¬
gence; and even the late General Foy, whose book appears
to have been written chiefly for the purpose of calumniating
our army, makes admissions which show that such was his
own real opinion, while maintaining a contrary one. This
officer repeatedly says that the non-commissioned officers
of the British army are superior in activity, intelligence,
and zeal to those of the same rank in any other army, not
excepting the French; and that this superiority was con¬
spicuously evinced throughout the whole of the Peninsular
campaigns. But these persons are taken almost indiscri¬
minately from the ranks, and of course must represent
the average amount of intelligence and activity diffused
amongst the private soldiers; a circumstance which Gene¬
ral Foy had not adverted to when he made the admis¬
sion in question; for he was too good a Frenchman to allow
British soldiers any merit which he could decently and
with any show of probability deny them.
But the best answer to all his captious and querulous stric¬
tures is to be found in his own description of the conduct
of the British regiments at Waterloo. “ The cavalry which
supported them,” says he, “ was cut to pieces [this is not
true], the fire of their artillery completely silenced. The
general and staff officers were galloping from one square
to another, not knowing where to find shelter. Carriages,
wounded men, parks of reserve, and auxiliary troops, were
all flying in disorder towards Brussels. Death was before
them, and in their ranks ; disgrace in their rear. In this
terrible situation, neither the bullets of the imperial
guard, discharged almost point-blank, nor the victorious Arm
cavalry of France, could make the least impression on the w
immovable British infantry. One might have been almost
tempted to fancy that it had rooted itself in the ground,
but for the majestic movement which its battalions com¬
menced some minutes after sunset, at the moment when
the approach of the Prussian army apprised Wellington
that—thanks to numbers, thanks to the force of inert re¬
sistance, and as a reward for having contrived to draw up
brave fellows in battle—he had just achieved the most
decisive victory of our age.”2 The British army can de¬
sire no better panegyric than this, pronounced by a beaten
enemy ; and if the French shall continue to comfort them¬
selves with the idea that the British soldier is deficient in
intelligence, because he possesses that strength of mind
wEich no danger can appal, and that tenacity which car¬
ries off the prey by sticking to it to the last, it would cer¬
tainly be a pity to deprive them of any slender consola¬
tion which they may derive from cherishing such a delu¬
sion. But instead of adding any thing further of our own,
we shall conclude by citing an authority which, on this as
on all other military subjects, is universally admitted to be
of the highest order.
“ That the British infantry soldier,” says Colonel Na¬
pier, “ is more robust than the soldier of any other na¬
tion, can scarcely be doubted by those who, in 1815, ob¬
served his powerful frame, distinguished amidst the unit¬
ed armies of Europe; and, notwithstanding his habitual
excess in drinking, he sustains fatigue, and wet, and the
extremes of cold and heat, with incredible vigour. When
completely disciplined, and three years are required to
accomplish this, his port is lofty, and his movements free:
the whole world cannot produce a nobler specimen of mi¬
litary bearing; nor is the mind unworthy of the outward
man. He does not indeed possess that presumptuous vi¬
vacity which would lead him to dictate to his command¬
ers, or even to censure real errors, although he may per¬
ceive them; but he is observant, and quick to compre¬
hend his orders, full of resources under difficulties, calm
and resolute in danger, and more than usually obedient
and careful of his officers in moments of imminent peril.
“ It has been asserted that his undeniable firmness in
battle is the result of a phlegmatic constitution, uninspired
by moral feeling. Never was a more stupid calumny ut¬
tered. Napoleon’s troops fought in bright fields, where
every helmet caught some beams of glory ; but the Bri¬
tish soldier conquered under the cold shade of aristo¬
cracy : no honours awaited his daring, no despatch gave
his name to the applauses of his countrymen; his life of
danger was uncheered by hope, his death unnoticed. Did
his heart sink therefore ? Did he not endure with sur¬
prising fortitude the sorest of ills, sustain the most terrible
assaults in battle unmoved, and, with incredible energy,
overthrow every opponent; at all times proving that,
while no physical military qualification was wanting, the
fount of honour was also full and fresh within him ?
“ The result of a hundred battles, and the united testi¬
mony of impartial writers, of different nations, have given
the first place amongst the European infantry to the Bri¬
tish ; but, in a comparison between the troops of France
and England, it would be unjust not to admit that the
cavalry of the former stands higher in the estimation of
the world.”3 (a.)
Dupin, vol. ii. L 1, c. 1, p. 3, 4. . a Foy, History of the Peninsular War, vol. i. p. 224, English translation.
History of the War in the Peninsula and in the South of France, vol. iii. p. 271, 272. London, 1831.
A R N
Mali ARNALL, William, a political writer, wlio was em-
| ployed by Sir Robert Walpole to write the Free Briton in
Ar.uW- defence of his administration, for which, by the report of
the secret committee, he is said to have received L. 10,997.
6s. 8d. He died in 1741, at the age of 26.
ARNAUD Belgard, a town of Turkey in Europe, in
Albania. It is situated on the Chervesta, 40 miles N. E.
of Vallona, in a fertile plain, covered with vines and olives.
It is the seat of a Greek bishop, and contains 11,500 in¬
dustrious inhabitants, who trade largely.
Arnaud de Meyrveilh, or Mereuil, a poet of
Provence, who lived in the beginning of the 13th century.
He wrote a book entitled Las Recastenas de sa Contesse,
and a collection of poems and sonnets. Petrarch men¬
tions him in his Triumph of Love. He died in the year
1220.
Arnaud de Ronsil, George, son of an eminent sur¬
geon at Paris, and some time professor of surgery in the
college of St Cosme. On account of an accident that
occurred while he was practising midwifery, he removed
from Paris to London, where he acquired great repute by
his operations, and his writings on surgical subjects. Be¬
fore his time the treatment of hernia had been but imper¬
fectly understood; and the surgeons of this country are
indebted to the observations of Arnaud for many of those
improvements which have since rendered their practice
so successful in this branch of the art. The following is
a list of his principal works1, Traite des Hernies ou
Descentes, 2vols. 12mo, Paris, 1749. 2, Observations on
Aneurysms, London, 1750. 3, Instructions on the Diseases
of the Bladder and Urethra, London, 1763. 4, A Disser¬
tation on Hermaphrodites, London, 1750. These were af¬
terwards collected and published, with additions, under
the title of Memoires de Chirurgie, avec quelques Ile-
marques sur 1’Etat de la Medecine et de la Chirurgie
en France et en Angleterre, 2 vols. 4to, London, 1768.
5, Remarks on the Use of the Extract of Lead of Goulard,
London, 1776. Arnaud died in 1774.
Arnaud de Villa Nova, a famous physician, who
lived about the end of the I3th and beginning of the 14th
century. He studied at Paris and Montpelier, and im¬
proved himself by visiting the schools of Italy and Spain.
He was well acquainted with languages, particularly with
the Greek, Hebrew, and Arabic. His desire after the
acquisition of knowledge was ardent, but it carried him
too far in his researches. He put unlimited faith in as-
trology, and published a prediction that the consumma¬
tion of the world would take place in the middle of the
14th century. He practised physic at Paris for some time;
but having advanced some new doctrines, he drew upon
himself the resentment of the university; and his friends,
fearing he might be arrested, persuaded him to retire from
that city. Upon his leaving France he went to Sicily,
where he was received by king Frederic of Arragon with
the greatest marks of kindness and esteem. Some time
afterwards this prince sent him to France to attend pope
Clement in an illness; and he was shipwrecked on the
coast of Genoa about the year 1313. His works, with a
hfe prefixed, were printed at Lyons in 1520, in one vo¬
lume folio, and at Basil in 1585, with the notes of Nicho¬
las Tolerus.
ARNAULD, Antony, a very celebrated doctor of the
oorbonne, was born in 1612. He published in 1643 A
Treatise on Frequent Communion, which highly displeased
the Jesuits ; and the disputes upon grace, which broke out
about this time in the university of Paris, and in which he
took a zealous part with the Jansenists, helped to increase
the animosity between him and the Jesuits. But nothing
jaised so great a clamour against him as the two letters
e wrote On Absolution ; in the second of which the facul ty
A it N
of divinity found two propositions which they condemned,
and M. Arnauld was expelled the society. Upon this he
retired ; and during a retreat which lasted nearly twenty-
five years, he composed that great variety of works which
are still extant, on grammar, geometry, logic, metaphy¬
sics, and theology. In 1679 he withdrew from France,
lived in obscurity in the Netherlands, and died in 1694’.
His heart, at his own request, was sent to be deposited in
the Port Royal. Arnauld was a man of genius, remark¬
able for the strength of his memory and a command of his
pen, which he possessed unimpaired to the last year of
his life. Mr Bayle says, he had been told by persons who
had been admitted into his familiar conversation, that he
was a man very simple in his manners; and that unless
any one proposed some question to him, or desired some
information, he said nothing that was beyond common con-
vei sation, or that might make one take him for a man of
great abilities; but when he set himself to give an answer
to such as proposed a point of learning, he seemed as it
were transformed into another man : he would then deliver
a multitude of fine things with great perspicuity and learn-
ing. A complete collection of his works, extending to
45 vols. 4to, was published at Lausanne in 1777-83.
A-RNAY-LE-DUC, a town of France, in the department
of Cote d’Or, which carries on a pretty good trade. It is
seated on the Auxois, in a valley near the river Aroux.
Long. 4. 26. E. Lat. 47. 7. N.
ARNDT, John, a famous Protestant divine of Ger¬
many, born at Ballenstadt, in the duchy of Anhalt, in the
year 1555. He died in 1621. His Treatise on True Chris¬
tianity has been translated into several languages.
ARNE, Thomas Augustine, doctor of music, was
born in King Street, Covent Garden, where his father was
an upholsterer. He served three years with an attorney;
but his strong propensity for music prevailed over the
law, and he finally attached himself to the science, in
which he soon became so eminent as to receive the de¬
gree of doctor from the University of Oxford in 1759.
His compositions are numerous, he having adapted upwards
of thirty musical pieces for the stage. They are charac¬
terized by a natural ease and elegance, a flow of melody,
and a fullness and variety without affected or extraneous
modulation. His most celebrated works are, Artaxerxes,
which he paraphrased from Metastasio; the Masque of
Comus; the Opera of Operas, a burletta; the Guardian
Outwitted; and the Rose; some of which have taken a per¬
manent hold of the stage. Dr Arne died March 5, 1778.
ARNHEM, one of the circles into which the province
of Guelderland in the Netherlands is divided. It compre¬
hends 14 cantons, and contains 74,451 inhabitants.
Arnhem, the capital city of the province of Guelder¬
land, in the circle of the same name, on the banks of
the Rhine. It is well built, and its fortifications being
planted with trees, form a pleasing promenade. It is a
place of little trade, but of some importance as a frontier
town. It contains 1490 houses, and 9500 inhabitants.
Long. 5. 38. 23. E. Lat. 51. 59. 58. N.
ARNISJEUS, Henningus, a philosopher and physician
of great reputation about the beginning of the 17th cen¬
tury. He was born at Halberstadt in Germany, and was
professor of physic in the university of Helmstadt. His
political works are much esteemed. The most remarkable
of them is his book De Authoritate Principum in Popidum
semper Inviolabili, printed at Frankfort in 1612. In this
he maintains that the authority of princes ought not to be
violated. He wrote also upon the same doctrine his three
books, De Jure Majestatis, printed at the same place in
1610; and his Reflectiones Politiece, printed at Frankfort
in 1615. He went to Denmark by invitation, and was
made counsellor and physician to the king. He travelled
623
Arnay-le-
Duc
.11
Arnisneus.
624 A R N ARC
Arnobius into JYance and England, and died in November 1635.
11 Besides the pieces already mentioned, he wrote several
Araoldus. philosophical, medicinal, and poetical treatises.
ARNOBIUS, professor of rhetoric at Sicca, in Numidia,
towards the end of the third century. Owing to certain
dreams which he had, he became desirous of embracing
Christianity, and for this purpose applied to the bishops
for admission into the church; but his former violent hos¬
tility to the faith led them to distrust him, and, before
they would consent, they insisted on some proofs of his
sincerity. In compliance with this demand, he wrote
against the Gentiles, refuting the absurdities of their reli¬
gion, and ridiculing their false gods. In this treatise he
has employed all the flowers of rhetoric, and displayed
great learning; but from an impatience to be admitted
within the pale of Christianity, he is thought to have been
in too great a hurry in composing his work, as there does
not appear in it so complete an order and disposition as
could be wished; and not having a perfect and exact
knowledge of the Christian faith, he published some very
dangerous errors. Mr Bayle remarks, that his notions
about the origin of the soul, the cause of natural evil, and
several other important points, are highly pernicious. St
Jerome, in his epistle to Paulinus, is of opinion that his
style is unequal and too diffuse, and that his book is writ¬
ten without any method; but Dr Cave thinks this judg¬
ment too severe, and that Arnobius wants neither elegance
nor order in his composition. Yossius styles him the
Varro of the ecclesiastical writers. Du Pin observes that
his work is written in a manner worthy of a professor of
rhetoric: the turn of his sentiments is very oratorical; but
his style is a little African, his expressions being harsh and
inelegant. We have several editions of this work of Ar¬
nobius against the Gentiles; one published at Rome in
1542, at Basil in 1546 and 1560, at Paris in 1570, at
Antwerp in 1582, and one at Hamburg in 1610, with notes
by Geverard Elmenhorst, besides many others. He wrote
also a piece entitled De Rhetoricce Institutione, which is not
extant.
ARNOLD, of Brescia, in Italy, distinguished himself,
in the 12th century, by being the founder of a sect which
opposed the wealth and power of the Roman clergy. He
went into France, where he studied under the celebrated
Peter Abelard. Upon his return to Italy he put on the
habit of a monk, and opened his invectives in the streets
of Brescia. He pointed his declamation against the
s bishops, the clergy, the monks, and finally against the
Roman pontiff himself; to the laity only he was indulgent.
In 1139 he was cited to appear before a grand council at
Rome. His accusers were the bishop of Brescia, and many
others, whom he had ridiculed and insulted. Nor from
his judges could he look for much indulgence. He was
found guilty, and sentenced to perpetual silence. Upon
this he left Italy, crossed the Alps, and found a refuge in
Zurich. After the death of pope Innocent II. he return¬
ed to Italy, and was ultimately condemned to death and
executed in 1155. His name is chiefly deserving of being
remembered for the boldness of his attempt to lower the
power of the pope and his clergy, in an age when the pa¬
pacy existed in all the plenitude of its power and influence.
ARNOLDISTS, in Ecclesiastical History, a sect so call¬
ed from their leader Arnold of Brescia.
ARNOLDUS, Gothofredus, pastor and inspector of
the churches of Perleberg, and historiographer to the king
of Prussia, was born at Annaburg, in the mountains of
Misnia, in 1666. He was a zealous defender of the Pie¬
tists, a sect among the German Protestants, and composed
a great number of religious works, particularly an Ecclesi¬
astical History, which exposed him to the resentment of
the divines, and another giving an account of the doc¬
trines and manners from the first ages, in which he fre- Arnst;
quently animadverts upon Cave’s Primitive Christianity. |
He died in 1714. Aron
ARNSTADT, a bailiwick in the principality of Schwaz- ''“’"V
burg-Sanderhausen, in Germany. It contains 2 cities, 26
villages, and 5 hamlets, with 9700 inhabitants. The ca¬
pital of the bailiwick is of the same name. It is divided
by the river Werra into two portions, has walls, and a cas¬
tle, in which a gallery of pictures is preserved, and where
a porcelain manufactory is now carried on. A considerable
trade is pursued in brewing, distilling, tanning, and the
sale of grain. It contains 726 houses and about 4300
inhabitants. Long. 11. 3. 2. E. Lat. 50. 49. 57. N.
ARNSTEIN, a bailiwick in the circle of Lower Maine,
in Bavaria, 66 square miles, or 42,200 acres, in extent. It
is watered by the river Wehre, and, with the exception
of 7000 acres in the southern part, which is woodland, is
fruitful in corn, flax, and wine. It contains 1 city, 2 mar¬
ket-towns, and 37 villages, with 11,500 inhabitants. The
capital of the bailiwick has the same name, and contains
350 houses, and 1800 inhabitants, who trade chiefly in
wood-ware, corn, and wine.
ARNULPH, or Ernulph, bishop of Rochester in the
reign of Henry I. He was born in France, where he lived
some time a monk of St Lucien de Beauvais. The monks
led most irregular lives in this monastery, for which rea¬
son he resolved to quit it, but first took the advice of
Lanfranc, archbishop of Canterbury, under whom he had
studied in the abbey of Bee, when Lanfranc was prior of
that monastery. This prelate invited him over to Eng¬
land, and placed him in the monastery of Canterbury,
where he lived a private monk till Lanfranc’s death. When
Anselm came to the archiepiscopal see, Arnulph was made
prior of the monastery of Canterbury, and afterwards ab¬
bot of Peterborough. In 1115 he was consecrated bishop
of Rochester, which see he held nine ye?rs, and died in
March 1124, aged 84. Arnulph wrote a piece in Latin
concerning the foundation, endowment, charters, laws,
and other things relating to the church of Rochester: it
is generally known by the title of Textus Roffensis, and is
preserved in the archives of the cathedral church of Ro¬
chester. It has been printed in Thorpe’s Registruni
Roffense.
ARNWAY, John, a clergyman distinguished by his
benevolence and loyalty to King Charles I., was descended
from a very good family in the county of Salop, from
which he inherited a considerable estate. He was edu¬
cated at Oxford; and, having received holy orders, ob¬
tained the rectories of Hodnet and Ightfield, where he
distinguished himself by his piety and exemplary charity;
for it was his custom to clothe annually twelve poor peo¬
ple, and every Sunday to entertain as many at his table,
not only plentifully, but with intimacy and respect. The
civil war breaking out, he preached against rebellion, and
raised and clothed eight troopers for the service of King
Charles I., upon which his house was plundered by the
parliament’s army. He then went to Oxford to serve the
king in person, which subjected him to a new train of mis¬
fortunes ; for his estate was soon after sequestrated, and
himself imprisoned till the king’s death; after which he
went to the Hague, where he published, 1, The Tablet, or
the Moderation of Charles I. the Martyr; and, 2, An
Alarm to the Subjects of England. He at last went to
Virginia, where he died in 1653.
AROMA Philosophorum denotes either saffron or
the aroph of Paracelsus; as aroma Germanicum denotes
elecampane.
ARONA, a town of Italy, in the duchy of Milan, with
a strong castle. It stands on the lake Maggiore. Long.
8. 2r . £. Lat. 45. 41. N.
Artfhe
A R P
s ARONCHES, a town of Portugal, in Alentejo, on the
confines of Spain* seated on the river Caro. It is well
fortified, and contains about 500 inhabitants. Long. 5.
' 16. W. Lat. 14, 39. N.
AROO, an island in the Eastern Seas, 140 miles in length
by about 40 in breadth, lying to the south of Papua. The
Chinese merchants settled at Banda carry on a traffic with
this island, from which they procure pearls, edible bird-
nests, esteemed so great a delicacy by the Chinese epi¬
cures, tortoise shell, and stones. An aromatic vegetable
substance called the Missoy bark is found here: it is also
conjectured to be the haunt of the bird of paradise. The
centre of the island is in long. 135. E. and lat. 6. S.
AROOL, a town of the empire of Russia, in the Uk¬
raine, seated on the river Occa. Long. 38. 15. E. Lat. 51.
48. N.
AROPH, a contraction of aroma philosophorum, a name
given to saffron.
. Aroph Paracelsi, a name given to a kind of chemical
flowers, probably of the same nature with the Ens Vene¬
ris, elegantly prepared by sublimation from equal quanti¬
ties of lapis haematites and sal ammoniac.
AROSBAY, a town of the East Indies, on the coast of
the island of Madura, near Java. Long. 14. 30. E. Lat.
9. 30. N.
AROUR A, a Grecian measure of 50 feet. It was more
frequently used for a sq'^re measure of half the plethron.
The Egyptian aroura was the square of 100 feet.
ARPAGIUS, or Harpagius, among the ancients, a
person who died in the cradle, or at least in early youth.
The word is formed from the Greek aoKa^oj, I snatch. The
Romans made no funerals for their arpagii. They neither
burnt their bodies, nor made tombs, monuments, or epi¬
taphs for them; which occasioned Juvenal to say,
 Terra clauditur infans
Et minor igne rogi.
In after-times it became the custom to burn such as had
lived to the age of 40 days, and had cut any teeth ; and
these they called 'Agxaxrot or 'A^vctygtvot, q. d. rapti,
ravished. The usage seems to have been borrowed from
the Greeks; among whom, Eustathius assures us, it was
the custom never to bury their children either by night
or full day, but at the first appearance of the morning;
and that they did not call their departure by the name
of death, but by a softer appellation, a^raytj, im¬
porting that they were ravished by Aurora, or taken away
to her embraces.
ARPHAXAD, the son of Shem and father of Salah.
Arphaxad was born in the year of the world 1658, a year
after the deluge, and died in the year of the world 2096,
at the age of 438.
ARPINAS, or Arpino, Joseph CiESAR, a famous
painter, born in the year 1560, at the castle of Arpinas, in
the kingdom of Naples. He lived in great intimacy with
Pope Clement VIII. who conferred upon him the honour
of knighthood, and bestowed many other marks of his
friendship. In the year 1600 he went to Paris with
Cardinal Aldobrandin, who was sent legate to the French
court on the marriage of Henry IV. with Mary of Medi¬
ci. His Christian majesty gave Arpinas many consider¬
able presents, and created him a knight of St Michael.
The colouring of this painter is thought to be cold and in¬
animate ; yet there is spirit in his designs, and his com¬
positions have somewhat of fire and elevation. The touches
of his pencil being free and bold, give therefore pleasure
to connoisseurs in painting; but they are generally incor¬
rect. What he painted of the Roman history is the most
esteemed of all his works. He died at Rome in 1640.
ARPINO, a city in the kingdom of Naples and province
of Terra di Lavoro. It stands on a hill washed by the Fi-
vol. in.
Ann
breno, is tolerably well built, possesses a good market¬
place and 40 churches, with 9457 inhabitants, who carry
on some considerable cloth manufactories. It is celebrated
as the birthplace of Marius and of Cicero. Lons’. 14 12 E
Lat. 41. 44. N. 8
ARQUA, a town of Italy, in the Paduan, and territory
of Venice, remarkable for the tomb of Petrarch. Lone
11. 43. E. Lat. 45. 43. N. 6
ARQUES, a town of Normandy, now in the department
of the Lower Seine, in France, seated on a small river of
the same name. Long. 1. 30. E. Lat. 49. 54. N.
ARRACAN. This was formerly an independent king¬
dom; in 1783 it became a maritime province of the Bur-
man empire, and was added to the British possessions in
that quarter by the treaty of 1826, dictated by a British
army at the gates of the Burmese capital. It is bounded
by the Chittagong district on the north, from which it
is separated by the small river Nauf; by Pegue on the
south, in lat. 18. N.; on the west by the Indian Ocean;
and on the east, at the distance of about 50 miles, it is
divided from Ava by a range of mountains, through which
there are very few passes. It may be estimated at 230
miles in extreme length, and in breadth 50; and the
coast is studded with several fertile islands, viz. Ramree,
Cheduba, &c. The mountains rise to the elevation of
from 3000 to 5000 feet, and decline gradually towards the
east in a succession of ranges. They were crossed in 1826
by Lieutenant Trant and a detachment of sepoys, and were
found to abound in springs; and it appeared that a con¬
siderable commerce had been carried on to the eastward
by this route previous to the British invasion. They were
« crossed farther to the south by Lieutenant Browne and a
party of sepoys, and the country was found perfectly wild,
and one continued succession of hills, jungles, and ravines.
They extend northward as far as the southern bank of
the Brahmaputra. The inhabitants of these mountains are
averse to mix with the natives of the plains, although the
Burmans, after their conquest of Arracan, compelled many,
and allowed a few settlers from their native hills, to settle
in the villages, where they are treated with humanity, in
order to reconcile them to the restraints of civilization.
A large proportion of these mountaineers are still inde¬
pendent, and have uniformly rejected a foreign yoke. A
range of hills, very inferior in height, skirts the shore;
and the valley which lies between them is covered with
thick jungles and impenetrable woods, and filled with wild
animals, such as the elephant, the tiger, &c. Owing to
the moist temperature (the periodical rains continuing
from June to November, and often to December, besides
occasional showers), this tract of country is frequently
flooded, and is at all times intersected with rivers, lakes,
and inlets of the sea; so that the communication between
the villages must be maintained by means of boats. The
soil is fertile, especially in the vicinity of the mountains;
but the frequent rains and exhalations under the burning
sun of the tropics are adverse to European constitutions.
The staple produce is rice, for which the country is well
adapted, from its moist and hot climate. The other pro¬
ductions are sugar, hemp, indigo, onions, garlic, turmeric.
The fruits are abundant and of a superior quality, viz. pine¬
apples and plantains, mangoes, jacks, sweet limes, cocoa
nuts, and other tropical fruits. The forests produce ex¬
cellent timber; and the teak tree is found, but in such in¬
accessible parts, that it is usually imported from Rangoon.
The rivers wash down from the mountains gold and silver
particles, for the liberty of collecting which a certain rent
is paid. Salt is produced in great abundance. Limestone
is also procured from the islands that lie along the shore.
The greater portion of the country is in a state of nature;
and it is estimated by Hamilton, the accurate and well-
625
626
A R R
Arracan. informed writer of the East India Gazetteer, that not above
400 square miles of this extensive territory are under cul¬
tivation. The inhabitants do not exceed 100,000, consist¬
ing chiefly of a rude and filthy race called the Mughs,
about one third being Mahometans, and not more than
one tenth Burmese. They speak their own language,
which is different from the Burmese tongue; the princi¬
pal Mahometans use the language of Hindostan, and the
lower orders a mixed dialect.
The Mughs appear in their habits to be not far remov¬
ed from the savage state. They give no attention to agri¬
culture, but live by hunting, fishing, traffic, and rapine.
They follow in their religion the Buddhist doctrines, with
many Hindoo superstitions, and offer bloody sacrifices to
the deities of the rivers, woods, and mountains. They
are barbarous in their domestic manners, trafficking with¬
out restraint in slaves, and even pawning their wives when
they are in want of money. Some bury their dead in
coffins richly gilt, and others burn them. They are of a
middling stature, but of a robust make, with broad faces,
high and wide cheek-bones, flat noses, and, in the obli¬
quity of their eyes, resembling the Chinese. They are so
far addicted to the notions of the Hindoos that they scru¬
ple about taking the life of an animal; but when dead they
eat every species of animal without restraint, and are of
the most disgusting and filthy habits in their eating as
well as in their persons. Besides the tribes on the sea-
coast, there are many rude tribes scattered in the interior,
and beyond its limits to the east, as well as those of Chit¬
tagong. These different tribes are frequently engaged in
mutual hostilities. It has been from time immemorial the
practice of these Mughs, like most of the other barbarous#
nations of Asia, to make predatory inroads on the southern
parts of Bengal, and to carry off all the booty which they
could collect, including men, women, and children, who
are sold for slaves. They have even had the boldness to
descend on the coast of Chittagong, to proceed into the
country, plunder and burn the villages, destroy what they
could not carry away, and make slaves of the inhabitants.
It was to an incursion of this sort in 1777 that we owe
our first knowledge of this country. In February 1776 it
is mentioned by Major R. E. Roberts,1 who was residing
at Islaamabad, that a body of them made an inroad on the
southern parts of Bengal, and carried off about 1800 men,
women, and children, who were brought to Arracan, where
the rajah was allowed his choice from the female captives;
after which the remainder were conducted with ropes
about their necks to the market-place, and being there
sold, were employed in the cultivation of the lands and
other laborious employments. It was from some of those
captives who escaped that any information was obtained
of this eastern country.
Before the province of Chittagong was ceded to the
company, the British territories were frequently exposed
to the inroads of these plunderers, and an immense ex¬
pense was incurred in maintaining a sea and land force to
repel them; and there are still vestiges of a fortification
round the town of Islaamabad, which was raised up by the
inhabitants as a defence against their inroads. Even the
possession of the province of Chittagong, owing to the ex¬
tent of its coast, did not wholly prevent their attacks; and
a considerable force was still found necessary for the pro¬
tection of the company’s territories, which were from time
to time molested by their hostile incursions; and Major
R. E. Roberts, in an account of Arracan, published in the
Asiatic Miscellany at Calcutta in 1777, observes, with a
A R R
singularly penetrating and almost prophetic spirit, when Amoa
he is pointing out the impolicy of merely acting on the
defensive against these marauders, “ The longer they ^
continue unattacked the more powerful and outrageous
they will become, till at last it will be found necessary,
for the immediate preservation of all the southern parts
of Bengal, to enter into an expensive and perhaps bloody
war with them.”
Arracan, from the character of its inhabitants, who are
rude and indolent, possesses no surplus produce with which
to trade to other countries; and salt is the only article of
export. This country was formerly the medium of com¬
mercial intercourse between Asia and Hindostan, export¬
ing to the former European goods, such as velvet, broad
cloths, piece goods, silks, muslins, betel-nut, salt, &c., and
receiving in return ivory, silver, copper, sugar, tobacco,
oil, and lacquered ware. The country being so poor and
unproductive, produces only about 220 rupees of revenue,
which will hardly defray the expense of its civil and mili¬
tary establishments; and it is retained, not for profit, but
as an outpost of defence against the incursions and grow¬
ing power of the Burmese empire.
The natives of Arracan trace their history as far back
as A. d. 701, and give a lineal succession of 120 native
princes down to modern times. According to them their
empire had at one time far wider limits, and extended
over Ava, part of China, and the Bengal territories. This
extension of their empire does not agree with any known
facts in history. At different times the Moguls and Pe-
guers carried their arms into the heart of the country.
The Portuguese, during the era of their greatness in
Asia, gained a temporary establishment in Arracan. But
in 1788 the province, with all its dependencies, was finally
conquered by the Burmese; and though the inhabitants
made desperate efforts to recover their independence, they
were always foiled by the discipline and numbers of their
enemies, who contrived to extract from this ill-cultivated
tract a surplus revenue of 18,000 rupees. In 1825 the
British army in Arracan became a prey to the destructive
climate, and died in great numbers; and it has since proved
equally injurious to the native regiments stationed on the
coast.
Arracan, the capital of the above province, situated
on a river of the same name, about 40 miles from the sea.
The town is chiefly built of bamboo huts, and stands in a
valley surrounded by hills, and covered with marshes and
canals, communicating with a number of small streams,
running between low muddy banks. The tide overflows
to a considerable extent the flat borders of the river Ar¬
racan, and by its reflux converts these into a pestilential
swamp, on which a great part of the town of Arracan is
built. In such an unfavourable situation, it is necessary
to drive wooden posts into the ground to obtain a founda¬
tion for the houses, under which the water flows. We
need not wonder that a place so situated should be un¬
healthy for Europeans. The town is perpetually involved
in the putrid exhalations from these swamps, which are a
perpetual source of disease. Where the ground is not
swampy it consists of a soft species of rock. The sur¬
rounding ground is irregularly diversified by hills, con¬
nected by nai'row ridges, and separated by ravines, either
occupied by a stream or a marsh. The houses are con¬
nected by wooden bridges; and in its centre is a square^
surrounded by a wall containing pagodas and images of
Gaudma, of all sizes, from an inch to 20 feet in height.
The town and fort were taken by the Burmese in 1783.
1 Asiatic Annual Register, yol. i.
ARE
Anck
Atfig11'
nat.
It was taken by the British army in 1825, and was found
to be in a most miserable condition, and the air most pes-
■ tilential.
. ARRACK, a spirituous liquor manufactured at several
places in the East Indies, namely, Goa, Columbo, and Ba¬
tavia. In India every kind of spirituous liquor is known
under the general appellation of arrack; and hence the
various accounts given of the mode of making it, and the
materials used. English gin is called by the natives Eng¬
lish arrack,—and it is certain that the several kinds of
arrack differ as much in flavour as brandy, rum, or any
other spirituous liquor. The manufacture of arrack was
formerly carried on by the Portuguese at Goa, but the
art of making it has been transferred for the most part
from that place to Batavia.
Goa and Batavia are the chief places for arrack. At
Goa there are divers kinds ; single, double, and treble dis¬
tilled. The double distilled, which is that commonly sent
abroad, is but a weak spirit in comparison with Batavia
arrack; yet, on account of its peculiar and agreeable fla¬
vour, is preferred to all the other arracks of India. This
flavour is attributed to the earthen vessels which they use
at Goa to draw the spirit; whereas at Batavia they use
copper stills.
The Parier arrack made at Madras, and the Columbo
and Quilone arrack at other places, being fiery, hot spirits,
are little valued by the Europeans, and therefore rarely
imported, though highly prized among the natives. In
the best Goa arrack, the spirits of the cocoa juice do not
make above a sixth or eighth part.
The Goa arrack is invariably made from a vegetable
A R R
novel disseisin, who prepares and fits it for trial • but this
term more properly denotes the calling of a person to an¬
swer in form of law upon an indictment, &c.
ARRAN, an island on the west coast of Scotland, near
the mouth of the river Clyde, which forms part of the
county of Bute. It is about 20 miles in length by from
8 to 11 in breadth, and contains a superficial area of 165
square miles, or 105,814 acres, of which about 14,431 are
cultivated. Phis island is of an extremely rugged and
mountainous surface, particularly in the northern part, in
which the valleys are deep and romantic. The principal
mountain is Goatfell, which rises, according to accurate
measurement, 2685 feet above the level of the sea, and
is clothed with lichens and mosses. A few others ap¬
proach to the same elevation. There are five small lakes
in the island, from which two streams have their source.
The quadrupeds are not numerous. There are a few red
deer, the remains of a numerous breed, which are said
still to find shelter among the mountains; and wild goats
are still harboured in those parts. The cattle and sheep,
which were formerly small, have been improved by the
introduction of a larger breed. The birds are eagles,
hooded crows, plovers, curlews, black cock, and other
species of grouse, which are exceedingly numerous in the
mountains. Ptarmagans, which were formerly seen, have
now disappeared. Limestone, marl, and slate, are found
in different parts, and there are also indications of coal ;
while in the mountains are found marble, jasper, agates,
cairngorms, and a fine species of rock-crystal called the
Arran diamond. Shoals of herring frequent the shores,
and the herring fishery is prosecuted to a great extent.
- —j ------ ----- - ---- —- xxonc.j xo piuacuuieu iu a great extent.
juice called toddy, which flows by incision from the cocoa- ' No less than 200 fishing vessels, well manned and proper-
nut tree. When a sufficient ouantitv of t.nddv is nrnnnr- Iv fittprl nnt and holnrwdi-wv   1 * J
nut tree. When a sufficient quantity of toddy is procur
ed, it is left to ferment, which it soon does. When the
fermentation is over, and the liquor or wash is become a
little tart, it is put into the still; and a fire being made, the
still is suffered to work as long as that which comes over
has any considerable taste of spirit. The liquor thus pro¬
cured is the low wine of arrack; and this is so poor a
liquor, that it will soon corrupt and spoil if not distilled
again, to separate some of its phlegm; they therefore im¬
mediately after pour back this low wine into the still, and
rectify it to that very weak kind of proof spirit, in which
state we find it. The arrack we meet with, notwithstand¬
ing its being of a proof test, according to the way of judg-
ing by the crown of bubbles, holds but a sixth, and some¬
times but an eighth part of alcohol, or pure spirit; where¬
as our other spirits, when they show that proof, are gene¬
rally esteemed to hold one half pure spirit.
Batavia arrack is obtained by distillation from rice and
sugar. A hot, fiery spirit is imported into Batavia by the
Chinese Junks, called samshew, which is mixed with ar¬
rack, and which is chiefly consumed by the Chinese who
reside in that settlement.
The following are the East India Company’s regulations
for shipping arrack, &c. No arrack or other spirits are
permitted to be shipped in India or China in any of the
Company’s ships returning to Europe, except for the use
of the ship s company on the voyage, or in the immediate
privilege of the commander and officers. Each cask or
chest shipped for the use of the ship’s company must be
marked “ storesand those shipped on the private account
of any of the officers shall be marked with the name at
length of the person to whom it belongs ; and such casks
or chests as shall not be so marked shall be taken and
deemed to be the property of the commander. The ton¬
nage of arrack is calculated at 252 gallons per ton.
ARRAGON. See Aragon.
ARRAIGNMENT, in Laiv, the arraigning or setting a
thing in order, as a person is said to arraign a writ of
ly fitted out, and belonging to the island, are employed
in it. Arran has two remarkably fine harbours, Lamlash
on the east side, and Loch Ranza on the other. Former¬
ly the style of agriculture was extremely rude and im¬
perfect; but the improved system has now been adopted
in all its branches. Most of the high land was at one
time a common, on which the cattle of all the tenants
was indiscriminately pastured. The whole of the culti¬
vated land is now subdivided and inclosed, and the hills
laid out in sheep-walks. Flax is cultivated in small
quantities, and linens and some woollens are manufac¬
tured. With the exception of a few farms, the whole
island belongs to the Duke of Hamilton, who has very
lately begun to take an interest in its improvement, and
expended a considerable sum in making roads, bridges,
and small harbours. It has several castles of great an¬
tiquity ; one, the castle of Brodick, which was garrisoned
by Sir J. Hawkins in the reign of Edward II.; another at
Lochvanza, built by Robert II. as a hunting seat. Popu¬
lation 6754.
ARRAS, an arrondissement in the Pas de Calais, in
France, extending over 552 square miles, or 353,280 acres.
It is divided into nine cantons, and these into 218 com¬
munes, containing 143,615 inhabitants. The chief city of
the arrondissement has the same name. It is situated at the
influx of the Erinchon into the navigable river Scarpe. It
is regularly fortified with a citadel, built by Vauban, with
bomb-proof casemates. The city is well built, with regu¬
lar and lofty houses. The cathedral is a sumptuous Go¬
thic edifice, besides which there are twelve parish churches,
the Abbey of St Wast, now the barracks, and some other
fine public edifices. The inhabitants, 19,498 in number,
are generally very industrious, and carry on extensive
manufactories of fine linen and of lace, besides which there
are establishments for refining sugar, for making soap,
salt, starch, several breweries, and mills for spinning cot¬
ton. The manufactories have, however, declined consi¬
derably since the peace. It is the birthplace of the as-
627
Arran
Arras.
G28 A R R
A R R
sassin Damiens, and of the two brothers Robespierre. It
is in long. 2. 50. 54. E. and lat. 50. 17. 37. N.
ARRAY, in Law, the ranking or setting forth of a jury,
or inquest of men impannelled on a cause.
ARRAYERS, Arragers, or Arraitores, is used in
some ancient statutes for such officers as had care ot the
soldiers’ armour, and saw them duly accoutred in their
kinds. In some reigns commissioners were appointed for
this purpose.
ARRENTATION, in the forest laws, implies the li¬
censing the owner of lands in a forest to inclose them with
a low hedge and a small ditch, in consideration of a year¬
ly rent.
ARREOYS. Among the more singular secret socie¬
ties which mankind have formed, is one in Otaheite and
the neighbouring islands for the destruction of their own
species, called Arreoy, Arehoe, or Earowie ; and it is not
a little remarkable that it should subsist among tribes dis¬
tinguished for courteousness and humanity. We read in
the older authors that there is an absolute prohibition
against the females of Formosa rearing children before
the age of thirty-six, though it does not appear that there
is any limitation as to the age at which their espousals
may take place. But in the event of pregnancy, it is ne¬
cessary that abortion should follow, which is accomplish¬
ed by the aid of the priestesses of the island. Among
the Arreoys, however, extirpation of the infant being con¬
stitutes the leading feature of their ordinances.
Whether Mendana, Quiros, and the earlier navigators
of the South Pacific Ocean, discovered this society, does
not appear: it has, at any rate, been reserved for those
of later date to unfold its principles and peculiarities,
though, indeed, its constitution is still enveloped in much
mystery, the members being bound to the strictest se¬
crecy.
The society of Arreoys consists of hundreds or perhaps
thousands of both sexes, who engage to destroy their own
offspring at the moment of birth. It is chiefly composed
of persons distinguished by valour and merit, and hence one
or more individuals of each family of the chiefs are of the
number. It has been remarked, that all the men profess
themselves warriors, and are in general stout and well made;
that the greatest trust and confidence are reposed in them ;
and it rather appears that the women consist of the higher
ranks only. There are different gradations in this com¬
munity, which are to be recognised from the mode of tat¬
tooing : the more profusely the men are tattooed, the
higher is their rank in society; the first are called Ava bly
areema tutowe ; 2, Areema bly; 3, Ahowhoa ; 4, Harrotea;
5, Eote ole ; 6, 7, Po ; and youths training up are design¬
ed Mo ; but the meaning of these names is not explained.
By the fundamental laws of the society, the offspring must
be destroyed, yet it is not known with certainty by whom
or in what particular manner; the murder is always per¬
petrated in secret, probably by strangulation ; all the at¬
tendants are excluded; for it is said, were they to witness
it they would be adjudged guilty of participation, and
put to death. Sometimes the mother, animated by na¬
tural affection, tries to preserve her infant, and resists
the persuasions of her husband and his brother Arreoys,
who wish to consign it to destruction. But in general
the enormity of the crime does not appal the females,
though they are described to be affectionate and ten¬
der. We find a dancing girl pregnant by an Arreoy
expressing herself thus to the English navigators: “ Per¬
haps the Etooa or deity of England might be offended
with the practices of the Arreoys, but her own was not
displeased with them. However, she promised if we would
come from England for her child, she might perhaps keep
it alive, provided we gave her a hatchet, a shirt, and some
red feathers.” That the rules of the community are very Arreovs
strict, may be inferred from an instance given by Captain
Bligb. A chief, a member of the society, married a sister
of the king of Otaheite, by whom he had eight children,
and the whole were destroyed at their birth ! Nor did this
enormity seem to originate from any other source, as the
parents afterwards adopted a nephew as their heir.
It may here be observed, that there are other practices
among these people regarding infanticide, which, though
we want materials for positively affirming the fact, may
perhaps be connected with the institutions of the Arreoys.
When an Otaheitan chief has a child by a woman of the
lower orders, it is never suffered to live; and the like
seems to take place reciprocally among the higher ranks
of females. The king and queen of Otaheite having
ceased to cohabit, he had taken another wife, and she as¬
sociated with one of her attendants of low rank. When
pregnant, the missionaries endeavoured to persuade her
to spare her child, which she said she would have done
had it been her husband’s, but now it would be base-born,
and must perish; and she resisted all entreaties to the
contrary. Afterwards, having visited them, she excused
herself for having put the infant to death, stating that it
was the custom of the country to murder all base-born
children, and hers being by a low man, she had only com¬
plied with the usual practice. Indeed it is affirmed by
the missionaries who visited that island in 1797 to be a
common proceeding among all ranks to strangle infants
the moment they are born. “ A perpetrator of this hor¬
rid act,” the narrator observes, “ was among those whom
curiosity attracted to visit us. She was a good-looking
woman, and esteemed by the natives a great beauty, which
I suppose to be the inducement that tempted her to mur¬
der her child ; for here the number of women bearing no
proportion to the men, those esteemed handsome were
courted with great gifts, and got so accustomed to change
their husbands, to go with them from place to place, and
run after the diversions of the island, that rather than be
debarred those pleasures, they stifle a parent’s feelings,
and murder their tender children.” Thus many hundred!"
born into the world are never suffered to see the light;
and so little criminality in the opinion of the natives is
attached to the deed, that many women disclose the num¬
ber they have put to death without scruple. It has been
calculated that at least two thirds of the births on the
island perish in this manner.
The Arreoys enjoy great privileges, and are everywhere
united by the reciprocal ties of friendship and hospitality.
When they visit different islands, they receive presents,
and are entertained with feasting and dramatic exhibi¬
tions ; and all this they seem to expect rather as a matter of
right than of courtesy. Their clothes are of the finest ma¬
terials. They pass their time in luxurious idleness, per¬
fuming their hair with fragrant oils, singing and playing
on the flute, and passing from one amusement to another.
“ Wherever they go,” says Forster, “ the train of sensual
pleasure awaits them.” They feast on the choicest vege¬
tables ; and an abundance of dogs’ flesh and poultry are
liberally provided by the lower classes for their entertain¬
ment. They are copiously supplied with kava; and for
them are performed nocturnal sports of music and lasci¬
vious dances, to which no other spectators are admitted.
Their presence seems to enliven the whole country; and
among the various entertainments to which it gives birth,
is one called hopowpah, of a dramatic nature, in which
they themselves act a part. As soon as one Arreoy visits
another, though a stranger, he immediately has his wants
supplied and his wishes gratified; he is introduced to
other members, who vie with each other in loading him
with courtesies and presents. They are of all others the
A R R
Ant7g. most luxurious and profuse, often consuming the whole
provisions of a district. When Captain Cook lay at Hua-
heine, no less than 70 canoes were observed crossing over
to another island with 700 Arreoys on board; and thus
they keep great meetings at appointed times, and travel
in companies from one island to another. It has been
affirmed, but perhaps without sufficient foundation, that a
promiscuous intercourse of the sexes prevails in their so¬
ciety ; however, they are permitted great latitude in their
amours, except in times of danger, as almost all are fight¬
ing men. Sufficient inducements are, therefore, held out
to be admitted into this mysterious community.
Any one may withdraw at pleasure from the society;
and an example is given of a chief who had killed his first¬
born child, but preserved the second, having withdrawn
in the interval. A woman who ceases to be an Arreoy
incurs a reproachful name, signifying “ bearer of children.”
Thus, while in most other countries the name of parent
confers honour and respect, among the Arreoys of Ota-
heite it is used as a term of contempt and reproach. A
chief of some repute, hearing that the king of Great Bri¬
tain had a numerous offspring, declared that “ he thought
himself a much greater man, because he belonged to the
Arreoys.”
With respect to the origin of this society, Forster was
the first to offer any conjectures. “ In a countiy,” says
he, “which has emerged so lately from barbarism as Ota-
heite, we cannot suppose that such a community, which
is evidently injurious to the rest of the nation, would have
maintained itself to the present time, were not its advan¬
tages so considerable as to require its continuance.” There
are two causes, he adds, which favour the existence of
the Arreoys ; first, the necessity for entertaining a body
of warriors to defend their fellow-citizens from the inva¬
sions and depredations of enemies ; secondly, it was ne¬
cessary, by such an association, to prevent the too rapid
increase of the number of their chiefs. “ Perhaps,” he
remarks, “ some intelligent Otaheitan lawgiver might
foresee that the common people would at length groan
Under the yoke of such petty tyrants, whose number was
ever multiplying.” The ordinary practice of infanticide
is ascribed by Mr Wilson, who visited the South Seas in
1801, merely to the love of pleasure and avarice, which
latter passion had gained great ascendancy since the
intercourse of the islanders with Europeans ; “ being well
aware,” says he, “ that the beauty of females rearing
families experiences an earlier decay, it is anxiously pre¬
served for their visitors, by destruction of their offspring,
or even by procuring abortion.” Before offering any opi¬
nion on this point, we shall notice a custom in the north¬
west of India somewhat analogous, which also is attended
with mystery.
Amongst certain tribes called Jarejahs, which are more
particularly disseminated in the peninsula of Guzerat, the
whole females are devoted to death at the moment of
their birth. But this is in consequence of general custom,
not of any special association. The immediate death of
a daughter is viewed as the inevitable consequence of its
birth; and the innocent beings falling a sacrifice to this
barbarous ordinance yearly amount to many thousands.
When a woman is delivered of a daughter, the event is
communicated by the female attendants to the father,
who desires them to do as is customary; an injunction
said to be followed by the mother applying a little opium
on the nipple of her breast, which is sucked in by the
child. More usually it is strangled by herself, or drown¬
ed in a basin of milk; but women of rank, who have at¬
tendants, never perform the office themselves. However,
from the mystery observed, it is, as among the Arreoys,
difficult to obtain correct information. In some districts,
A R R
629
any of the female attendants may put the infant to death; Arrest,
in others, a kind of domestic priest becomes the execu-
tioner; and the infant being placed naked in a small bas¬
ket, it is carried out to be interred, for which he receives
a trifling fee. Among the Arreoys, those who preserve
their children seem to suffer a degree of degradation;
and they plead as an apology for their destruction, that
it is necessary to preserve the privileges of their tribe.
With the Jarejahs, the father is obeyed on signifying his
desire for preservation; but if he continues silent on re¬
ceiving the intelligence, the usual custom must be com- •
plied with. The mother is generally averse to the sacri¬
fice, but her scruples to preserve her offspring are seldom
attended to; should a short interval elapse, however, be¬
fore the bloody deed is done, it then becomes unlawful,
and the child must be spared.
Perhaps the murderous practices of the Arreoys in the
South Sea islands may have originated in some religious
principle. At the same time, it appears that, in the or¬
dinary destruction of infants by the islanders of the South
Pacific Ocean, there is nothing of a sacrificial nature;
for though they do not suppose that their displeasure is
thereby incurred, they do not pretend that the practice
is acceptable to any of their divinities. Mr Malthus, we
may add, ascribes the origin of the Arreoy institutions to a
superabundance of population, and the necessity of adopt¬
ing some forcible expedients to bring it within the limits
of subsistence. (See Forster’s Voyage, vol. ii.; Cook’s
First and Second Voyages; Bligh’s Voyage; Missionary
Voyage ; Hamilton’s Account of the Loss of the Pandora.')
ARREST, in English Law (from the French word
arrester, to stop or stay), is the restraint of a man’s person,
obliging him to be obedient to the law, and is defined to
be the execution of the command of some court of record
or office of justice. Arrests are either in civil or criminal
cases. Is#, An arrest in a civil cause is defined to be the
apprehending or restraining one’s person by process, in
execution of the command of some court. 2d, An arrest
in a criminal cause is the apprehending or restraining one’s
person in order to be forthcoming to answer an alleged
crime.
Arrests by private persons are in some cases command¬
ed. Persons present at the committing of a felony must
use their endeavours to apprehend the offender, under
penalty of fine and imprisonment; and they are also, with
the utmost diligence, to pursue and endeavour to take all
those who shall be guilty thereof out of their view, upon
a hue and cry levied against them. By the vagrant act,
17 Geo. II. cap. 5, every person may apprehend beggars
and vagrants; and every private person is bound to assist
an officer requiring him to apprehend a felon.
In some cases, likewise, arrests by private persons are
rewarded by law. By the 4 and 5 William and Mary,
cap. 8, persons apprehending highwaymen, and prosecut¬
ing them to a conviction, are entitled to a reward of LAO;
and if they are killed in the attempt, their executors, &c.
are entitled to the like reward. By the 6 and 7 William
III. cap. 17, persons apprehending counterfeiters and clip¬
pers of the coin, and prosecuting them to conviction, are
entitled to LAO.
By 5 Anne, cap. 31, persons who shall take any one
guilty of burglary, or the felonious breaking and entering
any house in the daytime, and prosecute them to convic¬
tion, shall receive the sum of LAO, within one month after
such conviction.
With regard to arrests by public officers, as watchmen,
constables, &c. they are either made by their own autho¬
rity, which differs but very little from the power of a pri¬
vate person ; or they are made by a warrant from a jus¬
tice of peace.
630
Arrest¬
ment
II
Arsamas.
'—^
A R S
Arrest of Judgment, in Law, is the assigning just reason
why judgment should not pass; as, want of notice of the
trial; a material defect in the pleading; when the record
differs from the deed impleaded; when persons are mis¬
named ; where more is given by the verdict than is laid
in the declaration, &c.
ARRESTMENT, in Scots Law, denotes that diligence
by which a creditor detains the goods or effects of his
debtor in the hands of third parties till the debt due to
him shall be paid.
ARRHABONARII, a sect of Christians, who held that
the eucharist is neither the real flesh nor blood of Christ,
nor yet the sign of them; but only the pledge or earnest
thereof.
ARRHEPHORIA, a feast among the Athenians, in¬
stituted in honour of Minerva, and of Herse, daughter of
Cecrops.
ARRIAN, a philosopher and historian, who flourished
in the time of the emperor Adrian and the two Anto-
nines, was born at Nicomedia in Bithynia. His learning
and eloquence procured him the title of The Second
Xenophon, and raised him to the most considerable dig¬
nities at Rome, even the consulship itself. Many of his
pieces have been lost. Of his dissertations upon Epictetus,
there have been preserved four of the eight books which
he wrote. His history of the expeditions of Alexander
the Great, in seven books, is the most valuable of his re¬
mains. The work entitled the Periplus of the Red Sea
has been ascribed to him by many, but, as Dr Vincent
contends, erroneously. (See Vincent, Dr William.) The
best editions of Arrian are those of Gronovius and Schmei-
der; the one published in 1704, the other in 1798.
ARRIEGO, a department of France, bounded on the
east by Aude, on the south-east by the Eastern Pyrenees,
on the south by the mountains, and on the west and north
by the department of the Upper Garonne. Its extent is
244 square miles, or 143,360 acres. It sends two deputies
to the Chamber, is in the diocese of Pamiers, and within
the jurisdiction of the royal tribunal of Toulouse. It
Contains three arrondissements, 20 cantons, and 330 com¬
munes. The population by the last returns appears to be
229,760 inhabitants. The chief towns are Tarascon, Aix,
and Mirepoix.
ARROE, a small but very fruitful island in the Baltic,
to the south-west of Funen. Its greatest length is three
Swedish miles, but its breadth is not more than half a
mile. It belongs to the duchy of Sleswick, and came de¬
finitively to the crown of Denmark in the year 1749. Fire¬
wood is scarce, as every spot of ground is under tillage.
The horses and black cattle are in good condition. Agri¬
culture, navigation, and fishing, are the chief sources of
income. Population above 4500. Long. 10. 20. E. Lat. 54.
53. N.
ARROYO del Puerto, a town of Spain, on the Ayuda,
in the province of Estremadura, containing 5000 inhabi¬
tants. There is a pottery here, which employs 52 work¬
men, and furnishes 208,000 pieces of ware annually.
ARROW, a missile weapon of offence, slender pointed
and barbed, to be cast or shot with a bow. See Archery.
AnRow-Makers are called fletchers, and were formerly,
as well as bowyers, persons of great consequence in the
commonwealth.
ARSACES, otherwise Mithridates, a king of the
Parthians, spoken of in the first book of Maccabees. He
considerably enlarged the kingdom of Parthia by his good
conduct and valour.
ARSAMAS, a circle of the Russian government of
Nishegorod, between long. 43. 21. and 44. 10. E. and lat.
54. 3/. and 55. 28. N. It is watered by the rivers Tescha
and Scholka, which flow to the Volga. It is an undulat-
A R T
ing country ; much of it is covered with wood, and some Amir,
part of it with swamps; but it produces flax in abundance |l
and corn sufficient for the use of the inhabitants, who Art-
amount to 120,000, of whom 4351 are slaves belonging toV^Y>
the crown, and 23,643 belonging to other individual nobles.
The chief employment is wood-cutting, potash burning
and spinning linen yarn.
Arsamas, the capital of the Russian circle of the same
name, at the junction of the river Scholka with the
Tescha. It is an old and ill-built city, with 20 wood
and 2 stone churches, some other public buildings, 1416
houses, and about 8000 inhabitants. There are some
manufactures of the leather peculiar to Russia, of soap,
and of woad; and many shoes are made for distant mar¬
kets. The merchants deal largely in linen and sail-cloth.
It is in lat. 55. 27. N. and long. 43. 46. E.
ARSENAL, a royal or public magazine, or place ap¬
pointed for the making and keeping of arms necessary
either for defence or assault. Some derive this word
from arx, a fortress; others from ars, denoting a machine;
others again from arx and senatus, because this was the
defence of the senate ; but the more probable opinion de¬
rives it from the Arabic darsenaa, which signifies arsenal.
The arsenal of Venice is the place where the galleys are
built and laid up. The arsenal of Paris is that where the
cannon or great guns are cast.
ARSENIUS, a deacon of the Roman church, of great
learning and piety. He was appointed by the pope to
go to the emperor Theodosius, as tutor to his son Arca-
dius. Arsenius arrived at Constantinople in the year 383.
The emperor happening one day to go into the room where
he was instructing Arcadius, his son was seated and the
preceptor standing. At this he was exceedingly displeas¬
ed, took from his son the imperial ornaments, made Ar¬
senius sit in his place, and ordered Arcadius for the future
to receive his lessons standing uncovered. Arcadius, how¬
ever, profited little by his tutor’s instructions, for some
time after he formed a design of dispatching him. The
officer to whom Arcadius had applied for this purpose
divulged the affair to Arsenius, who retired to the deserts
of Scete, where he passed many years in the exercises of
the most strict and fervent devotion. He died there, at
95 years of age.
ARSHOT, a town of the Austrian Netherlands, situat¬
ed about 14 miles east of the city of Mechlin, in long.
4. 45. E. lat. 51. 5. N.
ARSON, in English Law, is the malicious and wilful
burning of the house or outhouse of another man; which
is felony at common law.
ARSURA, in ancient customs, a term used for the melt¬
ing of gold or silver, either to refine them or to examine
their value. The method of doing this is explained at
large in the Black Book of the Exchequer, ascribed to
Gervaise, in the chapter De Officio Militis Argentarii,
being in those days of great use, on account of the various
places and different manners in which the king’s money
was paid.
Arsura is also used for the loss or diminution of the
metal in the trial. In this sense a pound was said tot
ardere denarios, to lose so many pennyweights.
Arsura is likewise used for the dust and sweepings of
silversmiths, and others who work in silver melted down.
ARTA, or Larta, a town of Lower Albania, in Euro¬
pean Turkey, containing about 6000 inhabitants, Turks
and Christians, who carry on a trade in cattle, wine, tobac¬
co, cotton, flax, pulse, fur, leather, wheat, &c. They also
manufacture cotton and woollen stuffs. Arta is situated
about 9 miles from the gulf to which it gives name, other¬
wise called Prevesa. Long. 21. 8. E. Lat. 39. 30. N.
ART ABA, an ancient measure of capacity used by the
ART
ArtfcZUs Persians, Medes, and Egyptians. The Persian artaba is
represented by Herodotus as larger than the Attic ine-
Art Hi- dimnus by three Attic choenixes: from which it appears
dc‘s' that it was equal to 6^ Roman modii ; consequently it con¬
tained 166f pounds of wine or water, or 126§ pounds of
wheat. The Egyptian artaba contained five Roman modii,
and fell short of the Attic medimnus by one modius; it
consequently held 133A pounds of water or wine, or 100
pounds of wheat.
ARTABAZUS, the son of Pharnaces, commander of
the I arthians and Chorasmians in the famous expedition
of Xeixes. After the battle of Salamis he escorted his
sovereign to the Hellespont with 60,000 chosen men; and
after the battle of 1 lataea, in which IVlardonius engaged
in opposition to his wishes and advice, he made a noble
retreat into Asia with 40,000 men under his command.
ARIAXERXES, the name of several kings of Persia.
See Persia.
ARTEDI, Peter, an eminent naturalist, was born in
Sweden in the year 1705, in the province of Angermania.
Although his parents were poor, yet it appears they found
means to give him a liberal education, and with this view
sent him to the college of PIurnesand. Intending to em¬
brace the ecclesiastical profession, he went in 1724 to
Upsal ; but he turned his attention to medicine from the
strong bent of his mind for the study of natural history, in
which science he made rapid progress, and soon rose to con¬
siderable eminence, particularly in the department of ich¬
thyology. Confining his botanical studies to the umbelli¬
ferous plants, he suggested a new mode of classification.
But Artedi was much better acquainted with chemistry
than botany. His attention, however, was chiefly directed
to ichthyology, the classification of which he greatly re¬
formed, and new-modelled upon philosophical principles.
This arrangement added greatly to his reputation as a na¬
turalist at the time, and afterwards became popular over
Europe.. In 1 / 28 his celebrated countryman Linnaeus
arrived in Upsal, having been appointed to deliver lec¬
tures on botany in that place; and so high stood the
character of Artedi as a philosopher, that a lasting friend¬
ship was formed between these two great men. In 1732
both left Upsal; Artedi for England, in pursuit of his
favourite study, and Linnaeus for Lapland, to examine
its natural productions; but before parting, they reci¬
procally bequeathed to each other their manuscripts and
books upon the event of death. However, in the year
1735 they met again at Leyden, where Artedi was intro¬
duced to Seba, and employed in preparing for the press
the third volume of that eminent naturalist’s Thesaurus,
which chiefly related to fishes. Artedi formed the reso¬
lution, as soon as that work was finished, to return to his
native country, and publish the fruits of his own labours;
but as he was returning home from Seba’s house on the
evening of the 27th September 1735, the night being dark,
ne tell into the canal and was unfortunately drowned. Ac-
cordingto agreement, his manuscripts came into the hands
o Linnaeus, and his Bibliotheca Ichthyologica and Philoso-
pm IcMyologica, together with a life of the author, were
published at Leyden in the year 1738
ARTEMIDORUS, famous for his Treatise on Dreams,
was born at Ephesus, and lived under the emperor Antoni¬
nus ms. He styled himself the Ephesian in all his perfor-
TnC?5-but thnf °n Dreams, where he took the cognomen
u aldianus, in compliment to his mother country Daltis.
n this work he expended vast labour, not only possessing
noise t of all that had been written on the subject, but
ravelling for years in search of fortune-tellers, as well as
corresponding with them in various parts, and collecting
n oimation on old dreams, and the events which were
to have followed them, it consisted of five books,
art
631
aboun(ling in frivolous observations, contained Artemisia
o hers that were interesting. It was first printed in Greek li
lbl8; fnTd K-Jgaltius published an edition at ,A-rthur-
Bans, in Greek and Latin, in 1603, to which he added
some notes. Artemidorus wrote also a treatise upon Au¬
guries, and another upon Chiromancy, but they are not
now extant. J
, ARTEMISIA, wife of Mausolus, king of Caria, has
immortalized herself by the honours which she paid to the
memory of her husband. She built for him, in Halicar¬
nassus, a very magnificent tomb, called the Mausoleum,
which was one of the seven wonders of the world, and
from which the title of Mausoleum was afterwards given
to all tombs remarkable for their grandeur; but she died
of regret and sorrow before it was finished. She appoint¬
ed panegyrics to be made in honour of him, and proposed
a prize of great value for the person who should compose
the best. She died about the end of the 106th Olympiad,
351 years before the Christian era.
Artemisia, queen of Caria, and daughter of Ligdamis
marched in person in the expedition of Xerxes against the
Greeks, and performed wonders in the sea-fight near Sa¬
lamis, 480 years before the Christian era. She was pas¬
sionately fond of a man named Dardanus, of Abydos • but
enraged at his neglect of her, she put out his eyes while
he was asleep. The gods punished her for this, by increas¬
ing the passion she entertained for him; so that the oracle
having advised her to go to Leucas, which was the usage
of desperate lovers, she took the leap from thence, and
was interred at that place. Many writers cdnfound this
Artemisia with the former, the wife of Mausolus.
ARTEMISIUM, in Ancient Geography, a promontory
on the north-east of Euboea (called Leon and Gale Acte
iy Ptolemy), memorable for the first sea engagements
between the Greeks and Xerxes.
AR1HUR, the celebrated hero of the Britons, is said
to have been the son ofUthor Pendragon, king of Britain,
and to have been born in 501. His life is a continued
series of wonders. It is said that he killed 470 Saxons
with his own hand in one day; and, after having subdued
many mighty nations, and instituted the order of the
Knights of the Round Table, died a. d. 542, of wounds
which he received in battle. The most particular detail
of his story and his exploits is that given by Geoffroy of
Monmouth; but there the probable is so blended with the
marvellous and extravagant, that not only the truth of the
whole, but even the reality of Arthur’s existence, has been
called in question. In this controversy Mr Whittaker has
taken much pains, in his History of Manchester, to vindi¬
cate the existence, and discriminate between the real and
the fabulous transactions, of the British worthy. But a
severe critic might be apt to say that it requires much
faith in the author’s judgment, not to suspect that he
sometimes allows too much scope to fancy and conjecture
According to Mr Whittaker, Arthur’s principal exploits’
were against the northern Saxons, whilst he was only
prince of the Silures, and Ambrosius was the dictator or
pendragon of the Britons. “ In a series probably of five
campaigns, and in a succession certainly of eleven victories
this great commander had repelled the Saxons from the
north of Flavia, dislodged them from all Maxima, and dis¬
possessed them of all Valentia. And these were successes
so unchequered with misfortunes, so great in themselves,
and so beneficial to the public, that the name of Arthur
claims the first rank in the list of military, and the better
one of patriot, heroes.” The twelfth battle of Arthur was
fought in the south of England, after he was elected to
the pendragonship, against Cerdic the Saxon. “ This,”
says Mr Whittaker, “ was a most extraordinary victory,
and completes the circle of Arthur’s military glories.” In
632
ART
ART
the author’s account of this prince’s conduct in peace, he
asserts, that “ Arthur saw that an appointment was want¬
ed, which should at once be a more regular and more ho¬
nourable signature of merit—by the certainty of the ho¬
nour and the greatness of the dignity, call out all the worth
of all the worthy in the nation, and collect it round the
throne of the pendragon. Accordingly he established a
military order. It was the first that had ever been insti¬
tuted in the island; and it has since been imitated by all
the nations on the continent. By means of this associa¬
tion, Arthur raised among the provincials a general glow
of ingenuous heroism, the first spirit of chivalry that ever
appeared in Europe ; that manly and honourable gallantry
of soul, which has made him and his worthies the subject
of romantic histories over all the west of it. By this, and
this alone, could he have been what history represents
him, the Revered Father of the British Heroes in general,
even to the conclusion of the sixth century, and nearly
the middle of the seventh. The order naturally survived
its founder; and the members of it were denominated
the Warriors of Arthur, though the persons were born half
a century after his death.”
Arthur’s Seat, a high hill in the neighbourhood of
Edinburgh, said to have been so denominated from a tra¬
dition that King Arthur surveyed the country from its
summit, and also defeated the Saxons in its neighbour¬
hood. It rises by a steep ascent, till it terminates in a
rocky point about 810 feet high from the base. The tra¬
veller may here sit and survey at his ease the centre of
the kingdom, besides having a complete view of Edinburgh,
on which he looks down as if seated among the clouds.
The whole forms a landscape sublime, various, and beau¬
tiful, in a very high degree.
ARTICLE, in Grammar, denotes a particle used in
most languages for the declining of nouns, and denoting
the several cases and genders thereof. The use of articles
arises chiefly from this, that in languages which have no
different terminations to express the different states and
circumstances of nouns, there is something required to
supply that office. The Latins have no articles ; but the
Greeks, and most of the modern languages, have had re- Artifice
course to them, for fixing and ascertaining the vague sig- ||
nification of common and appellative names. The Greeks ^tiller
have their 6, the Italians their il, lo, and la ; the French '“'Y*
their le, la, and les ; the Germans their der, das, dat. The
English also have two articles, a and the, which being
prefixed to substantives, apply their general signification
to some particular things. Some grammarians make the
article a distinct part of speech ; others will have it a pro¬
noun, and others a noun adjective. See Grammar.
ARTIFICER, a person who works in iron, brass, wood,
&c. such as smiths, brasiers, carpenters, &C. The Roman
artificers had their peculiar temples, where they assem¬
bled and chose their own patron to defend their causes;
and they were exempted from all personal services. Tarun-
tenus Paternus reckons 32 species of artificers, and Con¬
stantine 35, who enjoyed this privilege. The artificers
were incorporated into divers colleges or companies, each
of which had their tutelar gods, to whom they offered their
worship. Several of these, when they quitted their pro¬
fession, hung up their tools, a votive offering to their gods.
Artificers were held a degree below merchants and ar-
gentarii or money-changers, and their employment more
sordid. Some deny that in the earliest ages of the Ro¬
man state artificers were ranked in the number of citizens;
others, who assert their citizenship, allow that they were
held in contempt, as being unfit for war, and so poor that
they could scarcely pay any taxes; for which reason they
were not entered among the citizens in the censor’s books;
the design of the census being only to see what number of
persons were yearly fit to bear arms and to pay taxes
towards the support of the state. It may be added, that
much of the artificers’ business was done by slaves and
foreigners, who left little for the Romans to mind but
their husbandry and war.
ARTIFICIAL, in a general sense, denotes something
made, fashioned, or produced by art, in contradistinction
from the production of nature.
Artificial Fire-works. See Pyrotechny.
Artificial Magnets. See Magnets.
ARTILLERY.
The discovery of gunpowder by Roger Bacon in the
thirteenth century, and of its application to military pur¬
poses by Schwartz in the fourteenth, caused a complete
revolution in this branch of the art of war. The term ar¬
tillery, previous to this discovery, denoted, in a general
sense, all kinds of missiles, and the machines used in pro¬
pelling them. Thus the artillery of the ancients consist¬
ed of the catapulta and balista, of darts, arrows, and other
purely mechanical contrivances; while, at a later period,
the Franks and their contemporaries used a species of
small hatchet as a missile, discharging it at their enemies
much in the same manner as the North American In¬
dians do their tomahawks in the present day. However,
the signification of the term changing with the advance¬
ment of science, we understand by it, in modern phrase¬
ology? guns? howitzers, and mortars, with their carriages,
beds, ammunition, and apparatus of all kinds, and the
troops specially appointed for their management.
In the rapid growth of scientific improvement which,
during the last thirty-five years, has extended through
every branch of our military establishment, there is no¬
thing more remarkable or more honourable to our national
ingenuity and energy than the changes which have been
wrought in the organization of the ordnance service.
These changes are such as to render the British artillery,
from having been among the worst in Europe, absolutely
the very finest and best—an example for the envy of the
military powers of the Continent, and a model for the
avowed imitation of even that nation which has hereto¬
fore been held to excel all others in the qualities of mar¬
tial science. It has hitherto been admitted by universal
consent, that, of all the people of Europe, the French have
habitually, in their national character, shown most original
genius and aptitude for military affairs; and it is there¬
fore not a little gratifying to the British artillerist to ob¬
serve these acknowledged masters of the art of war-—
these boasted instructors of our earlier years—surpassed
in their own favourite vocation, and reduced to become m
their turn the pupils and imitators of our military know¬
ledge and invention.
This practical homage on the part of the French to the
decided superiority of our artillery is a circumstance pub¬
licly and candidly admitted by some at least of their own
writers. A memoir by the chef-de-bataillon Parizot, a
skilful officer of the French artillery, details six essentia
advantages in the British system over that of his countr)-
men ; and Dupin, who quotes this memoir, adds, m a
note, the following testimony of a French general ofiicer
ARTILLERY.
Art-217- who attended the review of the allied armies of occupation
^ ■^in France in 1818. “ J’ai observe, avec beaucoup d’atten-
tion, les manoeuvres d’artillerie des diverses puissances ; j’ai
ete frappe de la beaute et da luxe de toutes les troupes
qui composaient farmee, de 1’ordre et de la precision de
leurs mouvemens et de leurs manoeuvres; mais les Ang¬
lais sont les premiers sous tons les rapports”1
All the improvements which have raised the British
artillery to its present state of perfection are, as we have
already said, the work of our own age. At the com¬
mencement of our share in the late war in 1793, the va¬
rious ordnance equipments, as well as the whole compo¬
sition of this branch of our military service, were of the
rudest kind, and on the worst organized and most defec¬
tive plan. The inefficiency of the whole system, indeed,
was palpably betrayed whenever a force was required to
take the field. The guns were dispersed among the in¬
fantry at the rate of two pieces, to a battalion, thereby
rendering it impracticable to employ them for their legi¬
timate purpose—the concentrating a powerful fire of nu¬
merous guns on any important point. They were also
horsed in single team, which needlessly both lengthened
the column of march and diminished the power of draught.
The drivers were on foot with long whips, as were also
the gunners. The ammunition was packed in large rough
deal boxes ; the waggons which conveyed it were heavy
and ill-constructed; and the whole equipment was so cum¬
brous, that it was impossible for the train to move out of
a foot-pace, except for a very short distance; and if in¬
creased speed were attempted before the enemy, the men
came into action breathless and unable to serve their guns.2
But before the commencement of the peninsular war,
that active and able officer the late Major Spearman had
entirely re-organized this branch of the service; and it is
to him that the country owes the present beautiful sys¬
tem of field artillery. The battalion guns were abolished,
and the artillery was brigaded, distinct from the infantry
and cavalry with which it served, in divisions of six pieces
each; so that the fire of one or more of these powerful
batteries could be readily concentrated on any given point.
A body of military drivers was organized, while, by an in¬
genious contrivance of the shafts, the power of using sin¬
gle draught in narrow roads, or when any of the horses
were disabled, was retained. The drivers were mounted
on the near horses; and the gumlers themselves, in the
proportion of eight to each piece, were carried on the
limbers and ammunition cars. The whole of the equip¬
ment was simplified and lightened to such a degree that
the batteries could move at a gallop; the ammunition,
packed in boxes on the limbers and cars, was always up
with the guns; and the officers and men, being all
mounted or conveyed on the carriages, were sure of
being brought fresh into action. Finally, a system of
manoeuvres for artillery in the field was introduced, which
gave order and precision to their own movements, and
established uniformity between them and the troops of
other arms.3 The advantages of this system are so ably
described in the following observations of a general officer
of the French artillery, who was present at the final re¬
view of the allied army of occupation in France, that we
shall make no apology for introducing them in this place.
“ La cavalerie, soutenue par des masses d’infanterie, etant
sur deux lignes, dans la plaine entre La Selle et 1’Ecail-
lon, on vit a la fois se detacher des differens corps, plus
de cent bouches a feu d’artillerie a pied et a cheval; et
633
se porter, avec la meme vitesse, a cent toises en avant de Field
la premiere ligne de cavalerie. On commenca 1’affaire Artillery,
par une cannonade, qui ressemblait a un feu de file. v—'V''-'
Les mouvemens des batteries et les manoeuvres des
bouches a feu s’executent avec beaucoup d’ordre et de
precision. La facilite avec laquelle on met et ote 1’avant-
train n’a pas echappe aux officiers d’artillerie. II est
survenu un accident a une batterie a pied qui arrivait au
galop par un chemin tres-escarpe. Ayant rencontre une
caleche qui fermait le passage, elle n’hesita pas, dans la
crainte d’un retard, a se precipiter dans le champ a gauche.
Une seule piece fut renversee, avec les cannoniers, dont
un fut blesse. Elle fut relevee en un instant, et rejoig-
nit sa batterie. 11 y eut successivement deux charges de
cavalerie par les deux lignes, qui, repoussees, vinrent
se rallier 1’une derriere 1’autre. On vit les cannoniers,
emmenant les avant-trains, abandonner les pieces, et reve-
niv aussitot apres la charge, recommencer le feu. Le pas¬
sage de 1 Ecaillon, defendu par 1’armee ennemie qui occu-
pait les villages, les ponts, et tous les points importans .de
la position, donna lieu aux dispositions et aux manceuvres
que necessite une operation de cette importance. Le
passage force, 1’armee ennemie tournee par sa gauche,
piessee par les allies, fit sa retraite, defendant le terrain
et les villages, pied a pied, jusque sur les hauteurs du
camp de Famars. Lartillerie a suivi les mouvemens
des divisions, dans la vallee difficile de 1’Ecaillon, et dans
la plaine au dela (malgre les obstacles) jusqu’au pied des
hauteurs de Famars, arrivant sur le terrain en meme
temps que les troupes; cette position est couverte par un
ravin profond et difficile, quelle a franchi comme la cava¬
lerie. Quelques voitures ont verse, mais ont ete prompte-
ment relevees. Notre artillerie n’aurait surmonte cet
obstacle qu’avec beaucoup de temps et de travail.”4
FIELD ARTILLERY.
_ When an army is to take the field, several considera¬
tions must be attended to in apportioning the number and
calibre of the batteries to accompany it; as the face,
features, and general nature, mountainous or otherwise,
of the country which is to form the theatre of war,—the
state of its roads, and the resources which it can supply
for the means of transport,—the force and description of
troops composing the army,—the nature of the war, whe¬
ther offensive or defensive,—and, lastly, the intended plan
of operations.5
In carrying on offensive operations in a champaign coun¬
try, with good roads and facility of transport, the artil¬
lery should consist of 9-pounder batteries, to which a few
18 or 12-pounders should be added, to form on occasion
batteries of position. There should likewise be one or more
batteries of a lighter calibre, to accompany any corps of
the army that may be destined by rapid marches to inter¬
cept the enemy’s convoys or detachments.6 In mountain¬
ous or deep hilly countries, the artillery should not be
composed of heavier ordnance than the 6-pounder battery;
but an exact topographical acquaintance with the nature
of the country is absolutely necessary, and indeed affords
the only satisfactory guide for judging of the most appro¬
priate calibres to be employed. When an army is to re¬
main on the defensive in a country where the roads are
only tolerable, and the probability of being obliged to un¬
dertake long and rapid marches is not great, the artillery
should be composed of a heavier description of batteries
Force MiUtaire de la Grande Bretagne.
British Gunner.
Ibid.
VOL. III.
4 Force Militaire de la Grande Bretagne.
s Traite Elementaire d'Artillerie.
6 D’Antoni.
4 L
634
ARTILLERY.
Field than would be proper to accompany an army acting offen-
A^hery. sively in the same country. But if this defensive system
be carried on in a strong country, where the means of
transport are attended with difficulty, and long and rapid
marches may become indispensably necessary, the batte¬
ries must be so constituted as to adapt them to these se¬
veral circumstances, otherwise the artillery will retard the Fie
army in its operations, instead of contributing to the at- Art ill,
tainment of the object in view.1
The annexed table exhibits the composition of each
kind of field battery, and the proportion of ammunition
and laboratory stores carried with each piece of ordnance.
Nature of Battery, Ammunition, and
Laboratory Stores.
12-Pounder....,
9-ditto 
6-ditto, heavy
6-ditto, light.
3-ditto, heavy,
^ Round.
Shot
f Common.
^Case ^ Spherical.
Shells, common, empty..
Carcasses, round, fixed..
Flannel Cartridges, filled
lbs.
lbs.
4
3
21 lbs 
2 lbs 
U lbs 
11 lbs 
1 lbs 
Quick-Match, Yards 
Tubes 
f4 tenths.
CCut < 6 ditto.,
f Spherical -1 18 ditto..
Fuses -< I Uncut  
(Common, graduated 
Slow-Match, Skeins 
114
14
50
98
10
200
28
28
28
28
114
19
30
126
10
200
24
24
24
24
174
22
34
200
10
300
30
30
30
30
P'3
171
20
29
194
10
300
26
26
26
26
g S
5
272
44
316
10
400
12
72
56
4
84
10
200
42
42
42
42
40
3
1
1
12
116
84
8
128
10
200
68
68
68
68
60
3
2 3
SO
12
9
8
8
7
0) S3
tr. o
iC
o ba
fcx:
The following is the distribution of the above proportion of ammunition in the limber and ammunition boxes of
field guns and howitzers, together with the distribution in the reserve waggons of the additional proportion judged
necessary to accompany each battery in the field.
12-Pounders (medium).
9-Pounders.
Distribution of Ammunition.
Gun limber, 2 boxes 
(Limber, 2 boxes 
Wa880nH
Total with the gun and waggon.
Reserve waggon 
Total per gun 
Nature of
Ammunition.
6
18
18
18
60
54
114
Case.
18
32
24
24
98
80
178
Ten waggons per battery of five guns, carrying 178
rounds of ammunition per gun.
Distribution of Ammunition.
Gun limber, 2 boxes  
(Limber, 2 boxes 
W«0nlB„dy
Total with the gun and waggon
( Two waggons for the 5 guns
Reserve < Rd. Com. Sph.Total J
(140 16 32
Total per gun 
188 j
pergun
Nature of
Ammunition.
16
16
22
32
86
28
114
Case.
32
32
30
32
126
37
163
Seven waggons per battery of five guns, carrying 163
rounds of ammunition per gun.
1 British Gunner.
ARTILLERY.
m
Art ?ry
6-Pounders (heavy).
635
^-Pounder Howitzer.
Distribution of Ammunition.
Gun limber, 2 boxes 
( Limber, 2 boxes 
Waggon I {IS w:::::::::::
Total with the gun and waggon 
f One waggon for the 5 guns..
Reserve ^ Rd. Com. Sph.Total 1
(120 10 20 150 J Pergun
Total per gun 
Nature of
Ammunition.
Case.
30
30
40
50
150
24
174
50
50
50
50
200
30
230
Distribution of Ammunition.
Howitzer, limber, 2 boxes 
Wagg0njBody|FTnedbox.;;;:
Total with howitzer and waggon
Reserve waggon 
Total per howitzer 
Nature of Ammu¬
nition.
8
8
8
8
32
24
56
Case.
8
4
12
-c
50
12
12
8
10
42
30
72
Field
Artillery.
Ph
24
24
18
18
84
60
144
Six waggons per battery of five guns, carrying 230
rounds of ammunition per gun.
6-Pounders (light).
Two waggons to each howitzer, carrying 144 rounds of
ammunition. <
1 ^-Pounder Howitzer.
Distribution of Ammunition.
r (Axle-tree, 1 box 
) Limber, 2 boxes 
(Limber, 2 boxes 
WasgoniB^
Total with gun and waggon 
!One waggon for the 5 guns..
Rd. Com. Sph.Total)
114 8 18 140 J Pe.pgun
Total pergun 
Nature of
Ammunition.
P4
3
24
32
40
50
149
22
171
Case.
P3
6
40
48
50
50
194
25
220
Distribution of Ammunition.
Howitzer, limber, 2 boxes ...
(Limber, 2 boxes..
Wagg°n I*"* {ffindbox
Total with howitzer and wag¬
gon 
Reserve waggon 
Total per howitzer.
Nature of Ammunition.
12
12
12
12
48
36
84
Case.
O
8
4
12
20
20
12
16
68
48
116
36
36
28
28
128
92
220
Two waggons to each howitzer carrying 220 rounds of
ammunition per howitzer.
The flannel cartridges and small stores are distributed
in the several boxes in equal proportion with the other
ammunition, according to circumstances.
Six waggons per battery of five guns, carrying 220
rounds of ammunition per gun.
3-Pounders (heavy.)
^o reserve waggons. Three hundred and sixteen
rounds of ammunition per gun.
The following historical examples of the relative pro¬
portions of artillery acting with various armies in differ¬
ent countries during the late war, may, with the assistance
of good topographical maps, enable an officer to form a
tolerably accurate judgment on this important branch of
military study.
The Austrian army, under the command of the arch¬
duke Charles in the campaign of Aspergne, Essling, and
Wagram, consisted of about 75,000 men, to whom were
attached 18 batteries of brigade, 13 of position, and 11 of
horse-artillery; being in the proportion of one piece of
ordnance to 260 men nearly.
The allied British and Portuguese army in the field in
Spain, May 1813, consisted of 65,000 men and 102 pieces
of artillery, including the reserve; being in the proportion
of one piece of ordnance to 622 men nearly.
The grand French army under Napoleon, for the invasion
of Russia, not including the Austrian contingent, consist¬
ed of 400,000 infantry, 60,000 cavalry, and 1200 pieces of
artillery; being one piece of ordnance to 383 men.
The French armies united on the Tormes in December
1812 amounted to 80,000 men and 200 pieces of artillery,
being in the proportion of one gun to 400 men.
ARTILLERY.
636
Field Napoleon in 1813 had 1400 pieces of artillery to
Artillery. 300,000 men, or one gun to 200 nearly. In 1815 his
army consisted, as nearly as can be ascertained, by a com¬
parison of several accounts of the campaign, of 130,000
infantry, 20,000 cavalry, and 300 pieces of artillery; be¬
ing one piece of ordnance to 500 men.
The Prussian contingent of the grand French army for
the invasion of Russia, under the command of General
D’York, consisted of 20,000 men and 60 pieces of artillery;
being in the proportion of one piece of ordnance to 333
men nearly.
Marshal Beresford, at the battle of Albuera, had 29,000
men and 32 pieces of artillery, or one gun to 900 men.
His opponent Marshal Soult, in the same action, had 23,000
men and 40 pieces of artillery, or one gun to 575 men.
General L’Espinasse, who commanded the artillery of
Buonaparte in Italy, supposes a division of an army to con¬
sist of 12,000 men, including a regiment of dragoons and
another of hussars, to which he allots three batteries of
horse and three of field artillery, each consisting of six
pieces of ordnance. A battery of horse and another of
field artillery are at all times to be up with the army; two
batteries, similarly armed with the two in activity, are to
remain with the park; and the remaining two, also ap¬
pointed in like manner, should be in depot in rear of the
army. These proportions of artillery to infantry, L’Espi¬
nasse states, are precisely those adopted with the approba¬
tion of Buonaparte in the Italian campaigns.1
The guns must be so placed as to produce a cross-fire Field
upon the enemy’s position, and upon the ground over Artillen
which he must pass to attack you. It may sometimes be ''■""T*
necessary, in order to concentrate a cross-fire on one par¬
ticular point, to subdivide your batteries. Thus, his fire
may be attracted to different objects whilst your own is
directed to a focus, which may be the deboucM of the
enemy, the head of his advancing columns, or the ground
in front of the weakest point in your own line. If the
enemy’s position is to be attacked, your fire must become
direct in proportion as the troops advance, otherwise it
will impede them; and when you can no longer fire on the
point attacked, the guns must be directed on the collate¬
ral points.
The guns should be placed as much as possible under
cover. This is easily done upon heights, by keeping them
so far back as that only the muzzles may be perceived
over them. With proper attention, many situations may
be found of which advantage may be taken for this pur¬
pose, such as banks, ditches, &c. everywhere to be met
with. If an enemy’s attack is expected, the guns must
be posted so as to cannonade him with effect when he ad¬
vances within 800 paces, and particularly in situations in
which his march may be retarded by ditches, defiles, or
other natural obstacles.
The position from whence the enemy is to be cannon¬
aded should be kept concealed from him till the moment
the batteries are to open. To effect this, the guns may
until that time be placed in any other situation. Should
there be any small elevations of earth in front of a defile
through which the enemy may advance and be cannon¬
aded, the guns must be kept under cover of them until he
comes out and begins to form. The guns may also be
masked by being covered by troops, particularly cavalry,
until the enemy is within the range of case-shot. The
covering party must then open right and left, and a brisk
fire be kept up.
Artillery should very rarely be placed in front of a line
of infantry, or distributed by batteries in the intervals.
When the line is of great extent, it may become necessary
to place a strong battery in the centre. This should be
composed of the guns of the heaviest calibre; and it should
be posted in the interval between the right and left wings
of the army, by which means a double object is not offer¬
ed to the enemy’s fire. In general, an army in order of
battle may be considered as a front of fortification, the
infantry forming the curtain, and the lateral batteries the
bastions, under the fire of which the troops may manoeuvre
freely, and advance with confidence to attack the enemy.
The two following examples will serve to illustrate the
preceding remarks:—
Battle of Castiglione, oth August 1796.—The following
diagram shows the disposition of the French under Buona¬
parte, and the imperialists under Wurmser, in this battle:
i 0 H F
A B the French army, G H the imperial army, A C a
battery of 12 pieces of foot artillery, sustaining the left of
the French on the heights in advance of Castiglione; B D
Positions and Movements of Field Artillery.
The commanding officer of artillery, in order that he
may choose proper positions for his field batteries, should
be made acquainted with the effect intended to be pro¬
duced, with the troops that are to be supported, and
with the points to be attacked, that he may place his ar¬
tillery so as to support, but not incommode the infantry,
nor take up such situations with his guns as would be
more advantageously occupied by the line ; that he may
not place his batteries too soon, nor in exposed situations;
that he may cover his fronts and flanks by taking advan¬
tage of the ground; and that he may not venture too far
out of the protection of the army, unless some very de¬
cided effect is to be obtained by so doing.
In a defensive position the guns of the largest calibre
should be posted on those points from whence the enemy
can be discovered at the greatest distance, and from
whence may be seen the whole extent of his front. In an
offensive position, the weakest points of the line, and
those most distant from the enemy, must be strengthened
by the largest calibres. Those heights on which the army,
in advancing, may rest its flanks, must be secured by
them, as also those from which the enemy may be fired
upon obliquely.
Artillery should never be placed in such a situation that
it can be taken by any enemy’s battery obliquely, in flank,
or in reverse, unless a position under these circumstances
offers every prospect of producing a most decisive effect
before the guns can be destroyed, or placed hors de com¬
bat. The most elevated positions are not the best for ar¬
tillery ; the greatest effects may be produced from a height
of from 30 to 40 yards at the distance of 600, and from
about 16 yards high at 200 yards distant. Those posi¬
tions which are not likely to be shifted, but from whence
an effect may be produced during the whole of an action,
are to be preferred, and in such positions breast-works of
two or three feet high should be thrown up to cover the
carriages.
1 Es»ai sur rArtillerie, par le General L’Espinasse.
ARTIL
sie a battery of 20 pieces of light artillery appuying on the
Artil-T* right, which extended into the plain. The line of infantry
A B being taken for the curtain, the batteries A C and
B D may be considered as representing the faces of two
bastions, thus forming a complete front, and crossing their
fire before the curtain. The troops are consequently
covered from attack, and the enemy fired upon obliquely.
Wurmser having prolonged his front from G to I with the
intention of outflanking the French, General L’Espinasse
took some of the guns from C A, and placed them on the
other face C K, until others could be drawn from the
park for that purpose, thus forming a new battery destined
to follow the enemy’s movements. Another battery was
likewise formed on the right, from D to E, in caser
Wurmser had prolonged his left from H to F.
Battle of Talavera, 21th and 28th July 1809.—At the
commencement of the battle the British artillery were
stationed, by batteries of six guns each, with the divisions
of the army to which they were respectively attached; a
temporary redoubt, unfinished, was thrown up at F, in
which a battery of 3-pounders was posted ; on the hill, at
A, the most commanding point of the position, two batteries
were posted, one of heavy 6-pounders, the other of light
sixes, to which two Spanish guns were afterwards added.
The French had a battery of 14 guns at K, the centre
of their position, also one at each of the flanks G and H,
independently of others which were brought up during the
action. On the second day, when the columns at M ad¬
vanced, supported by artillery, to attack the British right,
which rested on the unfinished redoubt, the three bat¬
teries E E E were formed on the oblique line L E, and
thus took the advancing columns in flank, whilst the re¬
doubt kept up a direct fire in their front.
It must here be observed, that whenever an oblique line
is formed by artillery, as fromX to E, it must be directed
without the extremity of the enemy’s flank, otherwise
the guns will be exposed to his enfilading fire.
SIEGE ARTILLERY.
The first duty of the commanding officer of artillery,
when it is intended to besiege a fortress, is to prepare an
estimate of the quantity of ordnance and ammunition re¬
quired for its reduction. To enable him to make this es¬
timate with accuracy and precision, he should be master
of certain data; that is to say, the commander of the
forces, or general charged with the direction of the siege,
should communicate to him a plan of the fortifications and
environs of the place, accompanied by such profiles and
remarks as may enable him, in conjunction with the com¬
manding engineer, to ascertain which front or fronts are
most assailable, with the advantages and disadvantages
attending each attack, as well with respect to the works
of the place, as to the nature of the soil where the
trenches must be opened, and the several heights and
hollows in the vicinity.1 He should also, if possible, be
informed as to whether the place be amply supplied
LER Y.
637
with artillery, ammunition, &c.; if the garrison be suffi¬
ciently numerous, and whether composed of veteran troops
or raw levies; if the governor be in high estimation for
his military talents ; if the town be populous, and the in¬
habitants well affected to the garrison.2 It will thus be
easy to form a tolerably accurate opinion of the means of
defence, and the resistance to be expected; for it is not
to be presumed that any government would shut up a
brave and numerous force in an ill-fortified and badly pro¬
visioned place, at the risk of seeing such a garrison sacri¬
ficed after a short resistance.
But should it be impossible to procure information on
these several points beforehand, particularly as to the
strength of the garrison, the requisite proportion of ord¬
nance and ammunition must be regulated on the general
principles of attack. The officer intrusted to prepare the
estimate must, therefore, endeavour to ascertain, accord¬
ing to the fundamental maxim of all besiegers, against
which front or fronts the attack can be made with the
least exposure and greatest expedition. He should ex¬
amine whether the siege can be most advantageously car¬
ried on by regular approaches; by taking advantage of
any defect in the situation which may enable him to break
ground close to the works to be breached; or by batter¬
ing them from a distance. By the aid of this investiga¬
tion, and the following general principles, the quantity of
ordnance and ammunition required for the siege of a
place may be ascertained with the greatest accuracy.
Siege
Artillery.
General Principles for the Attach of Fortified Places.
1. The number of batteries to be opened against the
defences must depend upon the extent of the works to be
embraced by the attack, i. e. there must be a battery to
enfilade every face that can in any way annoy or retard
the besiegers in their approaches.
2. The length of the epaulement of these batteries need
not exceed the breadth of the terreplein of the works to
be enfiladed, unless circumstances should render it neces¬
sary to place some of the guns in a situation to take the
work in reverse. Each battery will only contain, there¬
fore, five, or at most eight guns, to enfilade the face of
the principal work; to which must be added two others to
enfilade the branches of the opposite covered-way.
3. The situation of the breaching batteries must be
determined, as, in a regular attack, they sometimes in¬
terfere with the fire of the first or enfilading batteries.
Should this be the case, the same artillery must be trans¬
ferred from one battery to the other.
4. The supply of ordnance must be sufficiently liberal
to enable the besiegers to keep up a fire constantly su¬
perior to that of the place. This supply is determined by
the extent of the fortifications of the place; one piece of
ordnance must be allowed for every twelve or fifteen feet.
5. As the ricochet firing may be interrupted while the
sappers are completing the third parallel, a supply of
royal and ccehorn mortars must be provided to harass the
garrison from the second parallel, or demi-places of arms,
during its cessation.3
Having thus ascertained the number of guns required,
the following will be their calibres, and the proportions
which the remaining ordnance should bear to them.
Guns—of the whole number required—suppose 60.
24-pounders   § or 40
12-pounders \ or 20
Howitzers—one for every four guns—in this case 15.
10-inch \ or 5
8-inch § or 10
1 Traite Elementaire d'Artillerk.
i British Gunner.
3 Ibid.
638
ARTILLERY.
Siege Mortars—in the proportion of one-twelfth more than
Artillery, the number of guns—in this case 65.
10-inch  ■ or
8-inch   fV or 15
Royal or 20
Coehorn    ^ or 20
In the above proportion of ordnance, it must be ob¬
served that the long 12-pounder is proposed instead of the
18-pounder formerly employed, as a gun of this descrip¬
tion is conceived to be sufficiently powerful for annoy¬
ance and direct fire, to dismount the enemy’s artillery,
as well as for firing en ricochet. The diminished weight
of ammunition attendant on the employment of the smal¬
ler calibre is an important advantage; but it is an ar¬
rangement which can only be admitted in cases where an
adequate number of 24-pounders are provided. In all
smaller equipments it would, therefore, be better that all
the guns should be of the heavy calibre.1
The proportion of small mortars should in no case be
less than that of the heavy mortars and howitzers, and
this proportion ought to be increased in all equipments of
less than thirty pieces of ordnance : indeed, when sent at
all, there should be at least twelve of them, to insure the
necessary effect: in many cases a far greater number than is
here proposed could be advantageously used, but this must
of course depend on the nature of the service on which
they are likely to be employed. The royal and coehorn
mortars have in the present instance been taken in equal
proportions, and it would be advisable to adhere to this
arrangement in all the larger equipments, particularly
when their calibres correspond with those of the guns; but
in small equipments it would be more convenient to con¬
fine the arrangement to one calibre, in which case the
royal mortar is the preferable, as it possesses the power
of being used at a greater distance than the coehorn.
But it must at the same time be observed, that the latter,
from its lightness and the small weight of its ammunition,
is a more desirable implement for the more advanced parts
of the attack.
The quantity and relative calibres of the ordnance
being determined, the following will be the proportion
and nature of ammunition.
Gun ammunition.—Round shot,
24-pounder 1000 rounds per gun.
12-pounder 1200 rounds per gun.
Tier shot  50 rounds per gun.
Spherical case  100 rounds per gun.
Howitzer ammunition.—Shell s,
10-inch 600 rounds per howitzer.
8-inch 300 rounds per howitzer.
Spherical case,
8-inch 300 rounds per howitzer.
Carcasses  10 rounds per howitzer.
Valenciennes composition,
10-inch 100 proportions per howitzer.
Mortar ammunition.—Shells,
10-inch 600 per mortar.
8-inch 600 per mortar.
Pound shot,
10-inch...50 rounds of 100 shot each per mortar.
Carcasses,
10-inch *. io per mortar.
8-inch 10 per mortar.
Valenciennes composition,
10-inch 100 proportions per mortar.
In the above proportion of ammunition there is an in¬
crease of two hundred rounds in favour of the 12-poun¬
ders, as the facility of working these guns will, at an easy s;e
rate, afford the means of firing more rapidly than from Artilt
24-pounders. The proportion of one half common shells
and one half spherical case should always be adhered to
for the 8-inch howitzers.
Arrangement of Artillery at a Siege.
The first disposition of the artillery at a siege is to the
different batteries raised near the first parallel. The ob¬
ject of the besieger in the construction of these batteries
is, by a direct and enfilade fire, to dismount the artillery
on the front attacked, destroy the embrazures, and harass
the garrison in the several points of defence, so that they
may be compelled to abandon them, or at least slacken
their fire, and thereby enable the besieger to carry for¬
ward his approaches with greater expedition and less
danger than he otherwise could do.2 If these first bat¬
teries be favourably situated, the artillery may be conti¬
nued in them during the whole of the siege, or until the
besiegers arrive on the crest of the glacis. The garrison
must be perpetually harassed along the whole front at¬
tacked, with shot and shells fired en ricochet. The bat¬
teries for this purpose are erected on the prolongations of
the works to be enfiladed, from whence the defenders of
the prolonged faces may be fired upon with great preci¬
sion and effect.3 It, however, frequently happens, from
local and other circumstances, that the besiegers cannot
avail themselves of the most advantageous situations for
their first batteries. There are four situations from which
the defences of a place may be destroyed, though not
from all of them with equal facility. The best positions for
the first batteries are those before described as perpendi¬
cular to the prolongations of the faces of the works to be
enfiladed. If these positions cannot be attained, the
next that present themselves are on those sides of the
prolongations which take the faces in reverse, and under
as small angles as possible. If the ground or other cir¬
cumstances will not admit of either of these situations
being occupied by enfilading batteries, the battery to de¬
stroy the fire of the face must be without its prolonga¬
tion, so as to fire obliquely upon the outside of it: the
fourth position in point of advantage is directly parallel
to the face. The guns must fire en ricochet from the first
two positions, and from the last two with full charges.
The second batteries are generally placed on the glacis,
within fifteen or eighteen feet of its crest; but if the
foot of the revetment cannot be seen from this situation,
they must be placed in the covered-way, within fifteen
feet of the counterscarp.4 The object of these second bat¬
teries being to effect practicable breaches in the works,
they should be combined, two and two together, so that
while one batters in breach, the other may play upon its
defences. The breaching batteries shall commence by
marking out as nearly as possible, by their fire, the ex¬
tent of the breach intended to be made; first, by striking
out a horizontal line as near as possible to the bottom of
the revetment; and next, by aiming at two others, per¬
pendicular to and at the extremities of this first line.
Then, by continuing to deepen these three cuts, and oc¬
casionally firing salvoes at the part to be brought down,
the wall will in time give way in a mass. The guns must
begin by firing as low as possible in the commencement
of the operation, afterwards somewffiat higher in the same
manner as before, and so continue advancing gradually
upwards till the breach is effected; for, should they fire
too high at first, the rubbish would cover the lower part
of the wall, retard the operation, and tend to render the
1 Britith Gunner.
* Essai Generate de Fortification.
* Trade d'Artilkrie, par D’Antoni; British Gunner.
3 British Gunner.
ARTILLERY.
GarR>n breach impracticable. When the second batteries are
Artil/y- placed on the glacis, or in the covered-way, they must be
sunk to such a depth that the terreplein of the one, or
surface of the other, may coincide with the soles of their
embrazures. They are in fact but an enlargement of the
sap run for the lodgement on the glacis, or in the covered¬
way, and should contain at least four guns each. If the
space between the traverses will not admit of this num¬
ber at the usual distances, the guns must be closed from
twelve to fifteen feet of each other.
The mortars are generally arranged at first in battery,
adjoining the first gun batteries, or upon the prolonga¬
tions of the capitals of the works, in which situations they
are certainly least exposed ; and upon the establishment of
the half parallels the howitzers are placed in battery, in
their extremities, to enfilade the branches of the covered¬
way. These batteries are in the most advantageous si¬
tuations, if, while the one bombards the work that the
besieger intends to assault, and prevents the garrison from
throwing up intrenchments within it, or at least retards
their construction, the other directs its fire against the
defences of the breach, so that the garrison may, from
the continual shower of shells, &c. be compelled to aban¬
don them, or, if they persist in remaining, be exposed to
great loss. The small mortars are arranged in the third
parallel, to annoy the besieged in the places of arms.
In the establishment of all these batteries, the great
object is to make such an arrangement of them, that they
may not mask the fire of each other more than cannot be
avoided, and particularly that of the first or ricochet bat¬
teries. The aggravation of this inconvenience may very
well be prevented till the establishment of the attack on
the crest of the glacis, when it becomes in some degree
unavoidable: however, even the operations of the glacis
may be so arranged as not to mask the fire of the ricochet
batteries, until the breaching batteries are in a state of
great forwardness.
To effect this with accuracy and expedition, he should,
after a few days passed in reconnoitring and studying
Ins position, devote his attention to the preparation of a
sketch and profiles of the works and neighbouring coun¬
try, as far at least as a mile in every direction, and upon
a scale adapted to the features of the ground.
With this map and profiles before him, he should recur to
those fundamental principles upon which every good attack
and defence are based. He should not only be thorouo-hly
acquainted with his own particular branch of the service in
all its details, but capable of judging to the fullest extent
of all operations in which the other troops of the garrison
can bear their part; so that every supply may be ade¬
quate to its particular purpose, without deficiency on the
one hand or superfluity on the other. Thus two ex¬
tremes, equally prejudicial, will be avoided; the one, of
making a provision insufficient for the defence which the
fortress is capable of sustaining; the other, of providing
such a quantity of supplies, that, on its capitulation,
winch, according to the natural order of things, must
sooner or later happen, if it be not relieved, a complete
arsenal would fall into the enemy’s hands.2
These observations being held in mind, the following
general maxims will be found of essential assistance.
GARRISON ARTILLERY.
The proportion of ordnance, ammunition, and stores
required for the defence of a fortified place depends not
only on the particular situation of each individual fortress,
and its relations with the surrounding country; the sys¬
tem according to which it is fortified, and the species of
attack it may be possible to open against it; but likewise
on innumerable minor circumstances, each of which may
exert an important influence on the defence. If, for ex¬
ample, one or more of the fronts of a place be covered by
an inundation, a marsh, or by any other impassable ob¬
stacle, it will manifestly require a much smaller propor¬
tion of artillery for its defence than if it were equally ac¬
cessible on every front. On the contrary, a maritime
fortress, which is susceptible of attack both by sea and
land, will require a larger proportion of ordnance supplies
than if it were assailable from only one of these points.1
It will be seen, therefore, from the above remarks and
examples, how impossible it is to lay down any general
rules upon this important subject. The only satisfactory
guide which an officer charged with the nice and respon¬
sible trust of arming a fortified place can with security
follow, is to examine attentively all parts of the works and
of the surrounding country, and then to weigh every other
circumstance that can in any way influence the defence.
He should consider which of its fronts are most vulnera¬
ble, and what measures are best adapted for their security.
General Maxims for arming Fortified Places.
1. The proportion of ordnance, ammunition, and stores
should never exceed the quantity absolutely necessary to
a brave and resolute defence.
2. Those fronts which are considered susceptible of at¬
tack should be completely armed, and the remaining
fronts only in part. * °
3. Ihese should be, for each of the faces of the bastions
of such fronts as are deemed liable to attack, five or six
pieces of ordnance; for each of the flanks of these bas¬
tions four pieces ; and for the faces of the ravelin from five
to seven pieces of ordnance. When these are lunettes,
four pieces should be reckoned for each, and from two to
three for each of the places of arms of the covered-way.
Supposing, therefore, one front to be completely armed,
the following proportion of ordnance will be required.
The faces of the two bastions from 10 to 12
two interior flanks   from 6 to 8
faces of the ravelin from 5 to 7
five places of arms from 10 to 15
making a total for one front of from 33 to 42 pieces of
ordnance.
4. In case of the place being liable to attack on two
consecutive fronts, the above proportion should be aug¬
mented one half; and if on two detached fronts, it should
be doubled. The remaining fronts should each be pro¬
vided with such a proportion of their full armaments as
will secure them from insult. It will appear from the
above maxims, which are deduced from the best authori¬
ties on the subject, that a hexagon, having only one front
exposed to attack, requires an armament of from 58 to
68 pieces of ordnance for its defence; and that for more
extensive places, from six to eight, or at most ten pieces
of ordnance, should be added for each additional front.3
The next point to be considered is the proportion which
the several kinds of ordnance, and their relative calibres,
should bear to each other; and hefe it must be remem¬
bered that the higher rates are not the only descriptions
capable of being employed to advantage in the defence
of a place. There are many cases in which medium guns
can oppose equal resistance with the heavier calibres, and
British Gunner.
Manud de PArtillcur ; Trails d'Artillerie, par D’Antoni.
Traite Elbnentuirc d'Artillerie.
639
Garrison
Artillery.
ARTILLERY.
640
Garrison they possess the very important advantage of affording
Artillery, greater facility in manoeuvring and transporting them
from one situation to another; an operation of considerable
difficulty with the higher natures of ordnance at all times,
but particularly during a siege. They also consume less
ammunition, and enable the besieged to keep up a more
determined and incessant fire.1
The following are the proportions of the several kinds
and calibres usually adhered to in ordinary cases.
Guns—in the proportion of two thirds of the whole ar¬
mament—suppose 60.
24-pounders To or ®
18-pounders  or 12
12-pounders yu or 1®
9-pounders T^o or ^
Howitzers—one for every five guns—in this case 14.
10-inch | or 7
8-inch ^ or 7
Mortars—in about the same proportion as the howitzers
—in this case 16.
10-inch % or 8
8- inch % or 8
The above distribution of guns, howitzers, and mortars,
applies equally to all armaments of not less than sixty
pieces of ordnance; and such an armament should there¬
fore consist of forty guns, eight howitzers, and twelve
mortars. The proportions of the several calibres of each
kind, except those for the guns, are calculated on a basis
of not less than ninety pieces of ordnance; and in all
smaller armaments it would be advisable to confine the
arrangement to two calibres of each kind only.
The following will be the proportion and nature of am¬
munition for each species of ordnance.
Gun ammunition.—Round shot,
24-pounder  600 rounds per gun.
18-pounder  760 rounds per gun.
12-pounder   800 rounds per gun.
9- pounder 1000 rounds per gun.
Case shot,
24-pounder  40 rounds per gun.
18-pounder  50 rounds per gun.
12-pounder  80 rounds per gun.
9- pounder 100 rounds per gun.
Spherical case,
24-pounder  50 rounds per gun.
18-pounder  80 rounds per gun.
12-pounder 100 rounds per gun.
9- pounder 150 rounds per gun.
Howitzer ammunition.—Shells,
10-inch 400 rounds per howitzer.
8-inch 600 rounds per howitzer.
Case shot,
10-inch 100 rounds per howitzer.
8-inch 250 rounds per howitzer.
Spherical case,
8-inch 500 rounds per howitzer.
Light balls and carcasses,
8-inch 20 rounds of each per howitzer.
Mortar ammunition.—Shells,
10- inch 500 rounds per mortar.
8-inch 650 rounds per mortar.
Pound shot,
10- inch 500 rounds per mortar.
• 8-inch 600 rounds per mortar.
Each round of pound shot consists of 100 shot for
the 10-inch, and of 80 for the 8-inch mortar.
Light balls 15 per mortar.
The above proportion of ordnance and ammunition for
the defence of a fortified place is exclusive of one or more Garris
field batteries, which every place should contain, accord- Artille
ing to its extent, and which should be provided with a
double proportion of ammunition. (See the preceding sec¬
tion on Field Artillery.)
This estimate and arrangement is founded upon the
supposition that the place is unprovided with casemated
batteries, the armament for which must of course form a
separate estimate, calculated, however, upon the same
principles as the above.
Arrangement of the Artillery during a Siege.
The instant it is ascertained that the enemy’s troops
are in motion towards the place,—presuming that it is
amply supplied with provisions, ammunition, and stores,
and that every precaution has been taken to collect from
the vicinity what might fall into the enemy’s hands,—the
barbette batteries must be established in the flanked
angles of the bastions and ravelins, and a proportion of
the light guns and howitzers must be placed in the out¬
works and covered-way. Should the body of the place
have cavaliers, the heaviest guns should be mounted on
them. The following arrangement is usually made for
the reception of the investing corps, when it is not known
from what point they may advance to commence opera¬
tions.
There should be three guns mounted on the barbette
of each bastion,—one 24 and two 18-pounders, and three
9-pounders on the barbette of each of the ravelins. In
the salient places of arms of the bastions one 24-pounder
howitzer, and in those of the ravelins two 6-pounders. The
heavy mortars should be placed one in each bastion, and
the remainder of the ordnance in reserve behind the
curtains, ready to move on whichever side it may be re¬
quired.
By this arrangement the whole of the barbette guns,
and of the guns and howitzers in the outworks and cover¬
ed-way, will be in readiness to act in any direction, till it
is known on which side the enemy has determined to di¬
rect his attack, and, with the addition of the reserve, will
enable the besieged to open a fire of thirty-five pieces of
ordnance on the enemy the very first night he begins to
work upon the trenches. In the first moments of the in¬
vestment, however, the artillery of the place should not
endeavour, by a useless expenditure of ammunition, to dis¬
turb the besiegers in their operations: it is only when
they are making permanent dispositions for their establish¬
ment that the fire of the place should be opened upon
them. It is nevertheless necessary that some guns should
be loaded with reduced charges, to protect the retreat
of the advanced posts, and mislead the enemy as to their
range. This is also the moment, if the garrison be nume¬
rous, and composed of good troops, to annoy the besiegers,
by sorties on different points of the line of contravallation,
and to retard the works necessary for establishing their
communications : care must, however, be taken not to
purchase this advantage by a loss of men and artillery,
which would cripple the means of defence.
The day succeeding the night on which the trenches
are opened, and the front of attack determined, a new
disposition of the artillery of the place must be made as
follows :—
The 24 and 18-pounders must be removed to the front
attacked, and the other batteries, if necessary, supplied
with 12-pounders. The barbettes of the bastions on this
front must have each five guns, three 24 and two 18-
pounders, and the remaining 18-pounders arranged be¬
hind the curtains,—two towards each of the extremities
1 British Gunner.
ARTILLERY.
£xc;ises. of the front curtain, and two at the farthest extremity of
^’■"^each of the collateral curtains. The howitzers in reserve
should be placed, two in each of the salient angles of the
covered-way of the bastions of this front, and two in each
of those of the collateral bastions, which, with those al¬
ready there, must fire en ricochet down the prolongations
of the capitals. There should also be three 6-pounders
in the salient place of arms of the ravelin of the front
attacked, and three in each of those of the two colla¬
teral ravelins ; these guns should fire over the palisading:
and, lastly, there should be five 9-pounders on the bar¬
bette of the front ravelin. This arrangement will bring
fifty-two guns and howitzers and four^ mortars to fire on
the approaches, after the first night. This, with a few
variations, will be the disposition of the artillery of the
place till the besiegers’ first batteries are ready to open.
The instant they begin to work upon these batteries, the
whole fire of the place must be concentrated on them,
and the mortars which had previously fired at low angles
must now fire with greater elevation, but at all times
sparingly.
As soon as the enemy’s batteries are fairly established,
the guns en barbette must be covered by merlons, and the
embrazures occasionally masked. While this work is
carrying on, the situations of the guns should be changed,
and new directions given to them ; as by frequently prac¬
tising this manoeuvre, the enemy will also be obliged to
change his dispositions of attack, and time will thereby
be gained by the besieged. As the enemy approaches
towards the second parallel, the fire of the place must be
spread over all parts of his line of operations; and with a
view of contributing to this object, royal and coehorn
mortars should be disposed in the places of arms and
branches of the covered-way. When the approaches are
carried on from the second parallel, and the enemy is
about to establish the demi-places of arms, the fire of the
place must be concentrated on the debouches from the
parallel, and multiplied with all possible activity.
In proportion as the besieger pushes forward his ap¬
proaches to the third parallel, the artillery njust be with¬
drawn from the covered-way to the ravelins, or to the
ditch, if dry, or to any other favourable situation, and by
degrees, as they advance, to the body of the place. Du¬
ring this period of the siege the embrazures must be pre¬
pared in the flanks, in the curtain which joins them, and
in those parts of the faces of the bastions which command
the ditch of the front ravelin. All these embrazures must
be ready to open, and the heavy artillery mounted in
them, the moment the enemy attempts to form a lodg¬
ment on the glacis. We have now arrived at the crisis
of the siege, and every effort should be made to take ad¬
vantage of this favourable moment, when the enemy, by
his own works, must mask his former batteries, and before
he is able to open his new ones.
EXERCISE OF ARTILLERY.
The several exercises are divided into three classes, as
follows:—
1. Exercise of field artillery.
2. Exercise of garrison or siege artillery.
3. Exercise of the various machines employed in the
manoeuvres of garrison or siege artillery.
1. Exercise of Field Artillery.
The complement of men for the service of each gun
or howitzer is, one non-commissioned officer and eight
gunners.
Numbering and Telling Off the Detachments.
The several detachments being arranged right in front,
VOL. in.
641
are numbered and told off by their respective non-com- Exercises,
missioned officers in the following manner:
The non-commissioned officer is invariably No. 1, and
is responsible for the proper execution of the duties of the
other numbers of his detachment. The right-hand man
of the rear rank is named No. 2; his front-rank man No.
3 ; the second man from the right of the rear rank No. 4;
and his front-rank man No. 5; and so on in succession
from the right of the rear to the left of the front rank,
till the numbering of the whole detachment is completed.
Formation in Order of March, or for Exercise.
When detachments are formed in the order of march,
or for the purpose of exercise, the even numbers are al¬
most invariably on the right or off-side of the gun, and
the odd numbers on the left or near side.
Positions of the several Numbers in Action.
No. 1 is on the left of the handspike; No. 2 outside
the right wheel, in line with the muzzle; No. 3 outside
the left wheel, and also in line with the muzzle; No. 4
clear of the right wheel, covering No. 2, and in line with
the breech ; No. 5 clear of the left wheel, covering No. 3,
and also in line with the breech ; No. 6 five paces in rear
of and covering the left wheel; No. 7 in rear of the lim¬
ber ; No. 8 ten yards in rear of the gun, in line with the
heads of the leading horses of the limber; and No. 9 at¬
tends the ammunition-waggon.
Duties of the several Numbers.
No. 1 points and commands; No. 2 sponges; No. 3
loads; No. 4 serves the vent and primes; No. 5 fires;
No. 6 serves No. 3 with ammunition ; No. 7 supplies No.
6 with ammunition, and, when firing shells, fixes the
fuses; No. 8 assists No. 7, and occasionally relieves No.
2, or, when attached to 5^ inch or 24-pounder howitzers,
provides No. 3 with shells; No. 9 assists in preparing
ammunition.
Limbering up, or Retiring from Action.
This manceuvre may be performed, according to cir¬
cumstances, to the front, rear, right, or left. In limber¬
ing up to the front, the limber drives up to the right of
the gun. No. 2 instantly passes his sponge over the axle-
tree to No. 4, who straps on the sponge head; No. 2 and
No. 3 go round to the trail; No. 4 and No. 5 man the
wheels, assisted by No. 7 and No. 8 with heavy guns.
The right wheel is run back, the left forward, and No. I
and No. 6 throw the trail round in the opposite direction
to that in which the limber drives up. The instant the
trail is round, No. 1 unships his handspike, and No. 5
straps it on ; No. 2 buckles on the rammer-head of his
sponge, and the whole fall in close to the wheels. No. 6,
No. 4, and No. 2 on one side, No. 5, No. 3, and No. 1 on
the other; No. 7 attends the limber, and No. 8 moves up
to his place. On the limber coming up square to the
front, No. 1 orders, “ halt, limber up,” upon which No. 4
and No. 5 man the wheels, No. 2, No. 3, and No. 6, lift
the trail and place it on the pintail; No. 1 then puts in
the key, and the detachment mount, or fall into the order
of march. The duties are precisely the same in limbering
up to the rear, right, or left, except that in limbering up
to the right or left, the trail and limber both go to the
right or left; and in limbering up to the rear, the limber
drives up rather to the right of the trail, which is not
thrown round, and then reverses to the left.
Unlimbering or coming into Action.
This is precisely the reverse of the preceding manceuvre.
No. 1 unkeys the pintail, No. 2 and No. 3 raise the trail,
4 M
642
ARTILLERY.
Exercises, and when it is clear No. 1 gives the word, “ Drive on
upon which the limber goes off to the left about, and the
trail is thrown to the right about, the other numbers as¬
sisting as they arrive, the same as in limbering up, No. 6
at the trail with heavy guns, and No. 4 and No. 5 at the
wheels. As soon as the trail is down, No. 5 unbuckles
the handspike, and No. 1 ships it; No. 2 unstraps the
rammer-head and goes to his place; No. 4 unstraps the
sponge, and passes it over to No. 2. When the limber is
sufficiently to the rear, it reverses to its left, and halts ten
yards in rear of and covering its gun. The ammunition-
waggon also reverses to its left, goes off in front of the
limber, and again reversing to its left, halts one horse’s
length in rear of the gun-limber. No. 1 is responsible for
the correct dressing of his gun when it comes into action ;
and for this purpose, immediately after the trail is in its
proper direction he should place himself in line with the
axle-tree of the gun upon which the formation is made,
and dress his own gun with it. This position will enable
him to see, not only that his gun is in its true alignement,
but also that it is square to the front.
2. Exercise of Garrison or Siege Artillery.
This second branch of the exercises relates to the man¬
ner of working and serving guns, howitzers, carronades,
and mortars, on batteries. The complement of men for
the service of garrison or battery guns is, for the 42-
pounder and 32-pounder, one non-commissioned officer
and six gunners each ; for the 24-pounder, one non-com¬
missioned officer and five gunners; for the 18-pounder,
one non-commissioned officer and four gunners; and for
the 12-pounder and 9-pounder, one non-commissioned
officer and three gunners each. The complement of men,
duties, &c. are precisely the same for howitzers and car¬
ronades as the above for guns. The 13-inch mortar re¬
quires one non-commissioned officer and five gunners;
the 10-inch mortar one non-commissioned officer and four
gunners ; the 8-inch mortar one non-commissioned officer
and three gunners; and the royal and ccehorn mortars
one non-commissioned officer and two gunners each.
All calculations for the daily service of guns on bat¬
teries, whether in garrison or at a siege, should be made
in three proportions and at three reliefs.
Numbering^ Telling Off the Detachments, and Formation
for Exercise.
The same in every respect as for field artillery.
Positions and Duties of the Numbers.
No. 1, directly in rear of the gun, points, commands,
and assists to run the gun up; No. 2, on the right of and in
line with the muzzle, sponges, runs up, and elevates; No. 3,
on the left of the muzzle, and also in line with it, loads,
runs up, and elevates ; No. 4, on the right of the gun, clear
of the track, and in line with the breech, serves the vent,
primes, runs up, and traverses ; No. 5, in the same relative
position on the left of the gun, fires, runs up, and tra¬
verses ; the remaining numbers on the right and left of the
embrazure, with their backs to the merlons. No. 6 serves
No. 3 with ammunition, and runs up; No. 7 assists to run up.
The whole of the numbers, when not immediately employ¬
ed in working the gun, should range themselves in order
under cover of the parapet.
In serving mortars, No. 1 is directly in rear of the mor¬
tar, and points, commands, and serves the vent; No. 2, on
the right of and in line with the front of the bed, sponges,
runs up, and traverses; No. 3, in the same relative position
on the left of the bed, loads, runs up, and traverses ; No. 4,
on the right of the mortar, covering No. 2, and in line with
the vent, runs up, elevates, supplies shells, primes, and tra¬
verses; No. 5, in the same relative position on the leftiw
of the mortar, runs up, supplies shells, elevates, traverses,
and fires ; No. 6, at the magazine, serves ammunition. No.'
2 puts the shells into the 8-inch royal and ccehorn mor¬
tars, and in putting them into the 13 and 10-inch mor¬
tars is assisted by No. 3.
3. Exercise of the various Machines employed in the,
Manoeuvres of Heavy Artillery.
The method of numbering, telling off, &c. is the same
in every respect for this branch of the exercises as for
the two preceding, except that, in the exercise of the
devil-carriage, the odd numbers are posted on the right
side, and the even numbers on the left.
Exercise of the Triangle Gyn.
The complement of men for a triangle gyn is usually
one non-commissioned officer and ten gunners. The fol¬
lowing are the duties in working or carrying the gyn:
Left side. Eight Side.
No. 3 carries at the foot of No. 2 carries at the foot
the left cheek, works the left- of the right cheek, works the
hand lever, keys and unkeys right-hand lever, keys and
the left-hand capsquare of unkeys the right-hand cap-
the gun-carriage, and assists square of the gun-carriage,
the
carriage up or
to run
back.
No. 5 carries at the top of
the left cheek, works the left
centre lever, and assists to
run the carriage up or back.
No. 7 carries the levers
and handspikes, assists No.
6 in passing the fall round
the windlass, and holds on
next to him.
No. 9 carries at the top of
the pry-pole with the slings,
fid, trucks, &c., holds on the
fall behind No. 8, and coils
it up as it comes off.
No. 11 Assists in carry¬
ing the blocks and fall, reeves
and unreeves the triple block,
assists in slinging the gun,
and steadies it at the muzzle.
and assists to run the car¬
riage up or back.
No. 4 carries at the top of
the right cheek, works the
right centre lever, and as¬
sists to run the carriage up
or back.
No. 6 carries the wind¬
lass, passes the fall round it,
holds on, makes it fast, and
eases off' and lowers the gun.
No. 8 carries at the foot
of the pry-pole with the
slings, fid, trucks, &c., and
holds on next to No. 7.
No. 10 assists in carrying
the blocks and fall, reeves
and unreeves the double
block, assists in slinging the
gun, and steadies it at the
cascable.
Exercise of Bell’s Gyn.
The complement of men for working this gyn is one
non-commissioned officer and six gunners.
Left side.
No. 3 runs the carriage
up or back, assists No. 6 in
slinging the gun, turns the
winch, assisted by No. 5, or
makes fast and hauls upon
the rope which is passed
round the handles of the
winch.
No. 5 runs the carriage
up or back, and assists No. 3
at the winch.
No. 7 slings and unslings
the gun at the chace, assist-
Right side.
No. 2 runs the carriage
up or back, assists No. 7 in
slinging the gun, turns the
winch, assisted by No. 4, or
holds on upon the rope and
makes it fast, the same as
No. 3.
No. 4 performs similar
duties to No. 5 on his own
side.
No. 6 slings and unslings
the gun at the first re¬
ed by No. 3, and steadies at inforce, assisted by No. 3,
the muzzle. places the bed and quoin,
and steadies the gun at the
cascable.
ART
^rt pry Exercise of the Sling-cart.
^ The complement of men for a sling-cart is one non-
An, commissioned officer and six gunners.
Left side. Right side.
No. 3 has charge of the
left lever, and when neces¬
sary assists to sling the gun.
No. 5 assists No. 3 at the
lever and skidding, and when
the gun is lashed assists in
raising the breech.
No. 7 assists No. 3 at the
lever, slings and unslings the
gun, and lashes it to the
pry-pole.
The non-commissioned oil
pauls, and commands.
No. 2 has charge of the
right lever, and when ne¬
cessary assists to skid the
gun. . .
No. 4 in like manner as¬
sists No. 2, and when the
gun is lashed assists in rais¬
ing the breech.
No. 6 assists No. 2 at the
lever, in slinging and un¬
slinging the gun, and lash¬
ing it to the pry-pole.
;er puts in and takes out the
Exercise of the Devil-carriage.
The complement of men for working this carriage is
one non-commissioned officer and ten gunners.
Left side.
No. 2 has charge of a drag-
rope, assists in hauling the
perch up and down, assists
No. 3 in bearing the muzzle
down, and, when the gun
and carriage are lashed on,
puts up the skid.
Right side.
No. 3 has charge of a
drag-rope, assists in hauling
the perch up and down, bears
the muzzle of the gun down,
and, when the breech is rais¬
ed, puts the lever into the
muzzle.
art
643
No. 4 steadies the gun-
carriage when raised on its
breast transom, and with the
long guy-rope lashes its front
axle-tree to the devil-car¬
riage.
No. 6 slings the gun,
lashes the breech to the
perch, assists in limbering
up and unlimbering, and
slings the gun-carriage.
No. 8 has charge of one
of the short guys, assists in
unlimbering and limbering
up, and in hauling the breech
of the gun up to the perch ;
lashes the hind axle-tree of
the gun-carriage to the devil-
carriage, and fixes the long
guy-rope to the iron eyes at
the end of the perch.
No. 10 assists in unlim¬
bering and limbering up, and
in hauling the breech of the
gun up to the perch ; lashes
with the short guy-ropes the
rear axle-tree of the gun-
carriage to the devil-car¬
riage, and fixes the short guy-
ropes to the ring under the
perch.
No. 5. The duties of No. Artlen-
5 are in all respects the burg
same as those of No. 4. li
Arts.
No. 7. The duties of No.
7 are the same as those of
No. 6, only performed on his
own side of the carriage.
No. 9 does the same as
No. 8.
No. 11 does the same as
No. 10.
(f. f.)
Artillery Park, the place in the rear of J)oth lines of
an army for encamping the artillery, which is drawn up
in lines, of which one is formed by the guns; the ammu¬
nition-waggons make two or three lines, 60 paces behind
the guns, and 30 distant from one another; the pontoons
and tumbrils make the last line. The whole is surround¬
ed by a rope, which forms the park; the gunners and ma-
trosses encamp on the flanks; and the bombardiers, pon¬
toon-men, and artificers, in the rear.
Artillery Train, a certain number of pieces of ord¬
nance mounted on carriages, with all their furniture fit
for marching.
Artillery Company, a band of infantry, consisting of
600 men, making part of the militia or city guard of Lon¬
don.
ARTIST, in a general sense, a person skilled in some
art. Mr Harris defines an artist to be “ a person pos¬
sessing an habitual power of becoming the cause of some
effect, according to a system of various and well-approved
precepts.” It is generally applied to an individual who
practises the liberal arts as a profession.
ARTLENBURG, a bailiwick in the province of Lune-
burg, in the kingdom of Hanover, extending over 27
square miles, or 17,280 acres, and containing 3020 inha¬
bitants. A town of the same name, with 525 inhabitants,
is the capital of the bailiwick. It is on the banks of the
Elbe, and enjoys the benefit of a toll over the river.
ARTOTYRITES, a Christian sect in the primitive
church, who celebrated the eucharist with bread and
cheese, saying that the first oblations of men were not
only of the fruits of the earth, but of their flocks. The
word is derived from agrog, bread, and rupog, cheese. The
Artotyrites admitted women to the priesthood and epis¬
copacy ; and Epiphanius tells us it was a common thing
to see seven girls at once enter into their church, robed
in white and holding a torch in their hand, where they
wept and bewailed the wretchedness of human nature
and the miseries of this life.
ARTS.
Art is defined by Lord Bacon as a proper disposal of
the things of nature by human thought and experience,
so as to answer the several purposes of mankind; in
which sense art stands opposed to nature.
Art is principally used for a system of rules serving to
facilitate the performance of certain actions; in which
sense it stands opposed to science, or a system of specula¬
tive principles.
Arts are commonly divided into useful or mechanic,
fine or liberal. The former are those wherein the hand
tod body are more concerned than the mind; of which
kind are most of those which furnish us with the neces¬
saries of life, and are popularly known by the name of
trades. The latter are such as depend more on the labour
of the mind than of the hand; they are the produce of
imagination and taste, and their end is pleasure.
USEFUL ARTS.
Some useful arts must be nearly coeval with the human
race ; fbr food, clothing, and habitation, even in their ori¬
ginal simplicity, require some art. Many other arts are
of such antiquity as to place the inventors beyond the
644
Useful reach of tradition. Several have gradually crept into the
^Arts. world without an inventor. The busy mind, however, ac-
customed to a beginning in things, cannot rest till it finds
or imagines a beginning to every art. The most probable
conjectures of this nature the reader may see in the his¬
torical introductions to the different articles. Lord Karnes,
in his Sketches of the History of Man, has given some curi¬
ous illustrations of the progress of the arts.
In all countries where the people are barbarous and
illiterate, the progress of arts is extremely slow. It is
vouched by an old French poem, that the virtues of the
loadstone were known in France before the year 1180.
The mariner’s compass was exhibited at Venice anno
1260, by Paulus Venetus, as his own invention. John
Goya of Amalfi was the first who, many years afterwards,
used it in navigation, and also passed for being the in¬
ventor. Though it was used in China for navigation long
before it was known in Europe, yet to this day it is not
so perfect as in Europe. Instead of suspending it in order
to make it act freely, it is placed upon a bed of sand, in
which position every motion of the ship disturbs its opera¬
tion. Handmills, termed querns, were early used for grind¬
ing corn ; and when corn came to be raised in greater quan¬
tity, horse-mills succeeded. Water-mills for grinding
corn are described by Vitruvius. Wind-mills were known
in Greece and in Arabia as early as the 7th century,
and yet no mention is made of them in Italy till the 14th.
That they were not known in England till the reign of
Henry VIII. appears from a household book of an earl of
Northumberland, contemporary with that king, stating an
allowance for three mill-horses, “ two to draw in the mill,
and one to carry stuff to and from the mill.” Water¬
mills for corn must in England have been of a later date.
The ancients had mirror-glasses, and employed glass to
imitate crystal vases and goblets; yet they never thought
of using it in windows. In the 13th century the Vene¬
tians were the only people who had the art of making
crystal glass for mirrors. A clock that strikes the hours
was unknown in Europe till the end of the 12th century;
and hence the custom of employing men to proclaim the
hours during night. Galileo was the first who conceived
an idea that a pendulum might be used for measuring
time; and Huygens was the first who put the idea in
execution, by making a pendulum clock. Hooke, in the
year 1660, invented a spiral spring for a watch, though a
watch was far from being a new invention. Paper was
made no earlier than the 14th century; and the inven¬
tion of printing was a century later. Silk manufactures
were long established in Greece before silk-worms were
introduced there. The manufacturers were provided with
raw silk from Persia; but that commerce being frequent¬
ly interrupted by war, two monks, in the reign of Justi¬
nian, brought eggs of the silk-worm from Hindostan, and
taught their countrymen the method of managing them.
The art of reading made a very slow progress: to en¬
courage that art in England, the capital punishment for
murder was remitted if the criminal could but read,
which in law language is termed benefit of clergy. One
would imagine that the arts must have made a very rapid
progress when so greatly favoured: but there is a signal
proof of the contrary; for so small an edition of the Bible
as 600 copies, translated into English in the reign of
Henry VIIL, was not wholly sold off in three years.
The discoveries of the Portuguese on the west coast of
Africa is a remarkable instance of the slow progress of
arts. In the beginning of the 15th century they were
totally ignorant of that coast beyond Cape Non, 28 de¬
grees north latitude. In 1410 the celebrated Prince
Henry of Portugal fitted out a fleet for discoveries, which
proceeded along the coast to Cape Bajadore, in 28 degrees,
T S.
but had not courage to double it. In 1418 Tristan Vaz Useful
discovered the island Porto Santo; and the year after the Arts,
island Madeira was discovered. In 1439 a Portuguese '""’"V'v
captain doubled Cape Bajadore; and the next year the
Portuguese reached Cape Blanco, lat. 20 degrees. In
1446 Nuna Tristan doubled Cape de Verde, lat. 14. 40.
In 1448 Don Gonzallo Vallo took possession of the Azores.
In 1449 the islands of Cape de Verde were discovered for
Don Henry. In 1471 Pedro d’Escovar discovered the
island St Thomas and Prince’s Island. In 1484 Diego
Cam discovered the kingdom of Congo. In 1486 Bartho¬
lomew Diaz, employed by John II. of Portugal, doubled
the Cape of Good Hope, which he called Cabo Tormen-
toso, from the tempestuous weather he found in the pas¬
sage. - ' 0j oo tnatt) auw nisiota^dq s ,;qy«|3
The progress of art seldom fails to be rapid when a
people happen to be roused out of a torpid state by some
fortunate change of circumstances. Prosperity, contrast¬
ed with former abasement, gives to the mind a spring,
which is vigorously exerted in every new pursuit. The
Athenians made but a mean figure under the tyranny of
Pisistratus, but upon regaining freedom and independ¬
ence they were converted into heroes. Miletus, a Greek
city of Ionia, being destroyed by the king of Persia, and
the inhabitants made slaves, the Athenians, deeply affect¬
ed with the misery of their brethren, boldly attacked the
king in his own dominions, and burnt the city of Sardis.
In less than ten years after, they gained a signal victory
at Marathon ; and, under Themistocles, made head against
that prodigious army with which Xerxes threatened utter
ruin to Greece. Such prosperity produced its usual
effects : arts flourished with arms, and Athens became the
chief theatre for sciences, as well as for fine arts. The
reign of Augustus Csesar, which put an end to the rancour
of civil war, and restored peace to Rome, with the com¬
forts of society, proved an auspicious era for literature,
and produced a cloud of Latin historians, poets, and phi¬
losophers, to whom the moderns are indebted for their
taste and talents. One who makes a figure rouses emu¬
lation in all: one catches fire from another, and the na¬
tional spirit is everywhere triumphant; classical works are
composed, and useful discoveries made in every art and
science. With regard to Rome, it is true that the Roman
government under Augustus was in effect despotic; but
despotism in that single instance made no obstruction to
literature, it having been the policy of that reign to hide
power as much as possible. A similar revolution happened
in Tuscany about three centuries ago. That country hav¬
ing been divided into a number of small republics, the peo¬
ple, excited by mutual hatred between small nations in
close neighbourhood, became ferocious and bloody, flam¬
ing with revenge for the slightest offence. These republics
being united under the great duke of Tuscany, enjoyed the
sweets of peace in a mild government. That comfortable
revolution, which made the deeper impression by a retro¬
spect of recent calamities, roused the national spirit, and
produced ardent application to arts and literature. The
restoration of the royal family in England, which put an
end to a cruel and envenomed civil war, promoted im¬
provements of every kind; arts and industry made a rapid
progress among the people, though left to themselves by
a weak and fluctuating administration. Had the nation,
upon that favourable turn of fortune, been blessed with a
succession of able and virtuous princes, to what a height
might not arts and sciences have been carried!
Another cause of activity and animation is the being
engaged in some important action of doubtful issue,—a
struggle for liberty, the resisting a potent invader, or the
like. Greece, divided into small states frequently at war
with each other, advanced literature and the fine arts to
A R
A R
USf),Ji unrivalled perfection. The Corsicans, while engaged in
Ar - a perilous war for defence of their liberties, exerted a vigo-
rous national spirit; they founded a university for arts and
sciences, a public library, and a public bank. After a long
stupor during the dark ages of Christianity, arts and litera¬
ture revived among the turbulent states of Italy. The
Royal Society in London, and the Academy of Sciences
in Paris, were both of them instituted after civil wars
that had animated the people and roused their activity.
In a country thinly peopled, where even necessary arts
want hands, it is common to see one person exercising
more arts than one. In every populous country, even
simple arts are split into parts, and each part has an
artist appropriated to it. In the large towns of ancient
Egypt a physician was confined to a single disease. In
mechanic arts that method is excellent. As a hand con¬
fined to a single operation becomes both expert and ex¬
peditious, a mechanic art is perfected by having its dif¬
ferent operations distributed among the greatest number
of hands: many hands are employed in making a watch,
and a still greater number in manufacturing a web of
woollen cloth. Various arts or operations carried on by
the same man invigorate his mind, because they exercise
different faculties; and as he cannot be equally expert in
every art or operation, he is frequently reduced to supply
want of skill by thought and invention. Constant appli¬
cation, on the contrary, to a single operation, confines the
mind to a single object, and excludes all thought and in¬
vention. In such a train of life the operator becomes dull
and stupid, like a beast of burden. The difference is vi¬
sible in the manners of the people. In a country where,
from want of hands, several occupations must be carried
on by the same person, the people are knowing and con¬
versable : in a populous country, where manufactures
flourish, they are ignorant and unsociable. The same
effect is equally visible in countries where an art or ma¬
nufacture is confined to a certain class of men. It is vi¬
sible in Hindostan, where the people are divided into
castes, which never mix even by marriage, and where every
man follows his father’s trade. The Dutch lint-boors are
a similar instance: the same family carries on the trade
from generation to generation, and are accordingly igno¬
rant and brutish even beyond other Dutch peasants.
Useful arts pave the way to fine arts. Men upon whom
the former had bestowed every convenience, turned their
thoughts to the latter. Beauty was studied in objects of
sight; and men of taste attached themselves to the fine
arts, which multiplied their enjoyments and improved
their benevolence. Sculpture and painting made an early
figure in Greece, which afforded plenty of beautiful ori¬
ginals to be copied in these imitative arts. Statuary, a
more simple imitation than painting, was sooner brought
to perfection. The statue of Jupiter by Phidias, and of
Juno by Polycletes, though the admiration of all the
world, were executed long before the art of light and
shade was known. Apollodorus, and Zeuxis his disciple,
who flourished in the 95th olympiad, were the first who
figured in that art. Another cause concurred to advance
statuary before painting in Greece, viz. a great demand
for statues of their gods. Architecture, as a fine art,
made a slower progress. Proportions, upon which its
elegance chiefly depends, cannot be accurately ascer¬
tained, but by an infinity of trials in great buildings. A
model cannot be relied on; for a large and a small build-
mg, even of the same form, require different proportions.
FINE ARTS.
The term Fine Arts may be viewed as embracing all
those arts in which the powers of imitation or invention
t a
645
are exerted, chiefly with a view to the production of plea- Fine Arts,
sure by the immediate impression which they make on
the mind. But the phrase has of late, we think, been re¬
stricted to a narrower and more technical signification ;
namely, to painting, sculpture, engraving, and architec¬
ture, which appeal to the eye as the medium of pleasure;
and, by way of eminence, to the two first of these arts. In
the following observations we shall adopt this limited
sense of the term; and shall endeavour to develope the
principles upon which the great masters have proceeded,
and also to inquire, in a more particular manner, into the
state and probable advancement of these arts in this
country.
The great works of art at present extant, and which
may be regarded as models of perfection in their several
kinds, are the Greek statues—the pictures of the cele¬
brated Italian masters—those of the Dutch and Flemish
schools—to which we may add the comic productions of
our own countryman Hogarth. These all stand unrival¬
led in the history of art; and they owe their pre-emi¬
nence and perfection to one and the same principle,—the
immediate imitation of nature. This principle predomina¬
ted equally in the classical forms of the antique and in
the grotesque figures of Hogarth : the perfection of art in
each arose from the truth and identity of the imitation
with the reality ; the difference was in the subjects—there
was none in the mode of imitation. Yet the advocates
for the ideal system of art would persuade their disciples,
that the difference between Hogarth and the antique does
not consist in the different forms of nature which they
imitated, but in this, that the one is like and the other
unlike nature. This is an error the most detrimental
perhaps of all others, both to the theory and practice of
art. As, however, the prejudice is very strong and gene¬
ral, and supported by the highest authority, it will be ne¬
cessary to go somewhat elaborately into the question in
order to produce an impression on the other side.
What has given rise to the common notion of the ideal,
as something quite distinct from actual nature, is proba¬
bly the perfection of the Greek statues. Not seeing
among ourselves any thing to correspond in beauty and
grandeur, either with the features or form of the limbs in
these exquisite remains of antiquity, it was an obvious,
but a superficial conclusion, that they must have been
created from the idea existing in the artist’s mind, and
could not have been copied from any thing existing in
nature. The contrary, however, is the fact. The ge¬
neral form, both of the face and figure, which we observe
in the old statues, is not an ideal abstraction, is not a
fanciful invention of the sculptor, but is as completely lo¬
cal and national (though it happens to be more beautiful)
as the figures on a Chinese screen, or a copperplate en¬
graving of a negro chieftain in a book of travels. It will
not be denied that there is a difference of physiognomy
as well as of complexion in different races of men. The
Greek form appears to have been naturally beautiful, and
they had, besides, every advantage of climate, of dress, of
exercise, and modes of life to improve it. The artist had
also every facility afforded him in the study and know¬
ledge of the human form; and their religious and public
institutions gave him every encouragement in the prose¬
cution of this art. All these causes contributed to the
perfection of these noble productions; but we should be
inclined principally to attribute the superior symmetry of
form common to the Greek statues, in the first place, to
the superior symmetry of the models in nature; and in
the second, to the more constant opportunities for study¬
ing them. If we allow, also, for the superior genius of
the people, we shall not be wrong; but this superiority
consisted in their peculiar susceptibility to the impres-
646
Fine Arts, sions of what is beautiful and grand in nature. It may be
v—thought an objection to what has just been said, that the
antique figures of animals, &c., are as fine, and proceed
on the same principles, as their statues of gods or men.
But all that follows from this seems to be, that their art
had been perfected in the study of the human form, the
test and proof of power and skill; and was then transfer¬
red easily to the general imitation of all other objects, ac¬
cording to their true characters, proportions, and appear¬
ances. As a confirmation of these remarks, the antique
portraits of individuals were often superior even to the
personifications of their gods. We think that no unpre¬
judiced spectator of real taste can hesitate for a moment
in preferring the head of the Antinous, for example, to
that of the Apollo. And in general it may be laid down
as a rule, that the most perfect of the antiques are the
most simple,—those which affect the least action, or vio¬
lence of passion,—which repose the most on natural
beauty of form, and a certain expression of sweetness and
dignity, that is, which remain most nearly in that state in
which they could be copied from nature without straining
the limbs or features of the individual, or racking the
invention of the artist. This tendency of Greek art to
repose has indeed been reproached with insipidity by
those who had not a true feeling of beauty and sentiment.
We, however, prefer these models of habitual grace or in¬
ternal grandeur to the violent distortions of suffering in
the Laocoon, or even to the supercilious air of the Apollo.
The Niobe, more than any other antique head, combines
truth and beauty with deep passion. But here the pas¬
sion is fixed, intense, habitual;—it is not a sudden or vio¬
lent gesticulation, but a settled mould of features; the
grief it expresses is such as might almost turn the human
countenance itself into marble !
In general, then, we would be understood to maintain,
that the beauty and grandeur so much admired in the
Greek statues were not a voluntary fiction of the brain of
the artist, but existed substantially in the forms from
which they were copied, and by which the artist was sur¬
rounded. A striking authority in support of these obser¬
vations, which has in some measure been lately discover¬
ed, is to be found in the Elgin marbles, taken from the
Acropolis at Athens, and supposed to be the works of the
celebrated Phidias. The process of fastidious refinement
and indefinite abstraction is certainly not visible there.
The figures have all the ease, the simplicity, and variety,
of individual nature. Even the details of the subordinate
parts, the loose hanging folds in the skin, the veins under
the belly or on the sides of the horses, more or less swell¬
ed as the animal is more or less in action, are given with
scrupulous exactness. This is true nature and true art.
In a word, these invaluable remains of antiquity are pre¬
cisely like casts taken from life. The ideal is not the
preference of that which exists only in the mind to that
which exists in nature ; but the preference of that which
is fine in nature to that which is less so. There is no¬
thing fine in art but what is taken almost immediately,
and, as it were, in the mass, from what is finer in nature.
Where there have been the finest models in nature, there
have been the finest works of art.
As the Greek statues were copied from Greek forms,
so Raphael s expressions were taken from Italian faces;
and we have heard it remarked, that the women in the
streets at Rome seem to have walked out of his pictures
in the Vatican.
Sir Joshua Reynolds constantly refers to Raphael as
the highest example in modern times (at least with one
exception) of the grand or ideal style ; and yet he makes
the essence of that style to consist in the embodying of an
abstract or general idea, formed in the mind of the artist
T S.
by rejecting the peculiarities of individuals, and retaining Fine a
only what is common to the species. Nothing can be^vx
more inconsistent than the style of Raphael with this de¬
finition. In his Cartoons, and in his groupes in the Vati¬
can, there is hardly a face or figure which is any thing
more than fine individual nature finely disposed and copied.
The late Mr Barry, who could not be suspected of preju-
dice on this side of the question, speaks thus of them:
“ In Raphael’s pictures (at the Vatican) of the Dispute
of the Sacrament, and the School of Athens, one sees all
the heads to be entirely copied from particular characters
in nature, nearly proper for the persons and situations
which he adapts them to; and he seems to me only to
add and take away what may answer his purpose in little
parts, features, &c.; conceiving, while he had the head
before him, ideal characters and expressions, which he
adapts these features and peculiarities of face to. This
attention to the particulars which distinguish all the dif¬
ferent faces, persons, and characters, the one from the
other, gives his pictures quite the verity and unaffected
dignity of nature, which stamp the distinguishing differ¬
ences betwixt one man’s face and body and another’s.”
If any thing is wanting to the conclusiveness of this tes¬
timony, it is only to look at the pictures themselves; par¬
ticularly the Miracle of the Conversion, and the Assembly
of Saints, which are little else than a collection of divine
portraits, in natural and expressive attitudes, full of the
loftiest thought and feeling, and as varied as they are fine.
It is this reliance on the power of nature which has pro¬
duced those masterpieces by the prince of painters, in
which expression is all in all;—where one spirit—that of
truth—pervades every part, brings down heaven to earth,
mingles cardinals and popes with angels and apostles,—-
and yet blends and harmonizes the whole by the true
touches and intense feeling of what is beautiful and grand
in nature. It is no wonder that Sir Joshua, when he first
saw Raphael’s pictures in the Vatican, was at a loss to
discover any great excellence in them, if he was looking
out for his theory of the ideal,—of neutral character and
middle forms.
There is more an appearance of abstract grandeur of
form in Michael Angelo. He has followed up, has en¬
forced, and expanded, as it were, a preconceived idea, till
he sometimes seems to tread on the verge of caricature.
His forms, however, are not middle, but extreme forms,
massy, gigantic, supernatural. They convey the idea of
the greatest size and strength in the figure, and in all the
parts of the figure. Every muscle is swollen and turgid.
This tendency to exaggeration would have been avoided
if Michael Angelo had recurred more constantly to nature,
and had proceeded less on a scientific knowledge of the
structure of the human body; for science gives only the
positive form of the different parts, which the imagination
may afterwards magnify as it pleases; but it is nature alone
which combines them with perfect truth and delicacy, in
all the varieties of motion and expression. It is fortunate
that we can refer, in illustration of our doctrine, to the
admirable fragment of the Theseus at Lord Elgin’s, which
shows the possibility of uniting the grand and natural
style in the highest degree. The form of the limbs, as
affected by pressure or action, and the general sway of the
body, are preserved with the most consummate mastery.
We should prefer this statue as a model for forming the
style of the student to the Apollo, which strikes us as
having something of a theatrical appearance; or to the
Hercules, in which there is an ostentatious and over-la¬
boured display of anatomy. This last figure is so overload¬
ed with sinews, that it has been suggested as a doubt,
whether, if life could be put into it, it would be able to
move. Grandeur of conception,, truth of nature, and pu-
A R
fine -ts. rity of taste, seem to have been at their height when the
V-W masterpieces which adorned the Temple of Minerva at
Athens, of which we have only these imperfect fragments,
were produced. Compared with these, the later Greek
statues display a more elaborate workmanship, more of the
artifices of style. The several parts are more uniformly
balanced, made more to tally like modern periods; each
muscle is more equally brought out, and more highly
finished as a part, but not with the same subordination of
each part to the whole. If some of these wonderful pro¬
ductions have a fault, it is the want of that entire and
naked simplicity which pervades the whole of the Elgin
marbles.
Worktif Having spoken here of the Greek statues, and of the
the Gf- works of Raphael and Michael Angelo, as far as relates to
Ana the imitation of nature, we shall attempt to point out, to
Itaha the best of our ability, and as concisely as possible, what
we conceive to be their general and characteristic excel¬
lences. The ancients excelled in beauty of form; Michael
Angelo in grandeur of conception ; Raphael in expression.
In Raphael’s faces, particularly his women, the expression
is very superior to the form; in the ancient statues the
form is the principal thing. The interest which the lat¬
ter excite is in a manner external; it depends on a cer¬
tain grace and lightness of appearance, joined with exqui¬
site symmetry and refined susceptibility to voluptuous
emotions; but there is in general a want of pathos. In
their looks we do not read the workings of the heart; by
their beauty they seem raised above the sufferings of hu-
pianity; by their beauty they are deified. The pathos
which they exhibit is rather that of present and physical
distress, than of deep internal sentiment. What has been
remarked of Leonardo da Vinci, is also true of Raphael,
that there is an angelic sweetness and tenderness in his
faces, in which human frailty and passion are purified by
the sanctity of religion. The ancient statues are finer ob¬
jects for the eye to contemplate ; they represent a more
perfect race of physical beings, but we have little sympa¬
thy with them. In Raphael, all our natural sensibilities
are heightened and refined by the sentiments of faith and
hope, pointing mysteriously to the interests of another
world. I he same intensity of passion appears also to dis¬
tinguish Raphael from Michael Angelo. Michael Angelo’s
forms are grander, but they are not so informed with ex¬
pression. Raphael’s, however ordinary in themselves, are
full of expression, “ even to o’erflowingevery nerve and
muscle is impregnated with feeling,—bursting with mean¬
ing. In Michael Angelo, on the contrary, the powers of
body and mind appear superior to any events that can
happen to them; the capacity of thought and feeling is
never full, never strained or tasked to the extremity of
what it will bear. All is in a lofty repose and solitary
grandeur, which no human interest can shake or disturb.
It has been said that Michael Angelo painted man, and
Raphael men ; that the one was an epic, the other a dra¬
matic painter. But the distinction we have stated is, per¬
haps, truer and more intelligible, viz. that the one gave
greater dignity of form, and the other greater force and
idmement of expression. Michael Angelo, in fact, bor-
lowed his style from sculpture. He represented, in ge¬
neral, only single figures (with subordinate accompani¬
ments), and had not to express the conflicting actions and
passions of a multitude of persons. It is therefore a mere
truism to say that his compositions are not dramatic. He
is much more picturesque than Raphael. The whole
gure of his Jeremiah droops and hangs down like a ma¬
jestic tree surcharged with showers. His drawing of the
form has the characteristic freedom and boldness
°t I man’s landscapes.
After Michael Angelo and Raphael, there is no doubt
1
that Leonardo da Vinci and Correggio are the two pain-F
tors, in modern times, who have carried historical expres¬
sion to the highest ideal perfection; and yet it is equal¬
ly certain that their heads are carefully copied from faces
and expressions in nature. Leonardo excelled principal¬
ly In hls women and children. We find, in his female
heads, a peculiar charm of expression; a character of na¬
tural sweetness and tender playfulness, mixed up with the
pride of conscious intellect and the graceful reserve of
personal dignity. He blends purity with voluptuousness;
cind the expression of his women is equally characteristic
of “ the mistress or the saint.” His pictures are worked
up to the height of the idea he had conceived, with an
elaboiate felicity; but this idea was evidently first sug¬
gested, and afterwards religiously compared with nature,
I his was his excellence. His fault is, that his style of
execution is too mathematical; that is, his pencil does
not follow the graceful variety of the details of objects,
but substitutes certain refined gradations, both of form
and colour, producing equal changes in equal distances,
with a mechanical uniformity. Leonardo was a man of
profound learning as well as genius, and perhaps trans¬
ferred too much of the formality of science to his favou¬
rite art.
The masterpieces of Correggio have the same identity
with nature, the same stamp of truth. He has indeed
given to his pictures the utmost softness and refinement
of outline and expression ; but this idea, at which he con¬
stantly aimed, is filled up with all the details and varieties
which such heads would have in nature. So far from any
thing like a naked abstract idea, or middle form, the in¬
dividuality of his faces has something peculiar in it, even
approaching the grotesque. He has endeavoured to im¬
press habitually on the countenance those undulating out¬
lines which rapture or tenderness leave there, and has
chosen for this purpose those forms and proportions which
most obviously assisted his design.
As to the colouring of Correggio, it is nature itself. Not
only is the general tone perfectly true, but every speck
and particle is varied in colour, in relief, in texture, with
a care, a felicity, and an effect, which is almost magical.
His light and shade are equally admirable. No one else,
perhaps, ever gave the same harmony and roundness to his
compositions. So true are his shadows,—equally free from
coldness, opacity, or false glare;—so clear, so broken, so
airy, and yet so deep, that if you hold your hand so as to
cast a shadow on any part of the flesh which is in the
light, this part, so shaded, will present exactly the same
appearance which the painter has given to the shadowed
part of the picture. Correggio, indeed, possessed a greater
variety Of excellences in the different departments of his
art than any other painter ; and yet it is remarkable, that
the impression which his pictures leave upon the mind of
the common spectator is monotonous and comparatively
feeble. His style is in some degree mannered and con¬
fined. For instance, he is without the force, passion, and
grandeur of Raphael, who, however, possessed his softness
of expression, but of expression only; and in colour, in
light and shade, and other qualities, was quite inferior to
Correggio. We may, perhaps, solve this apparent contra¬
diction by saying, that he applied the power of his mind
to a greater variety of objects than others; but that this
power was still of the same character; consisting in a cer¬
tain exquisite sense of the harmonious, the soft and grace¬
ful in form, colour, and sentiment, but with a deficiency
of strength, and a tendency to effeminacy in all these.
After the names of Raphael and Correggio, we shall
mention that of Guido, whose female faces are exceeding¬
ly beautiful and ideal, but altogether commonplace and
vapid compared with those of Raphael or Correggio ; and
Arts, they are so for no other reason hut that the general idea
they convey is not enriched and strengthened by an in¬
tense contemplation of nature. For the same reason, we
can conceive nothing more unlike the antique than the
figures of Nicholas Poussin, except as to the preservation
of the costume ; and it is perhaps chiefly owing to the
habit of studying his art at second-hand, or by means of
scientific rules, that the great merits of that able painter,
whose understanding and genius are unquestionable, are
confined to his choice of subjects for his pictures, and Ids
manner of telling the story. His landscapes, which he
probably took from nature, are superior as paintings to his
historical pieces. The faces of Poussin want natural ex¬
pression, as his figures want grace ; but the back-grounds
of his historical compositions can scarcely be surpassed.
In his Plague of Athens, the very buildings seem stiff with
horror. His giants, seated on the top of their fabled
mountains, and playing on their Pan pipes, are as familiar
and natural as if they were the ordinary inhabitants of the
scene. The finest of his landscapes is his picture of the
Deluge. The sun is just seen, wan and drooping in his
course. The sky is bowed down with a weight of waters,
and heaven and earth seem mingling together.
Titian is at the head of the Venetian school. He is the
first of all colourists. In delicacy and purity Correggio is
equal to him, but his colouring has not the same warmth
and gusto in it. Titian’s flesh-colour partakes of the
glowing nature of the climate, and of the luxuriousness
of the manners of his country. He represents objects not
through a merely lucid medium, but as if tinged with a
golden light. Yet it is wonderful in how low a tone of
local colouring his pictures are painted,—how rigidly his
means are husbanded. His most gorgeous effects are pro¬
duced, not less by keeping down than by heightening his
colours; the fineness of his gradations adds to their va¬
riety and force; and, with him, truth is the same thing as
splendour. Every thing is done by the severity of his
eye, by the patience of his touch. He is enabled to keep
pace with nature by never hurrying on before her; and
as he forms the broadest masses out of innumerable vary¬
ing parts and minute strokes of the pencil, so he unites
and harmonizes the strongest contrasts by the most im¬
perceptible transitions. Every distinction is relieved and
broken by some other intermediate distinction, like half¬
notes in music; and yet all this accumulation of endless
variety is so managed as only to produce the majestic
simplicity of nature, so that to a common eye there is
nothing extraordinary in his pictures, any more than in
nature itself. It is, we believe, owing to what has been
here stated, that Titian is, of all painters, at once the
easiest and the most difficult to copy. He is the most
difficult to copy perfectly, for the artifice of his colouring
and execution is hid in its apparent simplicity; and yet
the knowledge of nature, and the arrangement of the
forms and masses in his pictures, are so masterly, that any
copy made from them, even the rudest outline or sketch,
can hardly fail to have a look of high art. Because he
was the greatest colourist in the world, this, which was
his most prominent, has, for shortness, been considered
as his only excellence; and he has been said to have been
ignorant of drawing. What he was, generally speaking,
deficient in, was invention or composition, though even
this appears to have been more from habit than want of
power; but his drawing of actual forms, where they were
not to be put into momentary action, or adapted to a par¬
ticular expression, was as fine as possible. His drawing
of the forms of inanimate objects is unrivalled. His trees
have a marked character and physiognomy of their own,
and exhibit an appearance of strength or flexibility, soli¬
dity or lightness, as if they were endued with conscious
power and purposes. Lharacter was another excellence Fine An
which Titian possessed in the highest degree. It is^-vx
scarcely speaking too highly of his portraits to say, that
they have as much expression, that is, convey as fine
an idea of intellect and feeling, as the historical heads
of Raphael. The chief difference appears to be, that
the expression in Raphael is more imaginary and con¬
templative, and in Titian more personal and constitu¬
tional. The heads of the one seem thinking more of
some event or subject, those of the other to be thinking
more of themselves. In the portraits of Titian, as might
be expected, the Italian character always predominates;
there is a look of piercing sagacity, of commanding intel¬
lect, of acute sensibility, which it would be in vain to
seek for in any other portraits. The daring spirit and
irritable passions of the age and country are distinctly
stamped upon their countenances, and can be as little
mistaken as the costume which they wear. The portraits
of Raphael, though full of profound thought and feeling,
have more of common humanity about them. Titian’s
portraits are the most historical that ever were painted;
and they are so for this reason, that they have most con¬
sistency of form and expression. His portraits of Hippo*
lito de Medici, and of a young Neapolitan nobleman,
lately in the gallery of the Louvre, are a striking contrast
in this respect. All the lines of the face in the one, the
eye-brows, the nose, the corners of the mouth, the con¬
tour of the face, present the same sharp angles, the same
acute, edgy, contracted, violent expression. The other
portrait has the finest expansion of feature and outline,
and conveys the most exquisite idea possible of mild,
thoughtful sentiment. The consistency of the expression
constitutes as great a charm in Titian’s portraits as the
harmony of the colouring. The similarity sometimes ob¬
jected to his heads is partly national, and partly arises
from the class of persons whom he painted. He painted
only Italians; and in his time it rarely happened that any
but persons of the highest rank, senators or cardinals, sat
for their pictures. The similarity of costume of the dress,
the beard, &c. also adds to the similarity of their appear¬
ance. It adds at the same time to their picturesque ef¬
fect; and the alteration in this respect is one circum¬
stance among others that has been injurious, not to say
fatal, to modern art. This observation is not confined to
portrait; for the hired dresses writh which our historical
painters clothe their figures sit no more easily on the
imagination of the artist, than they do gracefully on the
lay-figures over which they are thrown.
Giorgioni, Paul Veronese, Tintoret, and the Bassans,
are the remaining great names of the Venetian school.
The excellence of all of them consisted in their bold, mas¬
terly, and striking imitation of nature. Their want of
ideal form and elevated character is, indeed, a constant
subject of reproach against them. Giorgioni takes the
first place among them; for he was in some measure the
master of Titian, whereas the others were only his dis¬
ciples. The Carraccis, Domenichino, and the rest of the
Bolognese school, formed themselves on a principle of
combining the excellences of the Roman and Venetian
painters, in which they for a while succeeded to a consi¬
derable degree ; but they degenerated and dwindled away
into absolute insignificance, in proportion as they departed
from nature, or the great masters who had copied her, to
mould their works on academic rules, and the phantoms
of abstract perfection. ..
Rubens is the prince of the Flemish painters. _ Of all Flem^
the great painters, he is perhaps the most artificial,—
one who painted most from his own imagination,—and,l
what was almost the inevitable consequence, the most of
a mannerist. He had neither the Greek forms to study
ARTS.
fine rts. from, nor the Roman expression, nor the high character,
picturesque costume, and sun-burnt hues which the Ve¬
netian painters had immediately before them. He took,
however, what circumstances presented to him,—a fresher
and more blooming tone of complexion, arising from
moister air and a colder climate. To this he added the
congenial splendour of reflected lights and shadows cast
from rich drapery; and he made what amends he could
for the want of expression, by the richness of his compo¬
sitions, and the fantastic variety of his allegorical groups.
Both his colouring and his drawing were, however, ideal
exaggerations. But both had particular qualities of the
highest value. He has given to his flesh greater transpa¬
rency and freshness than any other painter; and this ex¬
cellence he had from nature. One of the finest instances
will be found in his Peasant Family going to Market, in
which the figures have all the bloom of health upon their
countenances ; and the very air of the surrounding land¬
scape strikes sharp and wholesome on the sense. Rubens
had another excellence; he has given all that relates to
the expression of motion in his allegorical figures, in his
children, his animals, even in his trees, to a degree which
no one else has equalled, or indeed approached. His
drawing is often deficient in proportion, in knowledge,
and in elegance, but it is always picturesque. The draw¬
ing of N. Poussin, on the contrary, which has been much
cried up, is merely learned and anatomical: he has a
knowledge of the structure and measurements of the hu¬
man body, but very little feeling of the grand, or beauti¬
ful, or striking in form. All Rubens’ forms have ease,
freedom, and excessive elasticity. In the grotesque style
of history,—as in the groups of satyrs, nymphs, baccha¬
nals, and animals, where striking contrasts of form are
combined with every kind of rapid and irregular move¬
ment,—he has not a rival. Witness his Silenus at Blen¬
heim, where the lines seem drunk and staggering; and
his procession of Cupids riding on animals at Whitehall,
with that adventurous leader of the infantine crew, who,
with a spear, is urging a lion, on which he is mounted,
over the edge of the world; for beyond we only see a
precipice of clouds and sky. Rubens’ power of express¬
ing motion perhaps arose from the facility of his pencil,
and his habitually trusting a good deal to memory and
imagination in his compositions; for this quality can be
given in no other way. His portraits are the least va¬
luable productions of his pencil. His landscapes are often
delightful, and appear like the work of fairy hands.
It remains to speak of Vandyke and Rembrandt, the
one the disciple of Rubens, the other the entire founder
of his own school. It is not possible for two painters to
be more opposite. The characteristic merits of the for¬
mer are very happily summed up in a single line of a
poetical critic, where he speaks of
The soft precision of the clear Vandyke.
The general object of this analysis of the works of the
great masters has been to show that their pre-eminence
has constantly depended, not on the creation of a fantas¬
tic, abstract excellence, existing nowhere but in their own
minds, but in their selecting and embodying some one
view of nature, which came immediately under their ha¬
bitual observation, and which their particular genius led
them to study and imitate with success. This is certainly
die case with Vandyke. His portraits, mostly of English
women, in the collection in the Louvre, have a cool re¬
freshing air about them, a look of simplicity and modesty
even in the very tone, which forms a fine contrast to the
voluptuous glow and mellow golden lustre of Titian’s Ita¬
lian women. There is a quality of flesh-colour in Van¬
dyke which is to be found in no other painter, and which
von. iii.
649
exactly conveys the idea of the soft, smooth, sliding, con- Fine Arts,
tmuous, delicately varied surface of the skin. The ob-
jects in his pictures have the least possible difference of
light and shade, and are presented to the eye without
passing through any indirect medium. It is this extreme
purity and silvery clearness of tone, together with the fa¬
cility and precision of his particular forms, and a certain
air of fashionable elegance, characteristic of the age in
which he flourished, that places Vandyke in the first rank
of portrait painters.
If ever there was a man of genius in the art, it was
Rembrandt. He might be said to have created a medium
of his own, through which he saw all objects. He was
the grossest and the least vulgar, that is to say, the least
common-place in his grossness, of all men. He was the
most downright, the least fastidious of the imitators of
nature, tie took any object, he cared not what, how
mean soever in form, colour, and expression ; and from the
light and shade which he threw upon it, it came out gor¬
geous from his hands. As Vandyke made use of the
smallest contrasts of light and shade, and painted as if in
the open air, Rembrandt used the most violent and abrupt
contrasts in this respect, and painted his objects as if in
a dungeon. His pictures may be said to be “ bright with
excessive darkness.” His vision had acquired a lynx-eyed
sharpness from the artificial obscurity to which he had ac¬
customed himself. “ Mystery and silence hung upon his
pencil.” Yet he could pass rapidly from one extreme to
another, and dip his colours with equal success in the
gloom of night or in the blaze of the noon-day sun. In
surrounding different objects with a medium of imagina¬
tion, solemn or dazzling, he was a true poet; in all the
rest he was a mere painter, but a painter of no common
stamp. The powers of his hand were equal to those of
his eye; and indeed he could not have attempted the
subjects he did, without an execution as masterly as his
knowledge was profound. His colours are sometimes
dropped in lumps on the canvass; at other times they
are laid on as smooth as glass; and he not unfrequently
painted with the handle of his brush. Pie had an eye for
all objects as far as he had seen them. His history and
landscapes are equally fine in their way. His landscapes
we could look at for ever, though there is nothing in them.
But “ they are of the earth, earthy.” It seems as if he
had dug them out of nature. Every thing is so true, so
real, so full of all the feelings and associations which the
eye can suggest to the other senses, that we immediately
take as strong an affection to them as if they were our
home—the very place where we were brought up. No
length of time could add to the intensity of the impres¬
sion they convey. Rembrandt is the least classical and
the most romantic of all painters. His Jacob's Ladder is
more like a dream than any other picture that ever was
painted. The figure of Jacob himself is thrown in one
corner of the picture like a bundle of clothes, while the
angels hover above the darkness in the shape of airy
wings.
It would be needless to prove that the generality of
the Dutch painters copied from actual objects. They
have become almost a bye-word for carrying this prin¬
ciple into its abuse, by copying every thing they saw, and
having no choice or preference of one thing to another,
unless that they preferred that which was most obvious
and common. We forgive them. They perhaps did bet¬
ter in faithfully and skilfully imitating what they had
seen, than in imagining what they had not seen. Their
pictures at least show that there is nothing in nature,
however mean or trivial, that has not its beauty, and some
interest belonging to it, if truly represented. We prefer
Vangoyen’s views on the borders of a canal, the yellow-
4 N
650 A R
Fine Arts, tufted bank and passing sail, or Ruysdael’s woods and
sparkling water-falls, to the most classical or epic compo¬
sitions which they could have invented out of nothing;
and we think that Teniers’ boors, old women, and chil¬
dren, are very superior to the little carved ivory Yenuses
in the pictures of Vanderneer; just as we think Hogarth’s
Marriage a la Mode is better than his Sigismunda, or, as
Mr Wilkie’s Card-Players is better than his Alfred. We
should not assuredly prefer a Dutch Fair by Teniers to a
Cartoon by Raphael; but we suspect we should prefer a
Dutch Fair by Teniers to a Cartoon by the same master;
or we should prefer truth and nature in the simplest dress,
to affectation and inanity in the most pompous disguise.
Whatever is genuine in art must proceed from the im¬
pulse of nature and individual genius.
French In the French school there are but two names of high
and Spa- and established reputation, N. Poussin and Claude Lor-
nish paint- rajne. Of the former we have already spoken ; of the lat-
ers' ter we shall give our opinion when we come to speak of
our own Wilson. We ought not to pass over the names
of Murillo and Velasquez, those admirable Spanish paint¬
ers. It is difficult to characterize their peculiar excel¬
lences as distinct from those of the Italian and Dutch
schools. They may be said to hold a middle rank be¬
tween the painters of mind and body. They express not
so much thought and sentiment, nor yet the mere exte¬
rior, as the life and spirit of the man. Murillo is proba¬
bly at the head of that class-of painters who have treated
subjects of common life. After making the colours on
the canvass feel and think, the next best thing is to make
them breathe and live. But there is in Murillo’s pictures
of this kind a look of real life, a cordial flow of native ani¬
mal spirits, which we find nowhere else. We might here
refer particularly to his picture of the Two Spanish Beg¬
gar Boys, in the collection at Dulwich College, which can¬
not easily be forgotten by those who have ever seen it.
Progress of We come now to treat of the progress of art in Britain,
art in Bri- We shall speak first of Hogarth, both as he is the
tarn. flrgt name jn thg or(ier 0f time that we have to boast of,
and as he is the greatest comic painter of any age or
country. His pictures are not imitations of still life, or
mere transcripts of incidental scenes or customs; but
powerful moral satires, exposing vice and folly in their
most ludicrous points of view, and, with a profound insight
into the weak sides of character and manners, in all their
tendencies, combinations, and contrasts. There is not a
single picture of his, containing a representation of merely
natural or domestic scenery. His object is not so much
“ to hold the mirror up to nature,” as “ to show vice her
own feature, scorn her own image.” Folly is there seen
at the height—the moon is at the full—it is the very er¬
ror of the time. There is a perpetual collision of eccen¬
tricities, a tilt and tournament of absurdities, pampered
into all sorts of affectation, airy, extravagant, and osten¬
tatious ! Yet he is as little a caricaturist as he is a painter
of still life. Criticism has not done him justice, though
public opinion has. His works have received a sanction
which it would be vain to dispute, in the universal delight
and admiration with which they have been regarded, from
their first appearance to the present moment. If the
quantity of amusement, or of matter for reflection, which
they have afforded, is that by which we are to judge of
precedence among the intellectual benefactors of mankind,
there are perhaps few persons who can put in a stronger
claim to our gratitude than Hogarth. The wonderful
knowledge which he possessed of human life and manners
is only to be surpassed (if it can be) by the powers of in¬
vention with which he has arranged his materials, and by
T S.
the mastery of execution with which he has embodied Fine Al¬
and made tangible the very thoughts and passing move-
ments of the mind. Some persons object to the style of
Hogarth’s pictures, or the class to which they belong.
First, Hogarth belongs to no class, or, if he belongs to
any, it is to the same class as Fielding, Smollett, Van¬
brugh, and Moliere. Besides, the merit of his pictures
does not depend on the nature of his subjects, but on the
knowledge displayed of them, on the number of ideas, on
the fund of observation and amusement contained in them.
Make what deductions you please for the vulgarity of the
subjects—yet in the research, the profundity, the abso¬
lute truth and precision of the delineation of character,—
in the invention of incident, in wit and humour, in life and
motion, in everlasting variety and originality,—they never
have been, and probably never will be, surpassed. They
stimulate the faculties, as well as amuse them. “ Other
pictures we see, Hogarth’s we read l”1
There is one error which has been frequently enter¬
tained on this subject, and which we wish to correct,
namely, that Hogarth’s genius was confined to the imita¬
tion of the coarse humours and broad farce of the lowest
life. But he excelled quite as much in exhibiting the
vices, the folly, and frivolity of the fashionable manners
of his time. His fine ladies do not yield the palm of ri¬
dicule to his waiting-maids, and his lords and his porters
are on a very respectable footing of equality. He is quite
at home, either in St Giles’s or St James’s. There is no
want, for example, in his Marriage d la Mode, or his
Taste in High Life, of affectation verging into idiotcy, or
of languid sensibility that might
Die of a rose in aromatic pain.
Many of Hogarth’s characters would form admirable il¬
lustrations of Pope’s Satires, who was contemporary with
him. In short, Hogarth was a painter of real, not of low
life. He was, as we have said, a satirist, and consequently
his pencil did not dwell on the grand and beautiful, but it
glanced with equal success at the absurdities and pecu¬
liarities of high or low life, “ of the great vulgar and the
small.”
To this it must be added, that he was as great a master
of passion as of humour. He succeeded in low tragedy
as much as in low or genteel comedy, and had an absolute
power in moving the affections and rending the hearts of
the spectators, by depicting the effects of the most dread¬
ful calamities of human life on common minds and com¬
mon countenances. Of this the Rakes Progress, particu¬
larly the bedlam scene, and many others, are unanswer¬
able proofs. Flogarth’s merits as a mere artist are not
confined to his prints. In general, indeed, this is the case.
But when he chose to take pains, he could add the deli¬
cacies of execution and colouring in the highest degree
to those of character and composition; as is evident in his
series of pictures, all equally well painted, of the Marriage
d la Mode.
We shall next speak of Wilson, whose pictures may be
divided into three classes,—his Italian landscapes, or imi¬
tations of the manner of Claude,—his copies of English
scenery,—and his historical compositions. The first of
these are, in our opinion, by much the best; and we ap¬
peal, in support of this opinion, to the Apollo and the Sea¬
sons, and to the Phaeton. The figures are of course out
of the question (these being as uncouth and slovenly as
Claude’s are insipid and finical); but the landscape in
both pictures is delightful.1 In looking at them we breathe
the air which the scene inspires, and feel the genius of
the place present to us. In the first there is the cool
1 See an admirable essay on the genius of Hogarth, by Charles Lamb, in a periodical work called The Reflector.
A R T S.
.rts. freshness of a misty spring morning; the sky, the water,
^ the dim horizon, all convey the same feeling. The fine
grey tone and varying outline of the hills; the graceful
form of the retiring lake, broken still more by the hazy
shadows of the objects that repose on its bosom; the
light trees that expand their branches in the air; and the
dark stone figure and mouldering temple, that contrast
strongly with the broad clear light of the rising day, 
give a charm, a truth, a force and harmony to this com¬
position, which produce the greater pleasure the longer it
is dwelt on. The distribution of light and shade resem¬
bles the effect of light on a globe. " The Phaeton has the
dazzling fervid appearance of an autumnal evening; the
golden radiance streams in solid masses from behind the
flickering clouds ; every object is baked in the sun ;—the
brown fore-ground, the thick foliage of the trees, the
streams, shrunk and stealing along behind the dark high
banks,—combine to produce that richness and character¬
istic unity of effect which is to be found only in nature,
or in art derived from the study and imitation of nature.
These two pictures, as they have the greatest general
effect, are also more carefully finished than any other pic¬
tures we have seen of his.
In general, Wilson’s views of English scenery want al¬
most every thing that ought to recommend them. The
subjects he has chosen are not well fitted for the land¬
scape-painter, and there is nothing in the execution to
redeem them. Ill-shaped mountains, or great heaps of
earth,—trees that grow against them without character or
elegance,—motionless waterfalls,—a want of relief, of trans¬
parency and distance, without the imposing grandeur of
real magnitude (which it is scarcely within the province
of art to give),—are the chief features and defects of this
class of his pictures. In more confined scenes the effect
must depend almost entirely on the difference in the ex¬
ecution and the details ; for the difference of colour alone
is not sufficient to give relief to objects placed at a small
distance from the eye. But in Wilson there are com¬
monly no details,—all is loose and general; and this very
circumstance, which might assist him in giving the massy
contrasts of light and shade, deprived his pencil of all
force and precision within a limited space. In general, air
is necessary to the landscape-painter; and, for this rea¬
son, the lakes of Cumberland and Westmoreland afford
few subjects for landscape-painting. However stupendous
the scenery of that country is, and however powerful and
lasting the impression which it must always make on the
imagination, yet the effect is not produced merely through
the medium of the eye, but arises chiefly from collateral
and associated feelings. There is the knowledge of the
physical magnitude of the objects in the midst of which
we are placed,—the slow, improgressive motion which we
make in traversing them;—there is the abrupt precipice,
the torrent s roar, the boundless expanse of the prospect
from the highest mountains,—the difficulty of their as¬
cent, their loneliness and silence;—in short, there is a con¬
stant sense and superstitious awe of the collective power
of matter, of the gigantic and eternal forms of nature, on
which, from the beginning of time, the hand of man has
made no impression, and which, by the lofty reflections
they excite in us, give a sort of intellectual sublimity
even to our sense of physical weakness. But there is
httle in all these circumstances that can be translated
into the picturesque, which makes its appeal immediately
to the eye.
Wilson s historical landscapes, his Niobe, Celadon ami
Amelia, &c. do not, in our estimation, display either true
651
taste or fine imagination, but are affected and violent ex- Fine Arts,
aggerations of clumsy common nature. They are made
up mechanically of the same stock of materials,—an over¬
hanging rock, bare shattered trees, black rolling clouds,
and forked lightning. The figures in the most celebrat¬
ed of these are not, like the children of Niobe, punished
by the gods, but like a group of rustics crouching from a
hail-storm. We agree with Sir Joshua Reynolds, that
Wilson s mind was not, like N. Poussin’s, sufficiently im¬
bued with the knowledge of antiquity to transport the
imagination three thousand years back, to give natural
objects a sympathy with preternatural events, and to in*
foim rocks, and trees, and mountains, with the presence
of a God. Io sum up his general character, we may ob-
seive, that, besides his excellence in aerial perspective,
Wilson had great truth, harmony, and depth of local co¬
louring. He had a fine feeling of the proportions and
conduct of light and shade, and also an eye for graceful
form,^ as far as regards the bold and varying outlines of
indefinite objects, as may be seen in his foregrounds, &c.,
wheie the artist is not tied down to an imitation of cha-
lacteristic and articulate forms. In his figures, trees,
cattle, and in everything having a determinate and regu-
lai form, his pencil was not only deficient in accuracy of
outline, but even in perspective and actual relief. His
trees, in particular, frequently seem pasted on the canvass,
like botanical specimens. In fine, we cannot subscribe to
the opinion of those who assert that Wilson was superior
to Claude as a man of genius; nor can wre discern any
other grounds for this opinion than what would lead to
the general conclusion,—that the more slovenly the per¬
formance the finer the picture, and that that which is im¬
perfect is superior to that which is perfect. It might be
said, on the same principle, that the coarsest sign-paint¬
ing is better than the reflection of a landscape in a mir¬
ror ; and the objection that is sometimes made to the
mere imitation of nature cannot be made to the land¬
scapes of Claude, for in them the graces themselves have,
with their own hands, assisted in selecting and disposing
every object. Is the general effect in his pictures injur¬
ed by the details? Is the truth inconsistent with the
beauty of the imitation ? Does the perpetual profusion of
objects and scenery, all perfect in themselves, interfere
with the simple grandeur and comprehensive magnificence
of the whole ? Does the precision with which a plant is
marked in the fore-ground take away from the air-drawn
distinctions of the blue glimmering horizon ? Is there any
want of that endless airy space, where the eye wanders
at liberty under the open sky, explores distant objects,
and returns back as from a delightful journey? There is
no comparison between Claude and Wilson. Sir Joshua
Reynolds used to say that there would be another Ra¬
phael before there would be another Claude. His land¬
scapes have all that is exquisite and refined in art and na¬
ture. Every thing is moulded into grace and harmony;
and, at the touch of his pencil, shepherds with their flocks,
temples and groves, and winding glades and scattered
hamlets, rise up in never-ending succession, under the
azure sky and the resplendent sun, while
Universal Pan,
Knit with the graces, and the hours in dance,
Leads on the eternal spring 
Michael Angelo has left, in one of his sonnets, a fine
apostrophe to the earliest poet of Italy:
Fain would I, to be what our Dante was,
Forego the happiest fortunes of mankind.
What landscape-painter does not feel this of Claude.1
1 Pa^nter’s book of studies from nature, commonly called Liber Vcritatis, disproves the truth of the general opinion, that his
andscapes are mere artificial compositions; for the finished pictures are nearly fac-similes of the original sketches.
652 A R
Fine Arts. We have heard an anecdote connected with the repu-
tation of Gainsborough’s pictures, which rests on pretty
good authority. Sir Joshua Reynolds, at one of the aca¬
demy dinners, speaking of Gainsborough, said to a friend,
“ He is undoubtedly the best English landscape-painter.”
“ No,” said Wilson, who overheard the conversation ; “ he
is not the best landscape painter, but he is the best por¬
trait painter in England.” They were both wrong; but
the story is creditable to the versatility of Gainsborough’s
talents.
Those of his portraits which we have seen are not in
the first rank. They are, in a good measure, imitations
of Vandyke, and have more an air of gentility than of na¬
ture. His landscapes are of two classes or periods, his
early and his later pictures. The former are minute imi¬
tations of nature, or of painters who imitated nature, such
as Ruysdael, &c., some of which have great truth and
clearness. His later pictures are flimsy caricatures of
Rubens, who himself carried inattention to the details to
the utmost limit that it would bear. Many of Gains¬
borough’s later landscapes may be compared to bad water¬
colour drawings, washed in by mechanical movements of
the hand, without any communication with the eye. The
truth seems to be, that Gainsborough found there was
something wanting in his earl?/ manner, that is, something
beyond the literal imitation of the details of natural ob¬
jects ; and he appears to have concluded rather hastily,
that the way to arrive at that something more was to dis¬
card truth and nature altogether. His fame rests prin¬
cipally, at present, on his fancy pieces, cottage children,
shepherd boys, &c. These have often great truth, great
sweetness, and the subjects are often chosen with great
felicity. We too often find, however, even in his hap¬
piest efforts, a consciousness in the turn of the limbs, and
a pensive languor in the expression, which is not taken
from nature. We think the gloss of art is never so ill
bestowed as on such subjects, the essence of which is
simplicity. It is, perhaps, the general fault of Gains¬
borough, that he presents us with an ideal common life,
of which we have had a surfeit in poetry and romance.
His subjects are softened and sentimentalized too much;
it is not simple unaffected nature that we see, but nature
sitting for her picture. Our artist, we suspect, led the
way to that masquerade style, which piques itself on
giving the air of an Adonis to the driver of a hay cart, and
models the features of a milk-maid on the principles of
the antique. His Woodman s Head is admirable. Nor
can too much praise be given to his Shepherd Boy in a
Storm, in which the unconscious simplicity of the boy’s
expression, looking up with his hands folded and with
timid wonder,—the noisy chattering of a magpie perched
above,—and the rustling of the coming storm in the
branches of the trees,—produce a most delightful and ro¬
mantic impression on the mind.
Gainsborough was to be considered, perhaps, rather as
a man of delicate taste, and of an elegant and feeling
mind, than as a man of genius; as a lover of the art ra¬
ther than an artist. He devoted himself to it, with a
view to amuse and soothe his mind, with the ease of a
gentleman, not with the severity of a professional student.
He wished to make his pictures, like himself, amiable;
but a too constant desire to please almost unavoidably
leads to affectation and effeminacy. He wanted that vi¬
gour of intellect which perceives the beauty of truth; and
thought that painting was to be gained, like other mis¬
tresses, by flattery and smiles. It was an error which we
T S.
are disposed to forgive in one, around whose memory, Fine Arts
both as an artist and a man, many fond recollections,
many vain regrets, must always linger.1
The authority of Sir Joshua Reynolds, both from his
example and instructions, has had, and still continues to
have, a considerable influence on the state of art in this
country. That influence has been, on the whole, unques¬
tionably beneficial in itself, as well as highly creditable to
the rare talents and elegant mind of Sir Joshua; for it
has raised the art of painting from the lowest state of de¬
gradation,—of dry, meagre, lifeless inanity,—to something
at least respectable, and bearing an affinity to the rough
strength and bold spirit of the national character. Whe¬
ther the same implicit deference to his authority, which
has helped to advance the art thus far, may not, among
other causes, limit and retard its future progress,—whe¬
ther there are not certain original errors, both in his prin¬
ciples and practice, which, the farther they are proceed¬
ed in, the farther they will lead us from the truth,—whe¬
ther there is not a systematic bias from the right line, by
which alone we can arrive at the goal of the highest per¬
fection,—are questions well worth considering.
We shall begin with Sir Joshua’s merits as an artist.
There is one error which we wish to correct at setting
out, because we think it important. There is not a greater
or more unaccountable mistake than the supposition that
Sir Joshua Reynolds owed his success or excellence in his
profession to his having been the first who introduced
into this country more general principles of the art, and
who raised portrait to the dignity of history, from the low
drudgery of copying the peculiarities, meannesses, and de¬
tails of individual nature, which was all that had been at¬
tempted by his immediate predecessors. This is so far
from being true, that the very reverse is the fact. If Sir
Joshua did not give these details and peculiarities so much
as might be wished, those who went before him did not
give them at all. Those pretended general principles of
the art, which, it is said, “ alone give value and dignity
to it,” had been pushed to their extremest absurdity be¬
fore his time; and it was in getting rid of the mechanical
systematic monotony and middle forms, by the help of
which Lely, Kneller, Hudson, the French painters, and
others, carried on their manufactories of history and face
painting, and in returning (as far as he did return) to the
truth and force of individual nature, that the secret both
of his fame and fortune lay. The pedantic servile race of
artists whom Reynolds superseded, had carried the ab¬
stract principle of improving on nature to such a degree
of refinement, that they left it out altogether, and con¬
founded all the varieties and irregularities of form, feature,
character, expression, or attitude, in the same artificial
mould of fancied grace and fashionable insipidity. The
portraits of Kneller, for example, seem all to have been
turned in a machine; the eye-brows are arched as if by a
compass, the mouth curled, and the chin dimpled; the
head turned on one side, and the hands placed in the
same affected position. The portraits of this mannerist,
therefore, are as like one another as the dresses which were
then in fashion, and have the same “ dignity and value” as
the full bottomed wigs which graced their originals. The
superiority of Reynolds consisted in his being varied and
natural, instead of being artificial and uniform. Ihe
spirit, grace, or dignity which he added to his portraits,
he borrowed from nature, and not from the ambiguous
quackery of rules. His feeling of truth and nature was
too strong to permit him to adopt the unmeaning style of
1 The idea of the necessity of improving upon nature, and giving what was called & flattering likeness, was universal in this country
fifty years ago, so that Gainsborough is not to be so much blamed for tampering with his subjects.
A R
f jne fcs. Kneller and Hudson; but his logical acuteness was not
such as to enable him to detect the verbal fallacies and
speculative absurdities which he had learned from Richard¬
son and Coypel; and, from some defects in his own prac¬
tice, he was led to confound negligence with grandeur.
But of this hereafter.
Sir Joshua Reynolds owed his vast superiority over his
contemporaries to incessant practice and habitual atten¬
tion to nature, to quick organic sensibility, to considerable
power of observation, and still greater taste in perceiving
and availing himself of those excellences of others which
lay within his own walk of art. We can by no means
look upon Sir Joshua as having a claim to the first rank
of genius. He would hardly have been a great painter
if other greater painters had not lived before him. He
would not have given a first impulse to the art; nor did
he advance any part of it beyond the point where he found
it He did not present any new view of nature, nor is he
to be placed in the same class with those who did. Even
in colour, his pallet was spread for him by the old masters;
and his eye imbibed its full perception of depth and har¬
mony of tone from the Dutch and Venetian schools rather
than from nature. His early pictures are poor and flimsy.
He indeed learned to see the finer qualities of nature
through the works of art, which he, perhaps, might never
have discovered in nature itself. He became rich by the
accumulation of borrowed wealth, and his genius was the
offspring of taste. He combined and applied the mate¬
rials of others to his own purpose with admirable success;
he was an industrious compiler or skilful translator, not
an original inventor, in art. The art would remain, in all
its essential elements, just where it is if Sir Joshua had
never lived. He has supplied the industry of future pla¬
giarists with no new materials. But it has been well ob¬
served, that the value of every work of art, as well as the
genius of the artist, depends not more on the degree of
excellence than on the degree of originality displayed in
it. Sir Joshua, however, was perhaps the most original
imitator that ever appeared in the world; and the reason
of this, in a great measure, was, that he was compelled to
combine what he saw in art with what he saw in nature,
which was constantly before him. The portrait painter
is, in this respect, much less liable than the historical
painter to deviate into the extremes of manner and affec¬
tation ; for he cannot discard nature altogether under the
excuse that she only puts him out. He must meet her
face to face; and if he is not incorrigible, he will see
something there that cannot fail to be of service to him.
Another circumstance which must have been favourable
to Sir Joshua was, that though not the originator in point
of time, he was the first Englishman who transplanted the
higher excellences of his profession into his own country,
and had the merit, if not of an inventor, of a reformer, of
the art. His mode of painting had the graces of novelty
in the age and country in which he lived; and he had,
therefore, all the stimulus to exertion which arose from
the enthusiastic applause of his contemporaries, and from
a desire to expand and refine the taste of the public.
To an eye for colour and for effects of light and shade,
Sir Joshua united a strong perception of individual cha¬
racter,—a lively feeling of the quaint and grotesque in
expression, and great mastery of execution. He had
comparatively little knowledge of drawing, either as it re¬
garded proportion or form. The beauty of some of his
female faces and figures arises almost entirely from their
softness and fleshiness. His pencil wanted firmness and
precision. The expression, even of his best portraits, sel¬
dom implies either lofty or impassioned intellect or deli¬
cate sensibility. He also wanted grace, if grace requires
simplicity. The mere negation of stiffness and forma-
653
lity is not grace ; for looseness and distortion are not Fine Arts,
grace. His favourite attitudes are not easy and natu-
ral, but the affectation of ease and nature. They are
violent deviations from a right line. Many of the figures
in his fancy pieces are placed in postures in which they
could not remain for an instant without extreme difficulty
and awkwardness. We might instance the Girl drawing
with a Pencil, and some others. His portraits are his best
pictures, and of these his portraits of men are the best;
his pictures of children are the next in value. He had
fine subjects for the former, from the masculine sense and
originality of character of many of the persons whom he
painted ; and he had also a great advantage, as far as prac¬
tice went, in painting a number of persons of every rank
and description. Some of the finest and most interesting
are those of Dr Johnson, Goldsmith (which is, however, too
much a mere sketch), Baretti, Dr Burney, John Hunter,
and the inimitable portrait of Bishop Newton. The ele¬
gant simplicity of character, expression, and drawing,
preserved throughout the last picture, even to the atti¬
tude and mode of handling, discover the true genius of a
painter. We also remember to have seen a print of
Thomas Warton, than which nothing could be more cha¬
racteristic or more natural. These were all Reynolds’ in¬
timate acquaintances, and it could not be said of them
that they were men of “ no mark or likelihood.” Their
traits had probably sunk deep into the artist’s mind; he
painted them as pure studies from nature, copying the
real image existing before him, with all its known charac¬
teristic peculiarities ; and, with as much wisdom as good¬
nature, sacrificing the graces on the altar of friendship.
They are downright portraits and nothing more, and they
are valuable in proportion. In his portraits of women, on
the contrary, with very few exceptions, Sir Joshua ap¬
pears to have consulted either the vanity of his employ¬
ers or his own fanciful theory. They have not the look
of individual nature, nor have they, to compensate the
want of this, either peculiar elegance of form, refinement
of expression, delicacy of complexion, or gracefulness of
manner. Vandyke’s attitudes have been complained of
as stiff and confined. Reynolds, to avoid this defect, has
fallen into the contrary extreme of negligence and con¬
tortion. His female figures which aim at gentility, are
twisted into that serpentine line, the idea of which he
ridiculed so much in Hogarth. Indeed Sir Joshua, in
his Discourses (see his account of Correggio), speaks of
grace as if it were nearly allied to affectation. Grace
signifies that which is pleasing and natural in the posture
and motions of the human form, as beauty is more pro¬
perly applied to the form itself. That which is stiff, in¬
animate, and without motion, cannot, therefore, be grace¬
ful ; but to suppose that a figure, to be graceful, need only
be put into some languishing or extravagant posture, is to
mistake flutter and affectation for ease and elegance.
Sir Joshua’s children, as we have said above, are among
his chef d'oeuvres. The faces of children have in general
that want of precision of outline, that prominence of re¬
lief and strong contrast of colour, which were peculiarly
adapted to his style of painting. The arch simplicity of
expression, and the grotesque character which he has
given to the heads of his children, were, however, bor¬
rowed from Correggio. His Puck is the most masterly of
all these ; and the colouring, execution, and character, are
alike exquisite. The single figure of the Infant Hercules
is also admirable. Many of those to which his friends
have suggested historical titles are mere common portraits
or casual studies. Thus the Infant Samuel is an innocent
little child saying its prayers at the bed’s feet: it has no¬
thing to do with the story of the Hebrew prophet. The
same objection will apply to many of his fancy pieces and
T S.
Arts, historical compositions. There is often no connection
between the picture and the subject but the name. Even
his celebrated Iphigenia, beautiful as she is, and prodigal
of her charms, does not answer to the idea of the story.
In drawing the naked figure, Sir Joshua’s want of truth
and firmness of outline became more apparent; and his
mode of laying on his colours, which in the face and ex¬
tremities was relieved and broken by the abrupt inequali¬
ties of surface and variety of tints in each part, produced
a degree of heaviness and opacity in the larger masses of
flesh-colour, which can indeed only be avoided by extreme
delicacy or extreme lightness of execution.
Shall we speak the truth at once ? In our opinion, Sir
Joshua did not possess either that high imagination, or
those strong feelings, without which no painter can be¬
come a poet in his art. His larger historical compositions
have been generally allowed to be most liable to objec¬
tion in a critical point of view. We shall not attempt to
judge them by scientific or technical rules, but make one
or two observations on the character and feeling displayed
in them. The highest subject which Sir Joshua has at¬
tempted was the Count Ugolino, and it was, as might be
expected from the circumstances, a total failure. He had,
it seems, painted a study of an old beggar-man’s head;
and some person, who must have known as little of paint¬
ing as of poetry, persuaded the unsuspecting artist that
it was the exact expression of Dante’s Count Ugolino, one
of the most grand, terrific, and appalling characters in
modern fiction. Reynolds, who knew nothing of the
matter but what he was told, took his good fortune for
granted, and only extended his canvass to admit the rest
of the figures. The attitude and expression of Count
Ugolino himself are what the artist intended them to be,
till they were pampered into something else by the offici¬
ous vanity of friends—those of a common mendicant at
the corner of a street, waiting patiently for some charitable
donation. The imagination of the painter took refuge in
a parish work-house, instead of ascending the steps of the
lower of Famine. The hero of Dante is a lofty, high-
minded, and unprincipled Italian nobleman, who had be¬
trayed his country to the enemy, and who, as a punish¬
ment for his crime, is shut up with his four sons in the
dungeon of the citadel, where he shortly finds the doors
barred against him, and food withheld. He in vain
watches with eager feverish eye the opening of the door
at the accustomed hour, and his looks turn to stone; his
children one by one drop down dead at his feet; he is
seized with blindness, and, in the agony of his despair, he
gropes on his knees after them,
 Calling each by name
For three days after they were dead.
Even in the other world he is represented with the same
fierce, dauntless, unrelenting character, gnawing the
skull of his adversary, his fell repast.” The subject of the
Laocooyi is scarcely equal to that described by Dante.
I he horror there is physical and momentary; in the other,
the imagination fills up the long, obscure, dreary void of
despair, and joins its unutterable pangs to the loud cries
of nature. What is there in the picture to convey the
ghastly horrors of the scene, or the mighty energy of
soul with which they are borne ? His picture of Macbeth
is lull of wild and grotesque images; and the apparatus
of the witches contains a very elaborate and well-arrang¬
ed inventory of dreadful objects. His Cardinal Beaufort
is a fine display of rich mellow colouring; and there is
something gentlemanly and Shakspearian in the king and
the attendant nobleman. At the same time we think
the expression of the cardinal himself is too much one of
physical horror, a canine gnashing of the teeth, like a man
strangled. This is not the best style of history. Mrs
Siddons as the Tragic Muse is neither the tragic muse Fine
nor Mrs Siddons; and we have still stronger objections''-^
to Garrick between Tragedy and Comedy.
There is a striking similarity between Sir Joshua Rey¬
nolds’ theory and his practice ; and as each of these has
been appealed to in support of the other, it is necessary
that we should examine both. Sir Joshua’s practice was
generally confined to the illustration of that part of his
theory which relates to the more immediate imitation of
nature ; and it is to what he says on this subject that we
shall chiefly direct our observations at present.
He lays it down as a general and invariable rule, that
“ the great style in art, and the most perfect imitation
of nature, consists in avoiding the details and peculiari¬
ties of particular objects? This sweeping principle he ap¬
plies almost indiscriminately to portrait, history, and land¬
scape ; and he appears to have been led to the conclusion
itself, from supposing the imitation of particulars to be in¬
consistent with general rule and effect. It appears to us
that the highest perfection of the art depends, not on se¬
parating, but on uniting general truth and effect with in¬
dividual distinctness and accuracy.
First, It is said that the great style in painting, as it
relates to the immediate imitation of external nature, con¬
sists in avoiding the details of particular objects. It con¬
sists neither in giving nor avoiding them, but in something
quite different from both. Any one may avoid the details.
So far there is no difference between the Cartoons and a
common sign painting. Greatness consists in giving the
larger masses and proportions with truth ;—this does not
prevent giving the smaller ones too. The utmost gran¬
deur of outline, and the broadest masses of light and
shade, are perfectly compatible with the utmost minute¬
ness and delicacy of detail, as may be seen in nature. It
is not, indeed, common to see both qualities combined in
the imitations of nature, any more than the combination
of other excellences; nor are we here saying to which
the principal attention of the artist should be directed;
but we deny that, considered in themselves, the absence
of the one quality is necessary or sufficient to the produc¬
tion of the other.
If, for example, the form of the eye-brow is correctly
given, it will be perfectly indifferent to the truth or gran¬
deur of the design, whether it consists of one broad mark,
or is composed of a number of hair-lines arranged in the
same order. So, if the lights and shades are disposed in
fine and large masses, the breadth of the picture, as it is
called, cannot possibly be affected by the filling up of
those masses with the details, that is, with the subordi¬
nate distinctions which appear in nature. The anatomi¬
cal details in Michael Angelo, the ever-varying outline of
Raphael, the perfect execution of the Greek statues, do
not destroy their symmetry or dignity of form; and in the
finest specimens of the composition of colour we may ob¬
serve the largest masses combined with the greatest va¬
riety in the parts of which those masses are composed.
The gross style consists in giving no details, the finical
in giving nothing else. Nature contains both large and
small parts, both masses and details; and the same may
be said of the most perfect works of art. The union of
both kinds of excellence, of strength with delicacy, as far
as the limits of human capacity and the shortness of hu¬
man life would permit, is that which has established the
reputation of the most successful imitators of nature.
Farther, their most finished works are their best. The
predominance, indeed, of either excellence in the best
masters has varied according to their opinion of the rela¬
tive value of these qualities,—the labour they had the
time or the patience to bestow on their works,—the skill
of the artist,—or the nature and extent of his subject.
A R
Ifafe jyts. But if the rule here objected to, that the careful imita-
tion of the parts injures the effect of the whole, be once
admitted, slovenliness would become another name for
genius, and the most unfinished performance be the best.
That such has been the confused impression left on the
mind by the perusal of Sir Joshua Reynolds’ Discourses,
is evident from the practice as well as conversation of
many (even eminent) artists. The late Mr Opie pro¬
ceeded entirely on this principle. He left many admir¬
able studies of portraits, particularly in what relates to
the disposition and effect of light and shade ; but he never
finished any of the parts, thinking them beneath the at¬
tention of a great artist. He went over the whole head
the second day as he had done the first, and therefore
made no progress. The picture at last, having neither
the lightness of a sketch nor the accuracy of a finished
work, looked coarse, laboured, and heavy. Titian is the
most perfect example of high finishing. In him the de¬
tails are engrafted on the most profound knowledge of
effect, and attention to the character of what he repre¬
sented. His pictures have the exact look of nature, the
very tone and texture of flesh. The variety of his tints
is blended into the greatest simplicity. There is a proper
degree both of solidity and transparency. All the parts
hang together; every stroke tells, and adds to the effect
of the rest. Sir Joshua seems to deny that Titian finished
much, and says that he produced, by two or three strokes
of his pencil, effects which the most laborious copyist
would in vain attempt to equal. It is true, he availed
himself in some degree of what is called execution, to fa¬
cilitate his imitation of the details and peculiarities of na¬
ture ; but it was to facilitate, not to supersede it. There
can be nothing more distinct than execution and daub¬
ing. Titian, however, made a very moderate, though a
very admirable, use of this power; and those who copy his
pictures will find that the simplicity is in the results, not
in the details. To conclude our observations on this
head, we will only add, that while the artist thinks there
is any thing to be done, either to the whole or to the
parts of his picture, which can give it still more the look
of nature, if he is willing to proceed, we would not advise
him to desist. This rule is the more necessary to the young
student, for he will relax in his attention as he grows
older. And again, with respect to the subordinate parts
of a picture, there is no danger that he will bestow a dis¬
proportionate degree of labour upon them, because he will
not feel the same interest in copying them, and because
a much less degree of accuracy will serve every purpose
of deception.
Secondly, With regard to the imitation of expression,
we can hardly agree with Sir Joshua, that “ the perfec¬
tion of portrait painting consists in giving the general idea
or character without the individual peculiarities.” No
doubt, if we were to choose between the general charac¬
ter and the peculiarities of feature, we ought to prefer
the former. But they are so far from being incompatible
with, that they are not without some difficulty distinguish¬
able from, each other. There is a general look of the face,
a predominant expression arising from the correspondence
and connection of the different parts, which it is of the
first and last importance to give, and without which no
elaboration of detached parts, or marking of the pecu¬
liarities of single features, is worth any thing ; but which,
at the same time, is not destroyed, but assisted, by the
careful finishing, and still more by giving the exact out¬
line, of each part.
It is on this point that the modern French and English
schools differ, and, in our opinion, are both wrong. The
English seem generally to suppose, that if they only leave
out the subordinate parts, they are sure of the general
T S.
result. The French, on the contrary, as erroneously ima- Fine
gine, that, by attending successively to each separate
part, they must infallibly arrive at a correct whole; not
considering that, besides the parts, there is their relation
to each other, and the general expression stamped upon
them by the character of the individual, which to be seen
must be felt; for it is demonstrable, that all character
and expression, to be adequately represented, must be
perceived by the mind, and not by the eye only. The
French painters give only lines and precise differences,
the English only general masses and strong effects,
lienee the two nations reproach one another with the
difference of their styles of art,—the one as dry, hard,
and minute,—the other as gross, gothic, and unfinished;
and they will probably remain for ever satisfied with each
other’s defects, as they afford a very tolerable fund of
consolation on either side.
Much has been said of historical portrait; and we have
no objection to this phrase, if properly understood. The
giving historical truth to a portrait means, then, the re¬
presenting the individual under one consistent, probable,
and striking view; or showing the different features,
muscles, &c. in one action, and modified by one principle.
A portrait thus painted may be said to be historical;
that is, it carries internal evidence of truth and propriety
with it; and the number of individual peculiarities, as
long as they are true to nature, cannot lessen, but must
add to, the strength of the general impression.
It might be shown, if there were room in this place,
that Sir Joshua has constructed his theory of the ideal in
art upon the same mistaken principle of the negation or
abstraction oi'particular nature. The ideal is not a nega¬
tive, but a positive thing. The leaving out the details or
peculiarities of an individual face does not make it one
jot more ideal. To paint history, is to paint nature as
answering to a general, predominant, or preconceived
idea in the mind, of strength, beauty, action, passion,
thought, &c.: but the way to do this is not to leave out
the details, but to incorporate the general idea with the
details; that- is, to show the same expression actuating
and modifying every movement of the muscles, and the
same character preserved consistently through every part
of the body. Grandeur does not consist in omitting the
parts, but in connecting all the parts into a whole, and in
giving their combined and varied action: abstract truth
or ideal perfection does not consist in rejecting the pecu¬
liarities of form, but in rejecting all those which are not
consistent with the character intended to be given, and
in following up the same general idea of softness, volup¬
tuousness, strength, activity, or any combination of these,
through every ramification of the frame. But these modi¬
fications of form or expression can only be learnt from
nature, and therefore the perfection of art must always be
sought in nature. The ideal properly applies as much to
the idea of ugliness, weakness, folly, meanness, vice, as
of beauty, strength, wisdom, magnanimity, or virtue. The
antique heads of fauns and satyrs, of Pan or Silenus, are
quite as ideal as those of the Apollo or Bacchus; and
Hogarth adhered to an idea of humour in his faces, as
Raphael did to an idea of sentiment. But Raphael found
the character of sentiment in nature as much as Hogarth
did that of humour, otherwise neither of them would
have given one or the other with such perfect truth, pu¬
rity, force, and keeping. Sir Joshua Reynolds’ ideal, as
consisting in a mere negation of individuality, bears just
the same relation to real beauty or grandeur as caricature
does to true comic character.
It is owing either to a mistaken theory of elevated art,
or to the want of models in nature, that the English are
ARTS.
Arts, hitherto without any painter of serious historical subjects,
~ 1 who can be placed in the first rank of genius. Many of
the pictures of modern artists have shown a capacity for
correct and happy delineation of actual objects and do¬
mestic incidents only inferior to the masterpieces of the
Dutch School. We might here mention the names of
Wilkie, Collins, Heaphy, and many others. We have
portrait-painters who have attained to a very high de¬
gree of excellence in all the branches of their art. In
landscape, Turner has shown a knowledge of the effects
of air, and of powerful relief in objects, which was never
Surpassed. But in the highest walk of art—in giving the
movements of the finer or loftier passions of the mind,
this country has not produced a single painter who has
made even a faint approach to the excellence of the great
Italian painters. We have, indeed, a good number of
specimens of the clay-figure, the anatomical mechanism,
the regular proportions measured by a two-foot rule;—
large canvasses, covered with stiff figures, arranged in
deliberate order, with the characters and story correctly
expressed by uplifted eyes or hands, according to old re¬
ceipt-books for the passions; and with all the hardness
and inflexibility of figures carved in wood, and painted
over in good strong body colours, that look “ as if some
of nature’s journeymen had made them, and not made
them well.” But we still want a Prometheus to give life
to the cumbrous mass,—to throw an intellectual light over
the opaque image,—to embody the inmost refinements of
thought to the outward eye,—to lay bare the very soul
of passion. That picture is of little comparative value
which can be completely translated into another lan¬
guage,—of which the description in a common catalogue
conveys all that is expressed by the picture itself; for it
is the excellence of every art to give what can be given
by no other in the same degree. Much less is that pic¬
ture to be esteemed which only injures and defaces the
idea already existing in the mind’s eye,—which does not
come up to the conception which the imagination forms
of the subject, and substitutes a dull reality for high sen¬
timent ; for the art is in this case an incumbrance, not an
assistance, and interferes with, instead of adding to, the
stock of our pleasurable sensations. But we should be
at a loss to point out, we will not say any English pic¬
ture, but certainly any English painter, who, in heroic
and classical composition, has risen to the height of his
subject, and answered the expectation of the well-informed
spectator, or excited the same impression by visible
means as had been excited by words or by reflection.1
That this inferiority in English art is not owing to a defi¬
ciency of genius, imagination, or passion, is proved suffi¬
ciently by the works of our poets and dramatic writers,
wdiich, in loftiness and force, are not surpassed by those
of any other nation. But whatever may be the depth of
internal thought and feeling in the English character, it
seems to be more internal; and, whether this is owing to
habit or physical constitution, to have comparatively a
less immediate and powerful communication with the or¬
ganic expression of passion,—which exhibits the thoughts
and feelings in the countenance, and furnishes matter for
the historic muse of painting. The English artist is in¬
stantly sensible that the flutter, grimace, and extrava-
gance^of the French physiognomy, are incompatible with
ingh pistory; and we are at no loss to explain in this
way, that is, from the defect of living models, how it is
that the productions of the French school are marked
with all the affectation of national caricature, or sink into
tame and lifeless imitations of the antique. May we not
account satisfactorily for the general defects of our own Fine a
historic productions in a similar way,—from a certain in-
ertness and constitutional phlegm, which does not habit- ^
ually impress the workings of the mind in correspondent
traces on the countenance, and which may also render us
less sensible of these outward and visible signs of passion
even when they are so impressed there? The irreo-u-
larity of proportion and want of symmetry in the struc¬
ture of the national features, though it certainly enhances
the difficulty of infusing natural grace and grandeur into
the works of art, rather accounts for our not having been
able to attain the exquisite refinements of Grecian sculp¬
ture, than for our not having rivalled the Italian painters
in expression.
Mr West formed no exception to, but a confirmation
of, these general observations. His pictures have all that
can be required in what relates to the composition of the
subject; to the regular arrangement of the groups; the
anatomical proportions of the human body; and the tech¬
nical knowledge of expression,—as far as expression is re¬
ducible to abstract rules, and is merely a vehicle for the
telling of a story; so that anger, wonder, sorrow, pity,
&c. have each their appropriate and well-known designa¬
tions. These, however, are but the instrumental parts of
the art, the means, not the end; but beyond these Mr
West’s pictures do not go. They never “ snatch a grace
beyond the reach of art.” They exhibit the mask, not the
soul, of expression. We doubt whether, in the entire
range of Mr West’s productions, meritorious and admira¬
ble as the design and composition often are, there is to be
found one truly fine head. They display a total want of
gusto. In Raphael, the same divine spirit breathes through
every part; it either agitates the inmost frame, or plays
in gentle undulations on the trembling surface. Whether
we see his figures bending with all the blandishments of
maternal love, or standing in the motionless silence of
thought, or hurried into the tumult of action, the whole
is under the impulse of deep passion. But Mr West saw
hardly any thing in the human face but bones and carti¬
lages ; or, if he availed himself of the more flexible ma¬
chinery of nerves and muscles, it was only by rule and
method. The effect is not that which the soul of passion
impresses on the countenance, and which the soul of genius
alone can seize; but such as might, in a good measure,
be given to wooden puppets or pasteboard figures, pulled
by wires, and taught to open the mouth, or knit the fore¬
head, or raise the eyes in a very scientific manner. In
fact, there is no want of art or learning in his pictures, but
of nature and feeling.
It is not long ago since an opinion was very general, that Means c
all that was wanting to the highest splendour and perfec-PronK)t11
tion of the arts in this country might be supplied by aca-^ ne
demies and public institutions. There are three ways in
which academies and public institutions may be supposed
to promote the fine arts ; either by furnishing the best
models to the student, or by holding out immediate emo¬
lument and patronage, or by improving the public taste.
We shall bestow a short consideration on the influence of
each.
First, a constant reference to the best models of art
necessarily tends to enervate the mind, to intercept our
view of nature, and to distract the attention by a variety
of unattainable excellence. An intimate acquaintance
with the works of the celebrated masters may indeed add
to the indolent refinements of taste, but will never pro¬
duce one work of original genius, one great artist. In
proof of the general truth of this observation, we might
1 If we were to make any qualification of this
English history.
censure, it would be in favour of some of Mr Northcote’s compositions from early
ARTS.
fine rts. cite the history of the progress and decay of art in all
countries where it has flourished. It is a little extraordi¬
nary, that if the real sources of perfection are to be sought
in schools, in models, and public institutions, that wherever
schools, models, and public institutions have existed, there
the arts should regularly disappear,—that the effect should
never follow from the cause.
The Greek statues remain to this day unrivalled, the
undisputed standard of the most perfect symmetry of
form. In Italy the art of painting has had the same fate.
After its long and painful struggles in the time of the
earlier artists, Cimabue, Ghirlandaio, Massacio, and others,
it burst out with a light almost too dazzling to behold, in
the works of Titian, Michael Angelo, Raphael, and Cor¬
reggio ; which was reflected with diminished lustre in
the productions of their immediate disciples, lingered for
a while with the school of the Carraccis, and expired with
Guido Reni. From that period painting sunk to so low
a state in Italy as to excite only pity or contempt. There
is not a single name to redeem its faded glory from utter
oblivion. Yet this has not been owing to any want of
Dilettanti and Della Cruscan societies,—of academies of
Florence, of Bologna, of Parma, and Pisa,—of honorary
members and foreign correspondents—of pupils and teach¬
ers, professors and patrons, and the whole busy tribe of
critics and connoisseurs.
What is become of the successors of Rubens, Rem¬
brandt, and Vandyke ? What have the French academi¬
cians done for the arts; or what will they ever do, but
add intolerable affectation and grimace to centos of heads
from the antique, and caricature Greek forms by putting
them into opera attitudes ? Nicholas Poussin is the only
example on record in favour of the contrary theory, and we
have already sufficiently noticed his defects. What extra¬
ordinary advances have we made in our own country in
consequence of the establishment of the royal academy ?
What greater names has the English school to boast than
those of Hogarth, Reynolds, and Wilson, who created it ?
Again, we might cite, in support of our assertion, the
works of Carlo Maratti, ot Raphael Mengs, or of any of
the effeminate school of critics and copyists, who have at¬
tempted to blend the borrowed beauties of others in a
perfect whole. What do they contain, but a negation of
every excellence which they pretend to combine ? The
assiduous imitator, in his attempts to grasp all, loses his
hold of that which was placed within his reach ; and, from
aspiring at universal excellence, sinks into uniform medi¬
ocrity. The student who has models of every kind of ex¬
cellence constantly before him, is not only diverted from
that particular walk of art in which, by patient exertion,
he might have obtained ultimate success, but, from hav¬
ing his imagination habitually raised to an overstrained
standard of refinement, by the sight of the most exqui¬
site examples in art, he becomes impatient and dissatisfied
with his own attempts, determines to reach the same per¬
fection all at once, or throws down his pencil in despair.
Thus the young enthusiast, whose genius and energy were
to rival the great masters of antiquity, or create a new
era in the art itself, baffled in his first sanguine expecta¬
tions, reposes in indolence on what others have done,—
wonders how such perfection could have been achieved,—
grows familiar with the minutest peculiarities of the dif¬
ferent schools,—flutters between the splendour of Rubens
and the grace of Raphael, and ends in nothing. Such
was not Correggio. He saw and felt for himself; he was
of no school, but had his own world of art to create. That
linage of truth and beauty which existed in his mind'he
was forced to construct for himself, without rules or mo¬
nels. As it had arisen in his mind from the contempla¬
tion of nature, so he could only hope to embody it to
vol. in.
657
others by the imitation of nature. We can conceive the Fine Arts-
work growing under his hands by slow and patient touches, ' T—’
approaching nearer to perfection, softened into finer grace
gaming strength from delicacy, and at last reflecting the
pure image of nature on the canvass. Such is always the
true progress of art; such are the necessary means by
which the greatest works of every kind have been pro¬
duced. They have been the effect of power gathering
strength from exercise, and warmth from its own impulse
stimulated to fresh efforts by conscious success, and by
the surprise and strangeness of a new world of beauty
opening to the delighted imagination. The triumphs of
art were victories over the difficulties of art; the prodi¬
gies of genius, the result of that strength which had grap¬
pled with nature. Titian copied even a plant or a piece
of common drapery from the objects themselves; and
Raphael is known to have made elaborate studies of the
principal heads in his pictures. All the great painters of
this period were thoroughly grounded in the first prin¬
ciples of their art; had learned to copy a face, a hand, or
an eye, and had acquired patience to finish a single figure
before they undertook to paint extensive compositions.
They knew that though fame is represented with her head
above the clouds, her feet rest upon the earth. Genius
can only have its full scope where, though much may
have been done, more remains to do ; where models exist
chiefly to show the deficiencies of art, and where the per¬
fect idea is left to be filled up in the painter’s imagination.
When once the stimulus of novelty and of original exer¬
tion is wanting, generations repose on what has been done
for them by their predecessors, as individuals, after a cer¬
tain period, rest satisfied with the knowledge they have
already acquired.
With regard to the pecuniary advantages arising from
the public patronage of the arts, the plan unfortunately
defeats itself; for it multiplies its objects faster than it
can satisfy their claims, and raises up a swarm of com¬
petitors for the prize of genius from the dregs of idleness
and dulness. The real patron is anxious to reward merit,
not to encourage gratuitous pretensions to it; to see that
the man of genius takes no detriment, that another Wilson
is not left to perish for want;—not to propagate the breed
of embryo candidates for fame. Offers of public and pro¬
miscuous patronage can in general be little better than a
species of intellectual seduction, administering provoca¬
tives to vanity and avarice, and leading astray the youth
of the nation by fallacious hopes, which can scarcely ever
be realized. At the same time, the good that might be
done by private taste and benevolence is in a great mea¬
sure defeated. The moment that a few individuals of dis¬
cernment and liberal spirit become members of a public
body, they are no longer anything more than parts of a
machine, which is usually wielded at will by some offici¬
ous overweening pretender; their good sense and good
nature are lost in a mass of ignorance and presumption;
their names only serve to reflect credit on proceedings in
which they have no share, and which are determined on
by a majority of persons who have no interest in the arts
but what arises from the importance attached to them by
regular organization, and no opinions but what are dictat¬
ed to them by some self-constituted judge. As far as we
have had an opportunity of observing the conduct of such
bodies of men, instead of taking the lead of public opi¬
nion, of giving a firm, manly, and independent tone to that
opinion, they make it their business to watch all its ca¬
prices, and follow it in every casual turning. They dare
not give their sanction to sterling merit struggling with
difficulties, but take advantage of its success to reflect^
credit on their own reputation for sagacity. Their taste
is a servile dependent on their vanity, and their patronage
4 o
658
A R U
A R U
Fine Arts has an air of pauperism about it. Perhaps the only public
!l patronage which was ever really useful to the arts, or
'Arun^e^ worti1y 0f them, was that which they received first in
Greece, and afterwards in Italy, from the religious insti¬
tutions of the country; when the artist felt himself, as it
were, a servant at the altar; when his hand gave a visi¬
ble form to gods or heroes, angels or apostles ; and when
the enthusiasm of genius was exalted by mingling with
the flame of national devotion. The artist was not here
degraded by being made the dependent on the caprice of
wealth or fashion, but felt at once the servant and the
benefactor of the public. He had to embody, by the
highest efforts of his art, subjects which were sacred to
the imagination and feelings of the spectators ; there was
a common link, a mutual sympathy, between them in their
common faith. Every other mode of patronage but that
which arises either from the general institutions and
manners of a people, or from the real unaffected taste of
individuals, must, we conceive, be illegitimate, corrupted
in its source, and either ineffectual or injurious to its pro¬
fessed object.
Lastly, Academies and institutions may be supposed to
assist the progress of the fine arts, by promoting a wider
taste for them.
In general, it must happen in the first stages of the arts,
that as none but those who had a natural genius for them
would attempt to practise them, so none but those who
had a natural taste for them would pretend to judge of or
criticise them. This must be an incalculable advantage
to the man of true genius; for it is no other than the pri¬
vilege of being tried by his peers. In an age when con-
noisseurship had not become a fashion,—when religion, Fine»
war, and intrigue, occupied the time and thoughts of the || r 3|
great,—only those minds of superior refinement would be Arundel,
led to notice the works of art, who had a real sense of'w'Y'*,/
their excellence ; and, in giving way to the powerful bent
of his own genius, the painter was most likely to consult
the taste of his judges. He had not to deal with pretend¬
ers to taste, through vanity, affectation, and idleness. He
had to appeal to the higher faculties of the soul,—to that
deep and innate sensibility to truth and beauty, which re¬
quired only fit objects to have its enthusiasm excited, 
and to that independent strength of mind, which, in the
midst of ignorance and barbarism, hailed and fostered
genius wherever it met with it. Titian was patronized by
Charles V. Count Castiglione was the friend of Raphael.
These were true patrons and true critics; and, as there
were no others (for the world, in general, merely looked
on and wondered), there can be little doubt that such a
period of dearth of factitious patronage would be most fa¬
vourable to the full development of the greatest talents,
and to the attainment of the highest excellence.
By means of public institutions, the number of candi¬
dates for fame and pretenders to criticism is increased be¬
yond all calculation, while the quantity of genius and
feeling remains much the same as before; with these dis¬
advantages, that the man of original genius is often lost
among the crowd of competitors who would never have
become such but from encouragement and example, and
that the voice of the few whom nature intended for
judges is apt to be drowned in the noisy and forward suf¬
frages of shallow smatterers in taste. (d. d.)
ARTS, Master of. See Degrees, Academical.
ARVALES Fratres, in Roman Antiquity, a college
of twelve priests, instituted by Romulus, and chosen out
of the most noble families, he himself being one of that
body. They assisted in the sacrifices of the ambervalia,
annually offered to Ceres and Bacchus for the prosperity
of the fruits of the earth, when they wore on their heads
crowns made of ears of corn. The original of this insti¬
tution was as follows: Acca Laurentia, Romulus’s nurse,
was accustomed once a year to make a solemn sacrifice
for a blessing on the fields, her twelve sons always assist¬
ing her in the solemnity; but at last losing one of her
sons, Romulus offered himself to supply his place, and
gave this small society the name of Arvales Fratres. This
order was in great repute at Rome : they held the dignity
for life, and never lost it on account of imprisonment, ba¬
nishment, or any other accident.
ARVIL Supper, a feast or entertainment made at fu¬
nerals in the north part of England. Arvil bread is the
bread delivered to the poor at funeral solemnities.
ARVIRAGUS, an ancient British king, who flourish¬
ed in the time of the emperor Domitian. He gained a
complete victory over Claudius; but being soon after be¬
sieged in the city of Winchester, he made a treaty with
the Romans, and married the emperor’s daughter Genu-
issa. This monarch lived to a good old age : he confirm¬
ed the ancient laws, enacted new ones, and liberally re¬
warded persons of merit.
ARUNDEL, a borough and market-town in the rape
of the same name, in the county of Sussex, 57 miles from
London. It is a well-built town, on the river Arun. Ad¬
joining to it is the magnificent castle of the dukes of
Norfolk, lately repaired and fitted up at a vast expense.
The market is on a Saturday. It returns two members
to Parliament, chosen by the householders, who commonly
pay the compliment to the duke of Norfolk of accept¬
ing one on his recommendation. The population was,
in 1801, 1855; in 1811, 2178; and in 1821, 2511.
Arundel, Thomas, archbishop of Canterbury in the
reigns of Richard II., Henry IV., and Henry V., was
the second son of Robert, earl of Arundel and Warren,
and brother of Richard, earl of Arundel, who was behead¬
ed. At 22 years of age, from being created archbishop of
Taunton, he was raised to the bishopric of Ely, on the 6th
of April 1375, in the reign of Edward III. He was a great
benefactor to the church and palace of this see: among
other donations, he gave a curious table of massy gold,
adorned with precious stones, which had been given by
the king of Spain to Prince Edward, and sold by him to
Bishop Arundel. In 1386 he was appointed lord chan¬
cellor of England; two years after he was translated to the
see of York; and in 1396 was advanced to the archie-
piscopal see of Canterbury, when he resigned the chan¬
cellorship. This was the first instance of the transla¬
tion of an archbishop of York to the see of Canterbury.
Scarcely was he fixed in this see, when he had a contest
with the university of Oxford about the right of visitation.
The affair was referred to King Richard, who determined
it in favour of the archbishop. At his visitation in Lon¬
don he revived an old constitution, by which the inhabi¬
tants of the respective parishes were obliged to pay to
their rector one halfpenny in the pound out of the rent
of their houses. In the second year of his translation, a
parliament being held at London, the commons, with the
king’s leave, impeached the archbishop, together with his
brother the earl of Arundel, and the duke of Gloucester,
of high treason. The archbishop was sentenced to be ba¬
nished, and within forty days to depart the kingdom on
pain of death. He retired, first to France, and then to the
court of Rome, where Pope Boniface IX. gave him a kind
reception. He was engaged in the plot to depose Richard
and place the duke of Lancaster on the throne; and re-
A R U
Ariie- turning to England along with him, he was restored to
B his see on that monarch’s accession. In the first year of
Ma:l^ this prince’s reign Arundel summoned a synod, which sat
^ at St Paul’s. The next year the commons moved that
the revenues of the church might be applied to the ser¬
vice of the public ; but Arundel opposed the measure with
such vigour that it was thrown aside. In the year 1408
Arundel began to exert himself against the Lollards or
Wickliffites; and his zeal for suppressing that sect carried
him to several unjustifiable severities against the heads of
it, particularly against Sir John Oldcastle and Lord Cob-
ham. He also procured a synodical constitution, which
forbade the translation of the Scriptures into the vulgar
tongue. This prelate died at Canterbury on the 20th
February 1413, of an inflammation in his throat, with which
he was seized, as is pretended, whilst he was pronouncing
sentence upon Lord Cobham. He was buried in the ca¬
thedral church of Canterbury, near the west end, under
a monument erected by himself in his lifetime.
ARUNDELIAN Marbles, Oxford Marbles, or
Parian Chronicle, are ancient stones, as has been sup¬
posed, whereon is inscribed a chronicle of the city of
Athens, engraven in capital letters in the island of Paros,
one of the Cyclades, 264 years before Jesus Christ. They
take their first name from Thomas, earl of Arundel, who
procured them out of the east, or from Henry his grand¬
son, who presented them to the university of Oxford.
The Arundelian marbles, in their perfect state, contain¬
ed a chronological detail of the principal events of Greece
during a period of 1318 years, beginning with Cecrops,
before Christ 1582 years, and ending with the archonship
of Diognetus, before Christ 264. But the chronicle of
the last 90 years is lost, so that the part now remaining
ends at the archonship of Diotimus, 354 years before the
birth of Christ; and in this fragment the inscription is at
present so much corroded and effaced, that the sense can
only be discovered by very learned and industrious anti¬
quaries, or, more properly speaking, supplied by their con¬
jectures.
This chronicle, and many other relics of antiquity, real
or pretended, were purchased in Asia Minor, in Greece,
or in the islands of the archipelago, by Mr William Petty,
who, in the year 1624, was sent by Thomas, earl of
Arundel, for the purpose of making such collactions for
him in the east. They were brought into England about
the beginning of the year 1629, and placed in the gardens
belonging to Arundel house in London.
boon after their arrival they excited a general curiosity,
and were viewed by many inquisitive and learned men,
among others by Sir Robert Cotton, who prevailed upon
Selden to employ his abilities in explaining the Greek in¬
scriptions. Selden and two of his friends, Patrick Young,
or, as he styled himself in Latin, Patricius Junius, and
Richard James, immediately commenced their operations,
by cleaning and examining the marble containing the
Smyrnean and Magnesian league, and afterwards pro¬
ceeded to the Parian chronicle. The following year
Selden published a small volume in quarto, including
about 39 inscriptions copied from the marbles.
In the turbulent reign of Charles I. and the subsequent
usurpation, Arundel house was often deserted by the il¬
lustrious owners ; and, in their absence, some of the mar¬
bles were defaced and broken, and others either stolen
or used for the ordinary purposes of architecture. The
chronological marble, in particular, was unfortunately bro¬
ken and defaced. The upper part, containing 31 epochas,
is said to have been worked up in repairing a chimney
in Arundel house.
In the year 1667 the Honourable Henry Howard, after¬
wards duke of Norfolk, the grandson of the first collector,
A R tr
659
presented these supposed remains of antiquity to the uni- Arunde-
versity of Oxford. iian
Selden’s work becoming very scarce, Bishop Fell en- Marbles-
gaged Mr Prideaux to publish a new edition of the inscrip-
tions, which was printed at Oxford in 1676. In 1732 Mr
Maittaire obliged the public with a more comprehensive
view of the marbles than either of his predecessors.
Lastly, Dr Chandler published a new and improved copy
of the marbles in 1763, in which he corrected the mistakes
of the former editors; and in some of the inscriptions,
particularly that of the Parian chronicle, supplied the la-
cunce by many ingenious conjectures.
The Arundelian marbles have generally been regarded
as a curious monument of antiquity. They were, how¬
ever, discovered in some instances to be inconsistent with
the most authentic historical accounts. Sir Isaac Newton
and several other modern philosophers paid little or no
regard to them ; and their absolute authenticity has been
severely questioned in an express dissertation upon the
subject by Mr Robertson, published in 1788, entitled The
Parian Chronicle. In this dissertation much ingenuity
as well as learning is displayed. His doubts, the author
observes, arise from the following considerations.
I. “ The characters have no certain or unequivocal
marks of antiquity.” The n and Z, which frequently
occur in the form supposed to be the most ancient (viz.
the perpendicular line of the n on the right hand only
half as long as that on the left, and the Z in the form of
a prostrate K ), are so well known, that any modern fa¬
bricator of a Greek inscription which he intends to im¬
pose upon the world as a relic of antiquity would most
probably use them in preference to the more common and
ordinary forms. But the letters in the Parian chronicle
have no appearance of antiquity except this very equivo¬
cal one. They do not in the least resemble the Sigean. the
Nemean, or the Delian inscriptions, which are supposed
to be of a more ancient date. They differ in many re¬
spects from the letters on the Marmor Sandvicense, which,
according to the learned editor of that inscription, was
engraved in the year before Christ 374. They bear no
sort of resemblance to the characters on the Farnesian
pillars, to those of the Alexandrian manuscript, or others
of a later date. They seem, continues our author, to re¬
semble, perhaps more than any other, the letters of the
alphabet taken by Montfaucon from the Marmor Cyzice-
num at Venice. They are plain and simple in their form,
and such as an ordinary stone-cutter of the present age
would probably make if he were employed to engrave a
Greek inscription according to the alphabet now in use.
The small letters intermixed among the larger have, in
the opinion of our author, an air of affectation and artifice
rather than genuine antiquity; and he is persuaded that
the antiquity of an inscription can never be proved by the
mere form of the letters, because the most ancient cha¬
racters may be as easily counterfeited as those which
compose our present alphabet^.
That the learned reader may form a competent idea of
the characters in the Parian chronicle, the author has
compared them with those of other inscriptions, and given
what is usually termed & fac simile.
In regard to several archaisms, as they are called in this
chronicle, and which our author specifies, he contends that
no conclusion can be drawn from them in favour of its an¬
tiquity. What reason could there be, he asks, for intro¬
ducing these into the Parian chronicle ? We do not usually
find them in Greek writers of the same age, or even in
those of the most early date. The reign of Ptolemy
Philadelphus, with the 21st year of which the date of the
chronicle coincides, was not an age of rude antiquity with
respect to the Greek language, being only 130 years after
060
A R U
A R U
Arunde- the time of Xenophon and Plato, when the Greek was
lian spoken and written in its utmost purity and elegance; and
Marbles. we can scarcely suppose that even a stone-cutter in that
refined age would have been permitted to disgrace a su¬
perb and learned monument with such barbarisms as oc¬
cur in the chronicle. The archaisms, however, he re¬
marks, are not uniformly observed in this inscription. He
adduces six instances of deviation, and adds, he is almost
tempted to suspect that Ilafw, s(u. Ma^a^ww, and other
pretended archaisms, are owing to a mere affectation of
antiquity, or to a corrupted dialect and pronunciation in
later ages. Those archaisms, our author acknowledges,
appear on other marbles ; but he thinks that for that very
reason they would naturally be adopted by the fabricator
of a supposititious inscription; and the authenticity of
those inscriptions in which they appear must be establish¬
ed before they can be urged in opposition to the present
argument.
II. “ It is not probable that the chronicle was engraved
for private use." Our author thinks it an impossible sup¬
position that such an expensive and cumbersome work
could have been executed by a private citizen, either for
his own amusement or for the benefit of his fellow-citizens.
In the first place, a long inscription could not be engraved
in marble without such an expense as few learned Greeks
were able to afford ; or if its author, by an uncommon
felicity, was able to erect such a literary monument, the
scheme would have been useless and imprudent, as all the
contents of the inscription might have been published
more commodiously and effectually by the common mode
of writing in use at that time.
III. “ The chronicle does not appear to have been en¬
graved by public authority?
\st, The first argument in support of this opinion is,
that inscriptions of that kind usually begin with a parti¬
cular form, as H BOTAH KAI O AHMOS. The senate
and the people; or thus, EA03EN THI BOTAHI KAI
TOI AIIMfll, It pleased the senate and the people, &c. But
the Parian chronicle begins in the manner of a private
man, speaking of his own performance in the first person
singular. This argument, our author remarks, cannot be
much affected by observing that the beginning of the
inscription is obliterated; for it is necessarily implied by
the words now remaining.
2dly, The facts and dates which are mentioned in this
chronicle do not appear to have been extracted from any
public records, or calculated to answer the purpose of au¬
thentic documents, as many eminent princes and magis¬
trates are passed over without notice, in several instances
the transactions of whole centuries are omitted, and the
facts chiefly specified are not matters of general or na¬
tional importance.
Sdly, The Parian inscription is such a one as we can
hardly suppose the magistrates or the people of Paros
would have ordered to be engraved. Stately sepulchres,
pillars, triumphal arches, and the like, were erected to per¬
petuate the glory of eminent men. The remembrance of
events in which nations were interested, the succession
of princes, &c. were preserved in the same manner.
Leagues, decrees, and laws, were likewise engraved on
marble or brass, and fixed to a pillar, the wralls of a temple,
or other public buildings; because such inscriptions were
designed for the inspection of the people, as they essen¬
tially concerned their conduct, their property, their li¬
berty, or their lives. But our author asks, for whom could
the chronicle of Paros be intended ? It contains no en¬
comiums on any of the patriots, the heroes, or the demi¬
gods of the country, no decrees of the magistrates, no
public records, no laws of state. On the contrary, it is a
work of mere speculation and learning, in which the inha¬
bitants of that island, especially the common people,' had Arunde.
not the least interest or concern. iian
These words at the beginning, a^ovro; ip Ilagw, would Marbles,
naturally lead us to suppose that the inscription related
to Paros. And if so, it would have been natural for the
author to have mentioned some of the most important oc¬
currences in the history of that island. But, says this
acute and learned critic, what scheme does our chronolo-
ger pursue on this occasion ? Does he record the events
and revolutions of his own country? Does he mention
any of the battles, sieges, and treaties of the Parians;
any of their public institutions; any of their poets, pa¬
triots, or warriors? Does he mention Archilochus, who
was honoured by his countrymen, and distinguished as a
poet in a general assembly of the Greeks ? Not a syl¬
lable on any of these subjects! On the contrary, he
rambles from place to place, and records the transactions
of Athens, Corinth, Macedon, Lydia, Crete, Cyprus, Si¬
cily, Persia, and other foreign countries with which Paros
had no connection.
In this view the inscription seems to have been as im¬
pertinent in the island of Paros as a marble monument
would be in this country recording the antiquities of
France or Spain ; or one in Jamaica recording the revolu¬
tions of England. But, upon supposition that the inscrip¬
tion is a forgery, it is easy to account for this extraordi¬
nary circumstance. A few chronological occurrences in
the ancient history of Paros would not have been so inte¬
resting to the generality of readers, or so valuable in the
estimation of every lover of antiquities, or, in short, so
profitable to the compiler, as a general system of Grecian
chronology.
iy. “ The Greek and Roman writers, for a long time
after the date of this work, complain that they had no
chronological account of the affairs of ancient Greece."
This position is confirmed by the testimony of Julius Afri-
canus, Justin Martyr, Plutarch, Josephus, Varro, Diodo¬
rus Siculus, and others ; and the following series of inter¬
rogatories is subjoined:—“ Thucydides, I know, lived 140
years before the chronicle is said to have been written;
but if Thucydides, as well as other writers, complained
that there was nothing but uncertainty in the earlier part
of Grecian history, from whence can we suppose the au¬
thor of this inscription collected such a clear, determinate,
and comprehensive system of chronology ? If he had any
sources of information which were unknown to succeeding
writers, how happens it that they should all of them over¬
look this most considerable, most exact, most creditable
author? Why did they omit this ancient account of
their early ages ? Why did they not copy his most me¬
morable epochas? Why did they not produce his au¬
thority ? or, at least, why did they not mention his opi¬
nion ? Surely nothing, to all appearance, could be more
elaborate, more important, or of higher authority, than a
chronological table which was thought worthy of being
engraved on marble.
V. “ The chronicle is not once mentioned by any wri¬
ters of antiquity.” This, indeed, appears a strong argu¬
ment against its authenticity. Apollodorus, an Athenian,
the disciple of Aristarchus the grammarian, and Panastius
the philosopher, wrote a genealogical and historical work
on the early ages of Greece; but though composed 120
years after the date of the Parian chronicle, it does not
contain the smallest traces of a systematical chronology.
It is remarkable, too, that the chronicle of Apollodorus is
quoted by Diodorus Siculus, Strabo, Plutarch, A. Gellius,
Lucian, and many other writers of antiquity; while the
Parian chronicle, which comprehends a more extensive
period, is entirely unnoticed. It contains, however, such
wonderful discoveries in ancient history, that if it had ex-
A R U
^ruI j- isted 264 years before the Christian era, it must have ex-
Ha cited a general attention, and been referred to as an au-
Man-^ thority by writers of succeeding times. But we do not
find, in any author of antiquity, either poet or historian,
geographer or chronologer, mythologist or scholiast, the
most distant allusion to the Parian chronicle; though it
was such a common practice among the ancients to men¬
tion the works of their predecessors, that in many books
we find references and allusions to three, four, five, six,
or seven hundred different authors of every denomination.
VI. “ Some of the facts mentioned in the chronicle seem
to have been taken from writers of a later date.” Our in¬
quirer collates several passages in the Parian chronicle
with parallel passages in Greek authors, to evince that
there is, in the former, an appearance of imitation, or a
stronger resemblance than such as may be supposed to
arise from accident; that there are likewise some impro¬
babilities attending the account of Deucalion, as related
in the Parian chronicle ; and that the names of six, and, if
the lacuna are properly supplied, the names of twelve cities
appear to have been engraved on the marble, exactly as
we find them in Ilian’s Various History. But there is
not, our author observes, any imaginable reason for this
particular arrangement. It does not correspond with the
time of their foundation, with their situation in Ionia, with
their relative importance, or with the order in which they
are placed by other eminent historians. The argument by
which our author endeavours to prove that the Parian
chronicle has in this instance copied Ilian’s Various
History, seems decisive of the fact. He observes that
six names may be transposed 720 different ways, and
that 12 names admit of 479,001,600 different transposi¬
tions. Supposing, then, that there is no particular reason
for one arrangement rather than another, it will follow
that the chance of two authors placing them in the same
order is, in the former case, as 1 to 720; and, in the lat¬
ter, as 1 to 479,001,600. It is therefore, says he, utterly
improbable that these names should have been placed in
this order on the marble, if the author of the inscription
had not transcribed them from the historian.
It may indeed be urged, with regard to this similarity
of arrangement in the Parian chronicle and /Elian’s Va¬
rious History, that the inference might be the very in¬
verse of that which is specified by our author. But that
iElian should have seen the Parian chronicle without
once mentioning it, or that he should have exactly co¬
pied a list of towns, arranged neither according to chro¬
nological or topographical order, is indeed a supposition
equally improbable with the other.
VII. “ Parachronisms appear in some of the epochas,
which we can scarcely suppose a Greek chronologer in
the 129th olympiad would be liable to commit.” After
specifying these, our inquirer asks, would a writer of re¬
putation and learning, in one of the most polished and en¬
lightened eras of ancient Greece, commit such mistakes,
in opposition to the positive attestations of the most accu¬
rate historians, in events of public notoriety ? Would a
private citizen or a magistrate of Paros order a crude
and inaccurate series of epochas to be engraved at a great
expense, and transmitted to posterity on a marble monu¬
ment ? It is hardly probable.
VIII. “ The history of the discovery of the Parian
chronicle is obscure and unsatisfactory.” Our author ob¬
serves that it is attended with some suspicious circum¬
stances, and without any of those clear and unequivocal
evidences which always discriminate truth from falsehood.
There are no data in the inscription by which to discover
die place where the marble was erected. The place like¬
wise where it was found is not ascertained, though the
generality of writers who have had occasion to mention it
A R u
G61
®^lPP®sed that it was found in the island of Paros. Arunde-
If it was erected at Smyrna, as some imagine, our author han
asks, for what purpose does the writer mention Astya- Marbles
nax the archon of Paros, and not one circumstance rela- ^ .
tive to Smyrna ? If, adds he, it was erected at Paros,
why does he not mention more archons of that city than
one ? or how shall we account for his profound silence
with respect to all the events and revolutions which must
have happened in that island, and have been infinitely
more interesting to the natives than the transactions of
any foreign country ?
The train of circumstances by which the Parian chro¬
nicle came into the possession of Mr Petty, whom Lord
Arundel had sent into the East for the purpose of collect¬
ing antiquities, as well as the subsequent conduct of
Peiresc, its former owner, affords our author a strong pre¬
sumption that “ the inscription was actually fabricated
with the view of obtaining for it a high price, upon the
pretence that it was a relic of great antiquity. It is cer¬
tain that there is something mysterious in the conduct of
the first ostensible proprietors. These marbles had been
totally unknown or unnoticed for almost 1900 years, and
at last are dug out of the ground—nobody can tell us
when or where !”
IX. “ The literary world has been frequently imposed
upon by spurious books and inscriptions, and therefore we
should be extremely cautious with regard to what we re¬
ceive under the venerable name of antiquity.” This pro¬
position is illustrated by a great variety of examples, and
very properly exposes the forgeries which have disgraced
the republic of letters in different ages ; and although one
of the more recent ones cited, namely, Ossian’s Poems, be
a point very far indeed from being established, yet that
deceptions of this kind have been practised is an unques¬
tionable fact.
In endeavouring, towards the end of his Dissertation, to
investigate the time of the supposed forgery, he observes
that the 16th century, and the prior part of the 17th, pro¬
duced a multitude of grammarians, critics, and commen¬
tators, deeply versed in Grecian literature, and amply qua¬
lified for the compilation of such a chronological system
as that of the Arundelian marbles. Above all, the science
of chronology was particularly studied and investigated
about that time: “ Nunc fervet chronologia,” says Scali-
ger in the year 1605, “ omnes hoc ferrum excalfaciunt.”
Cassaubon treats those persons with contempt who were
unacquainted with the improvements which had been
made in that department of learning after the revival of
letters. Innumerable systems of chronology had been
published before the year 1625, from which it was easy to
extract a series of memorable events, and give the com¬
pilation a Grecian dress. “ The avidity,” says our author,
“ with which all relics of antiquity were then collected,
and the high price with which they were purchased, were
sufficient inducements to any one, whose avarice or whose
necessity was stronger than his integrity, to engrave his
labours on marble, and transmit them to Smyrna, as a com¬
modious emporium for such rarities.”
The foregoing arguments are no doubt possessed of
considerable force and plausibility; but they have been
ably answered, and the authenticity of the Parian chro¬
nicle vindicated, by other writers; particularly the late
Professor Person, in an examination of Mr Robertson’s
Dissertation, in the Monthly Heview for January 1789.
See also Hewlett’s Vindication, in the Archceologia, vol. ix.
ARUSPICES, or Haiiuspices, in Homan Antiquity, an
order of priests who pretended to foretel future events by
inspecting the entrails of victims killed in sacrifice; they
were also consulted on occasion of portents and prodigies.
The aruspices were also chosen from the best families;
662 A S
Arx and as their employment was of the same nature as that
H of the augurs, they were as much honoured. Their col-
, lege, as well as those of the other religious orders, had
its particular registers and records.
ARX, in the ancient military art, a town, fort, or castle,
for defence of a place. The arx in ancient Rome was a
distinct edifice from the capitol, though some have con¬
founded the two.
Arx also denotes a consecrated place on the Palatine
Mount, where the augurs publicly performed their office.
Some will have the arx to have been the augural temple,
but Varro expressly distinguishes between the two.
Arx was particularly used for a public place in Rome,
set apart for the operations of the augurs; in which sense
arx amounts to the same with what is otherwise called
auguraculum and auguratorium, and in the camp augurale.
Out of this arx it was that the feciales, or heralds, ga¬
thered the grass used in the ceremony of making leagues
and treaties.
ARZEW, a s.eaport in the western part of the kingdom
of Algiers, containing very considerable, and sometimes
beautiful, remains of antiquity. There are traces of very
fine ancient cisterns, though all the water used by the
inhabitants is brackish. At the distance of five miles
there are very fine salt pits, which serve, however, only
for the supply of the neighbouring districts. Long. 1. E.
Lat. 35. 52. N.
ARZILLA, a very ancient maritime town of Africa, in
the kingdom of Fez, about five leagues from Tangiers. It
is built at the mouth of a river, and inhabited by Moors
and Jews, who carry on no trade. It was formerly a Ro¬
man colony, under the name of Julia Traducta. It after¬
wards fell under the government of the Goths, and was
next taken by the Mahometans. Alphonso of Portugal,
surnamed the African, took it by assault in 1471, and
brought away the presumptive heir of the crown. After
that prince came to the throne, he besieged it in 1508,
with 100,000 men; but was obliged to abandon the un¬
dertaking. However, at length the Portuguese forsook
it of their own accord. It is now sunk into a very small
place, not containing above 1000 inhabitants.
AS, in Antiquity, a particular weight, consisting of 12
ounces, being the same with libra, or the Roman pound.
The word is derived from the Greek a/;, which, in the
Doric dialect, is used for £/g, one, q. d. an entire thing;
though others will have it named as quasi ces, because
made of brass.
As was also the name of a Roman coin, which was of
different weight and different matters in different ages of
the commonwealth. Under Numa Pompilius, according
to Eusebius, the Roman money was either of wood, lea¬
ther, or shells. In the time of Tullus Hostilius it was of
brass, and called as libra, libella, or pondo, because actu¬
ally weighing a pound or 12 ounces. Four hundred and
twenty years after, the first Punic war having exhausted
the treasury, they reduced the as to two ounces. In the
second Punic war, Hannibal pressing very hard upon
them, they reduced the as to half its weight, viz. to one
ounce. And lastly, by the Papirian law they took away
half an ounce more, and consequently reduced the as to
the diminutive weight of half an ounce; and it is gene¬
rally thought that it continued the same during the com¬
monwealth, and even to the reign of Vespasian. The as,
therefore, was of four different weights in the common¬
wealth. Its original stamp was that of a sheep, ox, or
sow; but from the time of the emperors it had on one
side a Janus with two faces, and on the reverse the ros¬
trum or prow of a ship.
As was also used to denote any integer or whole;
whence the English word ace. Thus as signified the
A S C
whole inheritance ; whence hceres ex asse, the heir to the Asa
whole estate.
ASA, king of Judah, succeeded his father Abijam. HeAscei«io:
pulled down the altars erected to idols, restored the wor- ''■'V*
ship of the true God, and, with the assistance of Benha-
dad, king of Syria, took several towns from the king of
Israel. He died 917 years before the Christian era, and
was succeeded by Jehoshaphat.
ASAPH, St, a small episcopal city in the county of
Flint, in North Wales, at the confluence of the rivers
Clwd and Elwy, said to have been founded in the year
560. The situation is fine, but the town itself has a poof
appearance, the houses being small and ill built. The
chief objects are the cathedral, a plain building about 170
feet in length and 90 in height; the bishop’s palace, a
cofrimodious but simple dwelling; and another church, in
which divine service is performed in the Welsh language.
The diocese consists of parts of Flintshire, Derbyshire,
Montgomeryshire, Merionethshire, and comprehends a
few parishes in Shropshire. The deanery, in the gift of
the bishop, is a more valuable benefice than the bishopric
itself. It is 209 miles from London, and 21 from Ches¬
ter. No market is held there. Population, in 1801,1513-
in 1811, 1724; in 1821, 2294.
ASAR-ADDON, or Esar-Haddon, the son of Senna¬
cherib, succeeded his father about 712 years before the
Christian era, and united the kingdoms of Nineveh and
Babylon. He rendered himself master of Syria, sent a
colony to Samaria, and his generals took King Manasses,
and carried him loaded with chains to Babylon. Asar-
Addon died after a reign of 12 years.
ASAROTA, acagwra, from a and <ra/£w, I sweep, a kind
of painted pavements in use before the invention of mo¬
saic work. The most celebrated was that at Pergamus,
painted by Sesus, which exhibited the appearance of
crumbs, as if the floor had not been swept after dinner;
hence, according to Pliny, the denomination. Perrault
supposes them to have been a black kind of pavements, of
a spongy matter.
ASBESTOS. See Mineralogy.
ASCALON, a town of Palestine, on the sea coast, 14
miles north of Gaza, and 30 south-west of Jerusalem. It
was one of the satrapes of Egypt, and was noted during
the crusades. It contains some precious remains of anti¬
quity, long streets, and innumerable red granite pillars,
mostly fallen. Long. 34. 47. E. Lat. 31. 38. N.
ASCANIUS, the son of iEneas and Crusa, succeeded
his father in the kingdom of the Latins, and defeated
Mezentius, king of the Tuscans, who had refused to con¬
clude a peace with him. At length he founded Alba
Longa, and died about 1139 years before the Christian
era, after a reign of 38 years.
ASCENDANT, in Astrology, denotes the horoscope,
or the degree of the ecliptic which rises upon the horizon
at the time of the birth of any one. This is supposed to
have an influence on the person’s life and fortune, by giv¬
ing him a bent and propensity to one thing more than
another. In the celestial theme this is also called the
first house, the angle of the East, or Oriental angle, and
the significator of life. Such a planet ruled in his ascend-
ant, Jupiter was in his ascendant, &c. Hence the word is
also used in a moral sense for a certain superiority which
one man has over another from some unknown cause.
ASCENSION, a solitary island, or rather rock, in the
midst of the Atlantic, about 700 or 800 miles from the
western coast of Africa. It was discovered in 1501 by
Joao de Nova Gallego, a Portuguese navigator, who named
it Ilha de Nossa Senhora de Concei^ao. It w'as seen a
second time by Alfonso d’Albuquerque, in his voyage to
India in 1503, and then received its present name. As-
A S C
isceron censiott consists of a single rocky mountain, though shoot-
D; ing up into several detached peaks, of the most naked
IT and desolate character, consisting in a great measure of
Asdin^ voieanic remains. The beach, always beat upon by a
heavy surf, is covered with a sand of snowy whiteness,
which, when acted upon by the sun, is intolerable to the
eyes. The sides of the clitfs consist of lava, variously
coloured, and in different stages of decomposition. Easter
Island and Terra del Fuego do not present a more dreary
aspect. At a considerable height occurs a plain about
eight miles in circumference, from the south-east quarter
of which there rises a lofty hill, presenting an appearance
of verdure not discoverable in any other part of the island.
Here is found a grass peculiar to the island, and a few
goats are fed, whose flesh is extremely delicate. Not¬
withstanding the unproductive character of this island, its
excellent harbour, and the fish, sea-fowl, and turtle, with
which it abounds, have made it a place of refreshment
for the homeward-bound shipping. A crevice in one of
the rocks has been employed for depositing letters, to be
taken up by the next ship passing in a contrary direction,
and has been hence called the sailor’s post-office. Lontr
14. 28. W. Lat. 8. 8. S. < 8
Ascension Day, a festival of the Christian church,
held ten days before Whitsuntide, in memory of our Sa¬
viour’s ascension into heaven after his resurrection.
ASCEfERIUM, in ecclesiastical writers, is frequently
used for a monastery, or place set apart for the exercise
of virtue and religion. The word is formed from ascesis,
exercise; or ascetra, one who performs exercise. Ori¬
ginally it signified a place where the athletae or gladiators
performed their exercises.
ASCETIC, an ancient appellation given to such per¬
sons as, in the primitive times, devoted themselves more
immediately to the exercises of piety and virtue in a re¬
tired life, ami particularly to prayer, abstinence, and mor¬
tification. Ihe word is derived from affxsui, exerceo, I
exercise. Afterwards, when the monks came in fashion,
this title was bestowed upon them, especially upon such
of them as lived in solitude.
ASCHAFFENBURG, a city in the Bavarian circle of
the Lower Maine. It is situated on an elevation above
the river Maine, containing eight churches, 755 houses,
and 6590 inhabitants. The streets are narrow and crook¬
ed, the houses large and antique. Near it the castle, for¬
merly the residence of the prince, is a fine building, with
an orangery and pheasantry. There are several institu¬
tions for civil and ecclesiastical education. The trade
consists in paper and leather made in the city, in build¬
ing vessels to navigate the river, and in the transit com¬
merce which the long stream creates.
Aschaffenburg, a bailiwick in the circle of the Lower
Maine, containing 10,635 inhabitants, in one market-town
and 18 villages, besides several small hamlets. It lies on
both sides ot the Maine, is mountainous and woody, but
produces good wine and cider, and feeds many herds of
black cattle.
ASCHAM, Roger, a very distinguished scholar and
Writer, was born at Kirby Wiske, a village in Yorkshire,
near Northallerton, about the year 1515. John Ascham,
his father, was house-steward in the family of Scroop,
and by his wife, Margaret, was connected with several
respectable families. A short time before his death, Sir
Anthony Winfield, having conceived a predilection for his
third son Roger, took him into his family, and extended
his bounty so far as to give him the advantage of a pri¬
vate education along with his own sons. Under a domes¬
tic tutor he made a rapid progress in classical learning,
and early discovered a great partiality for reading. The
superiority of genius and docility of temper which he con-
A S C
663
&djJrdr!n^d hiS P,atr0n t0 8en'1 him t0 St Aseham.
Jolms College, Cambridge, in the year 1530.
The revival of Grecian and Roman literature at the
period Ascham entered upon his studies was peculiarly
favourable to the natural bent of his inclination. A desire
of excelling uniformly influenced his conduct, and, adopt¬
ing the maxim, Qui docet, discit, he began to teach boys
the rudiments of the Greek language as soon as he was
acquainted with the elementary parts himself. His plan
was approved by Pember, and under the direction of this
valuable friend he soon became acquainted with the best
Greek and Latin authors. But he took particular delight
in reading Cicero and Caesar, and upon them formed the
elegance of his Latin style, which proved so honourable
and so advantageous in the after part of his life.
Ascham took his first degree of bachelor of arts in his
18th year, and was chosen fellow of the college about a
month afterwards. The favourable disposition, however,
which he manifested towards the reformed religion was
no small obstacle in the way of his preferment. °He was
elected master of arts in the year 1537, and about this
period he began to act in the capacity of a tutor.
His reputation for Greek learning soon brought him
many pupils; and these were so well instructed that se¬
veral of them afterwards rose to considerable eminence.
Of these William Grindall was one of the most distin¬
guished, who obtained the station of master of languages
to the lady Elizabeth, upon the recommendation of Bir
John Cheke. It appears uncertain why Ascham himself
was not appointed to that honourable station; but his
partiality for the university seems, from a hint in one of
his letters, to have been the cause. At that period there
was no particular chair appropriated to the Greek lan¬
guage, but Ascham was appointed by the university to
read lectures upon that language in the schools. A dis¬
pute arose in the university at that time about the pro¬
nunciation of the Greek language, in which Ascham first
opposed the method observed by Sir John Cheke and Sir
Thomas Smith; but, upon more mature deliberation, he
adopted that method, which has ever since been prac¬
tised in the English schools. Both on account of the
beauty of his handwriting, and the purity and elegance
of his Latin, he was employed to write the public letters
of the university.
By the advice of his friend Pember, he turned his at¬
tention to the study of instrumental music, and thereby
enlivened his leisure hours, and prepared his mind for
renewed exertion. In his study he also amused himself
with embellishing the pages of his manuscripts with
beautiful draughts, and in the field he joined in the di¬
version of the bow and arrow. The learned Ascham did
not deem his labour improperly bestowed in writing a
book entitled Toxophilus, in an age when the proper use
of the bow was of more importance than for mere amuse¬
ment. This work was written in a more natural, easy,
and truly English diction than had hitherto been in use;
and it also abounds with many beautiful allusions and cu¬
rious fragments of English history. Ascham candidly
acknowledges, that being anxious to make the tour of
Italy, which was then the great republic of letters, and
particularly of Grecian literature, he wished, by dedi¬
cating his book to the king, to obtain a pension, to en¬
able him to make that tour. It reflects some lustre on
the benevolence of Henry VIII. that in the year 1544 he
settled upon him an annual pension of L.10, which Dr
Johnson, considering the circumstances of the times,
estimates at the value of L.100. Upon the death of
Henry this pension was for some time discontinued; but it
was again renewed by Edward VI., and doubled by Queen
Mary. In the same year, also, Ascham obtained the ap-
664 A S C
Ascham. pointment of orator to the university; an office which he
retained with great reputation during the period he was
connected with the university.
For some years he received an annual gratuity from
Lee. archbishop of York, but to what amount is not re¬
corded ; and, in 1548, upon the death of his pupil Grin-
dall, preceptor to the lady Elizabeth, his pupils and writ¬
ings had acquired him such celebrity, that he was
appointed to direct the studies of that princess. He suc¬
cessfully acquitted himself in that honourable charge;
but two years after, from some unknown cause of dis¬
satisfaction, he returned to the university, haying taken
an abrupt leave of the princess. This part of his conduct
did not lessen him in the esteem of Elizabeth; for in the
same year she recalled him to court, and appointed him
secretary to Sir Richard Morisine, ambassador to the
emperor Charles Y. In his way to London he paid a vi¬
sit to Lady Jane Gray, whom he found in her chamber
reading Plato’s Phcedo, in Greek, “ and that, says he,
“ with as much delight as some gentlemen would read a
merry tale in Boccacewhile the duke and duchess, and
the rest of the household, were hunting in the park.
In the character of secretary to Sir Richard, besides
aiding him in the management of his public affairs, he
also conducted his private studies. During the mornings
of four days in the week he read with him a portion of
Herodotus or Demosthenes, and in the evenings some
pages of Sophocles or Euripides ; and on the other morn¬
ings he wrote the letters of public business, and on the
evenings he either wrote his own private letters or con¬
tinued his diary and remarks. While Ascham was on his
travels, he made a short excursion to Italy; but was much
disgusted with the manners of the people, especially of
the Venetians. After his return from that tour, he fa¬
voured the world with a curious tract, entitled A Report
and Discourse of the Affairs and State of Germany, &c.
Upon the death of Edward VI. Morisine was recalled,
and Ascham returned to the university. But through
the interest of Bishop Gardiner, the fortune of Ascham
soon took a favourable turn, who, although he knew him
to be a Protestant, obtained him the office of Latin secre¬
tary to the queen, with liberty to retain his university
emoluments, and the additional salary of L.10 a-year.
The prudence of Ascham enabled him to act a respectable
part, both under the intolerant reign of Mary, and also
in the most perilous situations during the reign of Eliza¬
beth ; and the readiness and elegance of his Latin style
rendered him a useful member at court. He is reported
to have written, during the course of three days, 47 let¬
ters to persons in the highest ranks of life.
When the crown passed to a Protestant prinee, it made
little alteration in the condition of Ascham, who still re¬
tained his station. He spent several hours every day in
reading the learned languages with the queen, and her
proficiency was equal to his labours; and it might have
been expected that his rewards would have been more
ample than L.20 per annum, together with the prebend
of Westwang. Some have alleged that the queen kept
him poor because he was addicted to cock-fighting, and
in other respects extravagant; but the defects in his cha¬
racter should not have deprived him of the rewards due to
actual services.
In consequence of a conversation which took place in
the apartment of secretary Cecil, upon the subject of
education, Sir Richard Sackville, who was present, re¬
quested him to write a book on the general subject of
education. This work is entitled The Schoolmaster, and
contains many excellent instructions to the teachers of
youth. It was published by his widow after his death.
By too close application to composing a poem, which he
A S C
intended to present to the queen on the new-year’s day Aachen.1
of 1569, he was seized with an illness which proved fatal, dorf
and died on the 23d of December 1568. His death was II
universally lamented, and the queen expressed her re-
gret by saying, that “ she would rather have lost L.10,000
than her tutor Ascham.” His epistles, which are valu¬
able both on account of their style and historical infor¬
mation, were published after his death, and dedicated to
the queen: the best edition is that of Mr Elstob, pub¬
lished at Oxford in 1703. His English works were pub¬
lished in 4to, with a life by Dr Johnson, in 1767. This
edition has been reprinted in 8vo.
ASCHENDORF, a bailiwick in the circle of Meppen
and province of Osnaburg, in the kingdom of Hanover.
It lies on the banks of the Ems, and contains two towns
and five villages, with 8972 inhabitants, almost wholly
Catholics, with many remains of old German habits and
prejudices.—The capital of the bailiwick is of the same
name, and contains one church, a monastery of Francis¬
cans, and 1177 inhabitants, several of whom are seamen.
ASCHERSLEBEN, a circle in the government of
Magdeburg and province of Saxony, in Prussia, formed
out of a part of the principality of Halderstadt and the
abbey of Quedlinburg. It contains 198 square miles, or
126,720 acres. The population in 1817 amounted to
36,283 persons. The Bode and the Eine are the chief
rivers; and on their banks the land is highly fertile, pro¬
ducing great crops of corn, flax, and rape-seed. The
city of Quedlinburg is the chief place of the circle.
Aschersleben, a city in the circle of the same name,
containing 1178 houses and 8731 inhabitants. It has an
extensive trade in friezes, flannels, and other woollen
goods, and in linen, leather, tobacco, and rape-oil.
ASCII, among geographers, an appellation given to
those inhabitants of the earth who at certain seasons of
the year have no shadow: such are all the inhabitants of
the torrid zone when the sun is vertical to them.
ASCI17E (from aoxog, a hag or bottle), in Antiquity, a
sect or branch of Montanists, who appeared in the second
century. They were so called because they introduced
a kind of Bacchanals into their assemblies, who danced
round a skin or bag blown up, saying they were those
new bottles filled with new wine whereof our Saviour
makes mention, Matth. ix. 17. They are sometimes also
called Ascodrogitce.
ASCLEPIA, a festival of TEsculapius, the god of phy¬
sic, observed particularly at Epidaurus, where it was at¬
tended with a contest between the poets and musicians,
whence it was likewise called Tsgo; Aywv, the sacred con¬
tention.
ASCLEPIAD, in ancient poetry, a verse composed of
four feet, the first of which is a spondee, the second a
choriambus, and the last two dactyls; or of four feet and
a caesura, the first a spondee, the second a dactyl, after
which comes the caesura, then the two dactyls; as, Ma-
cenas atavis edite regibus.
ASCLEPIADES, one of the most celebrated physi¬
cians among the ancients, was a native of Prusa in Bithy-
nia, and practised physic at Rome under Pompey 96 years
before the Christian era. He was the head of a new
sect; and, by making use of wine and cold water in the
cure of the sick, acquired a very great reputation. He
wrote several books, which are frequently mentioned by
Galen, Celsus, and Pliny; but they do not now exist.
Asclepiades, a famous physician under Adrian, of the
same city with the former. He wrote several books concern¬
ing the composition of medicines, both internal and external.
ASCODUT^E, in Antiquity, a sect of heretics in the
second century, who rejected all use of symbols and sa¬
craments, on this principle, that incorporeal things can-
ASH
not be communicated by things corporeal, nor divine
| mysteries by any thing visible.
Ashaiee- ASCOLI, one of the delegations into which the Papal
States in Italy are divided. It comprises a part of the
ancient mark of Ancona or of Fermo. It is bounded on
the north-west and north by Fermo, on the east by the
Adriatic Sea, on the south by the territory of Naples,
and on the west by Spoleto. The extent is 480 square
miles, or 307,200 acres. The Appennines are in part in¬
cluded in this province. It contains 3 cities, 4 market-
towns, and 44 villages, with 69,058 inhabitants. The soil
is generally fruitful, and the climate salubrious.—The ca¬
pital of the delegation is of the same name, the see of a
bishop, and the tribunal of law. It is situated at the junction
of the river Castellano with the Tronto. In the mouth
of the latter is a small harbour for coasting vessels. The
city contains a cathedral, 12 parish churches, 12 monas¬
teries, 6 nunneries, a Jesuit’s college, and 7550 inhabit¬
ants. Long. 13. 28. 25. E. Lat. 42. 51. N.
ASCOLI A, in Grecian Antiquity, a festival celebrated
by the Athenian husbandmen in honour of Bacchus, to
whom they sacrificed a he-goat, because it destroys the
vines; and, to show the greater indignity to an animal
hated by Bacchus, the peasants, after having killed him,
made a foot-ball of his skin.
ASCRIPTITII, or Adscriptitii, a kind of serfs, so
annexed to the lands that they may be transferred and
sold with them. Adscriptitii is sometimes also used in
speaking of aliens or foreigners newly admitted to the
freedom of a city or country.
ASDRUBAL, the name of several Carthaginian gene¬
rals. See Carthage.
ASHANTEE, a country in Western Africa, situated
in the interior of that part of Guinea called the Gold
Coast. It forms now the most powerful of all the king¬
doms in that quarter of Africa, and is perhaps the most
improved of any among the completely native states
which have remained strangers to the Arabic language
and Moslem institutions. This kingdom, therefore, pos¬
sesses now a somewhat peculiar interest, and may deserve
to be treated of at some length.
The Ashantee empire, including the numerous dis¬
tricts, once independent, but now entirely reduced under
its control and jurisdiction, is considered by M. Dupuis
as extending from 5. 0. to 9. 0. N. lat., and from 0. to
4. 0. W. long., and may thus comprise a space of about
50,000 square miles, inhabited by 3,000,000 of people. The
original Ashantee, however, occupied by the nation who
have subjugated this large extent of territory, is not sup¬
posed to include more than a third of this large space,
nor to have a population exceeding 1,000,000.
Hist< Tradition represents the Ashantees as deriving their
Asha »e or'Sin fr°m numerous bands of emigrants, who, two or
cmpj, three centuries ago, were driven before the Moslem tribes
migrating southward from the countries on the Niger
and Senegal. The Ashantees having occupied and cleared
a region before covered with almost impenetrable forests,
defended themselves with a valour which became part
of their national character, and which raised them from a
band of fugitives to the rank of a powerful and conquer¬
ing nation. They even subdued and reduced into vas¬
salage several of the Moslem tribes by whom they had
been formerly supplanted.
Early in the 18th century the Ashantees first came
under the notice of Europeans through the wars in which
they engaged with the kingdoms bordering on the mari¬
time territory. Among these, Dinkira is described by
Bosman as holding such a pre-eminence in wealth and
power, that it looked down with contempt on all the sur¬
rounding tribes. Yet Sai Tooto, the king of Ashantee,
VOL. in.
ASH 665
emboldened by successive conquests, and by the tried Ashantee.
valour of his people, hesitated not to encounter this for-A-^v^^
midable potentate. The war was excited by an insult
offered to a member of an embassy sent by the kino- 0f
Ashantee, consisting, according to a usage prevalent in
this part of Africa, of a detachment of his numerous
wives. The pride of Dinkira caused its sovereign to re¬
fuse all explanation or atonement; and war immediately
ensued upon a great scale, each party mustering their al¬
lies and tributaries; and successive battles were fought
with such fury, that 100,000 men were reported to have
fallen on each side. It terminated in the complete over¬
throw of Dinkira, wdiich had its pride completely hum¬
bled, and has continued ever since a mere vassal and tri¬
butary of Ashantee.
Sai Tooto may be considered as the real founder of
the power of this kingdom. He either built or greatly
extended and embellished Coomassie, the capital; he sub¬
dued the Mahometan countries of Gaman and Banna, the
latter of which has been called the right arm of Ash¬
antee ; and he extended the empire by conquests both on
the east and wrest. But it remained still quite an inland
state, nowhere approaching the coast nearer than 40 or 50
miles. Finally, Sai Tooto having invaded the country
of Akim, when marching at the head of a small detach¬
ment to join his army, was surprised and slain. The
Ashantees, who held that prince in the highest venera¬
tion on account of his justice and valour, were so deeply
affected by this catastrophe, that they have ever since
distinguished the day by terms expressive of its gloomy
character—as the dreadful day—the day of God’s chas¬
tisement. In fact, it was followed by a temporary anarchy,
and by contests for the succession, which encouraged
all the vassal kingdoms to throw off the yoke ; so that
when Sai Apoko in 1731 came into full possession of the
throne, the conquests of his predecessor were to be made
afresh. However, he did make them: Gaman, Assin,
Akim, and Dinkira, were by new victories annexed to
the empire more firmly than before, while farther acqui¬
sitions gradually opened his way to the coast. Sai Apoko,
in the latter part of his reign, involved the kingdom in
violent agitation by an attempt to deprive the nobles of
their rights and privileges. This gave rise to a serious
rebellion, which the king, indeed, triumphantly sup¬
pressed ; yet on his death, which happened soon after,
the chiefs, before raising his successor to the throne,
were careful to abrogate these innovations, and regain
their wonted share in the administration.
Sai Akwasy, the next sovereign, was chiefly employed in
suppressing insurrections which continually arose among
the numerous little subject tribes, amounting, it is said, to
forty-seven, held in reluctant subjection to his government,
and who seized every opportunity to shake off the yoke.
The contest with Gaman was waged with various and long
doubtful success, but at length it was triumphant. In an
attempt, however, to cross the Volta and invade Dahomy,
he encountered a complete overthrow; and Ashantee has
never again ventured to extend her ambitious views to that
fierce and warlike kingdom.
The reigns of Sai Quamina and Sai Apoko II. were not
distinguished by any events of great magnitude. In 1800
the throne was mounted by Sai Tooto Quamina, who soon
showed himself animated by a peculiar spirit of enterprise
and ambition. He appears early to have formed a desire
of opening a communication with white nations, and of
improving his country by the introduction of their arts
and knowledge. Occupied, however, by wars in the coun¬
tries to the north, and by an insurrection in Gaman, he
could not for some time turn his views in that direction.
About 1808, however, a dispute arose among the chiefs
666
ASHANTEE.
Ashantee. of Assin, which the king seems to have made very great
efforts to compose in a friendly manner; but, through the
violence and rashness of the Assinese, it ended in an open
rupture. The insurgent forces were defeated with great
slaughter, and the chiefs compelled to seek refuge on the
coast among the Fantees, there the ruling people. The
king again made overtures of accommodation; but by a
strange infatuation the rebel chiefs not only rejected these,
but put his messengers to death with every species of out¬
rage. The Ashantee monarch then threw away every rem¬
nant of forbearance, and determined that every thing most
dreadful in African warfare should be felt by them, and
by the Fantees their protectors*. The allies found them¬
selves wholly unable to resist the torrent of invasion; the
country was laid waste with fire and sword, and they
were driven with dreadful slaughter towards the coast.
At length the fugitives reached the town of Anamaboe,
where there was then a British fort. The governor ex¬
horted the Anamaboes to endeavour to make pacific ar¬
rangements with this powerful enemy, and offered his
mediation ; but the citizens, falsely confident in their own
strength, resolved to abide the contest. When a division,
however, of the Ashantee army had destroyed the neigh¬
bouring town of Cormantine, the inhabitants of which
came flying to Anamaboe for refuge, the governor con¬
trived to open a communication with the king, requesting
to know the cause of his attacking Anamaboe, and offer¬
ing to mediate an accommodation. The reply was, that
on sending 20 barrels of gunpowder and 100 muskets, the
English would be made acquainted with the king’s inten¬
tions. This reply afforded no opening to negociation; and
in fact they learned that the Ashantee chief, on reaching
the sea, had shown an extraordinary exultation, having
three times dipped his sword into the water. A recon¬
noitring party, which the enemy in the first instance sent
forward, was repulsed, after a hard contest, by the Ana¬
maboes ; but on the following day, when the whole force
of the invader was brought up, the citizens were seen re¬
treating in the utmost disorder. They found no refuge even
in the town, to which they retreated, but were pursued with
the most dreadful slaughter to the margin of the sea. The
English governor, after receiving into the fort as many of
the old men, women, and children, as its walls could con¬
tain, vainly endeavoured to repel the enemy by conti¬
nued discharges of musketry and grape shot. The attempt
was fruitless; and after having completely destroyed the
town, they advanced against the castle, and made the
most desperate efforts to carry it by storm. The situation
of the English was critical in the extreme: to oppose a
force estimated at 15,000 they had not above 24 men,
several of whom were artificers and free mulattoes. The
Ashantees continued the attack for several hours, firing
with such precision as to cut off every man who appeared
at an embrasure, and the garrison was reduced to eight
men fit for service. Towards evening, however, the ene¬
my, having been unable to gain an entrance at any point,
desisted. Next morning the scene around the fort dis¬
played a dreadful picture of the ravages of barbarous war¬
fare ; the houses of the city mostly unroofed or on fire;
the shore strewed with numerous dead bodies, against
which the waves were dashing; the piteous cries of the
women and children who had found refuge within the fort.
The enemy, however, showed no haste to renew the at¬
tack ; and in the afternoon a reinforcement of four offi¬
cers and twelve men was landed from Cape Coast. The
governor then, in pursuance of directions from the com¬
mander-in-chief, hoisted a white flag in sign of amnesty,
which was received cordially, and even with joyful accla¬
mations. The two soldiers who bore the flag were wel¬
comed and presented with a fat sheep; but it appeared
that nothing final could be concluded without a meeting a 1
between the king and the chief governor, in which view
every effort was used to induce the king to pay a visit to ^
Cape Coast Castle; but he very naturally declined to
place himself in the power of those with whom he had
just waged so deadly a warfare. Colonel Torrance, the
chief governor, then repaired to Anamaboe, and forming
a procession as handsome as his numbers admitted, went
out and waited on the monarch. The English were dazzled
by the splendour ami dignity displayed by the retinue of
the Ashantee prince, which greatly surpassed all that they
had observed on the coast. The great men wore dresses
of rich silk, and their swords, axes, flutes, and other in¬
struments, were either of solid gold or profusely adorned
with that precious metal. The court etiquette was studied
and dignified; each of the great officers gave separate au¬
dience, seated under a huge umbrella, and surrounded
by numerous attendants. The king, of a deep black com-
plexion, was well formed, with an open and pleasing coun¬
tenance : he wore a plain silk dress, without any of the
golden ornaments with which the inferior captains were
loaded. A treaty was concluded, which could not but be
satisfactory to the monarch, since, according to M. Du¬
puis, it included a complete acknowledgment on the part
of the governor, that the whole territory of Fantee, in¬
cluding Cape Coast itself, the capital, belonged by right
of conquest to the Ashantee empire. The governor took
a still more questionable mode of securing the favour of
this great potentate. Cheboo and Apoutay, the chiefs
with whom this dreadful war originated, had fled to Cape
Coast, where they lived under at least the tacit protection
of the British government. Now, however, parties were
despatched to attack them, who seized Cheboo after a
desperate resistance ; but Apoutay, beating off the assail¬
ants, effected his escape. The former chief was then de¬
livered as a propitiatory offering to the king, by whom he
was put to death with cruelty and ignominy.
Although the Ashantees carried all before them in the
field, an epidemical disorder, causing a considerable mor¬
tality in their army, obliged them to retire. Then the
Fantees, according to their usual rash and imprudent
course of proceeding, threw off the yoke. This brought
down upon them, in 1811, a second expedition, in which
the invader met with equal success, and for some time car¬
ried all before him; but one of those internal rebellions
to which the kingdom was always subject interrupted his
career, and obliged him to return. The Fantees, always
courageous in the absence of danger, again reared their
heads, and prepared for themselves, in 1816, an invasion
more formidable than either of the two preceding. They
suffered a most disastrous overthrow; Cape Coast was
held in long blockade, and the Fantees were finally com¬
pelled to own themselves the subjects of the king of Ash¬
antee.
_ The British government, actuated by very enlightened Negocia.
views, felt a wish to cultivate the alliance of this great d°ns ®ni
African potentate, and to open a direct communication^^'
with him. They thus hoped not only to secure his friend-^
ship and commerce with his territories, but to obtain ex¬
tensive information respecting the interior of Africa. In
1817, Messrs James, Bowdich, and Hutchison, departed
on a mission to Coomassie. They had to penetrate through
a country, great part of which was overgrown with dense
and entangled woods, the route through which consisted
only of a narrow and difficult footpath. These obsta¬
cles, joined to an illness with which Mr James was at¬
tacked, caused the journey, though extending not more
than 100 miles, to employ nearly a month. On their ar¬
rival they were considerably dazzled both by the extent
and handsome appearance of the city, compared with the
»
ASHANTEE.
Ash^ee. maritime capitals, and also by the wild and brilliant array
^ ^ of the caboceers or great war-chiefs. They were soon
introduced to the king, whom they found still more pro¬
fusely loaded with embellishments, consisting of golden
ornaments, beads, and amulets. Yet the strings of human
teeth, and the executioner seated with his hatchet on his
breast, and his stool clotted with blood, threw into the
scene a character truly savage. The monarch received
them, however, with that dignified politeness which, un¬
less when overcome by passion, he always studiously
maintained. He invited them to the market-place, and
gave them a public audience in presence of the chiefs and
people. The presents, which consisted chiefly of orna¬
mental fabrics of British manufacture, excited his highest
admiration: he carefully, and with an intelligent eye, ex¬
amined their structure. After one or two of these har¬
monious interviews, subjects of business came under dis¬
cussion. The king introduced the subject of certain sums
which the British were bound to pay to the native govern¬
ments, for permission to hold fortified factories ; making
in a manner the ground-rent of their castles. These sums
the Fantees, as the ruling people on the coast, had been
accustomed to receive ; but the king, as having conquer¬
ed the whole Fantee territory, claimed them now as due
to himself. According to the ideas established in Africa,
and indeed to the ordinary rights of conquest, the demand
seems to have been legitimate. There had, however, been
some misunderstanding : Mr James came unprovided with
any instructions to meet this claim, and simply replied
that he would refer for instructions to the government at
Cape Coast Castle. This appears to have been quite fo¬
reign to the understanding and expectations of the mo¬
narch, who conceived that they came, as he said, “ to
make peace and settle all palavers.” On finding them
wholly unprepared to enter on what he viewed as the
main object of discussion, he considered himself insulted ;
that contempt was thrown upon him, and a determination
manifested for war. In vain did Mr James protest that they
wished only peace and trade: his passion became always
more furious; he called them cheats and liars, then start¬
ed from his seat, bit his beard, exclaiming, that had a
negro brought such a message he would have cut off his
head. On seeing matters come to this extremity, the two
junior members of the mission, Messrs Bowdich and Hut¬
chison, formed a resolution certainly very imprudent and
contrary to diplomatic rule. Conceiving that Mr James,
by blind and obstinate adherence to rule, was endanger¬
ing the English interests, and perhaps even the safety of
the. mission, they took upon themselves to supersede him,
and assume the negociation into their own hands. They
conducted it in a manner altogether satisfactory to the
king: a treaty was concluded, by which all his demands
were granted; and, after a residence of several months,
in which they were perfectly well treated, they returned
to Cape Coast.
The government at home, though they demurred some¬
what to the very irregular course followed by Mr Bow¬
dich and his companion, saw evidently the wdsdom of
cultivating an intercourse with this powerful African
court. They determined to station at his court a fixed
resident, and nominated to that station M. Dupuis, who
had long filled with credit the important post of British
consul at Mogadore. M. Dupuis was sent out with in¬
structions to cultivate to the utmost of his power the
Iriendship of this potent monarch, to promote trade with
his dominions, and to open through them an intercourse
with the interior.
Ihe new consul, being detained in England by various
circumstances, did not arrive at Cape Coast till January
1819, By that time a complete and unfortunate change
667
had taken place in the views of the British local govern- Ashantee.
ment. I hey had been gained entirely over to the interest'
of the Fantees or coast natives, who were constantly on
the spot, and possessed eloquence, talents, and address.
An insurrection had arisen in the interior of the Ashantee
monarchy, respecting which the most exaggerated ru¬
mours were spread and listened to with blind credulity.
Insulting messages were sent to the king, who was also
informed that the natives of Cape Coast were setting his
authority at open defiance, and were forming a wall to
defend the town. The Fantees, so recently subjected,
could not be blamed for endeavouring to procure their
own emancipation; but the English, who had so much
experience of their weakness, ought by no means to have
committed themselves in the quarrel. Under the views
which he had formed, however, the governor, on various
pretences, prevented M. Dupuis from proceeding on his
mission. Yet, while this rash and confident spirit con¬
tinued in full force, rumours of a very opposite description
began to arise, and became so prevalent, that the boldest
adherents of the present policy were struck with appre¬
hension. It was now confidently stated that the king had
gained a complete victory over the rebels ; nay, it began
to be rumoured that he was in full march with an araiy
upon Cape Coast. That prince, however, appears to have
shown a very considerable disposition to effect an ami¬
cable adjustment of differences. A messenger of high
rank arrived at the castle, and having produced a little
Morocco trunk, drew from it the treaty, which was read
over, article by article, and repeated appeals made to the
governor on the manner in which it had been violated.
He was unable to deny the charges; and the confusion
which he could not avoid feeling, with the generally
changed aspect of affairs, induced him to assume a much
more moderate tone. M. Dupuis was even introduced,
and his mission mentioned, with which the messenger
seemed much pleased, though he could not, without some
special instructions, give him an invitation to proceed to
Coomassie. Soon after, an ambassador of much higher
rank was announced, and excited a stronger sensation, it
being Reported that he brought with him an army to en¬
force compliance. Flis appearance, however, dissipated
these apprehensions : he brought with him indeed a train
of twelve hundred persons, but these were partly women
and boys ; and the assemblage was evidently one of state,
not of war. The ambassador, however, brought the ulti¬
matum of the king as to atonement demanded for the
breach of fealty committed by the people of the town, and
in which they had been supported by the English. After
enumerating all the wrongs of which they had been guilty
towards his sovereign, he demanded the sum of 1600
ounces of gold from the town, and the same amount from
the governor. This last demand was rejected as wholly
inadmissible, though there was not the same objection
made to equitable compensation being required from
the natives. It being then found that the ambassador
had brought a welcome to M. Dupuis, the governor, in
these urgent circumstances, deemed it wisest to with¬
draw the interdict hitherto placed upon that gentleman’s
proceeding to Coomassie, and to place in his hands the
task of obtaining the best possible terms from this power¬
ful monarch.
M. Dupuis set out on the 9th February 1820, and on the
28th arrived at Coomassie. He soon obtained a public
audience of the king, who received him with dignified
politeness. After a few days spent in pompous and un¬
meaning ceremonies, more confidential meetings took place,
and business was entered upon at full length. The king
expressed uniformly the utmost indignation at the attempt
of the natives to shake off his authority. On one occasion
6G8
A S H A N T E E.
Ashantee. when he happened to be in peculiarly bad humour, this
broke out in a demeanour partaking almost of madness.
Raising his voice to its utmost pitch, and assuming a
countenance of demoniacal frenzy, he threw himself con¬
vulsively back in his chair, clenched his fists, and stretch¬
ed out his arms and legs, while he bellowed out the most
direful imprecations against the natives of Cape Coast,
not even excepting those present. The foam all the while
flowed down his beard in copious discharges, and the
saliva spurted from his mouth upon all around him. He
even vociferated, “ White men come to my country to
trade,—what have they to do with my slaves ? Smitty
(Governor Smith) cheats, and joins the Fantees. The Cape
Coast people ought to die. Let me go there, let me have
the jaw-bones of Aggry and Deljraaf. I don’t want their
gold; I want the blood of bad men to wash my stool.”
Afterwards, however, he made a sort of apology for this
violent sally, and in his calmer moods was found reason¬
able and even conciliatory. He expressed great dissatis¬
faction with the governor of Cape Coast, but the highest
respect for the king, whom he seems even in some degree
to have owned as a superior, and called him, of course in
mere courtesy, his master ; only saying, “ for the blacks, I
am king, and I will be paid or I will kill them.” M. Du¬
puis seems to have proceeded very judiciously, and in a
manner at once firm and courteous. The king occasion¬
ally showed suspicions of his acting as a spy, and even
threw out hints to that effect, with many apologies, how¬
ever, and representing the idea as having originated with
his nobles and chiefs. He seems in general to have been
fully convinced of the candour and good faith of the Eng¬
lish envoy, who, on his side, recognized fully the monarch’s
claim to the entire sovereignty of the Gold Coast, includ¬
ing the ground on which the forts stood. This implied the
validity of the notes rent, amounting for each to the mighty
sum of L.8 a month, which threatened to involve Africa
in warfare. The king again dropt entirely the large pay¬
ment demanded from the governor; and, admitting the
plea of their poverty, greatly reduced his requisition from
the natives. He agreed likewise that the English should
exercise a certain jurisdiction in the immediate vicinity of
their forts, even over such of his own subjects as should
happen to reside there. Upon these principles, a treaty
was drawn up, which adjusted satisfactorily all the differ¬
ences between the two parties. The king dismissed M.
Dupuis with many marks of esteem and kindness, sending
along with him two natives of distinction, to proceed as
ambassadors to England, with a present of two beautiful
leopards.
M. Dupuis now returned to Cape Coast with the agree¬
able impression of having brought this important and dif¬
ficult negociation to a fortunate issue. He was deeply
disappointed when the governor altogether disowned the
treaty, representing it as having betrayed British interests,
and as having wantonly transferred to Ashantee the so¬
vereignty of the Gold Coast. At the same time the Fantee
party persuaded Sir George Collier to refuse transporting
to Britain the ambassadors sent by the king of Ashantee ;
a conduct which could not but be in the highest degree
offensive to that monarch.
M. Dupuis returned to England to represent the parti¬
culars to the government; but an entire change meantime
took place in the administration of the British affairs in
Africa. The African Company were induced to resign
the command hitherto held by them over the forts, which
were taken entirely into the hands of the crown. The
first step adopted in consequence, was to invest Sir Charles
M‘Caj:thy with the general government of all this range
of coast. The king of Ashantee, though highly indignant
at the conduct of the former governor, on learning this
alteration, seems to have paused, in hopes of its bringing Ashantee
more conciliatory counsels. The new governor arrived
early in 1822 ; but though he had communicated with M.
Dupuis, who earnestly endeavoured to impress him with
his own ideas of African politics, Sir Charles soon implicitly
adopted the principles and policy of the Fantee natives.
He placed the town in a posture of defence, and formed
alliances with all the neighbouring tribes, who ranged
themselves under his standard. Nothing was heard of the
former dreaded conqueror of the Gold Coast, who, it was
hoped, had been overawed by the formidable force which
the English exhibited. In fact, however, he was busied
in preparations of various kinds, collecting troops, making
incantations, and determining the lucky or unlucky times
of commencing the compaign. At length a negro serjeant
in the Eqglish service was seized in the great square of
Anamaboe, on pretext of some injurious expressions re¬
specting the king; and after being detained for six weeks,
seemingly in expectation of some negociation being open¬
ed for his release, was beheaded at Denqua. The king
then commenced open war, summoning all his vassal
princes, and calling upon them “ to arm against Britain,
to the very fishes of the sea.” To Sir Charles he sent
notice that his scull would soon adorn the great war-drum
of Ashantee. Yet at this very time he made overtures
through the Dutch government at Elmina, who had always
prudently cultivated his alliance. Messengers sent by
each party met at Elmina, and a speech was made on the
king’s part, when he presented indeed a most formidable
list of grievances, yet showed himself willing to impute
these to the Fantees and the people of Cape Coast rather
than to the English; but this discourse was deemed un¬
worthy of answer.
It behoved now the English to meet in the field the
formidable enemy whom they had provoked, and taken no
pains to appease. Captain Laing having been sent for¬
ward with a reconnoitring detachment, encountered an
advanced corps of the enemy and totally defeated it; an
exploit which increased the rash confidence now preva¬
lent among the British and their allies. The force which
could be depended upon, though small, and consisting in
a great measure of the merchants and civil servants of the
colony, was imprudently divided. Besides Mr Laing’s
detachment, the main body was split into two parties,
under Sir Charles M‘Carthy and Major Chisholm. The
former, commanding about 1000 Europeans, was attacked
near the boundary stream of the Bossem Pra, by a force
of the enemy amounting to 10,000. The English fought
for some time with great bravery, till their ammunition
failed, when Sir Charles commenced his retreat; but the
enemy then succeeded in throwing a large corps on his rear,
and thus causing a total and destructive route. Only 50
men, including two officers, Major Ricketts and Lieutenant
Erskine, x’eturned to the castle. All the rest, among whom
were the chief civil functionaries, paid the penalty of their
rash counsels. Respecting their fate, there is only the
fatal alternative, that they either fell on the field or perish¬
ed amid tortures inflicted by this barbarous enemy. The
former and milder lot, according to the most probable ac¬
count, befel Sir Charles, though his bones were carried as
a trophy to Coomassie.
The Ashantee army now marched upon Cape Coast,
laying waste the country with fire and sword. At that
place, however, the detachments of Major Chisholm and
Captain Laing had united with the wrecks of the main
corps, and prepared for defence with the characteristic
vigour and courage of English troops. The king, flushed
with victory, made repeated and desperate assaults, but
was on each occasion repulsed with great loss; and sick¬
ness having made its way into his camp, he at length
ASH
^shane. broke up and retired to Coomassie. It was supposed that
he withdrew only to collect a more formidable force, and
renew the invasion. Such a design was frustrated by in¬
ternal disturbances ; and the English having since greatly
limited their connection with the Gold Coast, and even
withdrawn their garrisons from all the forts except the
one at Cape Coast, and having also wisely adopted a more
conciliatory policy, the good understanding between the
two powers has been happily restored. There is even,
We believe, at present, a British resident at Coomassie.
Preset! Ashantee proper, comprising about 14,000 square miles,
state < and a million of inhabitants, presents a dense and almost
Ashanie* impenetrable forest, the routes through which consist
merely of narrow winding tracts, in which, though it is
possible for a man to ride, or a palanquin to be carried,
no waggon of any description could pass. The interior
country round the towns, however, is cultivated with
diligence, the fields being kept very clean, and yielding
in abundance grain, yams, vegetables, and fruits. The
territory yields also a considerable quantity of gold; and
that precious metal is brought in still greater abundance
from the regions farther to the north, particularly Gaman,
where it occurs not merely in the usual form of gold dust,
but in pretty large fragments, mingled in pits with rock
and gravel. It is even said that, but for a superstitious
idea, which induces the natives to leave the largest de¬
posits untouched, the produce might be much more ample.
The Ashantees are skilful in several manufactures, parti¬
cularly in the great African fabric of cotton, which they
weave with a loom differing little from that of Europe.
Their pottery and works in gold are also skilful, though sur¬
passed by those produced in the more southern countries.
The government of Ashantee forms a mixture of mo¬
narchy with a military aristocracy; the lower orders
being held in the most complete thraldom, and liable
either to be put to death or sold into slavery at the will of
the chiefs. The king carries on all the ordinary adminis¬
tration of the state; but in questions relating to peace or
war he is bound to consult the council of the caboceers
or captains, which M. Dupuis calls a senate. Each of
these caboceers keeps a little court, where he gives au¬
dience, and makes a profuse display of barbarous pomp.
They wear rich silken robes, curiously interwoven with va¬
riously coloured threads; and the most common domestic
utensils are of solid gold. Leopards’ skins, red shells, ele¬
phants’ tails, eagle and ostrich feathers, are intermingled
with Moorish charms and amulets, and with strings of
human- teeth and bones. Polygamy is indulged to the
most enormous extent. The king has a regular allowance
of 3333 wives; but in Africa these princesses are em¬
ployed variously, as guards, messengers, and even in the
humblest services. The crown, as often happens in bar¬
barous countries, descends to the king’s sister’s son, not to
his own offspring.
_ The Ashantee nronarchs, though so extremely ambi¬
tious, appear to pay considerable regard to the faith of
treaties, seeking always a plausible ground of war; and,
even when justly provoked, not usually commencing it
without previous overtures of negociation. The barbarous
and capricious governments, however, by which they are
surrounded, jealous of the Ashantee power, without duly
measuring their own strength, afford frequent cause of
justifiable invasion. Thus, during the last century the
Ashantees have conquered Dinkifa, Aquamboe, Aquapim,
and Assin, countries which lay between them and the coast,
and hdld the chief sway there on the first arrival of Euro¬
peans. Then they reduced the whole of the Gold Coast.
During the same period, towards the north and the inte¬
rior of Africa, they subdued the territories of Gaman,
Banna, Tonouma, and Degomba, inhabited chiefly by
ASH 66,0
Moslems, before whom the Ashantees had been at first Ashantee
compelled to recede; but notwithstanding the enmity II
thus naturally generated, the conquerors wisely extended Ashbourn.
their full protection to the professors of this faith, and
raised them often to equal favour and honour with the
natives. The king even had made them believe that he
felt some disposition to embrace their faith.
The darkest feature in the Ashantee character un¬
doubtedly consists in the system of human sacrifice, carried
to a truly dreadful extent. It is founded on a wild idea
of filial and relative piety, which makes the chiefs fancy
it their duty to water with blood the graves of their an¬
cestors, whose rank in the future world will, they imagine,
be measured by the number of attendants thus sent along
with them. There are two fixed annual periods called
the great and little Adai customs, at each of which human
victims are immolated to a monstrous extent. Still more
dreadful is the custom celebrated after the death of the
king, or any member of the royal house. When Mr Bow-
dich was at Coomassie, the monarch, in honour of his
mother, had sacrificed no less than 3000 victims. They
are chiefly prisoners of war or condemned criminals. The
nobility also vie with each other on these occasions in
testifying respect by the number whom they immolate;
they often rush out, seize the passenger of humble birth,
and drag him in for this fatal purpose. Hence, during
this awful period, the citizens of Coomassie shut them¬
selves up in their houses, or, if compelled by necessity to go
abroad, fly along the streets with trembling speed, every
moment in fear of becoming victims to this cruel super¬
stition.
There appears to prevail at this court a very consider¬
able desire to introduce a higher degree of civilization,
and to raise the Ashantees in the scale of nations. Con¬
scious of the superiority of Europeans, the monarch shows
a peculiar ambition to assimilate his system with theirs.
From the first he was anxious to cultivate a connection
with the English; and M. Dupuis found him impressed
with the most lofty ideas of the power and magnificence of
king George. He was then employed in erecting a palace
in the European style, under the direction of Dutch archi¬
tects from Elmina. His subjects were very unskilful in
this task, but, by numbers and by loud cries, they endea¬
voured to compensate for the deficiency of skill: they
suggested to Dupuis the odd idea of “a legion of demons
attempting in mockery a Babel of modern invention.” The
interior was meant to be splendidly adorned with gold
and ivory; and the king said on another occasion, “ I must
have every thing suitable, and live like a white king.” Per¬
haps, indeed, there is no quarter where the views enter¬
tained for the civilization of Africa could be prosecuted
with a fairer chance of success. The people of free bar¬
barous states are turbulent, intractable, attached to their
former rude and irregular habits, compared to the indul¬
gence of which a few external accommodations are regard¬
ed with great indifference. It is otherwise with an abso¬
lute monarch, who, when once inspired with a desire for
the refinements and enjoyments of civilization, can en¬
force their production by the ministry of others, and may
thus, in gratifying his own ambition, rapidly introduce
among his subjects the elements of improvement and in¬
dustry. (e.)
ASH-WEDNESD A Y, the first day of Lent, supposed to
have been so called from a custom in the church, of sprink¬
ling ashes that day on the heads of penitents then ad¬
mitted to penance.
ASHBOURN, a market-town in the hundred of Wirks-
worth, and county of Derby. It is 139 miles from Lon¬
don, on the high road to the north-west part of the island.
It stands on the small beautiful river Dove, by which
670 ASH
Ashburton stream some mills for spinning cotton are turned. There
0 is a good corn market held every Saturday. The po-
pulation was, in 1801, 2006 ; in 1811, 2112 ; and in 1821,
2188 ; but the parish of Ashbourn is more extensive than
the town, and at the last census contained 4708 inhabitants.
ASHBURTON, a market and borough-town in the
hundred of Teignbridge, and county of Devon, 191 miles
from London and 19 from Exeter. It stands in a valley
surrounded on every side by hills, on the great road to
Plymouth. The parish-church is in the cathedral form,
with a lofty tower and spire. It is one of the four towns
in which a court is held for the mining districts. There
was formerly an extensive trade in the manufacture of
serges, which has declined much of late years. It is an
ancient borough, returning two members to Parliament,
who are chosen by the freeholders, in number about 200.
The market is held on Saturday. The population was, in
1801, 3080; in 1811, 3058; and in 1821, 3403.
ASHBY de la Zouch, a market-town in the hundred
of West Goscote, of the county of Leicester. It is in a
fine valley on the borders of Derbyshire, on the river
Gilweskaw, and surrounded by a most fertile district.
The town is well built. Near it is an ancient castle be¬
longing to the Earls of Huntingdon, and a mineral spring,
increasing in celebrity, called Griffydam. There is a large
market every Saturday. Population in 1801, 2674; in
1811, 3114 ; and in 1821, 3403.
ASHES, the fixed residue of combustible substances
which remains after they have been burnt.
Several religious ceremonies depend upon the use of
ashes. St Jerome relates that the Jews in his time roll¬
ed themselves in ashes as a sign of mourning. To repent
in sackcloth and ashes is a frequent expression in Scrip¬
ture for mourning and being afflicted for our sins. A
heifer being sacrificed upon the great day of expiation,
its ashes were distributed among the people, who made
from them a sort of lustral water, which they used in pu¬
rifications, by sprinkling it on such persons as had defiled
themselves by touching a dead body or being present at a
funeral (Numb. xix. 17).
The ancient Persians had a sort of punishment for some
great criminals, which consisted in executing them in
ashes. The criminal was thrown headlong from a tower
50 cubits high, which was filled with ashes to a particular
height (2 Macc. xiii. 5, 6). The motion which he used
to disengage himself from this place plunged him still
deeper into it, and this agitation was further increased by
a wheel which stirred the ashes continually about until he
was stifled.
ASHFORD, a town in the hundred of Chart, in the
county of Kent. It has a market on Tuesday. It is 57
miles from London and 12 from Canterbury, in a district
of great fertility, watered by the rivers Esk and Stour.
The church is a fine old Gothic edifice, containing a mo¬
nument to a countess of Athol more than 400 years old.
The population was, in 1801, 2151; in 1811, 2532; and in
1821, 2773.
ASHLAR, a term used among ^builders, by which
they mean common or free stones, as they come out of
the quarry, of different lengths and thicknesses.
ASHLERING, among buildei's, signifies quartering, to
lath to, in garrets, about two and a half or three feet high,
perpendicular to the floor, up to the under side of the
rafters.
ASHMOLE, Elias, an industrious English antiquary
and philosopher of the 17th century, was born at Lich¬
field in 1617. Having enjoyed the advantages of a coun¬
try education, he went to London at the age of 16, and
resided in the family of James Paget, Esq. one of the
barous of the exchequer, and then turned his attention to
ASH
the law and various branches of literature. In the year Ashmol
1638 he married, and commenced the business of attor-
ney in London. When the civil war began, he, being then
a widower, entered into the king’s service in the ordnance
department. When residing in the city of Oxford in that
capacity, he entered Brazen Nose College, and began the
study of natural philosophy, mathematics, and astronomy.
Naturally inclined to grave and scientific trifles, he wander¬
ed too far into the wilds of astrological imposture, not a
little encouraged by several eminent men of that age.
From the same cause he entered keenly into the secrets
of masonry, and made considerable additions to the history
of that sect.
When Worcester was surrendered to the parliament in
1646, Ashmole retired to London, where he became ac¬
quainted with the famous astrologers, Moore, Lilly, and
Booker. Having removed to Berkshire in the year follow¬
ing, he added the knowledge of botany to his other acquire¬
ments. There he became acquainted with lady Mainwaring,
a well-jointured widow, whom he married in 1649; and al¬
though her estate was sequestrated on account of his loy¬
alty, yet through the interest of Lilly and others he again
recovered it, and afterwards settled in London, where his
house became the resort of all the curious literati. A
taste for chemistry, or rather alchemy, was produced, by
his conversation with William Blackhouse; and Ashmole,
under a feigned name, published a work upon that sub¬
ject. The next effort of his industry was a collection of
the manuscripts of English alchemy, which he published
under the title of Theatrum Chymicum Britannicum, in
4to. This work was the effect of great labour arid ex¬
pense ; and although it procured him much fame among
the learned, yet it was only a collection of Alchemy,—he
appears to have been ignorant of real chemical know¬
ledge. About this period he began to number among his
acquaintances Selden, Oughtred, and Dr Wharton.
The wealth he acquirecl by his marriage engaged him
in several disputes, and the lady herself at last made an
attack upon him in chancery, but he was honourably ac¬
quitted, and the lady restored to hpr affectionate husband.
His active industry never wearied, and he next attend¬
ed to the study of antiquity and the investigation of re¬
cords. Along with Sir W. Dugdale, he about this period
traced a Roman road to Lichfield. Abandoning all other
pursuits, he began to make preparations for his History
of the Order of the Garter. Upon a visit to Oxford, he
gave a full description of the coins bequeathed to that
university by Laud; and about this time John Trades-
cant, the famous gardener of Lambeth, presented him
with the collection of curiosities which both he and his
father had procured.
Upon the restoration, Ashmole was greatly respected
by the king, who made him Windsor herald, and employ¬
ed him to give a description of the royal medals. The
offices of commissioner and comptroller of excise were
conferred upon him; and being called to the bar in the
Middle Temple, he was afterwards admitted a fellow of
the Royal Society. The university of Oxford conferred
upon him the degree of doctor of physic ; and several other
employments and emoluments were given him, until he
rose to the highest eminence in the literary world. About
this time his second wife died, and he married the daughter
of his friend Sir W. Dugdale. In May 1662 he address¬
ed his great work to the king, entitled The Institution,
Laws, and Ceremonies of the most noble Order of the Gar¬
ter ; folio, London, 1672. In favour of his brother-in-law
Mr Dugdale, he resigned his office of herald of Windsor;
and when offered the office of garter king-at-arms, he de¬
clined it in favour of Sir W. Dugdale. About this time
a fire broke out in one of the chambers of the temple
A S I
Asht F adjacent to his, and consumed a library which he had
[J been collecting during the course of 33 years, together
As» ^with 9000 coins and many valuable antiquities; but his
^ manuscripts and gold medals fortunately were saved. In
1683 he sent his manuscripts and curiosities to the uni¬
versity of Oxford, which laid the foundation of the Mu¬
seum Ashmoleanum, still in Oxford. On the death of Sir
W. Dugdale, he refused a second time the office which
that gentleman had enjoyed. He died at the age of 76,
and was interred in the church of Great Lambeth.
ASHRUFF, an ancient and formerly splendid city of
Persia, adorned with a magnificent palace built by Shah
Abbas, which was his favourite residence. It is situated
on the shore of a bay, on the southern coast of the Cas¬
pian Sea. This palace is described in glowing terms by
Hanway, who saw it in its splendour. It was visited by
A S I
Fraser in 1821, who found it a heap of ruins; and the
town appeared to have suffered equally with the royal es¬
tablishment. Ashruff was formerly said to have 300 baths
witlim its walls; but it now contains only 500 houses, which
are thinly scattered through an extensive jungle. It is about
70 miles west of Astrabad. Long. 53.15. E. Lat. 36. 50. N.
c ^^?1i0N;UNDER'Line’ a larSe parish in the hundred
ot fealford and county of Lancaster, distant 5 miles from
Manchester and 185 from London. It is one of those
large places which within a few years has risen to wealth
and populousness from the cotton manufactories. It is
situated on the river Fame, and has the benefit of a na¬
vigable canal to Manchester, Rochdale, and Lancaster.
The parish contains the hamlets of Hartshead, Hay, More-
ley, and Staley Bridge. Population in 1801, 15,632; in
1811, 19,052; and in 1821, 25,967.
671
Ashton
II
Asia.
ASIA.
Aame.
•iniits.
This division of the globe is distinguished by its vast
extent; by the striking character of its interior geogra¬
phy ; above all by the stupendous revolutions of which
it has been the scene; and, lastly, by the high antiquity
of its civilization, of which we can still faintly trace the
precious remains. Stretching from the southern hemi¬
sphere into the northern regions of perpetual winter, it
comprises within its bounds the opposite extremes of heat
and cold; all the varieties consequently of the animal and
vegetable tribes; and that still more interesting variety
which the irresistible law of climate impresses on the hu¬
man species. The surface of Asia, towering to its height
far above the regions of perpetual snow, presents, when
superficially examined, a confused mass of lofty moun¬
tains, diverging into an endless variety of inferior ridges,
apparently without plan or system. But a more attentive
survey discloses, amid the bold irregularities of nature, the
same order and unity of design in the structure of this
great continent, as in all the other works of creation.
Asia was the earliest abode of the human race; and,
when all the other parts of the world were either un¬
inhabited or sunk in barbarism, it was the seat of great
empires and of flourishing and splendid cities, of com¬
merce, of literature, and of all the arts of civilized life.
But its early prosperity was blighted by the ruthless devas¬
tations of war ; its populous cities were utterly destroyed,
so that the spot on which many of them stood is now only
marked by masses of ruins ; their arts and literature have
perished; and in such fragments of their writing as still
survive, all meaning is buried under the impenetrable veil
or an ancient and unknown character. In touching on
the various topics which are comprehended under the de¬
signation of Asia, it must be remembered that in the fol-
owing article we are to confine our attention to such ge¬
neral views of its geography, history, institutions, policy,
and manners, as will not supersede a more particular de¬
scription of its various states under their respective de¬
signations.
The name of Asia was at first applied by Homer and
others of the ancient poets and historians to a small dis-
tuct of Lydia, occupied by a tribe called Asiones, who
in abited a city of the name of Asia. The Greeks, gra-
oually enlarging their discoveries in those eastern coun¬
tries, still retained the original name, until it embraced
ie whole of Asia Minor and the countries to the east;
an it was at last applied to all the vast regions which
subsequent discoveries have brought to light.
he limits of Asia are in some cases marked out by
nature, and admit of no dispute; in other parts they are
not very clearly defined, and have been differently settled
by geographers, according to their own notions of pro¬
priety or distinctness. I he modern innovation or im¬
provement of erecting the Indian Archipelago and the nu¬
merous islands scattered over the Pacific Ocean into a
fifth division of the globe, under the title of Australasia,
has given rise to some difficulties in fixing the limits of
the continent on the south-east. According to some, the
Philippines, the Moluccas, the Celebes, Borneo, Java, and
Sumatra, should still be included within the boundaries of
Asia, leaving on the east the islands of Papua and New
Holland to form the western limits of Australasia. Others,
however, are for giving the whole Indian Archipelago to
Australasia, on the ground that there can be no" possible
reason for detaching the Philippines and the other islands
from the chain of which they evidently form a part, and
assigning them to Asia ; that they form one entire mass,
which presents no natural point of separation ; and that
on this account the passage between the Philippine Islands
and Formosa and the Straits of Malacca constitutes the
most natural boundary of Asia on the east. According
to this division, all the islands to the east and south of
this line, as far as New Zealand and the Society Islands,
would belong to Australasia, the continent of which, or the
principal mass of land, would be formed by the immense
island of New Holland. But this division, simple and dis¬
tinct though it may appear, has not been generally adopt¬
ed by geographers, who have assigned for the western
boundary of Asia a line passing from Kerguelen’s Land
to the north-east, cutting off on the west the islands of
Timorlaut, Ceram, Mysol, and Salwatty, and on the east
the island of Papua or New Guinea, and stopping at the
132d degree of east longitude, at the equator ; thus giving
to Asia the fertile islands of Sumatra and Java, the great
island of Borneo, Amboyna and the Spice Islands, the
Celebes Islands, and to the north of the equator the Phi¬
lippines, the Pelew Isles, the Carolinas, the Ladrones,
the isles of Japan, the Kurile Isles, and, beyond the lati¬
tude of 50 degrees, the Aleutian or Fox Islands. The
other boundaries of Asia are, on the south the Indian
Ocean, and on the south-west the Straits of Babelmandib
and the Red Sea, separating it from Africa, with which its
only point of junction is by the Isthmus of Suez. Asia
is divided from Europe towards the west by the Medi¬
terranean, the Archipelago, the Straits of the Darda¬
nelles and of Constantinople, the Black Sea, the Straits
of Caffa, and the Sea of Azof. Here this natural boun¬
dary ceases; and from the Straits of Caffa to those of
Waigatz in the Northern Ocean different boundaries have
6"2
ASIA.
Asia.
Extent.
been assumed. Some will have the ancient Tanais, now
the Don, to be the natural boundary between the two
continents of Europe and Asia. But besides that the Don
has too winding a course for this purpose, it soon ter¬
minates, and we are then left to find our way to the
Northern Ocean by an arbitrary line, which has accord¬
ingly been sometimes traced as the western limit of Asia
from the mouth of the Don to that of the Dwina in the
White Sea. But in all cases a natural is to be preferred
to an artificial boundary ; and the line which leaves the
smallest space to be filled up by the fancy of geographers
is surely the best. On this ground the Uralian Mountains,
which stretch from the 50th degree of north latitude in a
northern direction, to the sea of Kara in the Arctic Ocean,
constitute a strongly marked boundary between Northern
Asia and Europe ; and in order to avail ourselves of this
boundary, we must approach the Caspian from the Black
Sea; and here, therefore, the line of separation between
Asia and Europe will run eastward along the rivers Ma-
nitch and Kuma, the first flowing by a westerly course
into the north-eastern angle of the sea of Azof, and the
tary the Sea of Japan. These islands are succeeded as Asia,
we advance southward by the Loochoo and other islands,
by the large island of Formosa, and finally by the Phi¬
lippines, Celebes, Borneo, Sumatra, Java, and other groups
of the Indian Archipelago. Between the islands of Japan
and the coast of Corea, which shoots out southward, is the
Strait of Corea, 60 miles in breadth; and between the coast
of Corea on the east and the Chinese shore on the other, is
inclosed the Yellow Sea, which penetrates northward into
the land, and forms a deep inlet, which is of great utility
to the commerce and navigation of the northern provinces
of China. The southern shore of Asia, from Cambodia to
the Red Sea, presents an immense waving line, the ocean
and the land alternately encroaching on each other, and
forming immense bays and gulfs, and peninsulated tracts
of land. Thus, on the eastern extremity, the Gulf of Siam
is formed by the kingdom of Cambodia on the one side,
and on the other by the peninsula of Malacca, the most
southern point of Asia; and westward of this peninsula the
Indian Ocean, advancing northward, forms the Bay of
Bengal, bounded on the east and west by the two great
second eastward into the~ Caspian. From the mouth of Indian peninsulas. The same Indian Ocean makes another
the Kuma the Caspian Sea will mark the frontier of Asia deep inroad into the land, between Arabia on the west
to the mouth of the river Ural, which, along with the and Hindostan on the east; and towards the north-western
Ural Mountains, will complete the western boundary as frontier of Hindostan it forms the two smaller gulfs of
far as the Straits ofWaigatz. From these straits the Cutch and of Cambay. On the opposite shore it penetrates
Frozen Ocean, of which very little is known, bounds the deeply into the land, and forms the Persian Gulf, which
northern shores of Asia to Behring’s Straits, which sepa- divides the Persian from the Arabian shore, and is 600
rate the Asiatic from the American continent. From Beh- miles in length and 220 miles in its greatest breadth,
ring’s Straits the Pacific Ocean extends along the eastern though at the entrance it is not above 55 miles broad,
shores of Asia to the Straits of Malacca. The islands of Asia on its southern shore are the Anda-Islands.
Asia contains a larger area than any of the other divi- man Islands, the Mergui Archipelago, and the Nicobar
sions of the globe. Europe is estimated to be 2000 miles Isles on the eastern side of the Bay of Bengal; and on the
in breadth, and nearly 3000 in length ; Africa about 4300 opposite coast of Coromandel the large island of Ceylon,
miles by 4140; and America about 10,000 miles by the The Laccadive and Maidive Islands lie off the coast of
average breadth of 2000. The length of the Asiatic con- Malabar; and in the Persian Gulf is the celebrated island
tinent taken obliquely from the Isthmus of Suez to Beh- of Ormuz, formerly the seat of a splendid city and of an
ring’s Straits, is about 7370 miles; and its breadth from extensive commerce. In the Mediterranean are the
north to south, from Cape Comorin in India to Cape Tai- islands of Cyprus and Rhodes, which belong to Asia,
mura in Siberia, is about 4230 miles. Under the 30th pa- The interior structure of this continent is on a scale of Physical
rallel, from Suez to Nanking, its length is less than 6000 peculiar magnificence: its mountains are of stupendous aspect,
miles; from the Straits of the Dardanelles to Cova it is height; and these, together with its great rivers and its
6000 miles; and under the polar circle it is about 4230 vast and boundless plains, impress on the mind the high-
miles. Asia is not of the same irregular form as America, est conceptions of natural grandeur. America, which vies
nor is it, like that continent, broken into two natural divi- in some respects with Asia in its imposing aspect, is never-
sions of North and South. It forms, like Europe and tireless formed on an entirely different plan. It is long
Africa, one continuous mass of solid continent. It is sur- in proportion to its breadth; and throughout its whole
rounded on all sides except the west by the sea; and, by length, from Cape Pilares in the Straits of Magellan to
the provident economy of nature, it has on this side, for its northern limits on the frozen Ocean, runs the vast
half its length, the two great navigable inlets of the Red ridge of the Cordilleras in South America and the Hoc y
Sea, which for the space of 1400 miles divides Arabia from Mountains in North America, which, rising suddenly an
Egypt and Abyssinia; and of the Mediterranean, which, abruptly to their height about 200 or 300 miles from the
penetrating into the land from the west to the depth of Pacific Ocean, but sloping more gradually towards t e
nearly 2000 miles, and skirting the whole extent of the Atlantic for the space of 1500 or 2000 miles, give to the
European and African shores, gives to Asia a sea-coast of country its peculiar form and character. Asia, on tie
nearly 1500 miles in extent, and secures a navigable com- other hand, which is a more solid and compact territory,
munication on this side with the Atlantic Ocean, as well attains its highest elevation towards the centre o e
as with Africa and Europe. The northern shores of Asia country; and Central Asia is accordingly a vast p at orm,
are occasionally irregular and broken, and indented with of an irregular figure, raised to a great height above t e
some deep inlets, which it is useless to enumerate, as they surrounding country, and faced on each side wit an
can never, in those frozen regions, be subservient to the immense mountain-wall, formed of enormous roc s an
purposes of commerce. On the eastern shore there is the peaks, which tower into the regions of perpetual snow,
sea of Ochotsk, in breadth between 300 and 400 miles, in- The high land which these mountains seem to supp01, ^
closed on the east by the peninsula of Kamtschatka, pro- on all sides reaches in a direction north and south a ou
jecting southward to a great length, and running out into 1200 miles, namely, from the 30th to the 50th degree o
the Kurile Islands; and on thewestby the shores of Siberia, north latitude ; and in length about 2000 miles eas an
part of Chinese Tartary, and the island of Saghalien. The west, from the Caspian Sea to the Lake of Baikal on
islands of Japan, which commence where the Kurile Islands north, and on the south from the sources of the Indus
terminate, stretch along the shore for above 600 miles, those of the Burrampooter. It is the largest tract ol e eva
and inclose between them and the coast of Chinese Tar- ed ground which is to be found in the globe, and has e
A S
As; generally distinguished by the appellation of Tartary, being
^ the native country of all those savage tribes which, under
the names of Huns, Tartars, Turks, or Mongols, have
at different periods desolated the world. It contains ge¬
nerally the extensive country of Thibet, which lies on the
northern side of the Himalaya range ; Chinese Tartary in
the east; and, to the west of the Chinese empire, Inde¬
pendent Tartary, which lies on the northern declivity of
the great ridge, and comprehends the countries water¬
ed by the Jaxartes and the Oxus, as far west as the Lake
Aral and the Caspian Sea; in which are Buckharia, Balk,
the cities of Buckharia, Samarcand, Khyvah, &c. and
which may be more distinctly pointed out as the country
that lies between the frontiers of China on the east, of
Persia on the south, and of Russia on the north. The
high land of Central Asia constitutes the proper country
of Tartary, and is generally of a rude and desolate aspect.
It consists of low rocky hills, destitute of vegetation; of
extensive arid plains ; and occasionally, for the space of
1000 miles, of great deserts of loose sand, which being
carried about by the winds, is raised aloft in drifting
clouds, as in Arabia and Africa, and adds greatly to the
danger of journeying in those inhospitable regions. The
cold of winter is piercing and severe, from which the Rus¬
sian embassy, in their journey to Peking through the de¬
serts of Gobi in 1820, suffered gi'ievously in the month of
October, the thermometer being frequently below zero;
while in summer the country is often afflicted with long-
continued drought, which burns up the pasture, and occa¬
sions great mortality among the cattle, the chief subsist¬
ence of the pastoral tribes by whom this region is inhabited.1
But the uniform dreariness of the scene is at times relieved
by flowing rivers, and also by luxuriant meadows, on which
the inhabitants feed their flocks, shifting their habitations
with the seasons, and wandering over the desert in quest
of pasture. The ridges of mountains which encompass and
uphold the great central plain of Asia gradually subside,
though somewhat irregularly, into lower ridges, with in¬
tervening and fertile valleys, and finally into the plains,
which spread outward, as from a common centre, to the
sea. Thus, on the north of the Altai Mountains we have
the vast expanse of the Siberian plains, through which the
great rivers, the Irtisch, the Yenesei, and the Lena, roll
their lazy currents to the Northern Ocean. On the eastern
declivity, which is deversified with some lofty ranges of
mountains, stretches out the empire of China, with the ex¬
tensive regions of Chinese Tartary; and the rivers Hoangho
and Yang-tse-Kiang here pursue an easterly course to the
Pacific, while the great river Amur is turned towards the
north by a ridge of mountains that diverges from the
great body of high land. On the south the mountainous
ridge of the Himalaya descends into the low country of
Hindostan and India beyond the Ganges; while the
western crest of mountains, falling to a lower level, forms
the table-land of Persia and the mountainous countries
of Western Asia, until, in the south, it finally subsides into
the Arabian mountains and plains.
The southern front of Central Asia overlooks Hindos¬
tan and the countries to the east, and consists of the great
ridge of the Himalaya or Snowy Mountains, which, com¬
mencing near the Burrampooter on the east, run in a di¬
rection nearly north-west, as far as the country of Cash-
mere, forming the magnificent boundary of Bengal on the
north. From Cashmere the general direction of the ridge
is south-west, as far as the snowy peak of Hindoo Coosh,
to the north of Cabul, in long. 69. 12. E. The name of
Hindoo Coosh is applied to the whole of this ridge, which
I A.
declines in its progress westward to a lower level, and is
neither so conspicuous among the mountain ridges by
which it is surrounded, nor does it any longer present a
continued line of perpetual snow. It is crossed by vari¬
ous routes from Candahar northward to Balk, about 50
miles west, where, in the mountain passes, snow is only
found for four months in the year. Those mountains, in
extending westward to Herat, in long. 62. 15. E., still con¬
tinue to decline in height, and appear to be lost among the
confused masses of the Paropamisan chain.
For a long period Europeans were but imperfectly ac¬
quainted with those interesting regions of interior Asia,
and the Andes of America were supposed greatly to ex¬
ceed in height this mountainous barrier of Hindostan.
But since the gradual extension of the British conquests
in Central India, several enterprising travellers have as¬
cended these mountainous tracts; and it is now ascer¬
tained, from the accurate mensurations of Captain Webb
and others, that their loftiest summits exceed the height
of any other mountains in the world. The height of the
Andes has indeed been underrated, as well as that of the
Himalaya range. Chimborazo, estimated by Humboldt
to rise 21,440 feet above the level of the sea, was former¬
ly supposed to be the most elevated peak of those moun¬
tains. But from subsequent observations made by Mr
Pentland, it appears that the summit of Illimani is 24,350
feet, that of Sorate 25,400 feet in height,2 which is still
somewhat inferior to the highest summits of the Asiatic
chain, 27 different peaks of which were found from Mr
Webb’s corrected observations to range from an altitude
of 17,994 to 25,669 feet in the Hindoo Coosh Mountains,
which are a continuation of the Himalaya chain to the
west. Lieutenant Macartney, who accompanied the Bri¬
tish embassy of Mr Elphinstone into Cabul, found one of
the highest peaks to rise 20,493 feet above the level of
the sea. The elevated table-land of Central Asia was cal¬
culated by Captain 'Webb to stand generally at a level of
15,000 feet. The lofty summits of these stupendous moun¬
tains, towering aloft in all their natural majesty, fill the
mind of every traveller with astonishment and awe; and the
bright outline of white, when it is projected on the deep
azure of a cloudless sky, is seen at the prodigious distance
of 150, and, according to some, of 250 miles.
To the south of the main ridges of the Himalaya and
Hindoo Coosh the land declines from its height, and pre¬
sents a lower terrace of mountains, which runs parallel
to the great range, and by which, as well as by branches
issuing from it, the country is still rendered sufficiently
rugged, though there are intervening valleys of great
beauty and fertility. In the hilly districts thus formed
under the higher mountains are the countries of Assam,
Bootan, Nepaul, Kumaon, and Sirenagur. Those lower
hills rise with a steep ascent from the plains of Bengal.
According to Major Rennell, the southernmost ridge of
the Bootan Mountains attains nearly a mile and a half of
perpendicular height in a horizontal distance of 15 miles;
and, from the summit, the traveller looks back with asto¬
nishment on the extensive prospect of the plains beneath
him. Where the great range chapges to a westerly direc¬
tion, near the sources of the Indus and the Ganges, the
lower mountains are separated from it by a wider inter¬
val, which is occupied by the high valley of Cashmere;
and to the south and south-west is a mountainous country,
which on the north bounds the Punjaub, or the country of
the five rivers, namely, the head streams of the Indus,
which were crossed by Alexander the Great in his in¬
vasion of India. To the south of those well-watered
673
1 Timkowski’s Travels of tlx Russian Mission through Mongolia to China.
V0L. III.
4 Q
2 Edinburgh Review, No. c. p. 305.
674 A S
Asia- plains extends a tract of sandy desert almost to the Gulf
'^**~Y**J of Cutch on the Indian Ocean. From the Hindoo Coosh
Mountains several extensive ranges, though of inferior
height, branch off to the south and west, and spread oyer
the country to the west of the Indus as far as the Indian
Ocean and the Persian Gulf. Some of these, such as the
Soliman range, are still diversified with snowy peaks,
though their height gradually declines as they recede from
the central high lands of the country.
At the distance of about 200 miles to the north of the
great Himalaya ridge there is another inner range of
lofty mountains, which, though it does not rise quite so
high as the exterior ridge, runs parallel to it, and is
known under the appellation of Mus-tag or Moos Taugh,
signifying, in the dialect of the country, Ice-hill. It ex¬
tends as far as the 67th degree of east longitude; and
between it and the main ridge of Himalaya and Hindoo
Coosh is inclosed an elevated table-land, extending east¬
ward into Thibet, though it is but little known beyond
the meridian of Ladac, in 75. 12. E. The vast deserts of
Central Asia are indeed rendered almost inaccessible by
the mountain-wall which surrounds them; and hence a
comparatively small portion of the country has been ex¬
plored by European travellers.
The western crest of the great Asiatic high lands is
formed by a range of mountains which leaves the chain of
Hindoo Coosh in 71° east longitude, in a direction east of
north, and is known by the name of Belur Tag, a corrup¬
tion, according to Elphinstone, of Beloot Taugh, or Cloudy
Mountains. This range of mountains, though inferior in
height to that of Hindoo Coosh, has generally snow on its
summits. It crosses the ridge of Moos Taugh, and is con¬
tinued towards the north till it reaches the chief range of
the Altai Mountains, which form the northern barrier of
the great central plains. It is the natural boundary be¬
tween Chinese and Independent Tartary, and the dividing
ridge from which the rivers flow east and west into both
countries. Here is also the dividing ridge between the
Oxus and the Jaxartes, which flow northward into the
lake of Aral, and the great Indus, which takes a south¬
erly course to the Indian ocean.
From this great western boundary of the central plains
the country descends slowly to a lower level by succes¬
sive ridges of rugged and desolate mountains, intermingled
with high and desert plains, and fertile spots scattered
at great distances over the barren waste. Towards the
north these mountainous ridges do not seem to extend
beyond the sea of Aral, or about half way between the
high land of the interior and the Caspian Sea, leaving on
the north-west of the Aral vast plains, the habitation of
pastoral tribes; and on the west of the Caspian Sea the
desert expanse of Khauresme or Carisme, the abode of pre¬
datory hordes, who infest the surrounding countries. To
the south of the Caspian extends the great table-land of
Persia, which consists of mountainous ridges, varied with
elevated and barren plains, which, judging from the ex¬
traordinary severity of the winter cold, must be raised
from 3000 to 4000 feet above the level of the sea. Per¬
sia is situated in this manner on the great western decli¬
vity of Asia; and its mountains are connected with those
of the great central ridge of Hindoo Coosh, which, ex¬
tending westward, under the name of the Paropamisan
Mountains, to the south of Balk and to the north of
Cabul or Afghanistan, sends forth branches which spread
over Persia in various directions in the south as well as
in the north. The northern ridge, taking a north-wester¬
ly course, turns westward to the Caspian Sea, diverging
in its progress into various ramifications towards the
south. It passes along the southern shore of the Caspian ;
and for a space of 1500 miles, namely, from the eastern
I A.
country of Balk to the Persian province of Azerbijan, Asia,
west of the Caspian, it appears to form the boundary and ''•’yv
rampart wall of a great table-land to the south, which ex¬
tends eastward beyond the Persian territory, and is esti¬
mated to be 3000 or 4000 feet higher than the flat coun¬
try between it and the Caspian Sea on the north, or than
the desert which extends eastward of this sea into the
country of Balk; and so steep are those mountains, gene¬
rally known by the name of the Elburz Mountains, on the
north, that the low country comes suddenly up to their
base as to a wall. This northern chain of mountains ap¬
pears to unite, in the western provinces of Persia, with
another chain issuing from the great western coast of
the central plains farther to the south, and to form that
mass of mountains which separate Armenia from Meso¬
potamia, and from which diverge westward into Asia
Minor, along the shores of the Mediterranean, the cele¬
brated ridge known to the ancients under the name of
Mount Taurus, and northward between the Black Sea and
the Caspian the mountain chain of Caucasus, which rises
to a great height, being in many parts above the line of
perpetual snow. This appears to be the highest continued
tract of elevated territory in Western Asia; and it gives
rise to the great streams of the Euphrates and the Tigris,
which flow southward into the Persian Gulf, as well as
those rivers flowing northward into the Euxine; also to
the Aras, the ancient Araxes; the Kur and the Kuma,
which run east into the Caspian; and to the Kuban, and
other inferior streams, which, by a westerly course, reach
the Black Sea. This mountainous tract of country has
chiefly a southern exposure, and the dividing ridge be¬
tween the waters which flow south and north being on
the borders of the Black Sea, the streams flowing north¬
ward from the mountain tract into this sea are conse¬
quently insignificant in size compared with the iigris and
the Euphrates, which run down its southern declivity.
Towards the east the streams, having to run over a larger
space before they reach the Caspian Sea, are of course
more considerable.
From this elevated tract of country, which takes a
westerly course on leaving the great ridge of the Hindoo
Coosh Mountains, its altitude declining as it advances in
this direction, various lateral ridges, of inferior height to
the main ridge, project towards the south, inclosing be¬
tween them extensive valleys or low countries. The most
westerly of these cross ridges is that which begins from
the body of Taurus, near the sources of the Euphrates,
at the northern extremity of Syria. This ridge proceeds
towards the south, and afterwards inclining to the south¬
west, it skirts the western shore of the Mediterranean,
where it is known under the names of Amman, Sinai,
Syria, &c.; and in its course southward it forms the two
ridges of Libanus or Lebanon, the mountain of this name
being of great height, as is indicated by its snow-clad
top, and the inferior ridge of Anti-Libanus to the east.
Having passed the Mediterranean and the southern border
of Palestine, it advances to the eastern coast of the Ked
Sea, where it spreads out and forms the central mass of
the Arabian mountains, and the ridges which run along the
eastern shores of the Red Sea and terminate in Arabia
Felix, on the shores of the Indian Ocean. ,
, The northern front of the great central plain of Asia is
formed by the vast range of the Altai Mountains, which,
under different names, traverse the whole extent of this
continent from east to west for a space of not less than
5000 miles. At their western extremity they join the
Ural Mountains, which seem to be a continuation of
them ; and they stretch almost due north in a direction
nearly parallel to the course of the Oby, until they reach
the shores of the Frozen Ocean, and, crossing the narrow
A S
Asia: strait of Waigatz, they terminate amid the rigours of
winter in the desolate island of Nova Zembla. On the
east the Altai Mountains send forth two ridges, which
appear, in the same manner as the Ural ridge, to be a con-
1 tinuation of the original chain, and which reach to the
1 utmost extremities of Asia. One of these, under the
name of the Zangai or Changai Mountains, extends in a
1 direction south-east, and, attaining a great height, termi¬
nates in the Gulf of Corea, to the northward of Peking.
Another chain, namely, the Daouria or Nertschinsk Moun¬
tains, proceeds north-eastward along the Gulf or Sea of
Ochotsk, and only terminates with the limits of the con¬
tinent in the vicinity of Behring’s Straits. From this
chain an inferior one breaks off, and taking a south-
1 easterly direction, penetrates to the southern extremity of
the peninsula of Kamtschatka. This northern bulwark of
the central high land of Asia is greatly inferior in height
to the Himalaya and Hindoo Coosh Mountains, the boun¬
dary on the south. Its elevation is not supposed to ex¬
ceed 5000 or 6000 feet, which is sufficient, however, in
that northern latitude, to bring it within the line of per¬
petual snow. Besides the outward ridge, which faces the
north, there are interior and parallel ridges, imperfectly
known, and between which the country spreads out into
elevated plains. It is in these interior and apparently
I higher mountains that the head waters are to be found of
the Irtisch, the Oby, the Yenesei, and the Lena, which
pierce through deep defiles in the outer ridge of the
Altai Mountains, and make their way through the plains
of Siberia to the Frozen Ocean. The great river Amour,
however, being confined by this barrier, and turned aside
I to the west into Chinese Tartary, finally reaches, by a
1 northerly course, the Sea of Ochotsk. To the north of
the Altai Mountains the country subsides into the low
country of Siberia, which, with occasional ranges of high
i ground, presents one vast plain from the base of the
i Altai Mountains to the Arctic Sea. Here are three tracts,
or steppes as they are called, which extend for hundreds
of miles on a dead level, and exhibit the same aspect.
Of these the steppe of the Issim extends, in the south¬
western part of Asiatic Russia, along the base of the
: Altai chain, from the Ural river and the Caspian Sea,
i across the sources of the Tobol, the Itchim, and the Ir¬
tisch. The steppe of the Irtisch reaches from that river
to the Yenesei, a space of 1000 miles from east to west;
and it seems to be continued between the lower course of
the streams as far as the Frozen Ocean. A similar tract
( reaches from the Yenesei to the Lena. These plains are
i generally barren : some of them abound in rock-salt and
in salt lakes, others are covered with deep forests, and
some parts are fitted for agriculture or pasturage. They
are of the most dreary aspect; and as they advance into
the northern latitudes, they combine the double evil of a
barren soil and a severe climate.
Of the mountains inclosing the great plain of Central
Asia on the east, and which subside into the lower country
of China, we cannot attempt any geographical description,
l as they are very imperfectly known. From the nature of
the country, however, which is known, and from the di¬
rection of its mountains and streams, we may deduce
i some general inferences as to those regions which are un¬
known. The great chain of the Himalaya Mountains, on
entering the peninsula beyond the Ganges, inclines to-
i wards the south ; and numerous chains of inferior magni-
] tude breaking off in this direction, divide that peninsula
i into long parallel valleys, in which the great streams of
1 A. 675
the Irrawaddy, the Menam, the Maygue, and the Japa- Asia,
nese, flow southward to the Indian Ocean. Those moun-
tains which thus break off from the Himalaya range to
the south also diverge, without doubt, towards the north ;
and they will thus form the western frontier of China,
and the mountain wall which supports the central table¬
land on the east. We are ignorant of the height or other
particulars regarding this chain. But from the direction
of the two great rivers, the Hoangho or Yellow River, and
the Yang-tse-Kiang or Blue River, which water the cen¬
tral regions of China, and which have their sources in
tlie interior deserts, it is evident that from the central
high lands the country must be a continued declivity, va¬
ried occasionally with lower terraces of hills, to the East¬
ern Ocean. A range of mountains runs through the south¬
ern provinces of China, which seems to be a prolongation,
on a lower scale, of the great Himalaya ridge ; and a lofty
chain of naked rocks, already noticed, runs along the
southern frontier, and separates China from Tartary. It
is a branch of those mountains which turn aside the river
Hoangho into a northerly direction; and it is only by a
circuitous and winding turn that it regains its original
course towards the east.
The rivers of Asia correspond in grandeur with all the Rivers,
other great natural features of the country. A river, it
is evident, will be great or small according to the extent
of the basin or valley of which it is the natural drain, and
according also as it recedes from or approaches the re¬
gions of rain which lie under the equator. The largest
rivers are accordingly those which have the longest
course, and that course within the tropics or near to the
equator; and all the great rivers of the globe will be
found to coincide with this hypothesis; many of those in
high latitudes with a long course being inferior in mag¬
nitude to the rivers within the tropics which have a
shorter course, and which are fed by the periodical rains.
The Amazons is unquestionably the largest river in the
world. It pours into the ocean a stream of the greatest
magnitude, being 180 miles broad at its mouth, and of an
amazing depth; and it combines the two necessary con¬
ditions of a great river. It has a long course of fully
3000 miles (chiefly within the 6th or 7th degree of S.
lat., where it crosses nearly the whole breadth of Ame¬
rica), swollen into a most prodigious volume of water
by the almost constant rains of the equator. The Mis¬
sissippi in North America has a long course, including its
windings, of nearly 3000 miles; and it is the only drain
of that vast valley situated between the Rocky Mountains
on the west and the Allegany Mountains on the east,
the area of which cannot be less than 2,000,000 of square
miles. But its course lies without the limits of the tro¬
pical rains; and it wants, consequently, one of the re¬
quisites of a great river. It will be found, accordingly,
that it does not pour into the ocean such a volume of
water as the Orinoco, the course of which is not esti¬
mated to exceed 1300 or 1400 miles; and its basin is in¬
ferior in extent by two thirds to that of the Mississippi.
Yet this latter, though a magnificent stream, is not, op¬
posite New Orleans, 102 miles from its mouth, above
132 feet deep during the inundation, and 4500 feet broad;
while the Orinoco was found in the dry season at St Tho¬
mas, 250 miles from its mouth, to be 390 feet deep and
2300 feet broad.1 In Africa, again, the Nile has a course
of above 2000 miles, and it has its rise within the tropics.
But its northerly course carries it away from the periodi¬
cal rains into Northern Africa, where rain seldom or never
1 Depons, Vm/cige a la Partle Orientate dc la Terre Ferme dans VArnerique Meridionate, 1801-2-3-4. The rise of the river during
the rainy season is stated by the same author to be 13 fathoms opposite St Thomas. Tome iff p. 301.
6J6 A S
Asia, falls; and hence, for the space of 1000 miles, it receives
not the aid of a single tributary stream. It is merely the
collected rains of the northern tropic, diminished rather
than increased as they flow through the African deserts
to the Mediterranean. Hence the magitude of the Nile
is not in proportion to the space over which it flows. -It
has not so large a stream as either the Orinoco or the
Ganges, which, though they have each a shorter course,
are yet swollen to a greater size by the tropical rains. If
the Nile had flowed in an opposite direction towards the
equator, it would have ranked in the first class of rivers.
The vast expanse of Asia presents an ample area for the
formation of the largest streams. In the interval which
extends from the loftiest ridges of the central mountains,
the multitudinous waters of the most distant regions may
be poured into one common channel; and the rivers of
Asia, therefore, from the space over which they flow,
ought to be the greatest in the world. This, however, is
not the case. They are indeed most magnificent streams,
and present, in the roar and foam of their impatient waters
while they are yet imprisoned within the mountains, in the
violence with which their conflicting tides successively in¬
termingle in their progress to the sea, and in the breadth
and majesty of the overflowing stream sweeping over the
plains, all the most imposing phenomena of the greatest
rivers. But they are inferior in magnitude to the chief
rivers of South America—to the Orinoco, and still more
to the Amazons ; and the explanation of this fact must be
sought for in the position of Asia, of which only the south¬
ern extremity is within the region of the tropical rains.
The solid mass of the Asiatic continent just reaches the
northern tropic; and it is only the peninsular tracks of
Arabia, Hindostan, and the narrow strip of Malacca, that
shoot out beyond this boundary towards the equator.
The greatest rivers of Asia, namely, the Ganges and the
Indus, are consequently without the limits of the tropics.
But in Asia the rainy season has a wider range than in
Africa, where it does not extend beyond the northern
tropic. In the tropical countries of Asia this season
sets in with the south-west monsoon, which drives the
gathering clouds from the Indian Ocean over the plains
of Hindostan, and as far as the northern barrier of the
Himalaya Mountains, by which their progress is at length
arrested, and extends the periodical rains over the whole in¬
tervening country. Hence both the Ganges and the Indus
are fed by these rains, though the northern latitude in which
they flow would in Africa place them in the driest regions
of the earth. They accordingly rank among the rivers of
the first class, whether we look to their length of course
or to the body of water which they pour into the ocean.
They both have their rise in the great Himalaya ridge,
among the regions of perpetual snow, at no great distance
from each other, when they diverge—the Indus into a
south-westerly, and the Ganges into a north-easterly
course, according to the slope of the land, and reach the
Indian Ocean exactly on opposite points of the peninsula
of Hindostan. They form each the great drain of their
respective valleys, and they have many tributaries, which
it is unnecessary here to state in detail. The great river
of the Brahmaputra, which is fully equal to the Ganges,
has its source from the opposite side of the same moun¬
tains; and after a long easterly course among desert
mountains, in which it approaches the confines of China,
it winds towards the west by a vast circuit round the
mountains, and joins the Ganges after a course of about
1600 miles. The other great rivers of Eastern Asia which
flow down the southern declivity of the central moun¬
tains are, the Irrawaddy, which has its rise in the eastern
mountains of Thibet, and, after a course of 1200 miles,
falls by many mouths into the Gulf of Bengal; the Me-
I A.
nam, which falls into the Gulf of Siam; and the Cam- 4,
boja, which, rising in the northern mountains, after a wL
course of nearly 2000 miles falls into the Chinese Sea to '
the east of the Gulf of Siam, in about lat. 10. S. The
course of all these rivers lies more within the region of
the rains than that of either the Indus or the Gano-es •
and the Irrawaddy, and especially the Camboja, are of
great length. But the basins or valleys of which they
are the outlets are long and narrow, and their collected
waters are not sufficient for the formation of such large
rivers as the Indus or the Ganges. Yet the Irrawaddy
is of great magnitude; it has its delta and its periodical
overflow; and during the rainy season it is a mile broad
and of great depth. It decreases during the dry season
to half a mile in breadth and to a depth of eight feet.
The Menam is not a river of any imposing magnitude;
and of the Camboja we have but very imperfect accounts;
but judging from the great length of its course, which is
also within the region of the heaviest rains, its stream
can hardly be inferior to the largest rivers of Asia. It is
said to be navigable for large vessels 40 leagues from its
mouth, to be in general two miles wide, and so deep that
ships can approach almost close to its banks. The pe¬
ninsula of Hindostan, which projects southward, and is
subject to periodical deluges of rain, is not of sufficient
space for the formation of any great river. Amid the
lower ranges of mountains, the Nerbuddah, which in some
countries would be thought a large river, takes its rise,
and flows from east to west down the western slope of the
great plain of Central India into the Gulf of Cambay;
and here commences the mountain range of the Ghauts,
which runs along the coast of Malabar to Cape Comorin,
at the distance of not more than 100 miles; while from
the opposite coast the intervening, country extends from
300 to 700 miles; thus exhibiting on a small scale the
formation of the American continent, which rises to its
height at the distance of about 300 miles from the Paci¬
fic Ocean, leaving the vast space on the other side of the
mountains to the Atlantic for the course of all the great
rivers. In like manner, all the great rivers of Hindostan
flow down the eastern declivity of the Ghaut Mountains,
namely, the Mahanuddy, the Godavery, the Kistnah, the
Tuptee, and the Cavery, which flow from the Ghauts in
an easterly direction across the country to the Indian
Ocean. The streams on the opposite declivity of the
mountains have necessarily a short course, and are chief¬
ly inconsiderable mountain torrents, except when they
are swollen by the rains. The Euphrates and the Tigris,
which have their origin in the mountains of Armenia, are
the only other considerable rivers of Asia which flow
southward into the ocean. They are not rivers of the first
class, not nearly equalling either the Ganges or the Indus,
though the Euphrates must be nearly equal to the Da¬
nube, the greatest river in Europe; and they are in no
respect tropical rivers, as they derive their supplies from
the melting of the snows, and from the spring and the
winter rains. It is accordingly in January that the great
overflow of the Euphrates takes place. It may be here
remarked, that throughout Asia the countries without
the limits of the monsoon depend on the rains, which ge¬
nerally fall in the spring, and more copiously in the win¬
ter, though these rains are far from being so regular as
the rainy season within the tropics.
The great ridges of the Himalaya and Hindoo Coosh
Mountains divide the rivers of Asia which flow southward
to the Indian Ocean, from those which flow northward or
eastward into the central deserts of Tartary. They do not
appear, however, to be considerable ; and are probably lost
amid the wastes of sand extending over a great portion of
that country, or in some of its interior lakes. On the north
ASIA.
\v„ the Oxus, a great river, and the Jaxartes, of which the
sources approach those of the Indus and the Ganges, be¬
ing on the opposite sides of the same high land, emerge
from the mountain deserts into the plains, and, after a
long course, both reach the interior lake of Aral, to the
east of the Caspian Sea. The great rivers in the east of
Asia, namely, the Yang-tse-Kiang and the Hoangho,
which rise in the unknown deserts of Thibet, and flow
through China into the Eastern Seas, have each a course
of extraordinary length; and they must no doubt pour a
large stream into the ocean. But we have no accurate
accounts of their size, neither of their breadth nor depth ;
and as they are not within the limits of the rains, the
magnitude of their stream cannot be in proportion to its
great length, as the rains of these northern regions never
accumulate into such a body of water as the rains of the
tropics. The great river Amour, which runs down the
eastern declivity of the Asiatic high lands, is remarkable
for the length of its course; but though it must be a
great river, we have no accurate information respecting it.
On the north, where the central table-land of Asia de¬
clines towards the Frozen Ocean, there is ample space
for the formation of rivers; and accordingly, through the
vast and desolate wastes of Siberia flowthe Irtisch, the
Obi, the Yenesei, and the Lena, by a winding course, to
the Arctic Sea. The whole breadth of Asia, from the
Eastern Ocean to the Ural Mountains, is drained of its
waters by these four rivers and their tributaries; and the
Irtisch, the Yenesei, and the Lena, from their source in
the unknown deserts of Chinese Tartary, must flow over
a space of nearly 4000 miles, which greatly exceeds the
course of the great Amazons. We know little as to the
volume of water contained in these rivers, which, though
it must be great, yet, judging from the magnitude of
other rivers in the same latitude, cannot equal that of the
great tropical rivers. The Volga is a large river ; it has
a great length of course; but its depth does not exceed
15 feet.1 The basins of the northern rivers of Siberia
are no doubt of great extent; but even though we esti¬
mate their streams at double the magnitude of the Volga,
they will only attain a depth of 30 feet, which is not one
tenth part the depth of the Orinoco, though, according
to Major Rennel, it is equal to that of the Ganges,
l an-fc Asia is distinguished by the variety and extent of its
interior lakes; and its extensive table-lands, intersected
by mountains, favour the collection of those masses of
water. In general these lakes are distinguished by the
saline,- brackish, or sulphureous nature of their waters.
Asia Minor contains numerous salt lakes which have no
outlet, and some of them of considerable extent. To the
west of the Caspian Sea are the lakes of Van and Urmia,
Ooroomea or Shahee, the waters of which are intensely
salt.2 In Syria, the great chains of Libanus and Anti-
Libanus contain several lakes, the most celebrated of
which is the Lake Asphaltites or the Dead Sea in Pales¬
tine, whose bituminous waters cover a space of nearly
500 square miles. The Caspian Sea on the western de¬
clivity of the central heights is beyond all comparison
the largest lake that is known, being in length 646 miles
from north to south, and 265 in extreme breadth; while
the greatest length of Lake Superior in North America
is not more than 381 miles in length and 161 in breadth.
Lake Aral, to the west of the Caspian Sea, is 150 miles
in length by 60 in breadth; and to the east the lakes of
Aksakol, Telegul, Balkashi or Palcati, and numerous
smaller lakes, are scattered over the region which lies be¬
tween the central mountains and the Caspian Sea. In
677
all these lakes the waters are salt or brackish. Persia Asia,
contains in its salt deserts numerous small lakes ; and also ^y/
the large lake of Zere or Zurrah, which covers a space of
1000 square miles.
On the northern declivity of the table-land of Tartary
are scattered numerous lakes, many of which are scarcely
known by name in Europe, though they are of great ex¬
tent, and are fed by the rivers from the surrounding moun¬
tains. Of these the Lake Tchany or Czany is the largest.
The high plains in the table-land of Tartary and Thibet,
environed on all sides by lofty mountains, are the recep¬
tacles of the imprisoned waters of these elevated regions.
Near the southern ridge of this mountain tract is found
the large and variously designated lake which gives rise
to the Irtisch; and the southern plains, inclosed by the
mountains of Chinese Tartary and Thibet, the most ele¬
vated summits of Asia, are said to contain considerable
rivers, which are either lost in the sands or in interior
lakes. The country of Thibet abounds in lakes, in most
of which the waters are salt. Some of these are of great
extent. The Terkiri, according to the accounts of the
Chinese missionaries, from whom we derive our chief
knowledge of these vast countries, is 60 miles long by 40
broad. The Kokonor, which signifies a great sea, is on
the borders of China : it contains 1840 square miles, and
a space of 600 miles on both sides of Lake Terkiri, and
includes no less than 23 lakes, some of them of consider¬
able extent. There are comparatively few lakes in the
exterior plains of Asia.3 The Lake Baikal, in Upper Sibe¬
ria, is 366 miles in length by from 20 to 53 in breadth.
But Lower Siberia is one continued series of marshes,
with intervening plains adapted for pasture. China con¬
tains few lakes, the country being one continued decli¬
vity ; and from the same cause the peninsula of Hindos-
tan contains not a single lake of any extent.
From its internal structure Asia does not possess the Structure
same advantages of navigable intercourse as the other of Asia not
divisions of the globe. From the peculiar structure offavourable
the American continent, all the great rivers flow to the*?r m.ari-
east or to the south-east, some of them across almost thetime inter'
• course,
whole breadth of the continent, and scarcely leave any
part far out of the reach of a navigable communication.
North as well as South America has also a southern or
eastern exposure, in consequence of which the Mississippi,
the Orinoco, the Amazons, and the Plata rivers, flow
either to the south or to the east, into the seats of civili¬
zation and of commerce. The structure of Asia is differ¬
ent : it is of the most imposing grandeur and simplicity,
and is eminently calculated to impress on the mind an
idea of vastness and of majesty; but it is not so well
adapted for the purposes of internal improvement. From
its form, which rises into a great table-land towards the
centre, the rivers naturally descend on all sides to the sea,
as radii from a common centre, leaving vast tracts and
high plains a prey to perpetual drought and sterility, and
without any navigable communication with the sea. Not
that the great table-land of Asia, if we except the vast
sandy deserts of Gobi and Shamo, presents such a uni¬
form aspect of frightful wastes as is generally supposed.
It is not by any means wholly destitute of water and ve¬
getation, but contains extensive plains fertilized by rivers
flowing into interior lakes, and well adapted for pastu¬
rage, the chief occupation of the inhabitants, and which,
if they were properly cultivated, would yield grain and
other produce. But the want of moisture is still the chief
disadvantage ; and the streams which arise in this elevated
region having no outlet to the sea, afford no facilities of
Pallas’ Travels.
2 Fraser’s Travels in the Persian Provinces on the Southern Banks of the Caspian Sea.
* Histoire General des Voyages, tome vii. p. 108.
678 A S
'
Asia, exterior intercourse. Tins disadvantage necessarily be-
longs to a country of elevated plains of immense extent,
fenced round with mountains, and thus insulated from and
almost unknown to the whole world besides. A lake which
does not communicate with the sea merely facilitates the
communications between its own shores. Hence it is of
no material use in the intercourse of a country; and the
nature of the ground to which these lakes owe their for¬
mation is a positive disadvantage, as its effect is to inter¬
cept the interior waters in their progress to the sea,, and
to collect them into a large reservoir in the heart of the
country. Thus the Oxus and the Jaxartes flow into the
Aral; and the Caspian Sea, which presents no facilities
for internal improvement, is the recipient of some very
great rivers. But if they had reached the Black Sea, how
much more would they have conduced to the improve¬
ment of the country. The great rivers of what we may
call Southern Asia, namely, the Euphrates, the Tigris, the
Indus, the Ganges, and the streams which run into the
Indian Ocean in the peninsula beyond the Ganges, are
. well adapted for navigation and commerce; and the
Ganges more especially is of vast advantage both in fer¬
tilizing the soil and improving the intercourse of the
country through which it flows. The course of the other
great rivers, such as the Indus, &c. would equally pro¬
mote the same great objects ; but the adjacent countries
are inhabited by barbarous tribes, who neglect all those
natural advantages. The Chinese rivers which wind
across that country from the western mountains are ren¬
dered eminently subservient to navigation and commerce
by that industrious people. But the course of the great
rivers flowing from the central mountains into the Frozen
Ocean, into which course they are turned by the north¬
ern exposure of Asia, is eminently unfavourable for the
improvement of the country, as they are carried entirely
out of the seats of commerce and wealth to the Arctic
Sea, the gloomy abode of perpetual winter. These great
rivers, therefore, the Irtisch, the Obi, the Yenesei, and
the Lena, owing to their having a northern course, must
for ever remain useless to commerce and navigation. They
lead to countries from which no benefit can ever be de¬
rived, to seas bound up in perpetual ice, and to regions
of sterility and cold, which mankind desire to fly from
rather than to visit. These rivers, great and navigable
though they be, present no outlet to the produce of the
interior; nor can they greatly aid the general routes of
the traveller in crossing Siberia. They afford considerable
advantages, however, especially in their upper streams,
for carrying goods into and from China. It is singular
that to the west of the Ural Mountains the country should
have a southern exposure, and the great rivers of north¬
ern Europe, accordingly, the Volga, the Don, and the
Dnieper, flow with a southerly course into the Caspian or
the Black Sea.
Great From the general view which has been given of the
natural form and interior structure of this great continent, and of
divisions, SyStem of its mountains and rivers, it may be distin¬
guished with advantage into five great natural divisions,
namely, Central Asia, Southern and Northern Asia, and
Eastern and Western Asia.
1. Central Asia, or the great high lands, with their ele¬
vated plains and almost boundless wastes, is, in the eastern
parts, chiefly within the limits of the Chinese dominions.
It contains Thibet and Chinese Tartary, to whose powers
we cannot assign any definite limits. But it is certain
that in the south the dominion of China extends very far
west, to the 80th degree at least, as it now borders with
the British frontier in Hindostan, where Chinese horse¬
men are placed to guard, with their usual jealous policy,
the celestial empire from intrusion. On the north the
I A.
territories of China border with those of Russia, and the Asia,
whole intervening tract must be included under the Chi-
nese dominion. But we know little of these wild and de¬
solate regions; and it is uncertain how far the pastoral or
predatory hordes which range over them are controlled by
the Chinese authorities. The country of Thibet is also
bounded by China on the east and on the north, though
we cannot exactly determine the limits of their respective
territories. Farther to the north the sway of China ex-,
tends to the 78th degree of E. long., and includes the rich
and populous Mahometan towns of Kashgar, in long. 76.
5. 45. E. lat. 39. 25. N., and Yarkund, in long. 78. 27. 45.
E. lat. 38. 19. N.; the first reckoned to contain 80,000
inhabitants. It does not seem to be separated from In¬
dependent Tartary by any distinct boundary. The coun¬
tries near the sources of the Indus and the Oxus, about
the 78th degree of E. long., are inhabited by wild and in¬
dependent tribes, who, like most of their race, subsist by
pasturage or plunder. Here is Balk, the ancient Bactria
or Bactriana, where there are several chiefs who rule over
their rude and intractable subjects with a precarious sway.
Here is also the city of Buckharia, which, with the sur¬
rounding country, is ruled by an independent sovereign;
and the independent states of Khyvah and Kokaun, the
first extending on and near the banks of the Oxus, be¬
tween 100 and 200 miles, and the latter divided into
two parts by the Jaxartes, and reckoned to be more than'
200 miles in length and 150 in breadth. To the west, as
far as the Caspian Sea, is the proper region of Independent
Tartary, bounded on all sides by the Russian, Chinese, and
Persian empires.
2. Southern Asia includes Hindostan from the Hima¬
laya Mountains; on the west Afghanistan and the inde¬
pendent tribes scattered in the lower valley of the Indus;
the kingdom of Nepaul on the east; the hilly country of
Bootan, the Burman empire, the peninsula of Malacca, and
the kingdom of Camboja.
3. Western Asia contains Persia, the peninsula of Ara¬
bia, the extensive countries over which Turkey maintains
a loose and uncertain authority, comprehending Mesopo¬
tamia, Armenia, Syria, and Palestine; Asia Minor, sur¬
rounded on the north, south, and west, by the Mediterra¬
nean and the Black Seas, and the mountain regions of
Caucasus between the Black and the Caspian Seas.
4. Eastern Asia is occupied by the Chinese empire
and by Chinese Tartary.
5. Northern Asia forms the Asiatic part of the Russian
empire, which extends from the Altai Mountains to the
Frozen Ocean.
Asia, extending from the equator to the Arctic Sea, ne-Climate,
cessarily possesses great variety of climate. But though
here, as in every other country, the climate is regulated
by the distance from the equator, this general law is mo¬
dified by accidental causes, which it is curious to trace.
In the wide extent of Asia great peculiarities of tem¬
perature occur, which cannot be very clearly explained.
The system of the universe is conducted on so vast a
scale that our faculties of observation do not keep pace
with its great movements. How can we, for example,
trace the rapid course of the winds, on which the tem¬
perature of countries so essentially depends, traversing as
they do the whole space of the habitable globe at the rate
of 1000 miles in 24 hours ? How can we ascertain their
origin and follow their progress, which is modified by the
various interruptions of mountains, continents, and seas.
How can we distinctly point out, amid such a complica¬
tion of unknown facts, the connection between cause and
effect ? To such inquiries some uncertainty will always
attach, and anomalies may appear of which we can oner
no solution. In these circumstances, facts are our on y
ASIA.
Asi : sure guides; and to these, therefore, in the following ob- latitude as the south of Europe, namely, the 39th and 40th
servations, we shall endeavour to adhere. degrees, and all along the banks of the Oxus, the climate
The height of the land above the level of the sea is as is remarkably severe. For three months the winter is in¬
sure a cause of cold as distance from the equator; and tensely cold, the wind being dry and piercing, and the
countries are not only cold in proportion to their height, snow lying deep on the ground. The rivers are’all frozen
but a mass of cold air is accumulated above them, which, over, and the Oxus during all that period is passable
being dispersed, is carried towards the equator, and ex- for caravans.3 The summer, again, is equally hot. Per-
tends the dominion of cold into the regions of heat. Land sia, in like manner, being nearly in the same latitude as
and water, also, are the causes either of heat or cold, ac- Arabia, the hottest part of the earth, and having an ex-
cording to their situation. The great mass of the ocean cessively hot summer, has in the northern and central
is little affected by the changes of the seasons; and it parts the severe winter of a northern climate, with drift-
consequently preserves the medium temperature of the ing snow, which lies deep on the ground for three months;
whole year. Hence the vicinity of the ocean cools the and this is owing entirely to its elevation, which is esti-
temperature of the equinoctial regions; and in higher mated by Fraser to be 4000 feet above the Caspian Sea.4
latitudes it moderates the extremes both of heat and cold, The lower valleys and exterior plains of Asia, which lie to
being in winter of a higher temperature, and in summer of the south of the Himalaya Mountains, including Arabia,
a lower temperature, than the superincumbent air. The the southern and flat parts of Persia, Hindostan, and India
surface of the earth, again, imbibes heat or cold much beyond the Ganges, constitute the tropical and warm re-
more readily than the ocean ; and it is only at considerable gions of this continent, of which the climate, though it
depths that it is found to give the medium temperature agrees in general with their position on the globe," still
of the year. The vicinity of land, therefore, in the polar varies from local causes. Hindostan, for example, and
countries, is the cause of cold, while in the southern re- India beyond the Ganges, though they approach nearer to
gions of the equator it is an equally powerful cause of heat, the equator, are not nearly so hot as Arabia or the adja-
Thus Africa, which extends so far to the south, and which cent countries. The course of the seasons is also more
contains a greater proportion of land within the tropics constant; and it is here that we meet with those remark-
than any other division of the globe, is a vast store-house able winds, the monsoons, which blow six months in op-
‘ of heat, from which it is dispersed far and wide, and even posite directions, from the south-west and north-east,
reaches the shores of Europe in hot and parching winds; with some slight variations, and which extend their influ-
while, on the other hand, the breadth and extent of the ence over all the countries which lie between the mouth
American continent towards the north sufficiently ac- of the Indus and the Chinese Sea. The monsoons follow
counts for the coldness of its climate, the north-west winds the course of the sun, and this fact points to the cause
which sweep across its frozen wastes extending their in- of the phenomenon. Heat and cold being the great
roads into the regions of heat as far sometimes as Mexico agents which, by rarefying or condensing the air, disturb
or Vera Cruz.1 The influence of the ocean in moderating its equilibrium, and set the winds in motion, land, when
the severity of the winter is exemplified in the climate of it is heated by the solar rays, acts on the superincum-
Great Britain, where no such intense cold ever prevails as bent air, and causes it to ascend, when it is immediately
in corresponding latitudes on the continent of Europe, replaced by an irruption of cold air from the sea. Hence
and more especially on that of Asia. The climate of a the regular sea-breeze which prevails in all the tropical
country is also affected by the direction of the wfinds; and islands during the day, and the opposite current from
hence the eastern shores of America, owing to the trade- the land during the night; and this alternation of the
winds, which blow from the east, and are cooled in their sea and the land breezes, occasioned within 24 hours
passage across the Atlantic, have not the same sultry by the varying temperature of an island, is just an ex¬
heats as the opposite shores of Africa, where the same ample of the effect that must be produced by a heated
winds are heated to an intense degree in their passage continent and by the change of the seasons. As the
over the burning deserts of the interior. The northern sun advances into the northern tropic, the land of Asia,
frontiers of Asia, and its prodigious elevation towards the Europe, and almost the whole of Africa, is heated by
centre, necessarily consign the greatest portion of it to the his influence ; by which the air being rarefied, and ris-
dominion of cold. Among the central mountains perpe- ing aloft, a current of colder air rushes in from the sea.
tual winter reigns; and from these snowy deserts the in- Accordingly it is found, that with the approach of sum-
fluence of cold is widely extended over the high plains of mer, the plains of Hindostan, Burmah, and China, heated
the interior. In Thibet, which is about the same latitude by the intense rays of a vertical sun, violently attract the
as Northern Africa or Arabia, namely, between the 30th cold air, which flows with a steady stream from the South-
and 35th degrees, there is a continuous and severe winter ern Ocean, exactly in the tract of the heated continent,
of three months, which is of such uniform severity that at namely, from the south-west to the north-east. When
its commencement the inhabitants kill their meat, and it the sun passes into the southern hemisphere, the monsoon
is kept perfectly fresh for three months.2 To the west, alters its course. Winter now reigns in the mountain-
along the whole range of elevated land that extends into ous and northern parts of Asia, and the heat in the lower
Persia and to the Caspian Sea, the climate is modified by regions is not so great. The land, in place.of heating,
the elevation of the ground. In the countries of Balk cools the air, which flows into the warm regions of the
aqd Buckharia, which lie on the northern declivity of the south from the north-east in the direction of the conti-
great ridge of the Hindoo Coosh Mountains, in the same nent, as it formerly flowed towards the north from the
1 See Humboldt’s Political Essay on the Kingdom of New Spain. He mentions, that at Vera Cruz the centigrade thermometer some¬
times falls, owing to those northern blasts, to 0 or to 32 degrees of Fahrenheit; and that even at Mexico they sometimes, though
rarely, bring down the thermometer to the freezing point.
*■ Turner’s Embassy to Thibet, p. 217, 301, 356.
3 Fraser’s Narrative of a Journey into Khorassan, Appendix, p. 95.
4 Kinneir’s Geographical Memoir of the Persian Empire, p. 122. It is mentioned in the Journal of a Mr Campbell, quoted by Sir
J. Malcolm, that while he was at Tabreez a heavy fall of snow occurred in May; and in December and January the thermometer at
night was never above zero. (Sir J. Malcolm’s History of Persia, vol. ii. p. 509.)
680 A S
south-east. The south-west monsoon sets in about the
beginning of June in all the islands of the Indian Ocean,
and traverses the southern plains, until it is turned to¬
wards the west by the central mountains, and finally ar¬
rested in its progress. It is ushered in with the most tre¬
mendous thunder and lightning, with tempests of wind
and floods of rain. This is the commencement of the pe¬
riodical rains through all the tropical regions of Asia,
which are at their height in July, and gradually abate
about the end of September, departing amid thunders and
tempests, as they came. Before the setting in of the
monsoons there is a clear sky, with a hot parching wind,
succeeded by sultry calms, under which all nature seems
to droop. The rains effect a sudden and total change in
the aspect of the country: the rivers are swollen, the air is
pure and refreshing, the sky varied with clouds, and the
earth covered with the most luxuriant verdure.1 Such
is the climate of Southern Asia, from China to the coast
of Africa. But the peninsula of Arabia is not subject
to the influence of the monsoons; and in place of the
tropical rains, it has generally, in the mountainous parts,
the winter and the spring rains.2 The climate during
summer is hotter than in any other part of the world, the
thermometer frequently rising to 110°, and even it is said
to 120°, in the coolest and shadiest parts, while dead calms
prevail often without interruption for 50 or 60 days, and
are succeeded, as the temperature begins to vary and the
winds to resume their activity, by violent and hot blasts
from the desert. The vicinity of Arabia to the African
continent, by which it is sheltered from the cool breezes
of the sea, while it receives the sultry air from its burn¬
ing plains, is unquestionably the cause of its extraordi¬
nary heat; and it will be remarked that those violent
heats extend eastward from Arabia exactly in the direc¬
tion in which they are received into the lower valley of
the Euphrates and the Tigris, where at Bagdad they raise
the thermometer to 120° in the shade. It has been al¬
ready mentioned that the progress of the monsoons to the
north is arrested by the central mountains; and the ele¬
vated tract of country, therefore, which lies to the north
of this barrier, namely, the kingdom of Kokaun, over
which are spread the headwaters of the Oxus, Balk, the
ancient Bactriana, Buckharia, and the countries west of
the Indus, as far as the Hellespont, depend on the spring
and the winter rains which they receive from the west.3
Western Asia has been long celebrated for the mild¬
ness and serenity of its climate, which is hot and dry,
though it is tempered by the cool breezes from the moun¬
tain tracts by which it is intersected. In the northern
parts, along the coasts of the Black Sea, the country is
liable to excessive rains ; while the southern shores of the
Mediterranean are exposed to the sultry simoom blasts
from the African or Arabian deserts.
Northern Asia, of which the Altai chain is the bound¬
ary, is the proper region of cold; and the severity of the
climate is said to be aggravated by the vast expanse of
the continent in the frozen latitudes of the north. In the
interior of Asia the milder element of the ocean can have
no influence on the rigour of perpetual winter; and from
the Arctic Ocean to the Altai Mountains the north wind
sweeps without interruption along the Siberian plains, and
occasions an intensity of cold which is not experienced
in the corresponding latitudes of Europe. It is remarked
by Malte-Brun, that the cold increases as we proceed east¬
ward, to such a degree, that on the coasts of Tartary, in
the same latitude as France, the winter commences in
I A.
September. This intensity of cold he ascribes to several Asia
causes: ls£, To vast mountains covered with glaciers, which '
rise between Corea and the countries on the river Amour • '
2c%, to the still greater mass of mountains which sepa¬
rates the Amour from the Lena; 3c%, to the thick and
cold fogs which constantly overhang those frozen coun¬
tries, and intercept the rays of the sun; and, 4rfhly, to
the absolute want of inhabitants, and consequently of cul¬
tivation. There is no doubt that such causes tend to the
increase of cold. They must, however, be somewhat
counterbalanced by the vicinity of the Eastern Ocean
tempering the severity of a Siberian winter; and the
greatest degree of cold should still, therefore, be found
towards the centre of the continent. On the northern
shores of Asia the severity of the cold will not, as in
milder climates, be counteracted by the influence of the
ocean, which is either covered with solid or with floating
ice. The natural coldness of the air in these countries
will be aggravated rather than soffened by the vicinity
of these frozen seas.
Asia, from its vast extent and unequal surface, not only Vegetabl
comprehends within its bounds the vegetable produce ofpmlue- *
the whole earth, from the low creeping lichen which hons-
flourishes on the borders of perpetual snow, to all the
splendid varieties of tropical vegetation ; but it presents
these varieties within a very short compass. It would be
inconsistent with the plan of the present article to de¬
scribe in detail the animal and vegetable kingdoms of
Asia. It may be therefore generally stated, that the great
staples of agriculture, the alimentary plants on which man
depends for his subsistence, are, in the tropical countries
of Asia, rice, of which there are 27 varieties; maize, mil¬
let, and many varieties of a coarser grain called dourra;
as well as other species of legumes not known in Europe.
The cultivation of these nutritious grains is confined to
the plains of Hindostan and the hot countries to the east.
Rice or maize may be sometimes seen in Persia, or in the
hot plains of Lower Syria; but agriculture in these coun¬
tries generally depends on the grain of a colder climate.
Persia is accordingly famed for the most excellent wheat,
which is the chief food, and for barley and millet. Oats
are more rarely attempted in that climate. Throughout
Syria and Asia Minor, as well as Arabia, wheat, rye, bar¬
ley, beans, and other grains, are chiefly sown; and in
Buckharia, and generally in all the countries that lie be¬
tween the Oxus and the Caspian Sea, these and other
grains, with a variety of leguminous plants, constitute
the chief dependence of the inhabitants.4 Between the
50th and 55th degrees, these grains may with care be
raised all over Asia; but beyond this they cannot so well
resist the severity of the climate, v This is therefore the
proper region of barley and oats, the cultivation of which
may be extended to the 60th degree. Beyond this the
powers of vegetation fail under the benumbing influence
of cold; and the earth yields nothing but dwarf trees,
lichens, and some species of the wild berry. In ascending
the Asiatic mountains, the same varieties of vegetable
produce are observed as in receding from the equator,
until, at the line of perpetual congelation, all traces of ve¬
getation disappear. But the decrease of heat in propqr-
tion to the altitude varies in different situations, accord¬
ing as it is affected by local and accidental causes;
and though the most accurate calculations have been
made on the subject by Leslie, Humboldt, and others,
they are modified by local causes. Thus the limits of
perpetual congelation have been fixed by Humboldt at
1 Elphinstone’s Account o/Cabul, chap. v.
* Niebuhr, vol. ii. sect. 29.
3 Fraser’s Narrative of a Journey into Khorassan, Appendix, p. 95.
4 Ibid, Appendix, p. 9G.
A S
As- 15,700 feet under the equator, and 15,000 in the latitude
Vjgpi'K' of 20 degrees ; yet Captain Webb, in his journeys among
the Himalaya Mountains, observed, on the banks of the
Sutledge river, which must have been at least in the 30th
degree of north latitude, the finest pastures, and crops of
a species of barley from which the natives make their
bread, at a height of 15,000 feet, the supposed line of per¬
petual frost. And at a pass among these mountains, in
30 degrees of north latitude, plants were found that ripen¬
ed their seed at the enormous height of 17,000 feet. In
latitude 30° 25' the same traveller saw fields at the height
of 11,790 feet, not only without snow, but covered with
extensive fields of buck-wheat and Tartaric barley. The
decrease of heat in proportion to the altitude attained ap¬
pears not to be subject to any certain rule ; and it would
be extremely interesting to ascertain by actual observa¬
tion the height at which the produce of the colder cli¬
mates could be cultivated in different parts. We cannot
fix either the lower or the higher limit at which wheat
and other European grains could be brought to maturity
among the Asiatic mountains. It is evident that the
decrease of heat as we rise above the level of the sea is
modified by local causes, in the same manner as when we
recede from the equator ; and hence the same vegetable
produce is not uniformly found at the same height, any
more than within the same latitudes. It is possible that
in the interior mass of the mountains the cold may be
greater than among the exterior ridges, and that the Eu¬
ropean grain, and the other congenial produce of a cold
climate, may not on this account ripen at so high an ele¬
vation. It is mentioned by Turner, that he saw wheat in
Thibet in a green state, which he was assured would never
ripen owing to the severity of the climate.
Of the other plants which minister to the comfort of
man, and afford valuable articles of commerce, Asia pos¬
sesses great variety. The tea plant, which is exported so
largely to Europe, is indigenous to China, to which its
cultivation has hitherto been confined, and to which it is
a source of prodigious wealth. Arabia is the native coun¬
try of coffee, where it still arrives at its greatest perfec¬
tion. The sugar-cane is cultivated in Hindostan, though
not with the same energy and skill as in the West Indies ;
and also in some of the hottest parts of Asia Minor, but
not to any extent. Tobacco is very generally produced
in Southern and Western Asia; and the poppy plant,
the great intoxicating drug of the East, is a great arti¬
cle of cultivation in Hindostan, and is now exported in
immense quantities to the China market.1 The vine grows
to great perfection among the rocky heights of Pales¬
tine, and in the mountains of Syria, where wine of a good
quality is made, and also in Arabia. Industry and skill
are alone necessary to improve the advantages of nature,
and to render this precious produce a valuable article of
commerce. The cotton shrub, which yields so useful an
article of clothing, has from time immemorial been na¬
turalized in India, growing in Arabia, Persia, and through¬
out Asia Minor ; and the mulberry, which affords so splen¬
did an article of dress, is cultivated with success in Syria,
Mesopotamia, and Armenia. Flax and hemp are com¬
mon throughout both Southern and Western Asia, and
they would grow also in Northern Asia if the inhabi¬
tants knew how to profit by the advantages of the coun¬
try. Indigo is another important article, which is culti¬
vated in India and in some parts of Syria, as well as in
Arabia. The Asiatic islands have been long celebrated
for various aromatic planis; and the juice which exudes
from the trunks of the smaller trees is of the richest fra-
I A. 681
grance. Among the species of laurels which abound in Asia,
the southern parts of India and Ceylon we find those
which produce mace, cassia, and camphor; and, lastly, the
cinnamon tree, formerly supposed to be a native of Ara¬
bia ; also the clove and the nutmeg trees. The balm of
Mecca is the finest of all the gums, and diffuses an ex¬
quisite perfume. Arabia has also been long celebrated
for frankincense and myrrh. Asia furnishes also many
plants used in medicine, as well as in dyeing, such as the
castor-oil plant, the senna, the aloe, and others, which ex¬
tend all over the southern parts and through Asia Minor.
In Southern Asia the forests abound with the most va¬
luable trees, with the most durable woods, and with every
variety of ornamental and dye woods. The teak tree, which
grows in the woods of India, surpasses all others in hard¬
ness and durability. There are many trees which mi¬
nister to the subsistence of man. All the palms, for ex¬
ample, distil a rich and nutritious juice ; that of the sago
palm, distinguished for its beauty and spreading foliage,
is so thick and nutritious, that it is used in this country as
a medicinal and wholesome diet. The fan palm, which
grows in some parts of India, is remarkable for the breadth
of its leaves, one of which is sufficient to cover a dozen of
men, and two or three to roof a cottage. The bread¬
fruit tree, which grows in India, yields a farinaceous fruit
resembling bread prepared from grain. All the common
fruit trees of Europe are also found in the hilly parts of
India. Asia Minor and the banks of the Euphrates abound
in the myrtle, the laurel, the turpentine, mastic, tamarind,
cypress, sycamore, and other trees. The oriental plants
are numerous in Persia ; and in the Syrian mountains the
oak and the cedar, celebrated in ancient times, grow to a
great height. In the northern countries of Asia the trees
most prevalent are the oak, the ash, the elm, &c.; and still
farther north there is the dwarf birch and the mountain
willow; also the pines and the firs, which rear their tall
heads, and spread over the scenery their permanent hue
of dark green. The strong and glutinous liquid which
exudes from these northern trees is converted into tar,
pitch, and turpentine, and becomes a valuable article of
commerce, useful for many purposes.
All the most delicious fruits are raised in the tropical
countries of Asia. Those most celebrated in India are the
guava, the jambo, the mango, and the pine-apple; many
others might be raised if garden-cultivation were attend¬
ed to as it might be in that country. Syria, Palestine, the
banks of the Euphrates, and Persia, are famous for the
variety of their fruits, and produce abundantly pome¬
granates, oranges, lemons, almonds, peaches, figs, quinces,
olives, walnuts, and melons of all sorts. In the neighbour¬
hood of Damascus all the fruits of Europe arrive at ma¬
turity ; and near the Caspian Sea there are whole forests
of chesnut trees. The date tree, the fruit of which is in
many parts the chief subsistence of the inhabitants, grows
in Persia, Mesopotamia, Arabia, Syria, and Palestine. In
tbe higher parts of these countries other fruits are to be
found, namely, the apple, the pear, the cherry. In North¬
ern Asia horticulture is little practised; and, excepting
wild berries, few other fruits are to be seen in its desert
and inhospitable plains. Flowers of all sorts, in the most
splendid profusion and variety, and of the richest fra¬
grance, adorn the country in Southern and Western Asia,
and give it the appearance of a flower-garden. On such
a subject, however, which presents so wide a field of in¬
quiry, we cannot enter into details, which would hardly
prove satisfactory to the general reader, and still less to
the man of science.
4f R
VOL. in.
1 Minutes of Evidence before Committee of House of Commons on China Trade.
682 A S
Asia. The desolate tracts of thick jungle and dense forest
which abound in Asia afford extensive cover for wild ani-
Animals. maiSj which are accordingly found in great numbers, and
comprise all the known genera of the globe. The lion is
found in Persia, Mesopotamia, on the banks of the Tigris
and Euphrates, and was formerly known in Asia Minor,
but has now either entirely disappeared, or is rarely
seen. It was not supposed that this formidable animal
haunted the forests and jungles of India. But of late
lions have been seen in great numbers in the north of
India, in Guzerat, and in the province of Delhi, to the
north of this place.1 The tiger is a native of Asia, to
which continent he exclusively belongs, having never mi¬
grated into the other regions of the globe. He is spread
over all parts of Southern Asia, from the islands of the
Indian Ocean, where he exists in amazing power and fero¬
city, to the great ridge of the Himalaya Mountains.2 His
progress northward is checked by the increasing cold; yet
is he found in some of the higher regions, where ice is seen
during the winter. It is certain, however, that he is a
native of a hot climate; and it is probable, therefore, that
when he feels the approach of winter, he will retire from
the cold of the high country into the warmer and lower
valleys of the south. Tigers are seldom seen in the coun¬
tries westward of the Indus, though they may occasion¬
ally stray from their native haunts along the west of that
river into the mountain tracts of Belochistan.3 The tiger
is not found in Persia, Arabia, or in any part of Africa,
though it is quite certain that the country is quite con¬
genial to his constitution and habits, and that if he could
once reach it he would quickly propagate his race through
its deep forests. Yet the lion reigns supreme in the
woods of Africa, while the tiger is the lord of the Asiatic
jungles. It would be curious, if we had materials for such
a speculation, to trace the distinct regions of the globe
which are occupied by the various animal and vegetable
tribes. Plants, we know, are transported from the coun¬
tries in which they are indigenous, and flourish in another
soil and climate equally congenial; and, in like manner,
the animals of one country have been transported with
equal success to other countries, where they have multi¬
plied. The wild and ferocious animals it is the object of
man to destroy rather than to increase ; and they would
therefore receive no aid from him in their migrations
from one region to another. Hence we find that those
countries which are widely separated, and which pre¬
sent no practicable communication for animals, have each
its own peculiar and distinct class. America has an en¬
tirely different race of animals from Africa or Asia ; while
the animals that are found in the islands or continent
of Australasia (New Holland), resemble those of no other
quarter of the world. The zoology of Asia and Africa,
from their vicinity, and from the comparatively easy com¬
munication between them, does not present such diver¬
sities ; yet it is remarkable, that while the lion is com¬
mon over all Africa, the tiger has never yet been seen;
while in Asia it is just the reverse, the tiger, and not
the lion, being the more common of the two. There can
be no reason, we should imagine, why the tiger should
be confined to Asia, while there are other countries equal¬
ly suited to his habits, except that, being indigenous in
the regions of Eastern Asia, he has never been able to
cross the barrier of mountains and deserts by which these
regions are separated from Persia on the west. Beyond
1 A*
the western banks of the Indus the country is mountain- Asia
ous and impassable, and the climate extremely cold; the ’’'•'yv/
ridges from the Himalaya Mountains extending south¬
ward nearly to the sea, and the country beyond being
merely a narrow strip of hot and sandy desert. Beyond
this, farther to the west, extensive deserts are found,
destitute of water and of all traces of vegetation, which
would as effectually oppose the passage of wild beasts
as the trackless ocean which divides Africa and Ame¬
rica, and leaves to each its own class of indigenous ani¬
mals. The other wild animals of Southern Asia are leo¬
pards, hyenas, jackals, tiger-cats, wild boars, antelopes,
elks, red and moose deer, foxes, hares, mangooses, fer¬
rets, porcupines, &c. All these are to be found in the
southern plains of Asia. The hyenas, wolves, jackals,
and bears, abound in some of the hilly tracts, and in
the mountains of Belochistan and the other countries to
the w'est of the Indus. The three first make dreadful
havock among the flocks. The same animals are found
in Persia, Mesopotamia, in Asia Minor, and in Palestine:
and it is said that the lion is occasionally seen on the
banks of the Jordan. The ounce is a formidable animal
in these countries and in Syria, and is sometimes mis¬
taken for the tiger. The timid zebra is found in the
depths of the Persian forests.4 The wild dog is common
in Northern India, in Belochistan, and in all the moun¬
tainous countries to the east of Persia. It is a large
and powerful animal, and extremely ferocious. They
hunt in packs of 20 or 30, and frequently seize a bullock,
which they kill in a few minutes.5 The bones and re¬
mains of tigers, supposed to have been destroyed by the
combined attack of these animals, are also sometimes
found in the woods of Northern India.6 The wild ass is a
native of Persia, and is remarkably wild, and fleet in its
movements. It is also common in the northern mountains
of India, and in the countries to the west of the Indus.
The wild sheep and the wild goat are common among the
mountains.
Of the domestic animals, the elephant claims the pre¬
eminence, being unequalled by any other animal for the
purposes of draught. This animal is confined to the
southern countries of India, where the climate is hot, be¬
ing seldom seen in the mountainous tracts towards the
north. The camel is used for domestic purposes over a
far wider extent of country than the elephant. This ani¬
mal is of two species, the one with two humps, and the
dromedary with only one hump; and it is domesticated
all over India and the mountainous countries to the north
of the Himalaya ridge, in Balk or Bactria, in Buckharia,
in Tartary, in all the countries bordering on the Caspian
Sea, even in the southern provinces of Europe, in Persia,
Asia Minor, and the countries bordering on the Black
Sea, and in the Arabian deserts. The two-humped camel
is a remarkably useful animal for burden, being heavy
in his make, with enormous bones, shaggy coat, amazing
strength, and incredible patience of fatigue and of thirst.
The dromedary is chiefly used for travelling, and its valu¬
able quality is swiftness, by which, joined to its capacity
of enduring hardship, it is qualified to travel at an incre¬
dible rate for many successive days. In all the low coun¬
tries, especially in the dry and sandy tracts, such as Ara¬
bia, Syria, &c. the dromedary is employed. The two-
humped camel is a native of the high countries in the
neighbourhood of the Oxus and the Jaxartes, where it is
1 Elphinstone’s Account of Cabul, p. 141. a Bishop Heber.
s See Pottinger’s admirable account of the countries of Belochistan and Sinde, chap. vii. which is replete with interesting informa¬
tion. The journey of this officer and of Captain Christie, from India to Persia, through these wild tracts, inhabited by hordes of rob¬
bers, may be considered a most perilous and honourable achievement, worthy of the greatest travellers.
4 Kinneir, Memoir of the Persian Empire} p. 42. 5 Pottinger’s History of Belochistan, chap. vii. * Bishop Heber.
A S
As- still chiefly used. So large a portion of Asia is occupied
by vast plains and wastes of sand, that its interior inter¬
course must be maintained by land journeys. But with¬
out the aid of the camel it would be impossible to tra¬
verse extensive deserts, destitute both of food and water ;
and in those arid countries such an animal, which has
been truly called the ship of the desert, is the most valu¬
able gift which Providence could bestow.
The other domestic animals of Southern and Western
Asia are horses, mules, asses, buffaloes, black cattle, sheep,
goats, &c. Arabia may be considered the native country
of the horse, in which he arrives at the highest perfec¬
tion, and combines all the most estimable qualities of
symmetry of form, fineness of skin, fire, docility of temper,
fleetness, and hardiness. It is chiefly from the Arabian
breed that the horses in other parts of the world have
been improved. In Persia the horses are neither so
graceful nor so swift as those of Arabia, being high,
with long legs, spare carcasses, and large heads; but
they are highly prized by the inhabitants for their extra¬
ordinary capacity of enduring fatigue. To the east of
Persia, at Herat, the breed of horses is fine; also on
the banks of the Indus and its tributaries; and in the
higher regions of Balk and Buckharia they are excel¬
lent and numerous, and are exported in great numbers to
Hindostan.1 The mule and the ass, all over India, are
miserable animals. The mules are of a better quality in
the Punjaub, on the upper course of the Indus, and they
improve still more farther west. In the countries west of
the Indus they are superior to those in Hindostan, and
in Persia there is still a finer breed. But the mule of the
east is inferior to that of England. The ass partakes
of a similar improvement in his progress west, and is a
far finer animal in Western Asia than in Europe. In
Syria, Palestine, and generally in Asia Minor, he is- dis¬
tinguished by agility, fire, and patience of fatigue, and
ranks in the first class of domestic animals. Buffaloes are
found in the hot plains of Asia, as well as in the moun¬
tainous tracts ; and the oxen which are used in the plough
have all a hump on their backs. The wealth of the pas¬
toral tribes who rove about in the western plains of Kho-
rassan, and in the hilly tracts of Afghanistan, consists
chiefly in sheep, which have tails a foot broad, and com¬
posed entirely of fat, and in other respects resemble the
English sheep, being better and handsomer than those of
India.2 Goats are common all over Asia, especially in the
mountains, where there are some breeds with curiously
twisted horns; and they are by no means scarce in the
plains.
In the northern parts of Asia, and in the high moun¬
tain tracts, a different class of animals is to be found.
These cold regions are not distinguished by the same
profusion of animal life as the tropical countries. The
beasts of the forest decrease in numbers, in size, and also
in fierceness; and the wolf, the bear, and the wild boar,
are the only ferocious animals which thrive in these north¬
ern climates. In advancing on the desolate plains of Si¬
beria to about the 60th degree of N. lat., we find the cold
still taking effect on the animal as on the vegetable crea¬
tion, and the living creatures as well as the plants and
trees stinted in their fair proportions. Beyond this limit
a different order of animals appears, protected against the
severity of the climate by a thick covering of fur, which
is sought after as a rich article of dress in more opu¬
lent countries. These animals are accordingly hunted for
their skins, which constitute the great staple article of
trade in Northern Asia. In the Arctic regions the bear
I A.
seems to form the only exception to the diminished gran-*
deur of the animal creation. This animal, nourished in
the regions of perpetual snow, acquires a larger size and
far greater power and fierceness than in southern climates.
The domestic animals of the northern and mountainous
countries of Asia are of a less imposing appearance, and
not nearly of the same strength as those in the louver
valleys of the south and west. In the high and cold plains
of Central Asia the camel is no longer used as a beast of
burden, nor in the northern parts of the continent. Thi¬
bet, Tartary, and the plains to the north of the Altai
Mountains, are mostly inhabited by Tartar tribes, whose
wealth consists in their cattle, which not only furnish
them with food, clothing, and shelter, but are also used
as beasts of burden, and in the labours of agriculture. The
yak of Tartary, or the bushy-tailed bull of Thibet, seems
to supply the place of the camel in these mountainous
countries. This animal is about the size of an English
bull, of great strength, and is reckoned a valuable proper¬
ty among the itinerant hordes of Tartars, to whom it af¬
fords the means of easy conveyance, of clothing, and
shelter for their tents, from the prodigious quantity of
long flowing glossy hair on its tail, and finally of sub¬
sistence from its milk and flesh. In those mountains is
also found the musk-deer, which delights in the most in¬
tense cold, and of which the musk, a secretion by the
male, affords a revenue to the government, as well as a
valuable article of trade. Here also, on the highest
mountains, amid ice and snow, is the Cashmere goat, the
wool of which affords the materials of the finest shawls.3
Wild horses are seen in the high plains of Thibet; and
the breed of sheep, a peculiar species of which is indige¬
nous to the climate, is of great value. They are nourished
on the short and dry herbage of these exposed plains, and
serve for subsistence to the inhabitants, as well as for
beasts of burden. The wild and extensive plains of Tar¬
tary are inhabited by pastoral tribes, who depend in like
manner on their herds. On the southern side of the Altai
Mountains we find the same tribes of wanderers, most of
them the scattered remnants of the Tartar nations who
had formerly so deep a share in the great revolutions of
Asia. All these tribes subsist chiefly by pasturage. Near
the Ural Mountains some live chiefly by hunting or en¬
snaring the elk and other wild animals for their furs.
Among those who are shepherds, sheep and horned cattle
are found ; while the hunting tribes have scarcely any do¬
mestic animals. In all these countries the wolf and the
bear are known to abound. In the rigorous climate far¬
ther to the north, where the cattle are stunted in size,
and can scarcely subsist, their place is supplied by the
rein-deer, a species peculiar to this rigorous climate, and
most valuable for all domestic purposes, whether for
draught or for subsistence. During part of the year the
inhabitants of those desolate countries subsist upon its
flesh or milk, its skin furnishes them with the chief part
of their dress, and its horns with such domestic utensils as
they require. The dog is also trained to draw the sledge.
The feathered race in Asia includes almost every
known species. In the southern parts are found all the
tropical birds, distinguished by the most beautiful plum¬
age, and some of them uttering sounds that have a re¬
semblance to the human voice. Here are also found some
of the largest and rarest birds,—the ostrich, the cassowary,
and in the Himalaya Mountains the condor, one of which,
shot by a British officer, is stated by Bishop Heber to
have measured from the extremity of one wing to another
the enormous length of 14 feet. The other birds are
1 Elphinstone’s Account of Cabul, chap. vd.
Ibid. p. 143.
* Turner’s Embassy to Thibet, p. 186.
684
ASIA.
Asia, eagles, kites, vultures, magpies in the.higher countries,
v—hawks, crows, wild geese and ducks, flamingos, herons,
bustards, florikens, rock pigeons, lapwings, storks, plovers,
snipes, quails, partridges, different species of the ortolan
tribe, and almost all the other small birds to be found in
similar climates. In Northern Asia the feathered creation
is nearly the same as in Europe.
The principle of life, which is so active throughout the
torrid zone, and produces quadrupeds of the most enor¬
mous size, is also visible in the magnitude and numbers
of the reptile tribe, many of them armed with the most
fatal poisons, all of them odious to the sight, and some,
such as the boa constrictor, attaining the length of 30
feet, and of such prodigious muscular strength as to coil
round and crush the largest animals to death. The in¬
fluence of cold is adverse to the growth of these serpents,
which are not found in Asia to the north of the Altai
Mountains. The shark, which is found in all warm cli¬
mates, haunts the tropical seas of Asia; and the crocodile,
which is a different animal from the alligator of America,
though equally powerful and ferocious, infests the rivers.
All sorts of insects, namely, musquitoes, ants, gnats, flies,
&c. most of them noxious and destructive, swarm in the tor¬
rid regions of this continent. During the short summers
of Northern Asia the musquito and other insects abound
in the woody tracts of Siberia, insomuch that near the
Ural Mountains the peasants burn constant fires before
their cottages, as a defence against their attacks.1 But
the locust, which is peculiar to certain parts of Asia, is the
most mischievous of all these winged creatures. They
light upon a country in a cloud which darkens the air,
and leave nothing green behind them; fields sown with
grain being utterly laid waste, and trees stript of their
leaves, and of all power to ripen their fruits. They over¬
spread the country with an appearance of blackness for
many miles; and when they are driven by the winds into
the sea, their dead bodies cover the shore in heaps.
These destructive animals appear occasionally in the
countries to the north and west of the Indus, in Belochis-
tan, in the desert tracts of Khorassan, and in Persia.2
They are sometimes seen in Arabia in countless swarms;
and frequently to the north of the Altai Mountains, at
the sources of the Irtisch, whence they extend their de¬
structive flight as far as the Crimea and the southern
provinces of the Russian empire.3
Historical Asia has been subject to more awful revolutions than
sketch of any other part of the world. Though it was at a very
nations^10 earty Periot^ the seat of flourishing kingdoms, it was soon
desolated by war. Its wealthy cities, sacked by their con¬
querors, fell into decay and ruin; and many of its coun¬
tries, once civilized and populous, now languish in deso¬
lation from violence and misrule. The mighty revolu¬
tions which have shaken this continent form an interest¬
ing subject, on which volumes might be filled. All that
we can propose is a historical sketch of the great leading
events which distinguish the annals of Asia, with a brief
notice of the various nations which have flourished, or
are now to be found within its limits.
Nineveh, The early history of Asia, like that of all other coun-.
Babylon, tries, is lost in antiquity ; and the obscurity is but slight¬
ly dissipated by the indistinct accounts which we re¬
ceive from the Greek historians, and the brief notices
in the sacred volume, of the Assyrian and Babylonian
empires. The Assyrian empire appears to have been
established by Ninus or Belus, the Nimrod of the Scrip¬
tures, who, we are told, began to be mighty on the earth, Asia,
and the beginning of whose kingdom was Babel or Baby,
Ion.4 It was farther enlarged by the renowned queen
Semiramis, who carried her arms into India, and extend¬
ed her sway from the Euphrates to the Indus. The great
city of Nineveh had its origin about the same time as
Babylon. Sardanapalus was the last king of the Assy¬
rian empire, which subsisted, according to some histo¬
rians, 1300 or 1450 years. But Herodotus fixes its du¬
ration, on what authority does not appear, at 520 years.
Sardanapalus was dethroned by Arbaces, governor of Me¬
dia ; and on the ruins of this kingdom two others arose,
namely, the empire of Nineveh, under Arbaces, formerly
governor of Media; and the empire of Babylon, under
Belesis, the former governor of that city. Nineveh was
the capital of the former empire, which embraced the
countries on the upper course of the Euphrates and Ti¬
gris, and also the country to the east. To the empire of
Babylon belonged Chaldea, including the lower valley of
the Euphrates. This revolution took place in the 747th
year before the Christian era, and in the 7th year after
the building of Rome.5 Some are of opinion that three
kingdoms arose on the ruin of the Assyrian empire; but
this is generally considered to be an error, the two sup¬
posed kings, Arbaces and Tiglath-Pileser or Ninus the
younger, being the same person.
It is conjectured that the cities of Babylon and Nine¬
veh were begun about 100 years after the flood, or in
the year of the world 1771. At the same time we have
no data for fixing with accuracy the chronology of this
early period; and the different opinions held by most
learned writers sufficiently mark the uncertainty of his¬
tory in those ancient times. It would appear, however,
that the fertile countries of Asia were rapidly overspread
with inhabitants. Abraham, according to the Jewish chro¬
nology, was born 290 years after the flood; and in his
time we hear of the cities of Ur of the Chaldees and of
Damascus, besides others which had arisen in the valley
of the Jordan, the inhabitants of which devoted them¬
selves to commerce and agriculture ; and we are told that
this tract of country was well watered, and was even as
the garden of the Lord, like the land of Egypt.6 But
from the incidents related, it would still appear, that ex¬
cepting the plains of Jordan, which were brought under
cultivation, the country was occupied by pastoral tribes.
Abraham, when he proposes to separate from Lot, in con¬
sequence of the strife of their herdsmen, tells him that
the whole land is before him; and he gives him his
choice of either going to the right or to the left with his
flocks; an arrangement which was scarcely consistent
with a high state of cultivation, and which could not have
been afterwards proposed when the country was fully
peopled.
The posterity of Abraham, who were settled in Egypt,
having greatly multiplied in the course of 450 years, were
at last permitted to depart; and having crossed the Red
Sea, they pursued their triumphant march to the land of
Canaan, expelling or extirpating the inhabitants. Thus
was laid the foundation of the Jewish commonwealth,
which became, in the prosperous reigns of David and So¬
lomon, one of the most flourishing empires of Asia, ex¬
tending on the east as far as the Euphrates, and having
ports both on the Red Sea and in the Mediterranean.
Western Asia was in this manner occupied between
the 7th and 8th centuries before the Christian era by the
1 Voyage dc Pallas, tome ii. p. 369. 2 Pottinger’s Journey through Belochistan, p. 129 ; Elphinstone’s Account of Cabul, p. 145.
3 Pallas’ Travels through the Southern Provinces of the Russian Empire, vol. ii. p. 426.
* Genesis, chap. x. 5 Prideaux, book i. 6 Genesis, chap. xiii.
A S
great Assyrian empires of Nineveh and Babylon, and by
Wy*-' the kingdom of Israel. The limits of the first two to the
east and west are not accurately defined. The Assyrian
monarchs sometimes carried their victorious arms east¬
ward into Bactriana and to the Indus; but whether they
ruled over these conquered countries is uncertain. Their
empire, it is probable, extended westward into Asia Mi¬
nor. On the shores of the Mediterranean, Tyre, with
several other flourishing cities, had at a very early period
attained to wealth and splendour. Arabia was, as at this
day, inhabited by wandering tribes of shepherds and rob¬
bers ; and other tribes of the same character had spread
themselves abroad on the northern plains.
Rise The great ruling powers of Asia were engaged in con-
Medi tinual wars; and the Medes, having thrown off the Assy¬
rian yoke, contended with the others for the dominion of
the world. Having joined the Babylonians, they invaded
the kingdom of Nineveh, already broken by repeated as¬
saults, and took and burnt the capital, thus bringing to an
end this great and ancient empire, which had flourished
nearly 1500 years, and 135 years after its separation from
Babylon. The rise of these formidable empires on the
Euphrates was portentous to the peace and safety of the
neighbouring states. The kingdom of Israel, weakened
by the revolt of the ten tribes, was accordingly invaded
by the Assyrian armies. Samaria was subdued ; and Je¬
rusalem, overpowered by the victorious armies of Baby¬
lon, was taken and utterly destroyed, and the people car¬
ried away captive. The overthrow of the Jewish king¬
dom took place 588 years before the Christian era.
Persi: Persia did not at this period (a. m. 3405, b. c. 599) in-
umpu elude more than one province of the extensive country
since known under that name, nor did it contain more
than 120,000 inhabitants. But it was soon after united
with Media, under the vigorous rule of Cyrus; and that
warlike monarch enlarged his dominions on every side.
Having subdued the Lydians under Croesus, the allies of
the king of Babylon, and the other adjacent states in Asia
Minor, he thence proceeded into Syria and Arabia, which
he also subjected; and extending his conquests from the
^Egean Sea to the river Euphrates, he finally advanced
against Babylon, and, having taken that great city, put
an end for ever to the Assyrian empire, which had been
renowned from the earliest period of the world. The
kingdom of Babylon had subsisted, after its separation
from Nineveh, 209 years. It was overthrown 50 years
after the destruction of Jerusalem, and 540 years before
the Christian era.
Persia continued to rule over Asia for above 200 years,
when its power was overthrown by Alexander the Great.
His extensive conquests were divided among his gene¬
rals, who renewed the strife for dominion which had been
for a time extinguished by the ascendancy of Persia.
Amid these contentions Parthia and Bactriana in the east
rose to the rank of independent states. The Roman
armies entered Asia about 200 years before the Christian
era, and subduing all opposition, they finally established
the dominion of Rome from the Hellespont to the eastern
boundary of the Euphrates. By the decided triumph of
this great power mankind obtained a fresh respite from
tlie calamities of war. It was the first care of the Ro¬
mans to cement by policy what they had gained by arms,
and to establish order and tranquillity in all parts of their
widely extended territories. From this period, according¬
ly, may be dated the commencement of that brilliant era of
prosperity and repose enjoyed by this portion of Western
I A.
685
Asia for nearly 700 years, the time which elapsed from its Asia,
final conquest by the Roman armies under Pompey to its
subjugation by the Saracens in the 638th year of the Chris-
tian era. The people, profiting by the singular felicity of
their lot, devoted their attention to commerce and the
arts of peace, and attained to a high degree of wealth
and refinement. All the civil institutions of society flou¬
rished ; science and literature were cultivated; and man¬
kind, basking in the sunshine of domestic repose, seemed
to enjoy the illusion of perfect happiness. It is estimated
that 500 populous cities covered the face of the country.
These were adorned with magnificent temples and other
splendid monuments of art; and some of them, such as
Pergamus, Smyrna, Ephesus, &c. and especially Antioch
and Alexandria, rivalled in extent and magnificence the
majesty of Rome itself.1
After an interval of 500 years, the Persian monarchy Hindostan
was revived under the dynasty of the Sassanides.2 In and China.
Eastern Asia the splendid and populous empires of Hin¬
dostan and China, though imperfectly known in Europe,
had flourished for many centuries. The origin of the
Hindoo power is buried in a remote antiquity. The
first authentic notice of this mild and pacific people was
brought to Europe by the officers who accompanied Alex¬
ander’s expedition to India. Prior to the era of the Ma¬
hometan conquest in the year 1000, the Hindoos possess
very imperfect materials for their history.3 Hindostan
comprehended then, as now, the extensive country bound¬
ed by the Indus on the west and the Ganges on the east,
though we know but little of its boundaries or internal
state. The origin of the Chinese, as of other nations, is
hid in obscurity. They claim their descent from a very-
high antiquity, their history going back by tradition to
the remote period of 40 centuries, and for 2000 years
their annals are verified by the testimony of contempo¬
rary historians. It is quite certain, indeed, that long be¬
fore the Christian era they had emerged from the bar¬
barism of pastoral life, and were devoted to agriculture
and commerce; that they had acquired wealth and pro¬
sperity, and were thoroughly instructed in all the arts and
refinements of civilized nations.
The historical sketch which we have given above in- The pasto-
cludes only the civilized portion of India. But a greatral tribes-
proportion of her population were in ancient times shep¬
herds, who dwelt in tents; and it is the more necessary
to attend to the distinction between these two classes, as
it will be found to illustrate the political history of Asia,
and those stupendous revolutions which have not only
shaken this continent to its centre, but have been ex¬
tended to the remotest parts of the world.
It has been already mentioned that the vast table-land
of Central Asia, though containing large tracts of desert,
is nevertheless interspersed with fertile and well-watered
valleys, which produce abundance of pasture; and the im¬
mense plain to the north of the Altai Mountains, which
extends over the whole breadth of the continent, from
the Eastern Ocean to the Volga, is one continued mea¬
dow, affording subsistence for innumerable herds of cattle.
In all ages, accordingly, those plains have been inhabited
by wandering tribes of shepherds, rude, ferocious, and de¬
lighting in war. It is finely observed by the Roman his¬
torian, that “ the pastoral manners, which have been
adorned with the fairest attributes of peace and innocence,
are much better adapted to the fierce and cruel habits of
a military life.” Such, accordingly, has been the charac¬
ter of all the pastoral nations. They have been always
1 Gibbon’s Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, chap. ii. 2
2 Jtenners Memoir of a Map of Hindostan.
Sir J. Malcolm’s History of Persia, chap. iv.
686 AS
Asia, addicted to violence and plunder; and their predatory
expeditions, whether for the plunder of individuals or
of empires, have been invariably conducted with the same
fierceness and cruelty. In a pastoral state every man
is a soldier, and he is trained to war by his daily oc¬
cupations. He is hardened in his body by continual ex¬
ercise and exposure to the weather; in hunting the wild
animals of the forest, he acquires skill in horsemanship
and in the use of all warlike weapons; and in the perpe¬
tual migrations of his tribe, which must be carried on
with the same order as the march of an army, he is
trained to vigilance and discipline. These wandering
barbarians were, besides, engaged, as may be easily sup¬
posed, in continual wars with each other. Here, as else¬
where, the usual scarcity of subsistence and of room would
soon be experienced with the progress of population.
Disputes would thence arise, and fierce contests, which
would only terminate with the destruction of one or
other of the contending tribes. Of such obscure wars
we have no accurate account, though it is certain, that
from time immemorial the work of mutual slaughter has
been going on in the interior of Asia; and it is obvious
that those vast multitudes, if they had been united under
some able leader, who could compose or crush all domes¬
tic dissentions, might, in place of wasting their strength
in intestine strife, have directed it against the civilized
portion of the earth, where wealth presented a tempt¬
ing prize to barbarian cupidity; and, accordingly, this
was precisely the calamity by which mankind were at
length overtaken. The world was to be disturbed by a
conflict, not as heretofore between improved states, but
between barbarism and refinement. The question was
now to be decided, whether polished nations or barbarians
should rule the world; whether literature, science, the
-arts, the improved institutions, and the whole order of
civilized society, should be broken up and buried under
an overrunning flood of savage hostility. From the earliest
times the countries of Asia Minor, and some parts of
Europe, were subjected to the irruptions of barbarians;
but no permanent conquest was ever attempted, and the
invaders were in general quickly repelled. Asia Minor
was defended against the inroads of the Scythians by the
Persian monarch; and Rome, in the lion-like vigour of
her growing strength, quickly shook off such unequal ad¬
versaries. Whether, however, from the increasing popu¬
lation of the Asiatic plains, or from the greater political
union of the different tribes, those attacks were renewed
with more vigour than ever; and at times the mighty
mass of population over the whole breadth of the conti¬
nent seemed to be agitated by one movement; and, ac¬
cording as the impulse given was to the east or to the
west, the kingdoms of Europe or the empires of Hin-
dostan and China were swept by the tempest of invasion.
Those formidable expeditions were attended with vari¬
ous results. In those states which were vigorously ruled,
the discipline and tactics of civilized warriors proved an
overmatch for the untutored valour of barbarians. But,
on the other hand, when the people, enervated by ease
and luxury, neglected the study of war, and trusted for
safety to a mercenary force, the country was overwhelm¬
ed by its barbarian conquerors. The Chinese empire
was overturned about 200 years before the Christian
era, by an irruption of the Huns; the fertile countries on
the banks of the Oxus, and of the Jaxartes as far as the
Caspian Sea, which had attained to wealth and prosperity
under the Macedonian kings, and had ever since been
cultivated like a garden, were reduced by the white Huns,
1 A.
and under their sway Carisme, Buckharia, and Samarcand Asia,
became the seats of industry and of flourishing manufac-
tures, and the great marts of the Indian and European
commerce; while the Roman territory in the west was
repeatedly assailed, and finally overturned, by hosts of
barbarians, who had quitted the crowded plains of Asia in
quest of settlements to be won at the point of the sword.
It was about the middle of the 7th century that theMahome.
Mahometan power emerged from the Arabian deserts; tan power,
and the shepherds of those burning plains, inflamed by
religious enthusiasm and the love of plundef, were equally
formidable in war with their brethren of the north. Of
all the invaders who, in this unhappy period, desolated
the world, the Arabian tribes were the most fierce and
cruel. Their religion enjoined the blindest intolerance;
they were commanded to propagate their faith by the
sword; and it was accounted a merit in a true believer to
shed torrents of Christian blood. The track of Mahome¬
tan invasion was accordingly marked by the ruin of peace¬
ful cities and by unsparing slaughter. In the course of
two years the plain and valley of Syria was subdued by
the Arabs or Saracens, whose conquests were soon extend¬
ed over Asia Minor in the west and Persia in the east;
and the country of Transoxiana, or the fertile plains lying
on the Oxus and the Jaxartes, were, after several severe
battles, reduced under the power of the caliphs, whose
authority, a century after the flight of Mahomet from
Mecca in the year 662, extended in Asia about 200 days’
journey from east to west, from the confines of Tartary
and India to the shores of the Hellespont, and in Europe
as far west as the Atlantic Ocean.
The dominions of the Arabian princes, in their widest
extent, were divided into provinces, under subordinate go¬
vernors, who owned themselves the servants or slaves of the
caliph at Bagdad, their temporal as well as spiritual ruler.
In the decay of the supreme power, those rulers, under the
forms of the most abject submission, had acquired inde¬
pendence ; and the caliph remained at Bagdad the vain ob¬
ject of outward homage, whilehe was inwardly despised. The
Persian kingdom was also detached from their dominion,
being usurped by a new dynasty, and was extended from
the Caspian Sea to the ocean. This dynasty, as usually hap¬
pens in disorderly times, was supplanted by two families,
who, making a division of the kingdom, ruled, the one
over Khorassan, Seistan, the high plains of Balk on the
northern side of the great Himalaya ridge, and the coun¬
tries of Transoxiana, with the cities of Buckharia and Sa¬
marcand ; and the other over the southern provinces of
Persia, as far as the Persian Gulf, namely, Irak, Fars,
Kerman, Khusistan, and Laristan. These families appear
to have ruled in Persia for 125 years, namely, from 871)
to 999. They were overthrown by the Turkish princes
of the line of the Gaznevides, the founder of which was
Subuctageen or Sebectagi, who, from a common soldier,
rose to the rank of a petty prince, and fixed his residence
at Ghizni. His dominions consisted chiefly of the tract
of country which, after the division of Alexander's em¬
pire, composed the kingdom of Bactria, namely, the coun¬
tries lying between the Caspian Sea and the Indus, and
near the source of the Oxus. He invaded Hindostan,
subdued Northern India and the province of the Punjaub,
and rendered the princes of the countries tributary to the
princes of Ghizni.1 His son Mahmoud or Mahmud, who
reigned in Persia about 1000 years after the birth of
Christ, was still more famous for the extent of his con¬
quests. He had extended his empire northward by the
reduction of Buckharia; and he now determined, in the
1 Sir J. Malcolm’s History of Persia^ chap. vii.
A S
Asi true spirit of Mahometan intolerance, to wage a holy war
against the idolaters of Hindostan. At this period the
Mahometans had effected no permanent settlement in
Hindostan. The people were purely Hindoo, without
any admixture of foreign manners; and the whole coun¬
try along the east side of the Indus to Cashmere was
ruled by a prince of the Brahmin race, and between whom
and the kings of Delhi, Agimere, Canoge, and Callinger,
a confederacy was now formed against the common ene¬
my of their country and religion.1 Mahmoud entered
Hindostan in A. d. 1000, and having defeated the armies
of the confederate kings, he reduced the province of
Moultan. Eight years afterwards he penetrated into the
heart of India, where his farther progress was opposed by
the confederated princes of the country, from the Ganges
westward to the Neerbuddah. But the fanatical invader
was still victorious, and his progress was signalized by
rapine and slaughter. The idols were all broken to pieces,
the temples, many of them of the most beautiful architec¬
ture, were pulled down, and an immense spoil was carried
away. In the course of his twelve expeditions into India
Mahmoud extended his conquests to the Ganges; and
when he died in 1028, his territories were of great extent.
The annals of those disorderly times afford no very ac¬
curate data for ascertaining their exact limits, which are
variously stated by writers of great authority. According
to Major Rennel, the empire which he established com¬
prehended the eastern, and by much the largest part of
Persia, and extended nominally from the upper and west¬
ern course of the Ganges to the peninsula of Guzerat,
and from the Indus to the mountains of Agimere in
Northern India.2 Sir J. Malcolm assigns Georgia and
Bagdad for its limits on the west and south-west; Buck-
haria and Cashgar on the north and north-east; and
Bengal and the Deccan, as far as the Indian Ocean, to
the east and south-east. But though a large portion of
Hindostan was at this time overrun by the Mahometan
armies, it was only the Punjaub, or the country of the five
rivers, that was entirely reduced under any regular go¬
vernment, the other parts of the country being merely
i occupied by troops.
Turk!: The empire of Mahmoud declined after his death, owing
tribes., to divisions and civil wars, but chiefly to the rise of the
great Tartar or Turkish tribe of the Seljookee, so called
] from the name of their renowned chief Seljook, who, being
banished by his khan or chief from Turkestan, passed the
Jaxartes with his numerous followers, and settled in the
plains pf Buckharia, in the neighbourhood of Samarcand,
where he embraced the Mahometan religion. It is only
when those barbarous hordes emerge from the desert, and
i come into contact with civilized life, that we obtain any
i clear account of their migrations and history. Their con¬
tests with each other, and their obscure wanderings in the
! interior, are not chronicled among themselves, and are sel¬
dom known to other nations. Hence we have rarely any
clear data for tracing their origin, or their early conquests,
or the consolidation of many tribes into one great nation.
It is certain, however, that the vast population of Asia,
1 agitated by internal tempests, has been always violently
\ driven on the great empires of China and Hindostan, or
on those of Persia and Rome, and has either made a
breach, or, if repelled, has assailed the civilized world at
some other more vulnerable point. China has been in all
I A.
ages an object of attack; and it is generally believed that Asia,
the Turks, and especially that tribe of them under Seljook,
had been driven by the Chinese and a tribe of Tartars from
the high plains of Asia, a short time before they sought
refuge in the provinces of Transoxiana. They were living
near the territories of Buckharia when they first attracted
the notice of the Sultan Mahmoud, the founder of the
dynasty of the Gaznevides, who had advanced into Buck¬
haria with his army, and was so impressed with the fine
military qualities of their chief, the son of Seljook, that
he induced them to cross the Oxus and to occupy the
country of Khorassan.3 He had soon reason to repent of
this fatal error. Like all those wandering hordes, the
Turkmans or Turks were shepherds or robbers. They
either molested the neighbouring states by petty inroads,
or, with the whole united force of the nation, they prac¬
tised robbery on the great scale, seizing on kingdoms and
despoiling nations. The first emigration of these eastern
Turkmans is generally fixed in the 10th century. They
became formidable to Mahmoud, and more especially to
his successor Massoud, who, from inability to resist their
progress, was forced to grant them lands. He was after¬
wards defeated by them in a general battle ; and the vie-a. d. 1037.
torious Turks, under their leader Togrul Beg, whom they
had now elected king, invaded Khorassan, and finally ex¬
pelled the Gaznevides, the descendants of Mahmoud, from
the eastern provinces of Persia. They fled eastward
towards the Indus, and established the Ghiznian empire
in the south-western provinces of India. This empire was
maintained with various success till about the year 1184,
under the Ghiznian emperors.4 It is difficult to give any
accurate view of its limits, which in such turbulent times
would naturally vary with the fortune of war. They ap¬
pear to have embraced the eastern parts of Persia, the
mountain country of Cabul or Afghanistan, and the In¬
dian provinces of Lahore and Moultan. The Ghiznian
dynasty was superseded by that of the Afghan or the Pa-
tan emperors, who completed the conquest of the greatest
part of Hindostan Proper about the year 1210. Togrul
Beg hastened to improve his victory over the Persian
monarch. Turning his arms to the west, he invaded Irak,
in the centre of Persia, and advancing westward of the
Caspian Sea into Azerbijan, the ancient Media, he made
his first approaches to the confines of the Roman empire.
He afterwards proceeded to Bagdad, and by his conquest
of that place he gained possession of the person of the
caliph, who was treated with the most profound venera¬
tion. His successors Alp Arslan and Malek Shah ex¬
tended the empire transmitted to them by Togrul Beg.
They subdued the fairest portion of Asia. Jerusalem
and the Holy Land, which flourished under the mild
sway of the caliphs, was taken and pillaged by one of
the lieutenants of Malek Shah; and it was the vexa¬
tion and rapine to which the Christian pilgrims were ex¬
posed in their journey to Jerusalem under the barbarous
rule of the house of Seljook, that inflamed the indignation
of the Christian powers, and gave rise to those wild and
warlike expeditions for the recovery of the Holy Land,
known under the name of the Crusades. The empire of
the Seljookian Turks extended, under Malek Shah, from
Egypt and Syria to Buckharia, which he conquered as
far as Samarcand and Kharisme. He received homage
from the tribes beyond the Jaxartes, and compelled the
1 See Memoir of a Map of Hindostan, xliv. Major Rennet’s elaborate and masterly researches have thrown great light on the geo¬
graphy of this interesting portion of Asia.
* Major Kennel’s Memoir of a Map of Hindostan, xlvi.
3 De Guignes, Histoire Generate des Huns, des Turcs, &c. tome iii. livre 10.
4 Dow’s History of Hindostan, voL i. p. 142 ; Major Rennel’s Memoir of a Map of Hindostan, cxh.
688
ASIA.
Asia, sovereign of Cashgar to offer up public prayers for his
prosperity, to strike money in his name, and to pay him
an annual tribute.1
Internal From this period till the invasion of Zinghis or Gheng-
wars. his Khan, which is 110 years, namely, from 1092 to 1202,
Asia was convulsed by foreign and intestine wars. The
death of Malek Shah dissolved the unity of his exten¬
sive empire, in which three new dynasties arose; while
in many cases the provincial governors contended for su¬
preme authority, and harassed the country by their mu¬
tual wars. It was during this era of division and weakness
that Asia Minor, which was ruled by the dynasties of
Iconium and Aleppo, was invaded by the hosts of the Eu¬
ropean crusaders, who rapidly subdued the country, took
the holy city of Jerusalem, and extending their conquests
over the hills of Armenia and the plains of Mesopotamia,
founded the first principality of the Franks or Latins, which
subsisted 54 years, beyond the Euphrates. Those Euro¬
pean invaders retained possession of Asia Minor and of
Syria for nearly 200 years. Exhausted at length by a long
series of sanguinary services, and not receiving reinforce¬
ments from home, they were finally driven from all their
conquests by the coalition of the Turkish powers.
The Turkish dynasty of the Seljooks continued for 158
years, or 215 years if we reckon from the time that the
tribe first emerged from the desert under its leader Seljook.
The sultan of Carisme orKharisme, who ruled over the
country situated between the Oxus and the Jaxartes2 with
delegated authority, profiting by the distractions of the
neighbouring kingdoms, declared himself independent, and
invading Persia with a powerful force, he defeated and
slew the last of the Seljookian monarchs, and subdued the
greater portion of their dominions. He extended his in¬
roads over Syria, and had become the terror of the Ayou-
bite princes and the sultans of Iconium; and he finally
established his wide dominions from the Persian Gulf to
the borders of India and Turkestan.3
Zinghis The continued irruptions of those barbarous tribes into
Khan. the regions of civilization had given rise to scenes of ca¬
lamity and of revolution hitherto unequalled in the his¬
tory of the world. Conquests had no doubt been achiev¬
ed before by the warlike nations of antiquity, and the rage
of war had been satiated by the ruin of peaceful cities
and the massacre of the people. But these evils, great
as they were, fell far short of those inflicted on man¬
kind by the conquests of the pastoral tribes, which were
carried to such a height by Zinghis Khan and his de¬
stroying bands, as nearly to threaten the desolation of
the earth, and the extinction of all the arts, improve¬
ments, and civil institutions of society. This Tartar chief,
or savage, who was originally the khan of a horde of shep¬
herds, comprising 30,000 or 40,000 families, inhabiting the
countries to the north of China, seems, about the beginning
of the 13th century, to have united under his sway all the
other tribes which, under the various designations of Huns,
Turks, Moguls, or Tartars^y^der on the spacious high
lands and plains of Asia^etWen China, Siberia, and the
Caspian Sea. He became, to use the expressive language
of the great Roman historian, “ the monarch of the pas¬
toral world, the lord of many millions of shepherds and
soldiers, who felt their united strength, and were impatient
to rush on the mild and wealthy climates of the south.”
This great conqueror swept over the whole breadth of the
earth with his barbarian hordes. Art and nature were
found alike unequal to stay his destructive course. He
traversed mountains and rivers, barren deserts and un¬
healthy climates, with resistless speed; and he oppress¬
ed the walled towns by his countless multitudes. The
Chinese were the first enemies with whom, after quitting
the desert, he measured his strength. His innumerable
squadrons penetrated at all points the feeble rampart of
the great wall. Ninety-six cities were plundered and
destroyed, and the smaller towns and villages were reduced
to ashes; the aged were given up to the destroying sword;
a prodigious multitude of childern were carried away, who
were afterwards massacred in the march homeward; be¬
sides a rich spoil in gold, silver, silk, and cattle.4 In a
second expedition he was equally successful; the empe¬
ror fled before his enemies to a more southern residence;
Yenking or Peking was taken and burnt; and, through
the weakness and division of the Chinese councils, the five
northern provinces of the empire were reduced under
the dominion of the Moguls.5 The invincible arms of
Zinghis were now turned against the sultan of Carisme
or Kharisme, who, as has been already mentioned, ruled
over the fertile countries situated between the Oxus and
the Jaxartes, and had extended his conquests over a great
part of Persia. At this period his territories contained the
flourishing and commercial cities of Samarcand, Buck-
haria, Carisme, Herat, Balk, &c. His troops were over¬
powered in a bloody conflict with the Tartar host, the
country was subdued, and the rights of conquest were
as usual most savagely abused. The open country was
desolated; the rich cities plundered, and the inhabitants
either slaughtered or carried into captivity; and in some
cases every thing that had life, with the city itself, was
destroyed. The cities that perished in this general ruin
were, Buckharia, situated on a branch of the Jaxartes, a
populous city, the centre of an extensive commerce, and
the seat of science and religion; Otrar; Cojend, on the
Oxus; Samarcand, situated near the source of the same
river as Buckharia; Carisme, where 100,000 men were
massacred, and the surviving population reduced to sla¬
very ; Balk, on the Upper Jaxartes, which contained 200
splendid mosques, and a numerous population ; Nisabaur;
Herat, in Khorassan; Candahar,farther east;besides nu¬
merous other smaller towns and villages. All that tract
of country which extends from the Caspian Sea to the
Indus, comprehending the ancient territories of Transoxi-
ana, Carisme, and Khorassan, and which was fertile, popu¬
lous, and well cultivated, was entirely ruined by this irrup¬
tion of the Tartars, so that, to use the words of the Roman
historian, “ five centuries have not been sufficient to re¬
pair the ravages of four years.” The conquests of Zinghis,
before his death, extended west from the Indus to theA. n. 1227
Euxine, from the Pacific Ocean to the Volga, and from
the Persian Gulf to the confines of Siberia.
The children of Zinghis, who succeeded him, completed
the career of conquest which he had begun. China, divid¬
ed at that time into the two dynasties or empires of the
north and south, was subdued and laid waste by his grand¬
son Cublai, with all the unrelenting cruelty of a Tartar
conqueror; and he extended his influence and the terror
of his arms over the circumjacent kingdoms of Corea, Ton-
Asia. i js
1 13 Herbelot; De Guignes, Hittoire cles Huns, tome iii. livre 14.
,3 ^?e Guignes, in his learned und laborious work Histoire des Huns, gives a very clear narrative of the situation and boundaries of
15^rnffdom, and ot its final ruin by the invasion of Zinghis Khan. The fate of the sultan, formerly a conqueror, who, flying from
the 1 ai tar horse, took refuge in an isle in the Caspian Sea, where he requested a horse might be allowed to feed near his tent, as the
companion of his solitude, and his solace in adversity, is particularly touching. See tome iii. livre 14.
Be Guignes, Histoire des Huns, tome iii. livre 10. 4 Ibid, tome iv. livre 15. 6 Gibbon, vol. xi. chap. 64.
ASIA.
Asi: quin, Cochin-China, Pegu, Bengal, and Thibet. A new
dynasty of Mogul princes wa-s established in China, under
whose sway the country gradually settled ; and in the suc¬
ceeding generation the habits of the invaders were molli¬
fied by the influence of civilized life. Letters, commerce,
and the arts of peace were revived, and the ancient system
and machine of Chinese manners and policy resumed its ac¬
customed action. One hundred and forty years after the
death ofZinghis, his degenerate race were expelled by a
revolt of the Chinese, and the native dynasty of princes,
namely, that of Ming, was elevated to the vacant throne.’
Persia was overwhelmed by the invasion of the Tartar
armies under Holagou Khan, the grandson of Zinghis.
The princes who ruled in the different districts of the
country, under the titles of sultans, emirs, and attabeks,
were successively crushed under this great conqueror,
who, advancing to the Euphrates, stormed and destroyed
K. D. 112. the city of Bagdad, put the caliph to death, and thus for
ever extinguished the line of the Abassides. Syria was
overflowed by the torrent of invasion; Damascus and
Aleppo were given up to pillage j1 the kingdoms of Ar¬
menia and Anatolia were overthrown; and the sultans of
Iconium, the last remnant of the Seljookian dynasty, were
extirpated by the armies of Holagou.
The descendants of Zinghis had no sooner subverted
the empire of China, than they resolved on the conquest
of the western world; and collecting a mighty host, they
advanced from China to Europe, inundating the interven¬
ing space with their innumerable hordes, and extirpating
the reigning powers in Turkestan, Tartary, and the north¬
ern plains of Asia. They penetrated into Europe with
their victorious armies, of which detachments were sent
northward to contend with the Russian princes for the
frozen regions of Siberia. The unity of the Mogul em¬
pire, so firmly maintained by Zinghis Khan, was weakened
by the extent of its conquests. According to its original
constitution, all the other khans were the dependents or
vassals of the great khan, under whose investiture they
held their authority. But by distance, and the various
mutations of time, those ties of allegiance were gradually
loosened. The different branches of the Mogul family
conformed, from policy or conviction, to the religion of
the conquered countries, those who ruled in China to
the idolatry of the Chinese, and the invaders of the Mos¬
lem territories to the Mahometan faith ; and from this di¬
versity of religion and manners divisions arose, which ter¬
minated in a lasting disunion. From a. d. 1240 till the
rise of Jimour or Tamerlane, about the year 1360, the
Mogul power in Western Asia was shaken by intestine
strife; and a crowd of emirs, sultans, and petty rulers
contended, in incessant wars, for the fragments of the bro¬
ken empire; while such of the Moslem potentates as sur¬
vived the invasion of Zinghis, still maintained, by their
valour, the balance of power in Syria against their Tartar
enemies. Ihe Ottoman line of princes, the permanent
rulers of the country, were in the mean time slowly
emerging into view. Amid the anarchy which reigned in
Western Asia from the downfal of independent powers,
and the rise of usurpers in their place, the country
swarmed with a warlike population, with loose disbanded
soldiers, and adventurers of every description. Among
these were many of the Turkman hordes who had form¬
erly pitched their tents on the southern banks of the
Cxus, and the khan of one of those obscure tribes was
the father of the Ottoman dynasty. Othman was the
first of this line who, about the year 1326, by his con¬
quests, laid the foundation of the Turkish empire, which
has ever since continued to rule in Syria and Asia
Minor. About the year 1400 the Turks, under Bajazet,
had acquired an extensive empire, the glory of which was
for a time obscured by the conquests of Timour the Tar¬
tar, or 1 amerlane, who began to acquire renown by his
early conquests in Eastern Turkestan, or Transoxiana,
about the year 1360, when he subdued the kingdom of
Cashgar, and carr.ed his conquests 480 leagues to the
north-east of Samarcand.2 He finally extended his domi¬
nion to the Irtisch and the Volga; and in 1398, having
previously reduced the Punjaub and the province of Moul-
tan, he advanced across the intervening desert to Delhi,
which submitted to his arms, and was abandoned to pil¬
lage. He proceeded eastward towards the sources of
the Ganges in a crusade against the idolatry of the Hin¬
doos, who were massacred without pity; and, after an ex¬
pedition of five months, he finally retraced his steps to
Samarcand, without effecting any permanent conquest.
In the western countries of Asia he encamped and over¬
threw the rising power of the Turks under Bajazet, and
extended his conquests over Syria and Asia Minor, giv¬
ing over its flourishing cities, such as Aleppo, Damascus,
Smyrna, &c. to the sword and the flame. The rise and
progress of this great Tartar chief, and his rapid suc¬
cesses, rivalled those of Zinghis himself; but they were
not on the same vast scale, nor had they such lasting
effects. The kingdoms which were conquered by Zin¬
ghis were colonized by his soldiers and inherited by his
children ; but Tamerlane’s conquests were more like pre-
689
datory inroads; and though for the time he subverted
Asia.
the existing order of things, and trampled in the dust the
princedoms and powers of the country, yet, as the flood
of his invasion receded, those powers quickly resumed
their sway. In Asia Minor the Ottomans speedily regain¬
ed their ascendancy on the ruins of the Greek power.
They reared up, in the middle of the 15th century, the
permanent fabric of their empire. Towards the end of
the same century Persia was, by a singular revolution,
transferred from the Tartar chiefs to the dynasty of Sef-
fanean kings, or saints as they were considered before
their elevation to the throne. Under their rule the coun¬
try continued without any material change, until it was
invaded in 1722, and conquered by Mahmood, the first
of the Afghan rulers of Persia. The independence of
Persia was vindicated by the rise of the celebrated usurper
Nadir Shah, who, ascending the throne about the year
1730, quelled all internal dissensions, and re-established
the Persian empire in its ancient greatness and glory.
He restrained the Turks within the western boundary of
the Euphrates; on the north he extended his dominions
to the Gxus, and awed by the terror of his arms the
Usbecs, and other wandering tribes of the desert; and
on the east he conquered Hindostan, which he plundered
of its wealth, and fixed the Indus as the boundary of his
empire. Under his successors Persia has decreased in
extent of territory and in power, but has not been sub¬
jected to any violent revolution, and still continues one
of the independent though declining empires of the east.
In 1747 the Afghans, under the new dynasty of the Doo-
rannee kings, resumed their independence, which they
still retain. Their kingdom is bounded on the east by
the Indus, and on the west by Persia, or by intervening
deserts.
In Hindostan the influence of the Mahometan con-Hindostan.
querors, which was firmly established in 1210, was gra-
* fiomrnesi” says De Guignes (tome iv. livre 17), “ les femmes, et meme les enfans a la mammelle, furent egorgds.”
* Gibbon, vol. xii. chap. 65.
VOL. Ill, 4, <j
dually extended over the southern provinces, amid rebel¬
lion and massacre. The uncertain dominion of the coun¬
try appears to have been shared among a crowd of tri¬
butary princes, who, from their intestine quarrels, be¬
came an easy prey to the invader. Delhi was the capi¬
tal of the Mahometans; and their conquests were ex¬
tended over Malwah, the Deccan (by which we mean the
country between the Nerbuddah and the Krisna ri¬
vers) and the Carnatic, which was ravaged from sea to
sea. The invasion, or rather the predatory inroad of Ti-
mour in 1398, did not subvert the Mahometan dynasty,
which terminated in 1413 by the death of the monarch.
The throne was then filled by a Seid, e. one of the race
of Mahomet, whose posterity enjoyed it till the year 1450,
when an Afghan took possession of it, and all Hindostan
was divided into separate governments. After an inter¬
val of reviving prosperity, the empire, about the year
1516, fell again into utter confusion, which paved the way
for the conquest of the country by Sultan Baber, a de¬
scendant of Tamerlane and of Zinghis Khan, who being
driven from the provinces situated between the Indus
and Samarcand, over which he reigned, determined to
try his fortune in India. He crossed the Indus in 1518,
and having defeated the emperor of Delhi, he establish¬
ed the dynasty of Timur, or the Mogul line as it has been
termed, which was illustrated by two of the greatest
princes that ever reigned in India, namely, ls£, Acbar,
who, from 1555, reigned 51 years, and subjected to his
sway all the provinces that had revolted, from Agi-
mere to Bengal; and, 2dly, by Aurungzebe, who, after
the interval of anarchy that continued for 50 years on
the death of Acbar, ascended the throne in 1660, and
died in 1707, in the 90th year of his age. In this reign
the dominion of the Moguls was extended over the Dec-
can, the whole of which, excepting only the mountainous
and inaccessible parts, was either entirely subjected, or
rendered tributary to the court of Delhi.1 His authority
reached from the 10th to the 35th degree of latitude,
and to nearly the same extent in longitude; and his
revenue amounted to 32 millions sterling. The Mo¬
gul empire gradually fell to pieces under a succession
of feeble princes; and about the year 1750 it was re¬
duced to the city of Delhi, and a small tract of adjacent
territory. The last imperial army that ever appeared in
the field was defeated by the Rohillas in 1749; and du¬
ring this period the whole country was one scene of com¬
motion, all the viceroys and petty feudatories of the Del¬
hi sovereigns,—the various mountain tribes, such as the
Rajpoots, who ruled in Agimere,—the Seiks, who had be¬
come formidable, and had established themselves in La¬
hore,—and the Jats, a tribe also in the north of India,—con¬
tending in arms for independence. Nothing remains of
Mogul greatness but the name, which was, and is still,
used as the symbol of sovereignty, and the sanction of
all political and civil rights.
The decline of the Mogul empire paved the way for
the rise of the Mahratta power, which had already be¬
come formidable hi India under its founder Sevajee. At
his death in 1680 he had acquired considerable dominion
on the western coast of India. The confusion and anar¬
chy that followed the death of Aurungzebe greatly facili¬
tated the Mahratta conquests; and in 1740 this growing
empire, which was divided between two chiefs, the one
residing at Poonah in the west, and the other at Nagpoor
in the east, occupied the whole track from the western
sea to Orissa, and from Agra to the Carnatic.2 The
Mahrattas, thus daily gathering strength, and the Ma- Ask
hometans, were now the two great rival powers in Hin-
dostan. The contest between them was brought to an
issue in the memorable battle of Paniput in 1761, when
the Mahratta host of 200,000 men was entirely over¬
thrown, with the loss of the greater part of their army, and
their best generals ; and from that fatal day their power
began to decline.
The rise of the British power forms an important eraRiseoftj
in the history'of India. The unwarlike inhabitants ofBritish
Hindostan, successively subdued by the Greek, the Ma-P°"’er.
hometan, and the Tartar armies, were now destined even
more surely to fall under the science and discipline of
Europe. The French maintained their ground in India
only for the short period of 12 years, from 1749 to 1761.
The British, who engaged about the same time in the
wars and politics of India, were more successful. The
battle of Plassy, in 1757, fought with Surajah Dowlah,
nabob of Bengal, gave them a firm footing in the country.
The war which followed terminated in their favour; and
in 1765 they acquired the right of collecting the revenues
of Bengal, which was in fact the sovereignty of the coun¬
try. The jealousies of the native powers, excited by
the encroachments of the Europeans, gave rise to new
contests. But victory was still the result of each new
struggle ; and all the wars undertaken against the British
only tended to consolidate and extend their empire. The
long and memorable struggle with Hyder AH and his son
Tippoo, who ruled in Mysore, terminated in their entire
overthrow in 1799, and in the capture of Seringapatam,
the. capital of the kingdom. The peace of India, which
was re-established by this decisive success, was not, how¬
ever, of long duration. The British were regarded by the
native princes as the common enemies of Indian inde¬
pendence. They were alarmed by their growing power,
and they naturally united with each other against them.
The British, on the other hand, viewed with equal jea¬
lousy the hostile dispositions of the native princes. They
foresaw that a struggle would take -place for the dominion
of India, and they made suitable preparations for the im¬
pending crisis. A combination of the Mahratta chiefs Scin-
diah and the rajah of Berar was overthrown by the skil¬
ful and vigorous movements of Sir A. Wellesley. Holkar,
who rashly measured his strength with the British, was
also overthrown, and peace was re established. In 1817,
when the British were prosecuting the war against the
Pindarees, the Mahratta powers formed a new coalition,
and took the field in great force. They were separately
overthrown : the Peshwa, the head of the Mahratta states,
was deprived of his throne, and his territories placed un¬
der the administration of the British. The rajah of Nag¬
poor was also driven from his dominions ; and Holkar was
again humbled, and deprived of his rank as an independ¬
ent prince. This was the last expiring effort of Indian
independence, by which the struggle was closed, and the
dominion of the British firmly established, from Cape
Comorin to the Himalaya Mountains.
Amid those revolutions, of which we have attempted to Different
give a brief sketch, it is not surprising that some of the Asiatic
most ancient empires of Asia should have entirely disap-raus‘
peared; that populous cities should have fallen into de¬
cay and ruin ; and that extensive countries, once the seats
of wealth, commerce, and science, should now lie deso¬
late. The Babylonians and Assyrians have been long
blotted out of the page of history; and no traces of them
remain in the population of the world. The kingdom of
1 Dow’s History of Hindostan, vol. ii.; Major Itennel, Memoir of a Mop of Hindostan, Introduction, Ixi.
2 Major Itennel, Introduction, Ixxxv.
A S
Athe Jews has also been overthrown; but this ancient race
are still wanderers on the face of the earth, and are found
in most parts of Asia. There are other five principal
races, who, it is remarked by Sir W. Jones, have in dif¬
ferent ages divided among themselves as a kind of in¬
heritance, and who still occupy, the vast continent of Asia,
with the many islands depending on it. These are the
Hindoos, the Chinese, the Tartars, the Arabs, and the
Persians. The origin of those different races is a curious
subjectof inquiry, and must be sought for in the remotest
antiquity, and from the doubtful analogies supplied by re¬
ligion, manners, and language. Sir W. Jones, who has so
well illustrated many obscure points of ancient history, is
of opinion that Persia was the original seat of mankind,
from which, as from a common centre, they have gra¬
dually spread over the earth. According to his learned
hypothesis, deduced from ancient works and an exa¬
mination of the primitive languages, a flourishing empire
was established in Persia or Iran, in the earliest dawn of
history; and the population consisted of the three dis¬
tinct races of Hindoos, Arabs, and Tartars. About the
era of Mahomet, it appears that, besides the language
in common use, the learned had a language of their own,
which had the name of the Pahlavi; and there was the still
more ancient and abstruse language of the Zend, in which
some sacred books were written, only known to a sect of
priests and philosophers. The Pahlavi he clearly proves
to be of Chaldaic origin, and the Zend, from an imper¬
fect vocabulary which he procured, to be a dialect of the
Sanscrit, the ancient and learned tongue of the Brahmins
in India. Having thus ascertained the analogy between
the language of the ancient Persians and that of the Arabs
and the Hindoos, he concludes that they must have ori¬
ginally been the same nation; and that, as Persia could
not be peopled from the east by the Hindoos, whose re¬
ligion forbids them to emigrate, nor by the Arabs from
the west, as we have not the slightest^tradition of any
such emigration, both Arabs and Hindoos must have come
from Persia, since we may still trace in this country the
remains of their respective tongues, all of which appear
to have been derived from one common and more an¬
cient root.
The people of Thibet are descended from the Hindoos,
and, according to the hypothesis of Sir W. Jones, wdio
on all those subjects unites solid reasoning with the most
profound learning, have engrafted the heresies of Buddha
on their ancient religion. Their language, though it has
been corrupted by an intercourse with the Chinese, still
bears the traces of a Sanscrit origin. The Afghans or
Patans, who occupy Afghanistan, between Persia and
Hindostan, are said to have sprung originally from the
Jews; and their language, which is derived from the an¬
cient Chaldee, so far confirms this tradition. The Japa¬
nese and the Chinese are evidently derived from a com¬
mon stock, their literature, religion, and manners being
the same. The Burmese are considered, on the best evi¬
dence, to belong to the Hindoo race, though others give
them a Tartar origin.
The Tartars, under which appellation we include the
hordes of shepherds who range over the vast plains of
Asia, under the names of Scythians, Huns, Mongols, and
Kalmucs, differ entirely from the Hindoos and Arabs in
1 A- G91
features, complexion, and form, as well as in manners and Asia,
language, and appear evidently to be a distinct race, —'
I heir language, which is the Turci or the Turki, of which
the modern Turkish is a dialect, might, according to Sir
W. Jones, be easily traced to a different root from the
others. This ancient Tartarian language he mentions,
on grounds which it would not be easy to disprove, was
current in Persia at a very early age; and hence he con¬
cludes that the Tartars formed part of the ancient popu¬
lation of Persia, and, along with the other two races, issued
from that country to occupy the deserts of Asia. The Chi¬
nese, according to the same learned author, whose opinion
is founded on the Sanscrit institutes of Menu, were ori¬
ginally a military tribe of the Hindoos, who, abandoning
the ordinances of the Brahmin religion, and living in a
state of degradation, emigrated eastward, and occupying
the countries bordering on Hindostan, laid the foundation
of the Chinese empire. But the whole country has been
since overrun and conquered by hordes of Tartars; and
from the intermixture of those two races have sprung the
modern Chinese, wdiose coarse, broad, and Tartar-like phy¬
siognomy bears no longer the traces of their Hindoo an¬
cestors.
We have no sure data to determine from what country
the population of the world at first proceeded; and most of
the theories on this subject rest chiefly on the doubtful
analogies of language, or on other evidence equally un¬
certain. It is the opinion of many learned inquirers that
the Chinese are not Hindoos; but that they, along with
all the inhabitants of Eastern Asia, are originally a Tar¬
tar race. This opinion is founded on the usual evidence
of a common origin, namely, a resemblance in features,
language, and customs. Dr F. Buchanan, who travelled
into the Burmese country, and has furnished some inte¬
resting information respecting this people, observes, that
“ there is one very extensive nation which inhabits the
east of Asia, and that it includes the Eastern and West¬
ern Tartars of the Chinese authors, the Kalmucs, the
Chinese, the Japanese, and other tribes inhabiting what
is called the peninsula of India beyond the Ganges, and
the islands to the south and east of this, as far at least as
New Guinea.” The features and figure of all those dif¬
ferent nations which he describes indicate a Tartar ori¬
gin. They are in stature short, squat, and robust; their
face is sharpened towards the mouth and chin, while at
the cheek-bones it is very broad. Eyebrows that scarcely
project; narrow eyes, placed rather obliquely in the head;
a very small nose, with the apertures of the nostril nearly
circular; harsh, lank, and black hair, complete the por¬
trait of a Tartar face. By such features they have been
distinguished in all ages. The ancient writers, in describ¬
ing the barbarians who invaded the Roman empire, par¬
ticularly mention their small twinkling eyes, punctured
as it were in their heads; their broad shoulders, short
stature, and their shrill voices, which is not mentioned
by Dr Buchanan as characteristic of the inhabitants of
Eastern Asia.1 There seems no reason to question those
strong evidences of a Tartar origin ; and admitting so far
the theory of Sir W. Jones, that the Chinese were ori¬
ginally descended from a tribe of Hindoos, they appear
in the course of ages to have lost all traces of that ancient
race.
1 Ammianus Marcellinus speaks of their firm and compactly built limbs, their thick necks, their large and bent figures ; and, in a
tone of exaggeration, compares them to two-legged brutes, or to the rude figures which were placed by the Romans at the end of
bridges. He mentions also the practice which prevailed among them of rooting out the hairs of their beard. “ Ubi quoniam ab ipsis
nascendi primitis infantum ferro sulcantur altius gense, ut pilorum vigor tempestivus emergens corrugatis cicatricibus hebetetur, se-
nescunt imberbes absque ulla venustate, spadonibus similes ; compactis omnes firmisque membris, et opimis cervicibus ; prodigiosae
formae etpandi, ut bipedes existimes bestias, vel quales in commarginandis pontibus effigiati stipites dolantur incompte. {Amm. Marcell.
lib. xxxi. cap. ii.)
692
ASIA.
Asia.
The tribes who inhabit the great Asiatic archipelago,
which extends from Madagascar to the Philippines and
the neighbouring peninsula of Malacca, bear in their fea¬
tures, language, and customs the undoubted marks of the
same origin; and as the Sanscrit may be traced as the
root of all the various dialects spoken in these islands,
they appear to be descended from the Hindoos. But
in the lapse of ages, and in the various chances of war
or migration, different nations may be intermingled; the
original traits by which each was distinguished will then
gradually disappear, so that it may not be possible to dis¬
cern the traces of a common origin in the varieties of the
same race. Like the Chinese, therefore, the inhabitants
of the great Arabic archipelago may have come originally
from Hindostan, bringing with them the Sanscrit tongue ;
and in the course of migration or conquest they may
have acquired the features of the Tartars, without losing
their native language. Sir Stamford Raffles, not less
distinguished by his eminence in eastern literature and
antiquities than as a legislator and a statesman, is of
opinion that the Asiatic islands were peopled from that
portion of the continent which lies between Siam and
China. “ The less civilized of the tribes,” he observes,
“ inhabiting the islands, approach so nearly in physical
appearance to that portion of the inhabitants of the pe¬
ninsula which has felt least of the Chinese influence on
the one side, and of the Burman and Siamese on the other,
and exhibit so striking an affinity in their usages and cus¬
toms, as to warrant the hypothesis, that the tide of popu¬
lation originally flowed toward the islands from that quar¬
ter of the continent lying between Siam and China. But
at what era this migration commenced—whether, in the
first instance, it was purely accidental, and subsequently
gradual, or whether originally it was undertaken from de¬
sign, and accelerated at any particular periods by political
convulsions on the continent, we cannot at present deter¬
mine, as we have no data on which to rely with confidence.
It is probable, however, that these islands were peopled at a
very remote period, and long before the Burman and Sia¬
mese nations rose into notice.”1 Mr J. Crauford, who re¬
sided for nine years in the Asiatic islands, and whose his¬
tory of those countries displays extensive research, and a
profound knowledge of eastern literature and antiquities,
adopts a different hypothesis respecting the original po¬
pulation of the Indian archipelago. He describes the ori¬
ginal inhabitants to consist of two races, one a brown-
complexioned people, with lank hair, and in their persons
short, squat, and robust, supposed by other writers to be
Tartars; and the other, a negro race, of a puny stature
and feeble frame, in complexion black, or rather sooty-
coloured, with woolly or frizzled hair. The brown-colour¬
ed race compose the civilized portion of the people; and
they have supplanted the negroes, who are constantly
found in a savage state in Sumatra, Java, and Celebes,
where civilization has made the greatest progress; while
in New Guinea and other islands the negroes are almost
the sole inhabitants. The origin of these two races, and
the period when they settled in the Asiatic islands, is, ac¬
cording to Mr Crauford, buried in the remotest antiquity.
The Tartar origin of the one race, though supported by
many writers of learning, and the African origin of the ne¬
groes, is treated by him as absurd and unfounded. “ Either
hypothesis,” he observes, “ is too absurd to bear the slight¬
est touch of examination. Not to say that each race is ra¬
dically distinct from the stock from which it is imagined to
have proceeded ; the physical state of the globe, the na¬
ture of man, and all that we know of his history, must be
overturned to render these violent suppositions possible.”
Dr F. Buchanan, Sir Stamford Raffles, and others, deduced
the Tartar origin of those insular tribes from their form and
features, which is the best evidence we can have where
history is silent. The prevalence of the Sanscrit lan¬
guage in these islands has also, and with apparently some
reason, been supposed to indicate the quarter from which
the tide of population flowed; nor is it easy to see how
the migration of a people from the continent of Asia into
this archipelago is at variance with the “ physical state
of the globe, the nature of man, and all that we know of
his history.” Mr Crauford traces the various languages
of the Asiatic islands to one common root. From this
fact he concludes those islanders to have all sprung from
one source, and he fixes on Java as their original place of
settlement. Here he supposes they took up their abode
when they were little better than wandering savages;
whence they gradually spread over the other islands.
Now it is on the same ground that others trace their ori¬
gin to some continental nation of great antiquity. The
language of a nation may throw light on its origin and
its subsequent migrations; and in the present case it is
admitted by Mr Crauford that there is a large infusion
of Sanscrit in all the Polynesian tongues; that it is “ a
more essential, necessary, and copious portion of the in¬
sular languages than Arabic ;” that it exists in “ a state
of as great purity as the articulation and alphabets of the
archipelago would admit, nearly unmixed with any mo¬
dern dialect of which it is a part, and apparently in a
state of original purityand that it is “ pure and abundant
as each dialect of the same tongue is improved, and rare
and corrupt as the language i& common and popular.”2
Sanscrit words, according to those who. are versed in both
languages, abound in the court dialect of Java in the pro¬
portion of three to four, and seem ±o constitute its basis;
in the Kami, or learned language of the priests, they
occur still more frequently, and in their original purity;
they are also common in the written language, and are
found, though not so generally, in the ordinary dialect of
the people. The existence of Sanscrit to such an extent
in the languages of Java and the other islands, does not,
according to Mr Crauford, prove that these islands were
peopled by emigrants from Hindostan. He acknowledges
that the fact of the Sanscrit not being mixed in their lan¬
guages with any' living dialect of India, is somewhat puzz¬
ling, and not easily reconciled to his theory; but on
farther consideration, he thinks this fact tends rather to
explain the manner in which it was introduced, which he
ascribes to a few Hindoo missionaries or priests brought to
those islands from a desire to propagate their religion. They
would naturally, he supposes, use the Sanscrit in teaching
the mysteries of their faith, which, being mixed with the
common language of the country, would form the Kami or
learned language of the priests, and would thence be dif¬
fused in a corrupted state over the common dialect of
the people. From the prevalence of Sanscrit to such an
extent in the Polynesian dialects, as well as from the
ancient monuments of Hindoo idolatry which are found
everywhere in those islands, it seems highly probable
that they must, at a very early period, have been the seat
of a Hindoo empire, which has disappeared in the lapse
of ages, while the Hindoo superstition has been supplant¬
ed by the Mahometan creed. Whether this empire was
established by conquest in that early period, while the
Sanscrit was yet a living language, or whether the Hin-
Asia, i If
ff
Sir S. Raffles’ History of Java, chap. ii.
History of the Indian Archipelago, by John Crauford, F. R. S., vol. ii. chap. v.
A S
As. doos were the original settlers in these islands, and after-
wards, from the intermixture of other races, lost the traces
of their ancient lineage, are points which lie hid in the
darkness of antiquity. It does not seem very credible,
however, that a small number of Hindoo missionaries should
have had influence, as Mr Crauford supposes, to change
the language of the people, and to substitute for the an¬
cient religion of the country their own foreign supersti¬
tions. So great a change seems more probably to have
been produced by foreign conquest, or by a large emigra¬
tion of the Hindoo people.
The ?> Of the various races which people those islands, the
lays. Malays appear to deserve particular notice. Sir W. Jones
supposes them to be descended, since the time of Maho¬
met, from the Arabian traders and mariners who frequent¬
ed the Asiatic archipelago. But by later and more ac¬
curate inquiries they are now ascertained to have been
originally settled in Menangkabau, in the centre of the
island of Sumatra, and to have ruled over the whole
country, from which they sent out colonies to the other
islands. The Malayan annals examined by Mr Marsden,1
and other documents, satisfactorily prove that, so far
from emigrating, as was generally supposed, from the
peninsula of Malacca to the Asiatic islands, they were ori¬
ginal settlers in Sumatra, from which they issued to in¬
vade and conquer the Malacca peninsula; and they had es¬
tablished a powerful empire prior to the Mahometan con¬
quests. The Malays profess the Moslem creed, which was
introduced about the end of the thirteenth century, and
has made rapid progress among all those islanders. But
their original religion was that of Brahma, blended with
the antecedent rude idolatry of the country, such as is
still seen among the Battas. The Malay adventurers who
invaded the Malacca peninsula in the 12th century con¬
quered the country; and the indigenous inhabitants, so far
from being the stock from which the Malays have sprung,
are an entirely different race, resembling more nearly the
negroes of Africa. The Malayan empire, which extended
all over Sumatra, is now dismembered, though its colonies
have been found on the coasts of the Malacca peninsula,
and throughout the islands as far east as the Moluccas.2
The Malayan language is spoken without any mixture in
the inland country of Sumatra; it is understood every¬
where, and has extended over all the eastern islands.
The Bugis in the island of Celebes are a well-known race
in the eastern archipelago. During the flourishing era
of the Malayan empire in Sumatra they had establish¬
ed that of Guah or Mengkasar in Celebes on the east:
like the Malays, they sent forth numerous colonies; and
at one period extended their conquests as far west as
Acheen in Sumatra and Keddan in the Malayan penin¬
sula; and in almost every part of the archipelago Malayan
and Bugis settlers are to be found. In all those Asiatic
islands there is, however, an indigenous race, who were
settled there prior to the Malays or the Bugis; and these
last appear to have been intruders, but at what period of
the world cannot now be known. The native inhabitants
of Sumatra, Java, and the other islands, differ from them in
character, habits, and features. The Battas, in the inte¬
rior of Sumatra, are a distinct people, with their own pe¬
culiar habits and language: they have been reproached
by travellers for eating human flesh, of which Sir Stam-
I A.
693
Asia.
ford Raffles produces undeniable evidence. The natives
ot Java are a quiet, contented race, attached to the soil, ' r  
and have not the roving, maritime, and piratical habits of
the Malays.
hn^n1 re/frd,t0 the nurnber of inhabitants in Asia, we Number of
have no data for any accurate estimate. The Asiatics inhabit-
possess no statistical knowledge; and, excepting surveysants'
instituted by government for the purposes of taxation, no
• other political inquiries are ever set on foot by authority.
The various accounts of the Chinese population differ to
the extent of 100,000,000. Those regarding Persia, Hin-
dostan, the Asiatic islands, &c. are little more to be de¬
pended on; and still less can we expect any accurate cen¬
sus of the roving population of Arabia or Tartary.
The character of the Asiatics is represented in a very Character
unfavourable light by all travellers. Lieutenant Pottinger,and man-
who travelled in Hindostan, Persia, and other countries, ners of the
asserts that moral turpitude may be said to pervade the 4siatic na*
population and society of every nation in Asia of which tions‘
we have the slightest knowledge :3 and this description is
confirmed by other travellers, who describe the people to
be dissolute in their morals, of cold and selfish disposi¬
tions, and withal cruel and treacherous; without any re¬
gal d to truth, and indulging, without either restraint or
shame, in the most scandalous crimes. Of all the nations
in Asia the Persians are reckoned to be the most refined;
and yet, according to Herbert, Chardin, and others, and’
more recently Fraser, Pottinger, and Sir J. Malcolm, they
are stained with all the Asiatic vices of cruelty, meanness,
lying, and the grossest licentiousness.4 The Hindoos do
not rank higher than the Persians in the scale of morality;
and among the Burmese and other eastern states the treat¬
ment of women, who are held to be an inferior class, and
are sold into slavery by their husbands and parents, and
the cruelties which they commit in war, besides other
revolting customs, indicate a state of manners which, con¬
trasted with those of Europe, may be justly considered
barbarous.5 Of the low state of morals among the Chinese
we need seek no other evidence than the inhuman prac¬
tice, which is known to prevail in all the populous cities,
of exposing new-born children to perish on the streets.
There is no truer mark of barbarism than an indifference
to the sufferings of our fellow-creatures; as on the other
hand it is only in a highly civilized community that man is
trained to the exercise of social benevolence. The savage
is always found to be cold, unsocial, and selfish: in the
progress of society this selfish principle is corrected; man
is impressed with the duties which he owes to his fellow-
men, and is taught to know experimentally, that it is not
in the selfish pursuit of his own good, but in the mutual
interchange of benefits, that the greatest sum of individual
happiness is to be found. If we examine the manners, in¬
stitutions, and policy of different nations, it will be seen
that mankind are humane and moral exactly as they are in¬
structed ; and that as the diffusion of knowledge leads to the
practice of all the social virtues, ignorance as surely pro¬
duces cruelty, selfishness, and vice. Thus, among the Per¬
sians and Turks cruelties are committed which would be
repudiated by the more advanced civilization of Russia; and
in illustration of the same principle we may here mention
a circumstance which serves to place in an equally striking
contrast the manners of the English and the Chinese. An
1 History of Sumatra. 2 Sir S. Raffles’ History of Java, chap. ii.
3 See Travels in Bclochistan and Sinde. “ I hope,” he adds in a note, “ I shall not be stamped as a misanthrope on account of the
sentiments I entertain of all Asiatics. I am convinced the farther our researches spread, and the more intimately we become
acquainted with the East, we shall discover stronger, clearer proofs of the general application of the conclusion I have drawn. I should
be happy to have any evidence to the contrary, but do not anticipate it.”
4 See Fraser’s Narrative of a Journey into Khorassan.
‘ See Crauford’s Journal of an Embassy to the Court of Ava in the year 1827.
English vessel happened to be at anchor in the roads of
Canton, when a Chinese boat was overset, and the crew
precipitated into the water. The accident Avas observed
by numbers of the Chinese, Avho beheld with the utmost
indifference their countrymen struggling for their lives.
But the officers and seamen of the English vessel instantly
lowered their boats, and were seen, with all their usual
zeal in the cause of humanity, striving to save the lives of
those who were entire strangers to them. Now we can¬
not have a surer index to the station which each nation
holds respectively in the scale of civilization, than the
opposite conduct which they severally pursued in this
case ; and this insensibility to human distress is not pe¬
culiar to the Chinese ; it seems to pervade the whole
population of Asia; while in Europe we see everywhere
proofs of active benevolence,—the most munificent esta¬
blishments for the relief of misery; hospitals for the sick
and infirm; houses of refuge for the aged, the blind,
the destitute, and the insane; besides charitable associa¬
tions of every description. For all the afflictions to which
frail humanity is subject, the active sympathy of Europe
supplies a remedy; and the spacious structures which,
under the influence of this feeling, have been reared up
in all the European towns, are at once the splendid monu¬
ments of humanity and of high civilization. In Asia the
rich and the powerful associate, not to relieve, but to op¬
press the poor; and throughout its wide extent no asylum
for distress, nor any charitable institutions, are to be seen.
The miserable are left to their fate, which is generally to
die unpitied, either of famine or disease. There is no part
of Asia in which intelligence is widely diffused among the
people; and hence, while they are to “ vice industrious,”
they are to “ nobler ends timorous and slothful.” Yet in
the exterior pomp and show of the Asiatics there is some¬
thing specious and imposing; and the rich magnificence
of their flowing robes, their gorgeous palaces, their splendid
mosques and gilded temples, are calculated to raise ideas
of high improvement, which a nearer inspection fails to
realise; and, after all, what is there in this tinsel glare of
oriental luxury that can be compared to the severe sim¬
plicity and solid refinements of Europe.
This degraded state of society seems to be the joint
effect of tyranny and superstition. In Asia there is no
government which wears even the semblance of freedom.
In form, as well as in practice, they are purely despo¬
tic, the princes being tyrants, and the people slaves.
Nor is the power of the prince controlled by the influence
of manners, as in Europe, where the monarch, however
absolute, seldom indulges in the licence of despotic sway,
and where life and property are fully protected. The
manners of Asia favour the exercise of unlimited power;
and this vast continent is accordingly one scene of excess
and misrule, where the mere will of the monarch is a
warrant for the proscription and death of any individual,
however powerful, and for the ruin of his family. The
people, ruled according to those severe maxims of despo¬
tism, live in continual dread of violence and wrong; and
they naturally resort, in self-defence, to fraud, falsehood,
and treachery, which are the resources of weakness. Thus
all sense of independence is at last extinguished; and
under the iron rod of their political masters they de¬
generate into abject slaves, without honour, intelligence,
or morality. Despotism in Asia assumes so severe a
character, that it invades the security of private life, re¬
laxes all social ties, and re-acting on the people with its
pernicious influence, tends still farther to debase them,
and to fit them for the endurance of its degrading yoke.
The prevailing superstitions of Asia have had their due
share in corrupting the manners of the people. In Asiatic
Turkey, in Arabia, Persia, and partly also in Hindostan and
the Asiatic isles, the people have adopted the Mahometan Asia
faith; in Hindostan they have followed the religion of '~y'
Brahma; and in Thibet, and farther eastward among the
Burmese, in China, and the isles of Japan, the religion of
Buddha or Foe is universally established, which, however
corrupted in its various forms and idolatries, is still knoAvn
to be derived from the Brahminical faith. Now all those
different systems enjoin a variety of minute observances,
and tedious pilgrimages and penances, a strict compliance
with which constitutes the essence of religion. A pilgri¬
mage to Mecca, for example, atones for all the iniquities
of a Mahometan life; and the Hindoos and others have
their pilgrimages and penances for the expiation of guilt.
A relaxation of morals is the consequence; and hence in
those eastern countries a strict profession of religion is not
inconsistent with the most scandalous crimes.
The sanction given to polygamy by all the systems of
religion in the East has also tended to encourage licenti¬
ousness. Mahomet found it convenient to allow this in¬
dulgence to his followers; and the Hindoos, the Burmese,
the Chinese, and most of the other Asiatic nations, follow
the same rule. In all Christian countries marriage is re¬
spected as a sacred and an honourable tie, equally bind¬
ing on both parties; and experience proves, that where its .
obligations are duly fulfilled, it is calculated to produce
all the happiness and virtue which can be attained by man
in this sublunary state. In the intercourse of a European
family the best affections of our nature are called forth.
Hex-e, as the poet expresses it,
Flows the smooth current of domestic joy;
and in those scenes the rising generation receive, from
the example and tuition of parents, those just and early
impressions, which are never erased. How different are
the baneful consequences of polygamy, which, being con¬
trary to the order of nature, must be upheld by tyranny,
and which degrades the weaker sex, from being the free
and equal companions of man, into the slaves of his
pleasures. The domestic tyrants of the East rule with
absolute power over all the inmates of the harem; any of
whom, in a fit of rage or jealousy, they may consign to a
cruel death, no eye witnessing the deed. The effect of
polygamy in this manner is not merely to taint the morals
of society, but the laws and policy of the state. It esta¬
blishes a tyrant, not on the throne, which would be the
lesser evil, but at the head of every family; and on his
unruly passions the law imposes no restraint. Hence in
Asia domestic comfort, so much prized in Europe, cannot
be known. An Asiatic family is not the abode of purity
and of domestic peace, but of licentiousness and strife; the
husband and father the object of terror rather than affec¬
tion ; the women his abject slaves, leading a life of jea¬
lousy and malice, and often conspiring against each other
by the most diabolical arts. The institution of polygamy,
which in this manner converts one half of the community
into tyrants and the other half into slaves, has proved, in
every country in which it has been introduced, the bane
of morality as well as of social peace. In Europe the
purer influence of Christianity, consecrating the marriage
union, and impressing on man a just consideration for the
other sex, has raised them to the rank in society which
properly belongs to them. It has released them for ever
from the bondage of tyranny and vice ; and under its mild
and beneficent maxims the nations of Europe have attain¬
ed to a degree of morality, refinement, and intelligence,
which distinguishes them to their advantage above the
most polished nations of antiquity, and presents a decided
contrast to the licentiousness and misery of the East. jvrann
But if such be the state of society among the civilized0f the i-
inhabitants of Asia, what, it may be asked, is the condition toralti s.
ASIA.
/a. of its rude tribes? Among those semi-barbarians who
' ^ have no fixed habitations, but who dwell in tents, mi¬
grating periodically with their flocks in quest of pasture,
all crimes of violence, such as rapine, revenge, and mur¬
der, prevail without any restraint. The pastoral tribes of
Asia retain all their Tartar habits of ferocity; robbery is
their daily occupation, handed, down from father to son ;
and they are perpetually engaged in predatory inroads,
in which they carry off as their lawful prey all that they
can seize—corn, cattle, goods, and men and ivomen, who
are sold for slaves. If any traveller were to venture with¬
in this region of violence, he would be robbed and mur¬
dered without mercy; and no merchandise can be trans¬
ported from one place to another without a sufficient es¬
cort. The regular commerce of Asia is in consequence
carried on in caravans, or large companies of merchants,
who travel together for safety; and even these are not
secure from the savage tribes, the remnants of the Tartar
population, who inhabit the mountains and central plains,
and who frequently emerge from their fastnesses in great
force for the purposes of plunder. Such were the shep¬
herds who, under Zenghis Khan and Tamerlane, issued
forth in innumerable bands, subverting the great empires
of the world, and extending their dominion from sea to
sea. But various causes have concurred to circumscribe
their power. Among these we may reckon the invention
of fire-arms, wdiich in war gives the entire ascendancy to
civilized nations. Prior to this invention the weapons used
were extremely simple, and could be easily fashioned by
the rudest tribes. In archery, or in the use of the sling,
the merest savages may excel; and for a close encounter
the spear or the sword could be easily procured, and as
effectual^ wielded by a barbarian as by any other arm.
But the materiel of modern war is far more complicated
and expensive, and cannot be procured without the aid of
wealth, and the nicest mechanical art as well as science;
so that it is justly observed by the historian of Rome, that
in the present state of the military art, a nation must be
civilized before it can conquer other nations. Since the
invention of fire-arms the superiority of civilized over bar¬
barous nations has been seen in every encounter which
has taken place, and “ the reign of independent barbarism
has been contracted within a narrow span.”
The extensive region of Tartary, which occupies the cen¬
tre of Asia, has never been very distinctly defined; but it is
surrounded on all sides by the civilized empires of Asia,—
on the north by Asiatic Russia, and on the south by Persia,
Hindqstan, and China; and as the use of fire-arms has aug¬
mented the military strength of these different states, they
have gradually extended their sway over the savage tribes
on their frontiers. Russia, which was overrun by Tamerlane
and other conquerors about the end of the 14th century,
was, after about 200 years of obstinate and bloody wars,
emancipated from the Tartar yoke ; and it has ever since
been making reprisals on its barbarous enemies, having re¬
duced the tribes on its frontiers—the Kalmucs, the Bash¬
kirs, the Kirghises, who inhabit the banks of the Volga and
the country on the shores of the Caspian Sea, besides nume¬
rous other Tartar tribes on the Chinese frontier, near the
sources of the Irtisch, the Obi, the Yenesei, and the Lena.
Her wars with the Turks also, an Asiatic tribe, though
ol a different origin from the broad-featured race of Tar¬
tars, exemplify in a striking manner the warlike superiori¬
ty of civilized nations. The contests of China with the
barbarous hordes of Mongols, Kalkas, and Eluths, to the
west and north-west of her territory, and with the Mant-
choo Tartars, who inhabit the country to the north, bor¬
dering on the Pacific Ocean, have also terminated in
their entire subjection. They have been successively sub¬
dued by the Chinese armies; and the missionary Gerbil-
695
Ion, giving an account of a great, victory gained by the Asia.
Chinese, ascribes, it to the superiority of their artillery,
which the barbarians had no means of opposing. Persia
has been long a feeble power ; and the Tartar tribes who
range along her northern and eastern frontiers are still
extremely powerful, and frequently molest the adjoining
countries by their incursions. Independent Tartary may
now therefore be comprised within the following boun¬
daries, namely, the Altai Mountains on the north, which
form the southern boundary of the Russian empire; the
Caspian Sea on the west; Chinese Tartary on the east;
and Persia and Hindostan on the south. These boun¬
daries inclose a space of about 1200 miles in length, from
the Altai Mountains to Persia; and 900 in breadth, from
the Caspian Sea to Chinese Tartary. To this must be
added the country between Hindostan and Persia, in¬
cluding Sinde at the mouth of the Indus; and west¬
ward the mountainous regions of Belochistan, as well
as Afghanistan. In the high district of Balk, which is
within this space, and which is situated on the northern
declivity of the Hindoo Coosh or Himalaya Mountains,
and in Buckharia or Bokhara, on the fertile banks of the
Oxus and the Jaxartes, where are the towns of Buckharia,
Samarcand, Khyvah, Koukan, Khojund, and Murghelan,
&c. some form of civil order is maintained by the inde¬
pendent princes of the country; but with these excep¬
tions the Tartar manners still prevail throughout this ex¬
tensive region. The towns are thinly scattered, and the
pastoral hordes range over the face of the land in all the
licence of savage freedom. These consist, not of the Tar¬
tars who possessed the country in the time of Tamerlane,
but of the Usbecks, a Turkoman tribe, who appear to have
descended, with the whole mass of their people, from the
inhospitable countries in the north, to the fine plains of
the Oxus and the Jaxartes, and to have expelled the Tar¬
tars, whose place they now occupy. The Turkoman tribes,
who inhabit the Elburz Mountains to the south of the
Caspian, and the deserts of Kharasm, which extend east¬
ward from this interior sea about 600 miles, are describ¬
ed by Fraser, in his instructive work on Persia, as singu¬
larly fierce, cruel, and blood-thirsty in their habits. They
pour down from their deserts in great force on the cul¬
tivated districts, plundering villages and caravans with
every circumstance of atrocious outrage, murdering on
the spot the old, the feeble, and the helpless, and carry¬
ing into slavery those who are fit for labour, and thus de¬
populating extensive tracts that were before fertile and
well inhabited. On the east of Persia the same ravages
are committed by other tribes, who dispose of their cap¬
tives to slave merchants, by whom they are carried to the
markets of Buckharia and Khyvah. On the south the wild
inhabitants of Belochistan, so well described by Lieuten¬
ant Pottinger, one of the most judicious and enterprising
travellers of modern times, plunder and murder their pri¬
soners, or carry them for sale to some of the great slave-
markets in the East. Numerous tribes of shepherds feed
their flocks on the banks of the Oxus and the Jaxartes; and
they are found scattered over all the northern and eastern
countries of Central Asia, as far as the boundaries of Rus¬
sia and China. But in the present improved state of the
military art they are no longer formidable, and they waste
their force in casual inroads, which are easily repelled.
From the earliest ages the countries of Western Asia, Progress
namely, Asia Minor, the valley of the Euphrates andofdisco-
Tigris, and Persia, were familiarly known to Europeans; very in
but of the northern plains inhabited by the Scythian1
tribes, and of the rich and improved countries of Hindostan
and China in the east, they were only informed by vague
and inaccurate reports, which were slowly corrected by the
progress of commerce or of conquest. Ol the ancient
696 A S
Asia, expedition of Semiramis into India we know nothing more
than that her armies were forced to retreat with loss.
But the subsequent invasion and conquests of Darius ex¬
tended the knowledge of the Europeans to the modern
provinces of Lahore and Moultan, commonly called the
Punjaub, or the country watered by the five head branches
of the Indus. Herodotus describes the climate of the
country as intensely hot; the inhabitants in some points
as little better than barbarians ; and with a small grain of
truth he mixes the strangest and most absurd fables. He
mentions the populousness and wealth of the country, and
the staple produce of cotton growing wild on trees; also the
story of the white ants turning up the earth and digging up
gold, which has been copied by succeeding writers; and,
finally, the region of the five rivers as bounded by a barren
plain, which must no doubt be the sandy desert that lies
between the valley of the Indus and the Ganges. The Scy¬
thians or Tartars who wandered over the northern and east¬
ern plains of Asia were only known by their irruptions into
Europe. The two tribes of the Massagetse and the Sacae,
the former inhabiting the desert plains to the east of the
Aral and north of the Jaxartes, and the latter the coun¬
try to the north-west of India, are mentioned by Hero¬
dotus and other ancient writers ; and their description is
merely a detail of pastoral manners. The expedition of
Alexander into India was a great step in the progress of
Asiatic geography. This warlike prince was intent not
merely on conquest, but on the diffusion of arts, com¬
merce, and science ; and, like some modern conquerors,
his army was accompanied by a body of men of science,
who were instructed to measure each day the distance tra¬
versed, to make an accurate table of the various routes, and
to observe and describe the countries through which they
passed. Science thus followed in the train of arms ; and
it was by a European army that the remote regions of
the East were first explored. Alexander pursuing his vic¬
torious march through Asia Minor, passed the limits of
European discovery, and entered the eastern country of
Bactriana in pursuit of the Persian army. Having passed
the Paropamisan range of the Himalaya Mountains, cross¬
ed the Oxus, and taken Maracanda, the modern Samar-
cand, he advanced northward to the Jaxartes, where he
pursued the Scythian host into the northern deserts to
the eastward of the Aral. Retracing his steps, he again
crossed the Paropamisan Mountains, and advancing east¬
ward among hostile tribes, through the modern country
of Cabul or Afghanistan, to the south of the Hindoo Coosh
range, he crossed the Indus near the mountains, and
having defeated the Indian army of Porus, he obtained
the command of the country watered by the five tributary
streams of the Indus, where his course was arrested by
the murmurs of his troops, who refused to follow him
across the desert to the Ganges. Still intent on discovery
as well as on conquest, he fitted out a large fleet, and
sailing down the Indus to its mouth, in the Indian Ocean,
he instructed his admiral, Nearchus, to return to Persia
by sea, while he took his course through the modern coun¬
try of Mekran, and was nearly lost with his whole army
in its sandy deserts. Nearchus directed his course along
the shores of Asia, and triumphing over the perils of un¬
known seas, arrived safely in the Persian Gulf, which he
ascended to the mouth of the Tigris. This is the first
great voyage of discovery of which we have any authen¬
tic account; and considering the age of the world in which
it was accomplished, it must be viewed as a singular dis¬
play of courage and of nautical skill. Alexander was not
equally successful in tracing the connection of the Red
Sea with the Indian Ocean, which remained unknown un¬
til the reign of the Ptolemies in Egypt.
Seleucus, the successor of Alexander, carried his arms
I A.
into India for the purpose of completing its conquest; Asia,
but he does not appear to have reached the valley of the'
Ganges. He sent, however, to the court of Sandracottus
an Indian prince who reigned over all the countries from
Delhi to the mouth of the Ganges, his ambassador Me-
gasthenes, who acquired the most important and clear
information respecting those unknown regions. He visit¬
ed the celebrated city of Palibothra, the site of which has
so much perplexed modern geographers; and, with some
admixture of fable, he accurately describes the countries
on the Ganges, and their productions; the amazing size of
the rivers; the most remarkable animals which he saw,
among others the Bengal tiger; and the manners of the
people, and their division into castes, with other singular
customs.
During the reign of the Ptolemies in Egypt the geo¬
graphy of Asia was still farther illustrated, not by con¬
quest, but by commerce. Alexandria was at that time
the great emporium of the eastern trade; and India was
explored in its most remote parts, for the precious com¬
modities which it was supposed to produce. The Egyp¬
tian mariners entering the Indian Ocean from the Red
Sea, and coasting along the Arabian shore, stretched across
the Persian Gulf by the help of the south-west mon¬
soon, to the mouth of the Indus, whence they sailed
southward along the Malabar coast, and doubling Cape
Comorin, extended their voyage on the coast of Coro¬
mandel as far as the modern city of Masulipatam.
In the age of Ptolemy the geographer, which was a
century later, the knowledge of the Europeans had ex¬
tended eastward beyond the Ganges to the Burman em¬
pire and the Gulf of Siam, though it does not appear that
the navigators of antiquity ever reached the Chinese coast.
The commerce of India was carried on by land as well
as by sea; and regular caravans commenced their route
from Byzantium eastward through Asia Minor and Per¬
sia, passing through the modern cities of Hamadan and
Herat; and journeying northward, and crossing the Oxus
and the modern country of Buckharia, they passed the
great branch of the Himalaya Mountains which runs
northward from the main range under the modern appel¬
lation of Beloor Taugh; and descending into the lower
plains of Little Thibet, they assembled in great numbers,
and, after halting for some time, took their journey to
the capital of Serica or China, which occupied a period
of seven months. The description given of the Seres as
a frugal and mercantile people, averse to all intercourse
with strangers, and carrying on their trade at a single
station on the frontier, answers entirely to the modern
character of the Chinese. The commerce, which during
the flourishing era of Rome was carried on between Eu¬
rope and the eastern parts of Asia, was interrupted by
the inroads of the barbarous nations who assailed, and in
the end overthrew, the Roman empire ; and all knowledge
of Asia was for a time lost. It was not till the 6th or
7th century, during the reign of the caliphs at Bagdad,
that the Arabian geographers acquired a knowledge of
those countries. During this period the country to the
west of the Beloor Taugh Mountains, which stretch north¬
ward nearly to the frontier of Siberia, consisting of exten¬
sive plains, watered by the Oxus and the Jaxartes, was
well known to them ; and they were imperfectly acquaint¬
ed with the southern plains of Asia inhabited by the Tartars,
though they were as usual the subject of fables. The east¬
ern countries of Hindostan, the beautiful region of Cash-
mere, the great Asiatic plains, and China, with the island
of Sumatra and others, were known to the Arabian geo¬
graphers, though they seem to have had no correct know¬
ledge of the Asiatic shores. Their accurate description
of Chinese manners leaves no doubt of their having reach-
A S
Asi ed that country. The invasion of the Holy Land by the
crusaders tended, among its other consequences, to intro¬
duce into Europe a knowledge of those countries in Asia
which were famed for wealth and the remains of ancient
refinement; and from the camps of the crusading kings,
as well as from the pope, some remarkable embassies
were sent to the Tartar sovereigns, the descendants of
the conqueror Zinghis, the site of whose capital of Kar-
rakorum is now the subject of dispute, though it is gene¬
rally agreed that it must have been situated far east, in
the wilds of Tartary. The object of the embassies dis¬
patched by the pope to the Tartar camp was to divert the
storm of barbarian invasion from Europe. The ambassa¬
dors were friars, who were carried to the head-quarters
of the Tartars, in the eastern wilds of Asia, through
countries which had never been explored by any Euro¬
pean. Rubruquis, a friar, who was sent ambassador by
St Louis to the Tartars, has given a lively and circum¬
stantial account of his adventures. He reached the Tar¬
tar capital of Karrakorum after a fatiguing and danger¬
ous journey of more than two months, having traversed a
vast tract of unknown country, and brought to the know¬
ledge of the Europeans the immense plains and high lands
of Central Asia, Eastern Tartary or the country of the
Mongols, Thibet, and Cathay or China, and the eastern
shores of the continent. All those countries were after¬
wards visited by the celebrated Venetian traveller Marco
Polo, who, being dazzled by the splendid accounts dif¬
fused through Europe of the wealth and luxury of Asia,
was inflamed with the desire of exploring those distant
countries. He accordingly proceeded through Asia Minor,
Persia, the high country of Balk, visited the cities of
Cashgar and Yarkund, and skirting the great desert of
Shamo or Gobi, he reached the Tartar capital of Karra¬
korum, and finally entered the Chinese empire, of which
his account is circumstantial and correct, and of which
some of the magnificent cities, though they have fallen
from their ancient importance, are still recognised in his
accurate description. He returned to Venice by sea after
an absence of twenty-four years, having obtained accounts
of the eastern islands of Java, Sumatra, Ceylon, and of
Ormus in the Persian Gulf, at that time the great and
splendid emporium of the Indian trade. The discovery, in
1498, of the passage to India by the Cape of Good Hope,
opened the Indian seas to the European fleets ; and short¬
ly after this great event, the southern, and partly also the
eastern shoves of Asia, were completely explored, as well as
that great archipelago which extends from the Malacca pe¬
ninsula to New Holland. In the interior of the continent the
progress of discovery was much slower, and only kept pace
with the gradual extension of the Russian dominion over
the barbarous tribes in Northern Asia. The Tartars under
Tamerlane in 1382 had invaded the east of Europe, had ta¬
ken Moscow, and overrun all the countries on the Volga and
the Dnieper. The rise of the northern empire was for more
than two centuries obstructed by the inroads of the bar¬
barians ; and it wras only after long and obstinate struggles
that they yielded to the superiority of the Russian arms.
About the middle of the 16th century Russia had ex¬
tended her conquests to the Obi, and her empire was en¬
larged northward and eastward, until it reached the fron¬
tiers of China and the Pacific Ocean. The general form
ol the continent, which was exhibited in the maps from
mere conjecture, was in this manner laid open to Euro-
I A.
peans; and in the course of the last century the eastern
and northern shores were surveyed ; also Kamtschatka, the
Kurile Islands, and Jesso. The islands of Japan had been
previously discovered by navigators. The relative limits
of the Asiatic and American continents were traced by
Behring, Tschirikoff, and other navigators, who also dis¬
covered the Aleutian or Fox Islands; and finally by Cap¬
tain Cook, who advancing into Behring’s Straits as far as
the parallel of 70° 44', ascertained the near approach and
true bearing of the two continents.
The interior countries of Asia near the Caspian and Aral
Seas have been visited by Russian travellers, who have cor-
lected some errors of long standing in Asiatic geography.
Lake Aral was either unknown to the ancients, or they con¬
founded it with the Caspian Sea, of which they supposed it
to form a part, and to be the receptacle of the great river
Oxus. After the fact of two separate seas was fully known,
the Oxus was still supposed to terminate in Lake Aral ;
and its course was laid down accordingly in all the most
approved charts. The Russians having visited those coun¬
tries, ascertained by actual observation that the Oxus, as
well as the Jaxartes, terminates in the Caspian Sea.
Eastern Asia, namely, the Chinese empire, with the
source and termination of all its great rivers; the north¬
ern country of the Tartars; the course of the great river
Amour; with the high lands of Central Asia, namely, Mon¬
golia, the original seat of the Mongols, were in the course
of the 16th and 17th centuries explored by the Romish mis¬
sionaries, as well as by mercantile travellers. In 1624 An¬
tonio d’Andrada, a jesuit, travelled from the coast of the
Great Mogul to China. He passed through the country of
Serinagur, and ascending the great Himalaya range, he and
his companions endured such incredible hardships that he
was forced to return. He afterwards crossed these moun¬
tains along with a caravan, and was among the earliest tra¬
vellers who reached the country of Thibet, which he de¬
scribes, and also the manners and religion of the people.
In 1603 the missionary Goez set out from Lahore, where he
resided at the Mogul court on his way to China. He tra¬
velled westward, and crossing the Indus, passed through
the countries of Cabul or Afghanistan, Cashgar to the
north, and the country on the banks of the Oxus; and
crossing a ridge of the Himalaya Mountains, he arrived
at Yarkund. From this place he journeyed with a cara¬
van across the central country of Mongolia to China.
These missionaries were received into high favour by the
Chinese emperors, who valued them on account of their
science, and gave them access to the public archives,
which contained all the Chinese surveys of the empire
and of the adjacent countries. By the help of these they
exhibited with accuracy the interior geography of Thibet,
and also of that extensive country beyond the Ganges
which now fprms the Burman empire, and which is wa¬
tered by the great rivers that take their rise in the central
mountains and run southward,—the Irrawaddy into the In¬
dian Ocean, the Setang into the Gulf of Martaban, of which
it forms the estuary, the Saluen into the same gulf, the Me-
nam into the Gulf of Siam, and the Menam-Kong or the
Mekong into the Chinese Sea.1 These missionaries pro¬
secuted with equal activity and zeal their inquiries into the
interior geography of China ;2 they traced the great rivers
the Hoangho or Yellow River, and the Yank-tse-Kiang or
Blue River, to their termination as well as to their source,
which they found to be in the depths of the central moun-
1 See Crauford’s Journal of an Embassy to the. Courts of Siam and Cochin-China. Geographers are not agreed on the respective ap¬
pellations of these rivers : in this we have been guided by Mr Cranford.
* For a more detailed account of these missionary travels the reader is referred to Hakluyt’s Collection of Voyages; Purchas’ Pil¬
grims ; Histoire Generate dcs Voyages, Paris, 1749 ; and to the Historical Account of Discoveries and Travels in Asia, by H. Murray, who
has given an equally learned, judicious, and comprehensive abstract of all the existing information on the subject of Asiatic geography,
VOL. III. 4 T
698
ASIA.
Asia, tains, and not in the imaginary lake of Cayamay, as had
been generally believed. Grueber, who set out on his tra¬
vels to the East in 1656, traversed the whole country of
China, partly by land and partly by water ; and his route to
Europe was through the Tartar deserts to Lassa, a town in
Thibet, and thence through the mountainous country of
Nepaul to Battana on the Ganges, Benares, and finally to
Agra, which he reached after a journey of more than
twelve months. Other journeys equally enterprising were
also undertaken by the missionaries. Desideri set out in
1714 from Delhi, and travelled across the Himalaya Moun¬
tains through Cashmere into Thibet; and, at a later period,
Horace de la Penna, with a body of twelve missionaries,
resided in the same country for a number of years. The
missionary Gerbillon, who was in great favour at the Chi¬
nese court, travelled in 1688 through the Tartar deserts,
with a Chinese embassy, to the banks of the Selingha,
there to settle with the Russians the respective limits of
the two empires; and having been also in the practice of
following the emperor in his hunting expeditions into Tar¬
tary, he contributed with other travellers to illustrate the
geography of these countries and the manners of the people.
The great extension of the British conquests in North¬
ern India has laid open to Europeans all that portion of
Asia which lies on the southern declivity of the Himalaya
Mountains, which is interesting not only from its natural
grandeur, but also as it contains the sources of the Indus,
the Ganges, and the Brahmapootra. The Europeans were
indebted for all the knowledge which they possessed of
those countries to the Chinese missionaries, who repre¬
sented the Ganges to rise on the north of the Himalaya
chain, from two small streams which pass the town of La-
dak. They fixed the source of the Indus in the Beloor
Mountains, one of the cross ridges which run north and
south from the main Himalaya ridge. The British in
India, with all their characteristic ardour in the cause of
science, have corrected those errors of the Chinese geo¬
graphers, having ascertained the source of the Ganges to
be not on the north, but on the southern side of the Hi¬
malaya Mountains. The extent and bearing, and the vast
elevation, of many of the highest peaks of this northern
barrier of Hindostan, have also been fixed by the accurate
observations of Lieutenant Webb and other officers. From
the embassy of Elphinstone into Afghanistan we have re¬
ceived more full details of that country; and the course
westward of the great Himalaya chain has been accurate¬
ly traced, as well as the upper course of the Indus, though
the source of that river is still imperfectly known. The
missions of Turner into Bootan, of Kirkpatrick and Bu¬
chanan into Nepaul, and the embassy of Major Symes and
Dr Buchanan to the court of Ava, and of Mr Crauford,
who resided in the character of ambassador at that court,
and whose works have thrown great light on the commerce
and manners of Asia, have contributed materially to illus¬
trate the geography of those countries. Of the vast regions
of Tartary to the west of China, and under its dominion, we
know nothing except from the earlier travellers and mis¬
sionaries, and from the accounts published of the journeys
of the Russian embassies through these countries; nor is
there any immediate prospect of reaching those central dis¬
tricts from the south; for though the inhabitants appear
mild and friendly, the Chinese authorities are firm in re¬
pressing the slightest intrusion of strangers into the sacred
territory.
Asiatic Asia, notwithstanding the wars by which it has been
commerce, desolated, was from an early period the seat of commerce
and of wealth. The eastern countries of Hindostan and
China appear to have preceded Europe in civilization and
industry, and, independent of that diversity of natural pro¬
ductions which is the foundation of trade, they had culti¬
vated many arts and manufactures which were unknown Asia
in the western world. Asia accordingly abounded in many Ws-v
precious commodities which could not be produced by the
ruder industry of Europe. Thus China had its silk and
porcelain; Hindostan its muslins, cotton, precious stones,
and aromatics of all sorts; costus, bdellium, spikenard,
ivory, tortoise-shell, pepper, &c. These were in general
demand throughout Europe, where they could not be
produced; and they were procured in exchange chiefly for
bullion, which then, as in later times, was the great article
of export to India; also for woollen cloths, wine, brass,
lead and tin, glass, coral, female slaves, &c., all which com¬
modities met with a ready sale in the markets of Hindos¬
tan. The staple commodity of China was silk; and the
mode of producing this esteemed luxury being unknown
in Europe, it was brought in large quantities, either by
the caravans or by the annual fleets, to Alexandria, at
that time the great commercial mart of the East, and
was thence sent to supply the demand at Rome, where it
sold at one time for its weight in gold; but, owing to
the high profit, caravans began to travel so regularly to
China, that the supply increased with the demand, and
the price was reduced. Between the 6th and the 7th
centuries Eastern Asia was robbed of this precious mo¬
nopoly by the art of two Persian monks, who contrived,
in a hollow cane, to transport the eggs of the silk-worm
from China to Europe, where they were hatched by means
of heat, and the race quickly propagated; and one great
link of commerce between China and Europe was in this
mariner broken. The trade of Asia was interrupted by
the irruption of the barbarians, who invaded and finally
subverted the Roman empire ; but the moment the storm
was past, commerce resumed its quiet course. Constan¬
tinople, the eastern capital of the empire, was still the
centre of luxury and trade; as were also such parts of
the Roman territory as had not been swept by barbarian
invasion; and with those places the caravans still traded,
shaping their course as they best could to avoid the dis¬
tractions of the interior. Farther to the east the caliphs
who reigned at Bagdad encouraged science, commerce, and
the arts; and the extensive country through which the
Oxus and the Jaxartes flowed was the seat of a flourishing
commerce and of many opulent cities. Besides Buckharia,
still a great city, Balk, Samarcand, Cosh, and others in the
valley of the Oxus and the Jaxartes, numerous splendid
cities are enumerated which are scarcely known to Euro¬
peans. To the east of the great range of mountains which
takes a direction from the main Himalaya ridge, the coun¬
try of Cashgar contained Cashgar its capital, and Khoten,
which were both large, populous, and wealthy. Those coun¬
tries served as the connecting link between India and
Europe, and the resting-place of the caravans, which there
collected in great force, and prepared for their journey
to China across the great eastern desert, or for a more
southerly course through the country of Thibet. The
armies of Zinghis Khan in the 13th, and of Tamerlane
in the beginning of the 15th century, laid waste this
highly cultivated and flourishing region. But those con¬
querors were not the enemies of commerce, and the surplus
produce of India still reached Europe, though by a route
rendered more difficult and dangerous from the desolation
of the intervening countries. But the effect produced on
the trade of Asia in the East by the encroachments of
barbarism, and by the disorders in the interior, was more
than counterbalanced by the growing civilization of Eu¬
rope. About the beginning of the 14th century, the dark¬
ness which had so long covered the western world began to
dispel, and the Italian cities of Venice, Genoa, and others,
had already made advances in letters, science, and com¬
merce. The costly articles of Asia, her rich stuffs and
A S
.\si.i precious aromatics, were now required to answer the grow-
ing demands of luxury and wealth; and the produce of
India, imported into Alexandria through the Red Sea, was
thence brought into Italy by the nobles of Venice and
Genoa, who were all engaged in trade, and was diffused in
smaller quantities all over Europe. The Italian states
were enriched by this lucrative traffic, which only ceased
with the discovery of the maritime route to India by the
Cape of Good Hope. From this period the trade be¬
tween Asia and Europe took a different direction. The
commodities of India and China were transported to
Europe directly by sea; and neither Alexandria nor the
other ports of the Red Sea or of Italy were any longer
the depositaries of the eastern trade. The Portuguese,
always distinguished by their ardour for maritime disco¬
very, were the first adventurers in the Asiatic seas. In
the course of the 16th century the English and Dutch ap¬
peared as their competitors; and with the growing wealth
of those countries the trade to the East rapidly increased.
The commerce of Asia may therefore be distinguished
into the following branches:—ls£, The inland trade of
China, Hindostan, Burmah, &c. with Turkey, the eastern
countries of Europe, and with the intervening countries
of Persia, Balk, Buckharia, and the regions of the Oxus;
also, by a different route, the trade with Russia and the
north of Asia. The maritime trade, including the
coasting trade and the trade to the eastern archipelago,
and the great trade to Europe and America, in which,
from the progress of wealth and luxury, there is a great
consumption of Asiatic produce.
Inland The. inland trade of Asia is carried on by caravans, or
lumm ie. large bodies of merchants, who travel together for the
sake of security through those parts of the country which
are disturbed by predatory tribes. It is only from the
southern countries of Asia, such as Hindostan, China,
the Burmese countries, Thibet, and the western coun¬
tries of Persia, Afghanistan, Buckharia, and the regions
of the Oxus and the Jaxartes, that Europe can derive
any supply of valuable commodities; and all this trade,
from whatever quarter it comes, must flow in its pro¬
gress to Europe through the countries that lie between
the Persian Gulf and the Caspian Sea; as the caravans
could not, without inconvenience and danger from wan¬
dering tribes, pass to the north of this sea or the sea of
Aral; and accordingly, though an annual caravan is sent
from Astracan to Khyvah and the countries on the Oxus,
die chief trade with Russia is by sea to the port of Man-
galshuck, and thence to Khyvah and Buckharia. The
Russians have also begun to trade with Persia from the
Caucasian province of Georgia, of which Tiflis, the capi¬
tal, has, from a wretched collection of wooden huts, been
rapidly improved, under the protecting influence of a Eu¬
ropean government, into a respectable and wealthy town,
the future emporium, as may be anticipated, of this grow¬
ing trade. The caravans from Constantinople and Syria
proceed through Asia Minor and the northern or south¬
ern provinces of Persia, according as their ulterior route
is through Afghanistan and the Punjaub into Hindostan,
or to Thibet and China, or the more northern districts of
Balk, Buckharia, and the country of the Oxus and the
Jaxartes. Buckharia, though reduced to desolation by
Zinghis Khan, is still one of the largest towns of the East,
and is only exceeded by Peking and other Chinese cities,
or by Calcutta. It is also a great commercial mart; and
the caravans which come from the west, passing along the
southern shore of the Caspian Sea through the Persian
province of Astrabad, a most luxuriant and fertile coun-
I A.
try, arrive successively at Balfrdosh, Ashruff, Astrabad,
Mushed, Serrukhs, Merve, formerly the capital of the
Seljook sovereigns, but now surrounded by deserts, and
at Buckharia. From this great centre of commerce^hey
proceed north-eastward about 400 or 500 miles to Kho¬
jend and Kokaun, the former a large city, said to contain
30,000 houses; and crossing the Beloor range of the Hi¬
malaya Mountains, they arrive in the Mahometan states
of Kashgar and Yarkund, 600 miles east of Kokaun, pass¬
ing some towns on the way, of which Ush is the most im¬
portant, being a trading and populous town. Those two
latter states lie within the precincts of the Chinese au¬
thority, where the most exact order is enforced; and
they are fertile, rich, and well cultivated. The town of
Cashgar is said to contain 20,000 houses, and to be
thronged with strangers from all parts of Asia. Yarkund
is also wealthy and populous. So strict a police is main¬
tained by the Chinese authority, that, according to the
information given to Fraser,1 a single traveller may tra¬
vel se the whole territory as safely as a large caravan.
From Kashgar there is a constant intercourse through
Chinese Tartary, along the edge of the great central de¬
sert, with China, though we know little of the intervening
countries beyond what we learn from the accounts of the
early missionaries. Besides this eastern trade, and the
trade westward along the southern shore of the Caspian,
two caravans, consisting of 4000 or 5000 camels each,
proceed to Astracan by Khyvah, round the northern
shore of the Caspian Sea. The imports from Russia into
Buckharia are iron, steel, copper, brass, quicksilver, Ver¬
million, coral, hardware, plated goods, gold and silver em¬
broidery, copper-wire; furs, the broad cloths and cotton
manufactured goods of Britain, Germany, and France;
refined sugar, cochineal, paper, and a variety of rich
goods, which, from this great commercial depot, are dif¬
fused far and wide over Central Asia. Russia receives in
exchange black lamb-skins, certain manufactures of cot¬
ton and silk imported from Persia, antique gems and
coins, lapis lazuli, rubies, and turquoises, which are received
from the southern country of Buducksha, where there are
famous mines of these precious stones. From Cashgar,
Yarkund, and the side of China, Buckharia receives large
quantities of tea, the great modern staple of the China
trade, porcelain and China ware, and the various manu¬
factures of China; and in return sends turquoises, coral,
sheep, lamb, and fox-skins, and furs, &c. From Persia
shawls are imported, and woollen goods from Kerman;
silk stuffs from the cities of Yezd and Ispahan; gold and
silver embroidery, copper-ware, loaf, candy, and raw su¬
gar ; Hamadan leather; and turquoises, of which there are
mines in Persia; and, in return, black sheep and lamb¬
skins are sent, which are in great request, to be manufac¬
tured into black caps; camblet made of camel’s hair, coarse
coloured silk handkerchiefs, lapis lazuli, indigo from India,
cochineal, tobacco, chintzes from Masulipatam, and cotton
manufactures. Slaves form a staple article in the com¬
merce of Buckharia, and also of Khyvah. These are made
prisoners by the disorderly tribes of Asia, the Koords,
Turkomans, &c., in the course of the wars in which they
are constantly engaged ; and they are carried to the great
slave markets of Buckharia and Khyvah, where they are
exposed for sale like cattle. The balance of trade is al¬
ways in favour of Buckharia. Money is consequently in
great plenty, and cannot be imported with a profit into
this trading city. The Russian caravans, as they journey
round the north shore of the Caspian Sea, are frequently
attacked by the Kirgeesh and Cossack tribes, and prisoners
699
Asia.
1 Narrative of a Journey into Khorassan, Appendix.
700 A S
Asia, are carried off and sold into slavery Fraser was assured
that the number of Persian slaves in Khyvah and its de¬
pendencies exceeded the male population of these coun¬
tries, and amounted to 150,000; and that, according to
inquiries set on foot by the empress Catherine, there were
in Buckharia no less than 60,000 Russian slaves.
The commerce of the west with the southern countries
of Asia, namely, Cabul or Afghanistan, Cashmere, and
India, passes through Persia by a different and more
southerly route, namely, by Cashan, Yezd, which is the
seat of rich silk manufactures, a great entrepot of com¬
merce, and a convenient resting place for all the caravans,
botli from the east and other quarters; through Furrah,
and Herat, on the frontiers of Persia, famed for its rich
manufactures of silk stuffs, a great channel of communi¬
cation between the east and the west, and also an entre¬
pot of all the richest productions from Cabul, Cashmere,
and India on the one side, and from Buckharia, Persia,
Arabia, Turkey, and even Europe, on the other. From
Herat the route continues through Furrah and across the
river Helmund and the ranges of the Paropamisan Moun¬
tains, to Candahar, a journey of about 800 miles ; thence
to Cabul, Peshawer, and the countries on the Indus, and
across extensive sandy deserts to the rich valley of the
Ganges, whence, by this river, there is an easy access to
Bengal and to Central India. There are various other
routes by which the commerce of Asia, concentrated
within the comparatively narrow boundaries of the Cas¬
pian Sea and the Persian Gulf, diverges in its progress
eastward to the north, as well as to the south. From
Buckharia there is a mountainous route into Little Thibet,
and thence through Thibet into China; besides other more
sequestered and difficult roads, through glens and moun¬
tains, where the only mode of transport is on the backs of
asses and mules.
Persia, from its central situation between the east and
the west, is not only a great entrepot of Asiatic trade, but,
though on the whole rather a poor country, it still contri¬
butes some valuable productions to the commerce of the
East. It has long been famed for its abundant produce of
raw silk, of cotton, and of wool, that of the province of Ker¬
man especially being so valuable for shawls that it rivals in
some respects that of Cashmere; of fruits, turquoises, to¬
bacco, grain, &c. Almost all the principal towns of Per¬
sia, such as Kashan, Ispahan, Yezd, Tabreez, Kerman,
Herat, &c. excel in the manufacture of silks, cottons, wool¬
lens, fine carpets, &c.; Kerman also in the manufacture
of shawls; and others in that of cutlery, arms, &c. These
are its chief exports to other countries, in exchange for
their manufactures or produce. To India Persia sends
raw silk, carpets, Kerman shawls, dried fruits, tobacco,
horses, in which there is a considerable traffic, swords, &c.
and specie to make up the deficient balance. The im¬
ports from India are cotton goods, as chintzes, sent from
Masulipatam by sea to Bushire, whence they reach the
interior of Persia, and are thence carried eastward into
Cabul and the countries on the Indus; the same article
from Moultan, Lucknow, Delhi, &c.; some muslins, in¬
digo, spices, sugar, and sugar-candy, in large quantities ;
gold and silver stuffs and brocades from Benares; pre¬
cious stones, Cashmere shawls, iron, lead, copper, &c.
Many of these articles, namely, Cashmere shawls, spices,
indigo, muslins, &c. are carried through Asia Minor by a
long land carriage to their final destination in European
Turkey, and are found, along with the lamb-skins of the
no less distant Buckharia, in the bazaars of Bagdad and
I A.
Constantinople.1 To those countries Persia exports also Asia
every article of her own rude and manufactured pro-
duce; coarse fabrics, both of silk and cotton, for the
consumption of Asia Minor; and many heavy articles,
such as grain, rice, tobacco, salt, coffee, cotton, &c.; be¬
sides fine silks, brocades, and prints, which are exchanged
in Turkey for European goods brought through the coun¬
tries of the Levant, namely, broad and narrow cloths,
cassimeres, cotton goods, chintzes, muslins, veils, silks,
satins, French brocades and embroidered goods, imitation
shawls, cutlery of all sorts, glass, &c., and a considerable
quantity of gold and silver bullion. Persia imports cof¬
fee and pearls from Arabia, in exchange for wheat, dried
fruits, and cloaks. The mountainous country of Afgha¬
nistan, on the southern declivity of the Himalaya ridge,
and the country on the head streams of the Indus, ex¬
port to India horses and ponies bred in Tartary, furs, shawls,
Moultan chintz, madder, assafoetida, tobacco, and dried
and other fruits, such as almonds and pistachio nuts.
The imports from India are coarse cotton cloths, worn by
the common people of this country, and also in Tartary;
muslins and other fine manufactures, silken cloth and
brocade, indigo in great quantities, ivory, chalk, bamboos,
wax, tin, sandal wood, almost all the sugar which is used
in the country, and spices from the Malabar coast, through
Koratchee and other parts of Sinde, and thence to Cabul
and Candahar. The Indian cloths, shawls, chintzes, and
also the indigo, are exported to Buckharia, from which are
imported the broad cloths, cutlery, and hardware of Eu¬
rope, received from the Russians, and finally consumed
in Cabul and the countries of the Indus, loaded with the
expenses of a land journey across nearly half the globe.
In the east of Asia, China has from the earliest times been
the seat of wealth and of an ex_tensive trade. The Chinese
have been always noted for their industrious habits, and the
country has from time immemorial abounded in the most
valuable produce and manufactures. These were sentwest-
ward in the caravans to AsiaMinor and into Europe, or they
were transported by sea to India, and carried thence by the
European fleets to the Red Sea. The same commerce is still
continued, and China exports its produce of woollens, silk,
and satin; tea in small boxes of thin lead; china, porce¬
lain, raw silk, cochineal, crystal, gold dust, golden ingots,
and silver with the Chinese stamp. These are sent through
Chinese Tartary into the countries on the Oxus, and also
to Cashmere, Cabul, and the countries situated on the
southern declivity of the Himalaya Mountains. Regular
caravans of horses and ponies, no other animal being fit
to travel through those mountainous districts, set out from
Cashmere, and from Peshawer, the capital of the Afghan
country of Cabul, and a considerable commercial resort, to
make their way through Chinese Tartary with goods im¬
ported from India and Persia. China carries on also an
interior trade to a considerable extent with Russia by the
frontier town of Maimatchin, in which European goods
and furs are received in exchange for tea, silk, and other
articles of Chinese produce and manufacture.
In addition to her internal trade, Asia maintains an ex-Maritime
tensive intercourse by sea with Europe, America, and with commerce
Egypt and all the countries on the Mediterranean. A
great trade is also carried on from Hindostan and China to
the Asiatic archipelago, and the trade of the Asiatic islands
with each other is of great importance. It appears that
those islands were at a very early period the seat of com¬
merce ; and the learned researches of Europeans have
brought to light, in some of them, the monuments of ancient
1 Elphinstone’s Cabul; Kinneir’s Geographical Memoir of Persia; Fraser’s Travels in the Persian Provinces around the Caspian Sea,
Appendix, p. 364.
ASIA
a| civilization. Sumatra was the seat of the Malay empire,
Java of a Hindoo state ; and the Celebes were inhabited by
the Bugis, a race of expert navigators and merchants. The
productions of these islands, and of the Moluccas and Bor¬
neo, namely, spices, aromatics, and gold, entered into the
commerce of the ancient world, and were imported into
Rome through Egypt. In later times, about the 9th cen¬
tury, the Asiatic archipelago was visited by the Arabs and
the Chinese, while the adventurous Malays frequented the
coasts of Asia, and even of Africa, and particularly the
African island of Madagascar. When these islands were
visited by Europeans, about the 15th century, Malacca,
Acheen, and Bantam were the great marts of the eastern
archipelago, where the rich produce of Sumatra, Borneo,
and the Moluccas, conveyed in the small trading craft of
the country, was exchanged for that of India and China.
The Portuguese fixed on Goa, on the Malabar coast, as
the capital of their eastern settlements; and they after¬
wards selected Malacca as a central station for protect¬
ing and extending their intercourse with the neighbour¬
ing nations. The Dutch chose Bantam, and afterwards
Batavia, situated midway between Hindostan and China,
as the centre of their commercial settlements. The situa¬
tion was most advantageous, and the port was soon fre¬
quented by vessels from China and Japan, Tonquin, Ma¬
lacca, Cochin-China, and the island of Celebes. But
the great and flourishing trade of Java was crushed un¬
der the colonial monopoly of the Dutch, and under what
Sir Stamford Raffles terms “ the short-sighted tyranny
of a mercantile administration.” The conquest of Java
by the British in 1812 put an end to this thraldom, and
the great trade of the Asiatic archipelago began to centre
in Batavia, which was fast rising into a great commercial
emporium ; all the articles which were the exclusive pro¬
duce of the eastern islands being collected at its princi¬
pal ports for re-exportation to India, China, and Europe.
Since Java was restored to the Dutch, the free port of
Singapore, established by the British, is the centre of a
great trade, and is frequented by the Chinese in their
junks, and by all the other navigators of those seas with
the produce of their respective islands.1 The Chinese
take back with them the nests of a certain species of
bird, which are esteemed a great luxury at their tables,
and sell, it is said, for their weight in silver; biche-de-
mer or tripang, a dried sea-slug, also used in Chinese
dishes; Malayan camphor, the exclusive produce of Su¬
matra and Borneo ; the tin of Banca, the spices of the Mo¬
luccas-, opium, indigo imported from Hindostan; gold and
silver, the first collected in Sumatra, Borneo, and some
of the other islands. The maritime country trade of the
Asiatic islands is earned on chiefly by the Chinese in their
junks and brigs, by the Arabs in square-rigged vessels,
and by the Bugis, the inhabitants of Celebes, who are all
bold and expert navigators.
From the east the annual fleet of Chinese junks arrives
with the favourable monsoon among these islands, from
Canton, Amoi, and other provinces, with cargoes of teas,
raw silk, silk, piece-goods, and innumerable minor articles,
for the use of the Chinese, who are settled in great num¬
bers here, and are distinguished by their shrewd, intelli¬
gent, a»d industrious habits. The Chinese extend their
voyages to Sumatra, the Straits of Malacca, and east¬
ward as far as the Moluccas and Timor, collecting edible
bird-nests, biche-de-mer, and other articles of which Java
is the great entrepot. Java is also a great depot of Euro¬
pean goods; and the people being rather industrious culti¬
vators of their fertile island than mariners or traders, it ex¬
ports rice, a variety of vetches, salt, oil, tobacco, timber,
brass-wire, and its own cloths, and a considerable quan¬
tity of European, Indian, and Chinese goods, in exchange
for gold dust, diamonds, camphor, benjamin, and other
drugs ; edible bird-nests, biche-de-mer, rattans, bees-wax,
tortoise-shell, and dyeing woods from Borneo and Suma¬
tra. The rice and other productions of Java are exchang¬
ed for spices and pungent oils of the Moluccas, and for the
tin of Banca. The natives of Celebes are famed for the
manufacture of a particular species of fine cloths, of a very
strong texture, which are in great request, and, along with
spices, wax, and sandal-wood, are exchanged for the pro¬
duce of Sumatra, Borneo, and Java, whence they are export¬
ed to China. A he Bugis have a large share of the carrying
trade of the Asiatic archipelago; and they bring the pro¬
duce of the Moluccas, and of Borneo and Sumatra, to
Java and the other islands, and receive in exchange to¬
bacco, rice, and salt, from Java, besides opium, iron, steel,
European chintzes, and broad cloths and Indian piece
goods, with which they return eastward during the south¬
west monsoon.2
The eastern countries of Asia, viz. India and China, as
we have already stated, have from time immemorial been
famed for certain manufactures, such as silks, cambrics,
muslins, &c., as wrell as for other products peculiar to the
climate, viz. spices, precious aromatics, medicinal herbs, &c.
These were always in great demand in Europe, while the
produce of Europe was not wanted in Asia. From the rude
state of industry among the western nations, they had no¬
thing to offer in exchange for the finer manufactures of
India, and still less could the soil of Europe yield any equi¬
valent for the more genial produce of eastern climes.
Hence the great article of export in those times from Eu¬
rope to Asia was always bullion, the instrument of exchange
all over the world. Bullion could only be procured by an
exportation of European produce or manufactures at such
low prices as to insure a sale; and the loss on such trans¬
actions must have been made up to the merchant by the
high price of Asiatic goods. The ancient monopoly of
silk secured to Asia a favourable balance of trade with
Europe, bullion being the only article with which it could
be purchased. Notwithstanding the introduction of the
silk manufacture into Europe about the 6th or 7th century,
the commercial pre-eminence of Asia still continued, and
bullion was the chief article of export to the East. Through¬
out the interior of Asia this superiority remains to the
present day; and a continual stream of bullion flows from
the Bosphorus eastward through Asia Minor and Persia
into Hindostan, and is finally dispersed in the great ocean
of the Chinese currency. Bullion is also the principal
article sent from Arabia to India in exchange for Indian
goods.
But a great revolution has taken place in the trade be¬
tween Asia and Europe, and especially with Great Bri¬
tain. Europe is now in a condition to offer an equivalent
in manufactures for the produce of Asia; goods of various
kinds are sent in exchange for those of India; and from
Great Britain remittances in bullion have nearly ceased.
So prodigiously has the price of goods been lowered by
the use of machinery, that the cotton wool of India is now
imported into Britain, and, after being manufactured, is
re-exported to the place of its growth, and sold at a lower
price than the same goods from the loom of the Indian
workman, though it is loaded with the expense of a dou¬
ble voyage across half the globe. The goods of the Eu-
1 Minutes of Evidence before Select Committee on the affairs of the East India Company, March 1830.
* Raffles’ History of Java ; Marsden’s Sumatra.
702 A S N
Asiarchse ropean manufacturers are poured into Asia through all its
II seaports, and reaching the interior on the backs of mules
^Asna. an(j asseSj 0ften after a journey of several thousand miles
over deserts and mountains covered with perpetual snow,
they are sold cheaper than the same articles by the native
workmen. The woollen manufactures of Yorkshire, the
cotton goods of Manchester and Glasgow, French cloths,
and German linens, are dispersed all over Hindostan, and
even partially in China; they are found in the bazaars of
Buckharia, Samarcand, and Cashgar, and are carried east¬
ward by the caravans into the wilds of Tartary.1 dhe ac¬
counts laid before the House of Commons of our exports
and imports to and from India and China from 1814 to 1828,
exhibit a falling off in the importation of Indian manu¬
factures, and a proportional increase in that of the raw
materials, such as silk, cotton, indigo, &c. From India
and China the annual value of the imports amounts to
about L.10,000,000. In 1829 they amounted in value to
L.10,627,441; of which the sum of L.8,561,345 is made up
of four articles, viz. cotton wool, indigo, raw silk, and tea.2
The value of the cotton manufactures exported, which
amounted in 1814 to L.l 1,341, had increased in 1828
to L.754,098. The natural productions of Asia, namely,
spices, rich aromatics, dyes, and other rare luxuries of tro¬
pical climates, will always be in demand in Europe; and
the monopoly of tea by the Chinese gives them the com¬
mand of the European markets. Tea has now almost be¬
come one of the necessaries of life, and it travels for a
market across half the globe. It is the great commercial
ASP
link between Europe and China, from which, like the pre- A sola
cious produce of silk in ancient times, it can only be pro- 11
cured. But the improved industry of Europe supplies,, Asoph.
as already observed, an equivalent in woollen and cotton J
goods for this highly prized luxury; and there can be no
doubt that if the trade were not obstructed by the East
India Company’s monopoly, it would gradually extend with
the growing demand of the Chinese market. The charter
of the East India Company expires in 1834; and if the
trade is thrown open, it is certain that British produce
will make its way into all the most distant markets of the
East. Such an intercourse would not only benefit com¬
merce, but would promote the higher interests of civiliza¬
tion, as it would extend to the benighted countries of Asia
the literature and science, and all the other improvements,
of Europe.
Asia Minor is the most western portion of the great
continent of Asia, bounded by the Black Sea on the north,
by the river Euphrates on the east, and on the west by
the Mediterranean, the Sea of Marmora, and the Straits of
the Hellespont and Bosphorus. It is of an irregularly
oblong figure, about 1000 miles in length from east to
west, and between 400 and 500 in breadth from north to
south. The whole country is under the Turkish govern¬
ment ; and it is divided into several provinces, of which
Natolia and Caramania are the most important. The
country is inhabited by Turkish Mahometans, and Chris¬
tians of various sects and denominations. For other par¬
ticulars see the preceding article. (f.)
of any magnitude on the side of Nubia. It contains se¬
veral monuments of antiquity, and among the rest an an¬
cient Egyptian temple, pretty entire, all painted through¬
out, except in some places that are effaced by time. The
columns are full of hieroglyphic figures. This structure
is considered by Denon as one of the most perfect monu¬
ments of ancient architecture he had seen. A little way
from thence are the ruins of an ancient nunnery, said to
be built by St Helena, surrounded with tombs. Asna is
the principal town in these parts, and the inhabitants are
rich in corn and cattle. They drive a considerable trade
into Lower Egypt and Nubia, by means of the Nile, and
also by the caravans that pass over the desert. The in¬
habitants are all Arabs, except about 200 Copts, the an¬
cient inhabitants, and a sort of Christians. They are un¬
der the government of the Turks, who have a cadi; and
the Arabs have two sherifs of their own nation. Long.
32. 35. E. Lat. 23. 15. N.
ASOLA, a town of the territory of Brescia, in the
Austrian division of Italy. It is built on the river Chiese,
about 20 miles south-east from Brescia, and contains a
population of 3100 persons. Long. 10. 35. E. Lat. 45.
6. 4. N.
ASOLO, a town of Austrian Italy, in the delegation
of Verona, on the river Musone. It is well built and
finely situated. It has a cathedral and several other
churches, with an ancient castle, and the remains of a
Roman aqueduct. The inhabitants are mostly employed
in cultivating silk. Long. 12. 1. 5. E. Lat. 45. 47. 37. N.
ASOPH, a town of Cuban Tartary, in Asia, seated on
the river Don, near its mouth, a little to the east of the
Palus Maeotis or Sea of Asoph. Long. 39. 5. E. Lat. 47.
18. N.
ASIARCHiE (termed by St Paul, Chief of Asia, Acts
xix. 31) were the Pagan pontiffs of Asia, chosen to su¬
perintend and have the care of the public games, which
they did at their own expense ; for which reason they were
always the richest and most considerable men of the com¬
munity.
ASINAR A, an island of Italy, on the western coast of
Sardinia. Long. 8. 30. E. Lat. 41. 0. N.
ASINIUS Pollio, a Roman consul and orator, distin¬
guished himself under Augustus by his exploits and his
literary works. He is frequently mentioned with praise
by Horace and Virgil, and is said to have collected the
first library at Rome. He died at Frescati, at eighty years
of age.
ASISIO, or Asito, a city of the pope’s territories in
Italy, situated about 16 miles east of Perugia. Long. 13.
35. E. Lat. 43. 0. N.
ASKE ATON, a post town of Ireland, in the county of
Limerick, on the river Deal, near its junction with the
Shannon. Population 1239. 144 miles S. W. from Dublin.
ASKEREN, a place five miles from Doncaster, noted
for a medicinal spring of a strongly sulphureous nature ;
it is also slightly impregnated with a purging salt.
ASKRIG, a town in the North Riding of Yorkshire.
Long. 0. 5. W. Lat. 53. 50. N.
ASLANI, in Commerce, a silver coin, worth from 115
to 120 aspers.
ASMONEUS, or Assamoneus, the father of Simon,
and chief of the Asmoneans, a family that reigned over
the Jews 126 years.
ASNA, or Esna, a town in Upper Egypt, seated upon
the Nile, and occupying the site of the ancient Latopolis.
It is near the cataracts of the Nile, and is the last place
1 Mr J. Burnes, surgeon to the residency at Boqj, who has lately published an interesting Narrative of a Visit to the Court o/Sinde,
mentions that the princes and nobles are clothed in British manufactures. He resided at Hyderabad in 1827.
* See Papers relating to the Finances of India and China, printed by order of the House of Commons, February 1830.
ASP
A; ASP, in Natural History, a small poisonous kind of
|| serpent. It is said to be thus denominated from the
Greek affcrvj, a shield, in regard to the manner of its lying
ut .eonyolyed in a circle, in the centre of which is the head,
vv”v'K-which it exerts or raises like the umbo or umbilicus of a
buckler. This species of serpent is very frequently men¬
tioned by authors, but so carelessly described that it is
not easy to determine which, if any, of the species known
at present may properly be called by this name. It was
with the asp that Cleopatra is said to have dispatched
herself, and prevented the designs of Augustus, who in¬
tended to have carried her captive to adorn his triumphal
entry into Rome. But the fact is contested: Sir Thomas
Brown places it in the list of vulgar errors. The indica¬
tions of that queen’s having used the ministry of the asp
were only two almost insensible pricks found in her arm;
and Plutarch says that the cause of her death is unknown.
Lord Bacon makes the asp the least painful of all the in¬
struments of death. He supposes it to have an affinity
to opium, but to be less disagreeable in its operation. See
Reptilia.
ASPASIA of Miletus, a celebrated courtezan who
settled at Athens under the administration of Pericles.
She was of admirable beauty: yet her wit and eloquence,
still more than her beauty, gained her extraordinary re¬
putation among all ranks in the republic. Her conversa¬
tion was so entertaining and instructive, that notwith¬
standing the dishonourable commerce she carried on in
female virtue, persons of the first distinction, male and
female, resorted to her house as to an academy. It is
said that she even numbered Socrates among her hearers.
She captivated Pericles in such a manner that he dis¬
missed his own wife in order to espouse her; and by her
universal knowledge, irresistible elocution, and intriguing
genius, she in a great measure influenced the administra¬
tion of Athens. She was accused of having excited, from
motives of personal resentment, the war of Peloponnesus.
The companions of Aspasia served as models for painting
and statuary, and themes for poetry and panegyric. Nor
were they merely the objects, but, as is said, the authors,
of some literary works, in which they established rules for
the behaviour of their lovers, particularly at table; and
explained the art of gaining the heart and captivating the
affections.
ASPASTICUM (from aevafyimi, I salute), among ec¬
clesiastical writers, a place or apartment adjoining to the
ancient churches, wherein the bishop and presbyters sat,
to receive the salutations of the persons who came to visit
them, desire their blessing, or consult them on business.
This is also called aspasticum diaconicum, receptorium,
metatorium, or mesatorium, and salutatorium ; in English,
greeting-house.
ASPER, in Grammar, an accent peculiar to the Greek
language, marked thus ('), and importing that the letters
over which it is placed ought to be strongly aspirated, or
pronounced as if an h were joined with them.
Asper, or Aspre, in Commerce, a Turkish coin, three of
which make a medine.
ASPERIFOLIATE, or Asperifolious, among bota¬
nists, such plants as are rough-leaved, having their leaves
placed alternately on their stalks, and a monopetalous
flower divided into five parts.
ASPEROSA, a town of Turkey in Europe, situated on
the coast of the Archipelago. It is a bishop’s see. Long.
25. 20. E. Lat. 40. 58. N.
ASPHALTITES, or Lake of Bitumen, so called
from the bitumen which floats upon its surface, and
asp 703
equally well known under the name of the Dead Sea, Asphal-
a name associated with many fables, and derived from a tites.
long standing belief that no creature could live in its wa-
ters, or within the reach of its pestiferous exhalations.
Very different' accounts have been given of the dimen¬
sions and other properties of this lake, by the ancient
writers Diodorus, Pliny, Strabo, and Josephus. These
accounts have, however, been corrected by modern tra¬
vellers, although, from the difficulty of approaching it,
their information is not so full or accurate as might be
desired. Pliny estimates it to be 100 miles in length by
25 in breadth. Josephus reckons the length, from the
mouth of the Jordan to the town of Segor, 66 miles, and
the breadth 15 miles. This agrees with the estimate of
modern travellers, which is 60 or 70 miles in length and
from 10 to 20 in breadth. Carne, in his Letters from the
East, estimates the length at 60 miles, and the breadth
at from 8 to 10. It is about 180 miles in circuit. In
form it is curved like a bow, and placed between two
ranges of mountains, bold and craggy, and of the most
majestic appearance, by which it is sheltered, so that
when the wind is blowing all around it is perfectly calm
like a sheet of lead. But the grandeur of its features is
blended with an air of sadness and desolation, and all tra¬
vellers have been struck with the death-like stillness of
its waters, which seem to accord well with its mysterious
character and name. This lake has been seldom visited,
owing to the wild Arabs who inhabit the country, and
who rob and murder without mercy the defenceless tra¬
veller. Mr Buckingham, who had only a distant view of
it, mentions that the inhabitants who live within 15 miles
distance of its shores have no information respecting it,
and believe in all the wonderful tales and superstitions
which are circulated of its marvellous properties. It was
since visited by Mr Carne, whose Letters contain a live¬
ly picture of eastern scenery and manners; and his re¬
presentation of the death-like stillness of this lake and
the adjacent country agrees with that of all former tra¬
vellers. “ There was not,” he observes, when he visited
it, “ a breath of wind; and the waters lay dead on the
shore. Whoever has seen the Dead Sea will have its
aspect impressed on his memory. It is in truth a gloomy
and fearful spectacle. The precipices in general descend
abruptly into the lake, and on account of their height it
is seldom agitated by the winds. Its shores are not vi¬
sited by any footstep save that of the wild Arab, and
he holds it in superstitious dread. On some parts of the
rocks there is a thick sulphureous incrustation, which ap¬
pears foreign to their substance; and in their steep de¬
scents there are several deep caverns, where the be¬
nighted Bedouin sometimes finds a home.” The same
writer observes, that though the sun shone full on the
bosom of the lake, and though it had the appearance of a
plain of burnished gold, yet “ the sadness of the grave
was on it and around it, and the silence also. However
vivid the feelings are on arriving on its shores, they sub¬
side after a time into languor and uneasiness; and you
long, if it were possible, to see a tempest wake on its bo¬
som, to give sound and life to the scene.”1
The lake Asphaltites receives the waters of the river
Jordan, and other brooks and springs from the adjacent
mountains, yet never overflows, though it has no visible
outlet for those copious Supplies. This fact seems to
have embarrassed some naturalists, who, in order to ac¬
count for it, have had recourse to the hypothesis of a se¬
cret communication with the Mediterranean. But it has
been demonstrated by accurate calculation, that evapora-
1 Letters from the East, by J. Carne.
704
ASP
ASP
Asphal-
tites.
that 100 grains of the water contains the following sub- Asphal
stances, in the under-mentioned proportions:— turn,"
Grains.
Muriate of lime  3-920
Muriate of magnesia 10-246
Muriate of soda 10-360
Sulphate of lime  0-054
tion is more than sufficient to carry off the waters brought
by the river. Under the influence of a dry and hot climate,
it is in fact very considerable, and frequently becomes sen¬
sible to the eye by the fogs with w-hich the lake is covered
at the rising of the sun, and which are afterwards dis¬
persed by the heat. To the north it has the plain of Je¬
richo, and to the south extends, on both sides of the Jor¬
dan, the great plain, which is open, and stretches beyond
the reach of the eye. It is this plain of which, accord¬
ing to Mr Buckingham, Josephus gives so accurate a de¬
scription.
This lake is supposed to occupy the site of the cities of
Sodom and Gomorrah, destroyed by fire, as is recorded in
the sacred volume, for their unparalleled iniquities; and the
strange properties ascribed to its waters, and other mar¬
vellous stories connected with it, seem to have a reference
to this awful tradition. It was at one time supposed that
no living creature could exist in its waters—that they ex¬
haled such a poisonous effluvia that the birds of the air
died in attempting to fly over it. The apples that were
said to grow on its shores, fair without, but full of ashes
and bitterness within, were also supposed to contain some
moral or illustration of its ancient story; and it was af¬
firmed that the ruins of the five cities which were de¬
stroyed by fire were still seen at the bottom of the lake
in clear weather. Josephus mentions that a constant
smoke was seen to arise from its surface. Almost all
these stories have been exploded by the testimony of
modern travellers, although some of them have an ob¬
vious foundation in the physical properties of the waters.
Their taste is remarkably bitter, saline, and pungent; and
hence has arisen the notion of its pestiferous vapours and
deadly influence. We are told even by Volney, that its
waters are destructive both of animal and vegetable life;
but he denies that its vapours have any deadly quality,
for swallows, he says, are often seen to skim its surface
without injury. M. de Chateaubriand, who visited its
shores in 1807, with an imagination abundantly disposed
to the marvellous, has given the first decided testimony
that it abounds in fish. He reached the lake when it
was already dark, and passed the night among some Arab
tents. “ About midnight,” says he, “ I heard a noise
upon the lake, and was told by the Bethlehemites who
accompanied me, that it proceeded from legions of small
fish which come out and leap about on the shore.” This
interesting traveller speaks in the following terms of its
saline properties:—“ The first thing I did on alighting
was to walk into the lake up to my knees, and to taste
the water. I found it impossible to keep it in my mouth.
It far exceeds that of the sea in saltness, and produces
upon the lips the effect of a strong solution of alum. Be¬
fore my boots were completely dry, they were covered
with salt; our clothes, our hats, our hands, were in less
than three hours impregnated with this mineral.”
The common story, that nothing will sink in it, is to be
ascribed to the extraordinary density of its waters. Bo¬
dies follow the general law, and sink or swim, according
to the proportion of their gravity to the gravity of the
water of the lake; but its specific gravity is such that a
man may lie upon its surface motionless, without danger
of sinking. This effect was experienced by Pococke, and
by a Scotish traveller, Mr Gordon of Clunie, who also
bathed in it. This gentleman brought home a phial of
its water, and Dr Marcet found its specific gravity to be
1-211; “ a degree of density,” says he, “ not to be met
with in any other natural water.” Dr Marcet was em¬
ployed to analyse Mr Gordon’s specimen, which that
gentleman had presented to Sir Joseph Bankes in 1807;
and the whole process, with its results, is detailed in the
Philosophical Transactions for that year. It was found
24-580
The water of the Dead Sea had been previously ana¬
lysed by Messrs Macquer, Lavoisier, and Sage, of whose
experiments an account was published in the Memoires
de VAcademic des Sciences for the year 1778. Their ana¬
lysis afforded results greatly different from those obtained
by Dr Marcet, which that gentleman ascribes to some in¬
accuracy in their mode of operating. We find, however,
that the processes employed by Dr Marcet have been
called in question, and the accuracy of his proportions
denied, by a very skilful chemist, who subsequently insti¬
tuted an analysis of the Dead Sea water. We allude to
Klaproth, who procured a specimen brought from the
East by the Abbe Mariti, and whose analysis offered the
following proportions:—
Muriate of magnesia 24-20
Muriate of lime 10-60
Muriate of soda  7-80
42-60
Water 57-40
100
Klaproth also found the specific gravity to be 1-245 in¬
stead of 1-211; agreeing in this respect more nearly with
Macquer and Lavoisier, who stated it at 1-240. The
specific gravity of Dr Marcet’s specimen may, however,
have been less from its having been taken from the lake
not far from the influx of the Jordan, on which account
it might be somewhat diluted.
Dr Clarke mentions that the inhabitants of the coun¬
try still regard the Dead Sea with feelings of terror.
This may be owing to the tradition that its waters cover
the engulphed cities of Sodom and Gomorrah, or to the
ideas entertained of the peculiar insalubrity of its exha¬
lations. It is much to be regretted that this traveller
was prevented by the Arabs, who infested the neighbour¬
hood, from exploring the lake, which he only saw at some
distance; as, with his attainments, he could not have
failed to gather some interesting information regarding
its natural history. Though M. de Chateaubriand, a few
years after, succeeded in reaching its banks, he could
only, owing to the same cause, remain a few hours; and
besides, however capable of interesting his readers, he
was not so well qualified for accurate or scientific obser¬
vation. While some of his facts run counter to the an¬
cient fables, others seem calculated to add to the list; as,
when he discovers a resemblance between the noise of
its waves and the stifled clamours of the people whom
they engulfed. (See Chateaubriand’s Travels in Greece,
Palestine, Egypt, and Barbary; Dr Clarke’s Travels in
Greece, Egypt, and the Holy Land ; Philosophical Trans¬
actions of the Royal Society of London for 1807; Klaproth,
Beitrdge zur Chemischen Kenntnis der Mineral Korper,
book v. p. 185, Berlin, 1810; Buckingham’s Travels in
Palestine ; Game’s Letters from the East.)
ASPHALTUM, Bitumen Judaicum, or Jew’s Pitch,
is a light, solid bitumen, of a dusky colour on the outside,
and a deep shining black within; of very little taste, and
having scarcely any smell, unless heated, when it emits
a strong pitchy one. It is found in a soft or liquid state
on the surface of the Dead Sea, and by age grows dry
ASS
Aspfr e- and hard. The same kind of bitumen is met with like-
lat wise in the earth in other places of the world, in China,
II America, and in some places of Europe, as the Carpathian
Assas^ France, Neufchatel, &c.
ASPHURELATA are semi-metallic fossils, fusible by
fire, and not malleable in their purest state, being in their
native state intimately mixed with sulphur and other
adventitious matter, and reduced to what are called ores.
ASPICUETA, or Azpilcueta, Martin de, common¬
ly called the Doctor of Navarre, was descended of a noble
family, and born on the 13th of December 1491, at Vara-
sayn, a small city of Navarre, not far from Pampeluna.
He entered very young into the monastery of regular ca¬
nons at Roncevaux, where he took the habit, which he
continued to wear after he left the convent. He studied
classical learning, natural and moral philosophy, and di¬
vinity, at Alcala in New Castile, adopting chiefly the
system of Petrus Lombardus, commonly called the Master
of the Sentences. He applied himself to the study of the law
at Ferrara, and taught it with applause at Toulouse and
Cahors. After being first professor of canon law at Sala¬
manca for 14 years, he quitted that place to be professor
of law at Coimbra, with a larger salary. The duties of
this office he discharged for the space of 20 years, and
then resigned it to retire into his own country. Pope
Pius V. made him assistant to Cardinal Francis Aciat,
his vice-penitentiary; and Gregory XIII. never passed
his door without calling for him, and stopped sometimes
a whole hour to talk with him in the street. He was con¬
sulted as an oracle ; and his name became so famous, that
even in his lifetime the highest encomium on a learned
man was to call him a Navarrus. He died on the 21st
June 1586, having by temperance prolonged his life to the
age of 94. He wrote a number of treatises on morality,
law, &c. These were published in 3 vols. folio in 1589,
and in 6 vols. 4to in 1602.
ASS, in Zoology. See Mammalia.
ASSAI, in Music, signifies quick; and, according to
others, that the motion of the piece be kept in a middle
degree of quickness or slowness. As, assai allegro, assai
presto.
ASSAM, a kingdom of Asia, situated on the north-west
of Bengal, between the 25th and 26th degrees of north
latitude, and extending from 94 to 99 degrees of east
longitude. The exact limits, however, are not precisely
ascertained; for this country is very little known to Eu¬
ropeans, and what respects its extent to the east is at
present to be understood as partly conjectural. Assam is
an immense valley, about 700 miles in length by between
60 and 80 in breadth, surrounded by high hills on all
sides, and interspersed with numerous eminences in the
interior, and universally susceptible of cultivation. The
whole superficies is calculated at 60,000 square miles, a
large portion of which is occupied by woods and rivers,
and the remainder consists chiefly of fertile soil; but this
calculation is exclusive of any conquered countries, and
of the territories that extend in every line beyond the
hills. Part of the kingdom is mountainous, particularly
what is called Higher or Upper Assam ; and part of it is
low and level, containing extensive plains, subject to fre¬
quent inundations in the rainy seasons. The general po¬
sition of this great valley, as well as of the mountains and
rivers traversing it, is in a direction from north to south.
It is bounded on the north by the successive ranges of
the mountains of Bootan, Anka, Duffala, and Miree ; and
on the south by the Harrow Mountains, which rise higher
as they recede northward, and change their name to Naga
at a place called Coliabark. Probably the rivers intersect¬
ing Assam are more numerous than those of any other
country of equal extent in the universe, from its being
vol.in.
ASS
completely environed by hills. The rains are collected Assam,
together, and, pouring down in irresistible torrents, swell
the waters below, until the plains are covered by the
inundation. The valley is divided throughout by the Brah¬
maputra into two parts nearly equal; and many islands
some of them very large, are formed by it and by the
confluence and mutual intersection of other rivers. They
contribute alike to fertilize the ground and to facilitate
the intercourse of the inhabitants, as they are navigable
by flat-bottomed boats, capable of transporting them and
their property. Of these rivers, not less than sixty-one
are known and distinguished by particular names, of which
thirty-four flow from the northern, and twenty-four from
the southern mountains; but the source of the Brahma¬
putra is scarcely yet ascertained, nor were Europeans
acquainted with its course until it was traced by Major
Rennell. However, it seems to rise beyond the confines
of Assam. As the rivers change their names at different
places, it is sometimes difficult to discover which is meant
in the description; and their sizes may be estimated dif¬
ferently, according as they are examined in the time of in¬
undation, or otherwise. Many of them are remarkable for
a long and winding course. * The Dhekow or Degoo, by
the size of which geographers are accustomed to compare
the other rivers, rises very far to the eastward of the
Naga Mountains, which it traverses for a considerable
distance, and then winds 200 miles through the valley
from its entrance, until it joins the Dehingh, a great
branch of the Brahmaputra. Another river, the Dek-
rungh, rises in the Duffala Mountains, and, exhibiting a
large stream, occupies 100 miles in its windings before
falling into the Brahmaputra, though the direct line
does not exceed 25. Notwithstanding its depth and ra¬
pidity, it is navigable by small boats. The river Pisola,
which likewise rises in the Duffala Mountains, pursues a
winding course of 60 miles, and, during the rainy season,
may be ascended to the base of the mountains; but it is
not navigable after the inundations subside. The rivers
to the south are never so rapid, as the inundations com¬
mence from the northern rivers. Both these and the
Brahmaputra are filled, so that the water has no consi¬
derable current until May or June, when the current is
rather stronger from the south in the season of the rains,
though the increase is not very material, as the large river
at this period is always pretty full, and checks the rapi¬
dity of all the southern rivers.
Among the numerous islands of different dimensions
formed by the intersection and confluence of the rivers,
is Majuli, or the Great Island, as it is called by pre-emi¬
nence, which appears to constitute one of the chief poli¬
tical divisions of the kingdom. This island extends 100
miles in length by about 60 in breadth, and is formed by
the river Dehingh on the west and the Looicheh on the
north; but, independently of these great aquaticboundaries,
it is intersected by numerous streams, so that it in fact
consists of a cluster of lesser islands, and some islets be¬
sides, near the banks, which in the principal rivers are
dry only while no inundations prevail. The other islands
throughout Assam are of all different dimensions, from
the most inconsiderable size to six, ten, or twenty miles
and more in length. A correct picture of the country
may thus be figured as being an extensive valley, envi¬
roned by mountains, and full of rivers and level plains.
While the rivers constitute its defence, promote the con¬
venience of its inhabitants, and contribute to fertilize the
soil overflowed by their inundations, they interrupt occa¬
sional intercourse from their magnitude and rapidity ; and
it is to be observed that there is only one stone-bridge in
the kingdom, which was erected at Rungpore by work¬
men brought from Bengal. Besides the Great Island, or
4 u
706 ASS
Assam. Majuli, Assam contains other two political divisions,
Ootrecole, Uttarcul, or Ootreparah ; and Deccancole, Dac-
shincul, or Deccanparah ; the former of which, Ootrecole,
denotes the country lying north of the Brahmaputra;
the latter, Deccancole, that to the south. And it is far¬
ther to be remarked, that Majuli is formed by great arms
of the same river, though passing by different names.
The political subdivisions of Assam are apparently al¬
most as numerous as the more important natural ones;
but the province of Camroop in Ootrecole is one ot the
largest, and the best known by description, at least to
Europeans. It formerly gave name to an extensive king¬
dom, of which the capital seems to have been Rangmattee,
beyond the present western confines of Assam. It now
stretches about 100 miles in length ; and its breadth, from
the banks of the Brahmaputra to the foot of the moun¬
tains, is 40 miles. There are no strong places within its
limits, and its chief town is Cotta. The district of Sum-
mooria occupies the southern banks of the Brahmaputra;
and the district of Nodooaria, which extends to the east¬
ward, is divided into nine shares or districts, held by so
many rajahs, though under the rule of only two.
Valuable minerals are found in Assam: the whole
country produces gold in abundance, insomuch that from
12,000 to 20,000 of the inhabitants are said to have been
constantly employed in collecting it. This precious metal
is found in all the rivers flowing from the northern moun¬
tains, but it differs in purity and colour, and also in mal¬
leability. That which is obtained in the Dekrungh is
particularly celebrated, and is distinguished by a high¬
er colour than that found in the Brahmaputra and other
rivers. Gold is more abundant in the bed of the Brah¬
maputra than in the channel of most of the others, but is
considered inferior in colour and quality. \\ hat is pro¬
cured from the bed of the Burrowgown is esteemed as
much superior even to the gold of the Dekrungh; the
colour is deeper and more vivid, and is compared by the
natives to fire; it is likewise deemed of more intrinsic
value, and always bears a greater price in Assam. The
greatest quantities of gold are found nearest the moun¬
tains, which probably indicates that it is carried down
from them by the torrents; but it is never sought in the
beds of the southern rivers. In the others, as those flow¬
ing from the north, it is of a paler colour, less pure, and
in smaller quantity, according as it is recovered from the
mines farther to die east. The persons employed in col¬
lecting it pay a small tribute to the sovereign in propor¬
tion to their success. Besides this precious metal, there
are mines of silver, lead, and iron, which all belong to the
king, and are wrought for his advantage alone. Rock-salt
is dug out of the earth, but it is bitter, and of indifferent
quality. The vegetable products of Assam are abundant,
and of excellent quality : thick and extensive forests cover
a large portion of the country; cultivated fields, espe¬
cially of rice, the staple grain for subsistence, and the
finest fruits, are generally to be seen. A Persian writer,
Mahommed Cazim, in describing this country, makes
some observations on its general appearance, which, as he
was hostile to the inhabitants, may probably merit the
greater confidence. He speaks of Majuli as “ an island
well inhabited, and in an excellent state of agriculture:
it contains a spacious, clear, and pleasant country, extend¬
ing to the distance of about 100 miles. The cultivated
part is bounded by a thick forest, which harbours ele¬
phants, and where these animals may be caught, as well
as in four or five other forests of Assam. If there be oc¬
casion for them, five or six hundred elephants may be
procured in a year. Across the Dhonec, which is the side
of Ghergong, is a wide, agreeable, level country, that de¬
lights the heart of the beholder. The whole face of it is
A M.
marked with population and tillage; and it presents on Assam,
every side charming prospects of ploughed fields, harvests,y>,
gardens, and groves. From the village of Salagerah to the
city of Ghergong, a space of about 100 miles is filled with
such an uninterrupted range of gardens, plentifully stock¬
ed with fruit-trees, that it appears as one garden. Within
them are the houses of peasants, and a beautiful assem¬
blage of coloured and fragrant herbs, and of garden and
wild flowers blowing together. As the country is over¬
flowed in the rainy season, a high and broad causeway
has been raised for the convenience of travellers, from
Salagerah to Ghergong, which is the only uncultivated
ground that is to be seen. Each side of this road is plant¬
ed with shady bamboos, the tops of which meet and are
entwined. Among the fruits which this country produces
are mangoes, plantains, jacks, oranges, citrons, limes, and
punialeh, a species of amleh, which has such an excellent
flavour that every person who tastes it prefers it to the
plum. There are also cocoa-nut trees, pepper, vines,
areca-trees, and the sadij (an aromatic leaf), in great
plenty. Sugar-cane excels in softness and sweetness, and
is of three colours, black, red, and white ; there is ginger
free from fibres, and betel-vines. The strength of vegeta¬
tion and fertility of the soil is such, that whatever seed is
sown, or slips planted, they always thrive. The environs
of Ghergong furnish small apricots, yams, and pome¬
granates ; but as these are wild, and not assisted by culti¬
vation and engrafting, they are very indifferent. The
principal crop of this country consists in rice and mash.
Ades, a kind of pea, is very scarce, and wdieat and barley
are never sown.” This is a favourable picture of the king¬
dom ; and although the revolutions and convulsions which
it has since undergone may have affected the industry of
the inhabitants, the means of renewing it remain.
Elephants, wild buffaloes, hogs, and tigers, haunt the
banks of the rivers, which are covered with grass and
reeds so as to be impenetrable by men. It has been af¬
firmed that there are neither horses, asses, nor camels
here, though two species of the first are natives of a
neighbouring territory. The other animals are unknown,
but the rivers abound so plentifully with fish as to afford
a copious supply to the inhabitants. A particular kind of
animal, different from the common silk-worm, according
to Turpin, produces silk of another texture, with which
beautiful dresses, but of bad quality, are fabricated.
It is not unlikely that some external physical distinc¬
tions prevail among the natives, according as they inhabit
the high or the low countries, and that their moral quali¬
ties are influenced by the same cause. Mahommed Cazim
remarks, that the complexion of the mountaineers, like
that of the inhabitants of all cold climates, is red and
white. They are an active, hardy race, well formed; but
the noses of the women are flattish. Both sexes go almost
naked; formerly the mountaineers were absolutely so;
and, unlike the easterns in general, none of the females,
even those of the highest rank, are veiled. They wear a
blue bonnet or cap, from which hogs’ teeth are suspend¬
ed ; which is perhaps of more recent use, as the Persian
just referred to says they had neither turbans, robes,
drawers, nor shoes. Their most valuable ornaments at
present are bracelets of coral or yellow amber, and some¬
times tortoise-shell or sea-shells. They dwell in habita¬
tions constructed of wood, bamboos, and straw; and there
is only an inconsiderable difference between those of the
more wealthy and the poorer classes. With regard to
their state of civilization, or their manners and customs,
we have very little certain information applicable to the
present times. Most probably the mountaineers are more
barbarous than the inhabitants of the low country and the
plains ; and as the kingdom is divided into a number o
ASSAM.
Assa petty states, those may be subordinate to some paramount
authority ; but the frequent broils of the rajahs retard the
civilization of their subjects. Mahommed Cazim, who
entertained a decided aversion to the Assamese, re¬
proaches them with indiscriminately feeding “ on all
kinds of food, human flesh excepted; they even eat ani¬
mals that have died a natural death.” He divides them
into two tribes, Assamians and Cultanians; the latter ex¬
celling the former in every thing but warlike operations.
It appears that the government of this kingdom is mo¬
narchical, and that a sultan or rajah rules the whole; yet,
owing to the incessant contest for power, the course of
succession, if it be hereditary, is disturbed, and the most
potent chief, gaining an ascendency, restores the country
to peace. The government was wont to be mildly ad¬
ministered : in the words of Turpin, the “ king was at¬
tentive to the happiness of his subjects, and employed
none excepting slaves to labour in the mines. It was the
only country where humanity was not crushed under the
pressure of despotism.” Formerly the rajah kept a guard
of six or seven thousand warlike troops, whose courage
was equal to any enterprise.
The religion of these people is supposed by Mr Hamil¬
ton to be Brahminical. It is certain that they have many
temples erected to their divinities throughout their ter¬
ritories, although the character and description of these
divinities have never been explained. In the time of
Aurungzebe they are said to have had no settled faith:
They do not adopt any mode of worship practised either
by Heathens or Mahometans; nor do they concur with
any of the known sects which prevail amongst mankind.
But it is by no means credible that all their temples have
been erected since that era. Rafts covered with human
heads are sometimes seen floating down the Brahma¬
putra through Bengal, which has excited conjectures
that they belonged to victims offered to their sanguinary
deities. It is not evident, however, that human sacrifices,
unless the destruction of life at funeral obsequies be called
such, are publicly offered up in the neighbouring Asiatic
territories. This species of barbarity has been widely ex¬
tended over the world; captives were slaughtered at the
pile of the ancients,—slaves were buried alive to serve
their masters in the world to come,—and even the chosen
wife of htr husband’s affections has been doomed to de¬
struction at the same moment that his earthly remains
were consigned to oblivion. Such customs have been fa¬
miliar to mankind from the earliest records of time, and,
among the rest, were practised by the natives of As¬
sam. On the decease of a rajah, or any distinguished
person, a capacious pit was prepared, where not only his
own body, but many of his women and attendants, were
also buried. Of the latter was a torch-bearer, together
with a quantity of oil and lamps, as essential to his com¬
fort in a future state; some of his most elegant and use¬
ful furniture, carpets and clothes, were, in like manner, in¬
cluded ; and even elephants, together with gold and sil¬
ver, formed part of the promiscuous assemblage. A
strong roof, resting on thick timbers, was then construct¬
ed over the pit, and the miserable victims not already
slain were left to perish by a lingering death.
In regard to the state of the arts, it is to be inferred
that the Assamese are behind many nations in their vici¬
nity. Formerly they manufactured excellent silks, chiefly
for home consumption; they likewise fabricated velvet,
and embroidered it beautifully with flowers. Perhaps the
same is continued, as also the extraction of salt from ve¬
getable substances; and their gunpowder was reputed
<ff the best quality. Nay, the easterns hence ascribed
the invention of this destructive substance to their inge¬
nuity, and affirm that it passed from them to Pegu, and
707
thence to China. 1 heir chief exports to Bengal are gold, Assam,
elephants teeth, two kinds of lac, which was esteemed '—
the finest in those regions, a coarse raw silk, and coarse
cotton cloths. Brandy is made from grapes, afforded by
the numerous vines in Assam. Agriculture is certainly
well understood: the populousness of several districts
which have attracted the attention of the traveller, proves
that there is no scarcity of subsistence; and well-fre¬
quented fairs are spoken of as being held in different
places. Assam contains some celebrated temples, proba¬
bly of ancient date; and their military causeways, con¬
structed at an early period of their history, are of admi¬
rable extent and magnitude. One of these, now in a
state of decay, runs from Cooch Bahar in Bengal, through
Rangamatty, to the utmost extremity of the eastern limits
of the kingdom, serving as a boundary of the Bootan do¬
minions. Another, a work of immense labour, passes the
capital; and the banks of the Dhekow are connected with
the southern mountains by a lofty rampart, traversing the
space of ten or fifteen miles. It is undoubted, that al¬
though most authors who have treated of this subject
describe these structures as military causeways only, they
have served both as the means of communication among
the inhabitants during the season of inundations, and as
barriers to the overflowing rivers spreading still farther on
the plains. Thus the great causeway which approaches
the capital was raised to preserve the intei'ior from the
inundations of the Dehingh, while in the dry season the
river retires two miles from its base.
A great many towns and villages are scattered over the
banks of the rivers of Assam, these having been peculiarly
selected by the natives for their habitations; and a cer¬
tain number seems to be included in a circle under the
same administration. The capital, which is called Gher-
gong, Kirgana, or perhaps more properly Gurgown, is si¬
tuated in 25° 35' north latitude, 93° 10' east longitude, at
a considerable distance above Rungpore, which is some¬
times called the capital, but is only the military station
of Ghergong. It stands on the high banks of the river
Dhekow or Degoo. This city Dr Wade, who resided ten
years in Assam, describes to have been ten miles long by
five in breadth; and we learn from other authors that
it was fortified and encircled by a fence of bamboos, in¬
closing villages and fields in its circuit. Like other cities
of the East, each house stood separate, amidst a cultivated
spot or garden; each side of the river was lined with dwell¬
ings, and the royal palace was situated on its banks. It
had four gates, constructed of earth and stone, from each
of which the palace was distant four miles and a half, by
which means its position was nearly in the centre, and
close to the Dhekow. This palace was a spacious edi¬
fice, apparently between two and three miles in circuit,
surrounded by a causeway, planted on each side by a
close bamboo hedge, serving instead of a wall, and beyond
them a wet ditch, always full of water. The interior con¬
tained many apartments, both for state and convenience,
elegantly ornamented. Mahommed affirms it as an un¬
doubted fact, that 3000 carpenters and 12,000 labourers
were constantly occupied, during two years, in construct¬
ing the palace; but an insurrection, which took place
about the year 1790, proved almost totally destructive of
it and the rest of the city. Rungpore, situated in 25° 47'
north latitude, and 89° 5' east longitude, stands on the
opposite side of the Dhekow, with the river Numdaugh
flowing on the south; a rampart or causeway to resist the
inundations protects it on the east; and on the west it is
secured by a bridge, the only access whereby it can be
approached. The circle including it contains several
towns, and is about twelve miles in length by ten in
breadth. Goahautee is the capital of Lower Assam, and
708
ASSAM.
Assam, the residence of a viceroy. The surrounding territory oc-
cupies a hilly country on both sides of the Brahmaputra,
the hills on each side forming a spacious amphitheatre,
which has been fortified equally by nature and art. The
district Goahautee is divided into north and south, in¬
cluding several strong passes among the fortified hills. A
great number of other towns might be mentioned by
name; but, excepting their position, we are unacquainted
with any thing regarding them.
The history of this kingdom is involved in great obscu¬
rity, arising both from its remote situation, and from a
jealousy of strangers, which has almost entirely precluded
the access of Europeans ; and by a singular fatality, after
this difficulty had been conquered by the admission and
residence of an intelligent physician, Dr Wade, some of
the most important materials collected by him were lost
on being transmitted to Europe. The present race of in¬
habitants is said to have occupied the country during a
thousand years, but not by any means in tranquillity; at
least we know that, since 1638, they have been involved
in frequent contests with their neighbours. In these,
however, they have in general been successful, for un¬
conquerable obstacles are opposed to their enemies.
“ Whenever an invading army has entered their territo¬
ries, the Assamese have sheltered themselves in strong
posts, and have distressed the enemy by stratagems, sur¬
prises, and alarms, and by cutting off their provisions. If
these means failed, they have declined a battle in the
field, but have carried the peasants into the mountains,
burnt the grain, and left the country desert. But when
the rainy season has set in upon the advancing enemy,
they have watched their opportunity to make excursions
and vent their rage; the famished invaders have either
become their prisoners, or been put to death. In this
manner powerful and numerous armies have been sunk in
that whirlpool of destruction, and not a soul has escaped.”
Such dangers were sufficient to intimidate the boldest ad¬
venturers, and we have the testimony of eye-witnesses
that they are not exaggerated. About the close of the
fifteenth century, Husein Shah, king of Bengal, invaded
Assam with a formidable force of cavalry, infantry, and
also of boats; and, in the outset, was successful. The ra¬
jah, unable to meet him in the plains, retired to the moun¬
tains, whither Husein could not follow him ; but returning
to Bengal, he left his son with a large army to keep pos¬
session of the country; the rainy season commenced, and
the roads were shut up by inundations; then the rajah
descended from the mountains, intercepted the supplies
of the invaders, harassed them with skirmishes, and cut
off the whole in detail. Another prince of Hindostan at¬
tempted the conquest of Assam, with an immense force
of cavalry; but, says the author who records the enter¬
prise, they were all devoted to oblivion in that country of
enchantment, and no intelligence or vestige of them re¬
mained. The Assamese, however, in 1638 met with a
reverse of fortune in leaving their own confines to sail
down the Brahmaputra and assail the inhabitants of Ben¬
gal, being repulsed by the troops of Shah Jehaun.
The rajah of Assam had assumed or preserved the title
of Sarjee or Swerg, which signifies celestial, and lived in
great pomp and splendour in the reign of Aurungzebe, the
Mogul emperor, who died in 1707. That great prince,
desirous of extending his conquests, sent an army, under
an able general, to attempt the subjugation of this king¬
dom; partly, it would appear, to humble the pride of the
rajah, who was so vain-glorious as to believe that his an¬
cestors were of divine origin, and that one of them, in¬
clining to visit the earth, descended by a golden ladder;
and partly to disseminate the principles of the Mahometan
faith. The army advanced victoriously, conquering all
opposition, and gained possession of the capital. There Assam
the imperial general, considering himself firmly establish- ||
ed, made many regulations for internal administration, and ASSarium.i
also proclaimed the Mahometan religion. Measures were
taken for keeping the roads open, and for supplying the
army with provisions; and, as the season was now chang¬
ing, he resolved, when the inundations subsided, to put
his troops in motion to extirpate the rajah and those ad-
herents who had escaped. The conquest of Assam ex-
tended to a large portion of the country, for all the vil¬
lages of Decancole submitted to the invaders, and those
of Ootrecole followed; yet it is not to be inferred that
this was accomplished without loss ; for the panegyrist of
the general describes the country as spacious, populous,
and hard to be penetrated ; that it abounded in dangers;
that the paths and roads were beset with difficulties; and
that the obstacles to conquest were more than could be
expressed. The inhabitants, he says, were enterprising,
well armed, and always prepared for battle. They had
lofty forts, numerously garrisoned and plentifully pro¬
vided with warlike stores; and the approach to them was
opposed by thick and dangerous jungles and broad and
boisterous rivers. Under these circumstances it was won¬
derful that the army prevailed; “ but the Mussulman
hordes experienced the comfort of fighting for their reli¬
gion, and the blessings of it reverted to the sovereignty of
his just and pious Majesty.” But the Assamese were un¬
subdued : the climate proved destructive to the Moguls,
who vrere obliged to evacuate the city, and, after being
harassed by the natives, to retreat from the country with
diminished numbers.
Towards the earlier part of the eighteenth century, it
is said that some of the Brahmins of Bengal reached As¬
sam, desirous of introducing their religion there, where
the inhabitants still had no settled faith. Amidst their
exertions for this great object, they persuaded them that
it would be gratifying to their deity, Brahma, if they
would use salt imported from Bengal in preference to
their own, which it greatly excelled. To this the sove¬
reign consented, on condition that it should be monopo¬
lized by himself, and that the vessels conveying it should
not penetrate beyond the frontier; and, in consequence,
forty vessels, each of from 500 to 600 tons burden, have
annually been sent thither.
About the year 1790, the kingdom was in the most
distracted state from a widely extended insurrection, fol¬
lowed by the absolute destruction of many important
places; and, in the year 1793, a detachment of British
troops was sent to aid the restoration of the rajah, who
seems to have been dethroned by the insurgents. This
detachment gained the capital, and completely effected
their object; and the rajah was so sensible of the assist¬
ance he had received, that he immediately concluded a
commercial treaty very favourable to the British interests.
It was probably on this occasion that Dr Wade visited
Assam, and that Mr Wood, of the engineers, constructed
a map of a considerable portion of the country. Either
this or another was transmitted to Britain, we have un¬
derstood, to be deposited in the Advocates" Library at
Edinburgh; but, after its arrival, it unfortunately never
reached the place of its destination, which is much to be
regretted, since the geography and history of the country
are both so little known.
ASSARIUM, in Antiquity, denotes a small copper coin,
being a part or diminutive of the as. The word uMccgioi
is used by Suidas indifferently with c/3oAoj and vo/iiff/ia, to
denote a small piece of money; in which he is followed by
Cujacius, who defines aaaugwv by minimus ceris nimmus.
We find mention of the assarium in the gospel of St
Matthew, chap. x. ver. 29.
§
I
r
'T
ASS
Assa>
ASSARO, a city in the island of Sicily, and intendancy
of Calatanissetta, containing 3300 inhabitants. The si-
tuation is lofty and healthy, but there is nothing remark-
able except a number of caverns in the hills in its neigh¬
bourhood.
ASSARON, or Omer, a measure of capacity in use
among the Hebrews, containing five pints. It was the
measure of manna which God appointed for every Israelite.
ASSASSIN, a person who kills another with the ad¬
vantage either of an inequality in the weapons, or by
means of the situation of the place, or by attacking him
at unawares. The word assassin is said by some to have
been introduced from the Levant, where it took its rise
from a certain prince of the family of the Arsacidce, popu¬
larly called Assassins, living in a castle between Antioch
and Damascus, and bringing up a number of young men,
ready to pay a blind obedience to his commands ; whom
he employed in murdering the princes with whom he was
at enmity. But according to Mr Volney, the word Has-
sassin (from the root hass, to kill, to assassinate, to lis¬
ten, to surprise), in the vulgar Arabic, signifies robbers of
the night, persons who lie in ambush to kill; and is uni¬
versally understood in this sense at Cairo and at Syria.
Hence it was applied to the Batenians, a tribe of Syria,
who slew by surprise. This people probably owed their
origin to the Carmatians, a famous heretical sect among
the Mahometans, who settled in Persia about the year
1090 ; whence, in process of time, they sent a colony into
Syria, where they became possessed of a considerable tract
of land among the mountains of Lebanon, extending itself
from the neighbourhood of Antioch to Damascus. The
first chief and legislator of this remarkable tribe appears
to have been Hassan Ben Sabah, a subtle impostor, who
by his artifices made fanatical and implicit slaves of his
subjects. Their religion was compounded of that of the
Magi, the Jews, the Christians, and the Mahometans; but
the capital article of their creed was to believe that the
Holy Ghost resided in their chief; that his orders pro¬
ceeded from God himself, and were real declarations of
his divine pleasure. To this monarch the orientals gave
the name of Sheikh-el-Jebelz ; but he is better known in
Europe by the name of the Old Man of the Mountain.
This chief, from his residence on Mount Lebanon, like
a vindictive deity, with the thunderbolt in his hand, sent
inevitable death to all quarters of the world; so that from
one end of the earth to the other, caliphs, emperors, sul¬
tans, kings, princes, Christians, Mahometans, and Jews,
every nation and people, execrated and dreaded his san¬
guinary power, from the strokes of which there was no
security. At the least suggestion or whisper that he had
threatened the death of any potentate, all immediately
doubled their guards, and took every other precaution in
their power. It is known that Philip Augustus, king of
I ranee, on a premature advice that the sheikh intended
to have him assassinated, instituted a new body-guard of
men distinguished for their activity and courage, called
sergens darnies, with brass clubs, and bows and arrows;
and he himself never appeared without a club, fortified
either with iron or gold. Most sovereigns paid secretly
a pension to the sheikh, however scandalous and deroga¬
tory it might be to the lustre of majesty, for the safety
of their persons. The knights-templars alone dared to
defy his secret machinations and open force. This people
once had, or at least they feigned to have, an intention
of embracing the Christian religion. They reigned a long
time in Persia and on Mount Lebanon. TIolagoo or Hu-
laku, a leader of the Mogul Tartars, in the year 655 of
the Hegira, or 1251 of the Christian era, entered their
country and dispossessed them of several places; but it
was not till some years after that they were totally ex-
A S S
709
andTntreniditvof'H.16^11161?- °Wing t0 the contluct Assault
by the sStaXbars? EgWt'an ^ Sent a«ainst tham
0ft/le Assassins, in the German language, by
Mr Von Hammer, was published at Stuttgard in 1818. It
contains some new and striking views of the origin, pro¬
ceedings, and doctrines of the sect. He represents them
as forming a military and religious order, subject to the
control and direction of a grand master, like the templars,
to whom the title of Old Man of the Mountain was ap¬
plied. We must content ourselves with referring our
readeis to this learned and curious work.
ASSAULT, in English Law, is an offer or attempt to
hurt the person of another; as, if one lifts up his cane or
ns fist in a threatening manner at another, or strikes at
him, but misses him, this is an assault; the actual touch-
mg of the person not being necessary to make the offence.
1 inch desciibes it to be “ an unlawful setting upon one’s
person.” No words whatsoever, be they ever so provok-
ing, can amount to an assault. There are, however, opi¬
nions to the contrary.
ASSAY, Essay, or Say, in Metallurgy, the proof or trial
of the goodness, purity, value, &c. of metals and metalline
substances. In ancient statutes this is called touch, and
those who had the care of it keepers of the touch.
ASSAYING, taken generally, implies an examination
or analysis of any ore or substance whose constituent
parts are to be chemically determined. The term, how¬
ever, more particularly relates to the ascertaining of the
qualities of gold and silver in relation to their state of
purity; and in the following observations we mean to con¬
fine ourselves entirely to this object.
In whatever point of view we consider the art of assay- impoi.t.
ing these metals, it cannot fail to appear of great import- ance of"
ance to the welfare and prosperity of the civilized world, this art.
Every one must be aware of the importance of a metallic
currency agreeing in its standard fineness with the de¬
cree which establishes its circulation, and that it is an
object of the greatest consequence to a nation to have
the means of ascertaining with accuracy the value of the
coins issued by the authority of the monarch. Since the
reign of Henry VIII. we have had no capricious and un¬
justifiable changes in the standard fineness of our coins.
That monarch, as Dr Henry remarks, “ after he had
squandered all his father’s treasures, the grants he had
received from parliament, and the great sums he had de¬
rived from the dissolution of the religious houses, began
to diminish his coins both in weight and fineness. This
diminution at first was small, in hopes, perhaps, that it
would not be perceived: but after he had got into this
fatal career, he proceeded by rapid steps to the most
pernicious lengths. In the 36th year of his reign silver
money of all the different kinds was coined, which had only
one half silver and the other half alloy. He did not even
stop here: in the last year of his reign he coined money
that had only 4 oz. of silver and 8 oz. of alloy in the pound
weight; and the nominal pound of this base money was
worth only 9s. 3|d. of our present money. He began to
debase his gold coins at the same time, and proceeded by
the same degrees. But it would be tedious to follow him
in every step. In this degraded and debased condition
Henry VIII. left the money of his kingdom to his son
and successor Edward VI. This shameful debasement
of the money of his kingdom was one of the most im¬
prudent, dishonourable, and pernicious measures of his
reign: it was productive of innumerable inconvenciences
and great perplexity in business of all kinds, and the
restoration of it to its standard purity was found to be a
work of great difficulty.” (Henry’s History of Great Bri¬
tain, vol. xii. p. 336 and 337.)
ASSAYING.
To possess the art, therefore, by which such dishonourable
^ proceedings as are just detailed may be speedily detected,
is evidently an object of the greatest utility; inasmuch
as the debasement of the coin would require an adjust¬
ment of the relative value of commodities to the degraded
standard; and the more facility that can be given to this
adjustment, the less perplexity and injury will be sustained
by the public.
The importance of the art of assaying will further appear
when we consider the extent of the manufacture of plate,
and ornamental articles of gold and silver, the standard
value of which is determined by an assay of a few Troy
grains only. The nicety and delicacy of the operation must
be great, and much practical experience requisite, to ob¬
tain uniformly a satisfactory result.
Descrip- The principle of assaying gold and silver is very simple :
tion It consists of two operations—the separation of the alloy
plements. from the precious metals, and the parting of these latter
from each other.
Before proceeding to the detailed description of these
processes, we shall describe, the furnaces and implements
used in the art of assaying.
Plate LXXVIII. A AAA, fig. 1, is a front elevation of an
assay furnace ; aa a view of one of the two iron rollers
on which the furnace rests, and by means of which it is
moved forward or backward; b the ash-pit; cc are the
ash-pit dampers, which are moved in a horizontal direc¬
tion towards each other for regulating the draught of the
furnace ; d the door or opening by which the cupels and as¬
says are introduced into the muffle; e a movable funnel or
chimney, by which the draught of the furnace is increased.
BBBB, fig. 2, is a perpendicular section of fig. 1 ; aa
end view of the rollers; b the ash-pit; c one of the ash¬
pit dampers; d the grate ; e the plate upon which the
muffle rests, and which is covered with loam nearly one
inch thick; / the muffle in section representing the situa¬
tion of the cupels ; g the mouth-plate, and upon it are laid
pieces of charcoal, which during the process are ignited,
and heat the air that is allowed to pass over the cupels,
and which will be more fully explained in the sequel; h
the interior of the furnace, exhibiting the fuel.
The total height of the furnace is 2 feet 6^ inches; from
the bottom to the grate, 6 inches ; the grate, muffle, plate,
and bed of loam with which it is covered, 3 inches; from
the upper surface of the grate to the commencement of
Fig. 12, the tongs used for charging the assays into the Assaying,
cupels.
Fig. 13 represents a board of wood used as a register,
and is divided into 45 equal compartments, upon which
the assays are placed previous to their being introduced
into the furnace. When the operation is performed, the
cupels are placed in the furnace in situations correspond¬
ing to these assays on the board. By these means all con¬
fusion is avoided, and without this regularity it would be
impossible to preserve the accuracy which the delicate
operations of the assayer require.
The furnace and implements which we have just detail¬
ed are such as are used in the Royal Mint and Goldsmiths’
Hall in the city of London.
We shall now proceed to a description of a small assay
furnace invented by Messrs Anfrye and D’Arcet of Paris.
They term it Le Petit Fourneau d Coupelle. Fig. 14 re¬
presents this furnace, and it is composed of a chimney or
pipe of wrought iron a, and of the furnace B. It is 17*
inches high and inches wide. The furnace is formed of
three pieces ; of a dome A; the body of the furnace B; and
the ash-pit C, which is used as the base of the furnace, fig.
14 and 15. The principal piece or body of the furnace B
has the form of a hollow tower, or of a hollow cylinder,
flattened equally at the two opposite sides, parallel to the
axis, in such a manner that the horizontal section is ellip¬
tical. The foot which supports it is a hollow truncated cone,
flattened in like manner upon the two opposite sides, and
having consequently for its basis two ellipses of different
diameters; the smallest ought to be equal to that of the
furnace, so that the bottom of the latter may exactly fit
it. The dome, which forms an arch above the furnace,
has also its base elliptical, whilst that of the superior ori¬
fice by which the smoke goes out preserves the cylindri¬
cal form. The tube of wrought iron is 18 inches long
and 2^ inches diameter, having one of its ends a little en¬
larged and slightly conical, that it may be exactly fitted
or jointed upon the upper part of the furnace dome d,
fig. 14. At the union of the conical and cylindrical parts
of the tube there is placed a small gallery of iron e, fig.
14, 15, and 16. See also the plan of it, fig. 17. This
gallery is both ingenious, useful, and necessary. Upon it
are placed the cupels, which are properly heated during
the ordinary work of the furnace, that they may be intro¬
duced into the muffle when it is brought into its proper
degree of heat. A little above this gallery is a door/ by
the funnel, e fig. 1, 21^ inches; the funnel e 6 inches. 0
The square of the furnace which receives the muffle and which, if thought proper, the charcoal could be introdu-
fuel is 11^ inches by 15 inches. The external sides of ced into the furnace ; and above that there is placed at</
the furnace are made of plates of wrought iron, and are a key or valve, which is used for regulating the draught of
lined with a 2-inch fire-brick. the furnace at pleasure. Messrs Anfrye and D Arcet say,
CCCC, fig. 3, is a horizontal section of the furnace over that, to give the furnace the necessary degree of heat so
the grate, showing the width of the mouth-piece or plate as to work the assays of gold, the tube must be about 18
of wrought iron, which is 6 inches, and the opening which inches high above the gallery for annealing or heating the
receives the muffle-plate. cupels. The circular opening h, in the dome, fig. 14, and
Fig. 4 represents the muffle or pot, which is 12 inches as seen in the section, fig. 15, is used to introduce the
long, 6 inches broad inside; in the clear 6J: in height
4£ inside measure, and nearly 5^ in the clear.
Fig 5, the muffle-plate, and which is of the same size
as the bottom of the muffle.
Fig 6 is a representation of the sliding door of the
mouth-plate, as shown at d in fig. 1.
charcoal into the furnace: it is also used to inspect the
interior of the furnace, and to arrange the charcoal round
the muffle. This opening is kept shut during the working
of the furnace, with the mouth-piece, of which the face is
seen at n, fig. 15.
The section of the furnace, fig. 15, presents several
Fig. 7, a front view of the mouth-plate or piece, «?fig. 1. openings: the principal, which is that of the muffle, is
Fig. 8, a representation of the mode of making, or shut- placed in i; it is shut with the semicircular door M, fig-
ting up with pieces of charcoal, the mouth of the furnace. 14, and as seen in the section m, fig. 15. In front of tins
Fig. 9, a view of the cupel, which is generally one inch opening is the table or shelf upon which the door of the
by Ijths of an inch. muffle is made to advance or recede; the letter q, fig. 15,
Fig. 10, the teaser for cleaning the grate. shows the face, side, and cross section of the shelf, which
Fig. II, a larger teaser, which is introduced at the top makes part of the furnace. Immediately under the shell
of the furnace, for keeping a complete supply of charcoal is a horizontal slit l, which is pierced at the level of the
around the muffle. upper part of the grate, and used for the introduction ot
ASSAYING.
Assayk* the rod of iron, fig. 31, that the grate may be easily kept
clean- This opening is shut at pleasure by the wedge re¬
presented at fig. 14 and 15.
Upon the back of the furnace is a horizontal slit />, fig.
15, which supports the fire-brick S, fig. 15, and upon which
the end of the muffle, if necessary, may rest: u, fig. 15, is
the opening in the furnace where the muffle is placed.
Fig. 19 is a plan of the grate of the furnace, and fig.
20 a horizontal view of it. These two figures show us the
dimensions of the ellipses, and determine the general
form of the furnace, and thickness of the grate. To give
strength and solidity to the grate, it is encircled by albar
or hoop of iron. We see at 2 the groove in which the
hoop of iron is fixed. The holes of the grate are truncat¬
ed cones, having the greatest base below, that the ashes
may more easily fall into the ash-pit. The letter v, fig.
15, shows the form of these holes. The grate is support¬
ed by a small bank or shelf, making part of the furnace,
as seen at a, fig. 15.
The ash-pit C has an opening y in front, fig. 15, and is
shut when necessary by the mouth-piece r, fig. 14 and 15.
To give strength and solidity to the furnace, it is
bound with hoops of iron at b, b, b, b, fig. 14.
Figs. 21, 22, and 23, are views of the muffle.
Fig. 24 is a view of a crucible for annealing gold.
Figs. 25, 26, and 27, are cupels of various sizes to be
used in the furnace. They are the same as those used
by assayers in their ordinary furnaces.
Figs. 28 and 29 are views of the hand-shovels used for
filling the furnace with charcoal; they should be made
of such size and form as to fit the opening h in figs. 14
and 15.
Fig. 30, the smaller pincers or tongs by which the assays
are charged into the cupels, and by which the latter are
withdrawn from the furnace.
Fig. 18, the teaser for cleaning the grate of the furnace.
Fig. 16 is a representation of the furnace first construct¬
ed by Messrs Anfrye and d’Arcet, and which was work¬
ed by means of a pair of bellows, which forced a current
of air through the brass tube b, entering the ash-pit under
the grate at the circular hole c, fig. 15. The strength of
the blast or current of air can be regulated at pleasure by
the stop-cock d, fig. 16.
I’locesj f We shall now proceed to a description of the process
i*iyim of assaying, as performed by the assayers of the Royal
Mint and Goldsmiths’ Flail, and shall then state the faci¬
lity afforded by the furnace of Messrs Anfrye and d’Arcet
in conducting this operation upon a smaller scale and re¬
duced expense.
Some preliminary observations may be requisite in re¬
gard to the muffle and cupels, to the proportioning of lead
in assaying, &c. before the operation of the assay com¬
mences.
In the furnace above described, the number of assays
that can be made at one time is 45. The same number
of cupels are put into the muffle. The furnace is then
filled with charcoal to the top, and upon this are laid a
few pieces already ignited. In the course of three hours,
a little more or less, according to circumstances, the whole
is ignited, during which period the muffle, which is made
of fire-clay, is gradually heated to redness, and is pre¬
vented from cracking, which a less regular or more sud¬
den increase of temperature would not fail to do: the cu¬
pels also become properly annealed. All moisture being
dispelled, they are in a fit state to receive the piece of
silver or gold to be assayed.
The greater care that is exercised in this operation,
the less liable is the assayer to accidents from the break¬
ing of the muffle, which it is both expensive and trouble¬
some to fit properly into the furnace.
The cupels used in the assay process are made of the Assay
ashes of burnt bones (phosphate of lime). In the Royal W
Mint the cores of oxhorn are selected for this purpose
and the ashes produced are about four times the expense
of the bone-ash used in the process of cupellation upon
the large scale. So much depends upon the accuracy of
an assay of gold or silver, where a mass of 15 lbs. Troy
in the first and 60 lbs. T roy in the second instance is de¬
termined by the analysis of a portion not exceeding 20
Iroy grains, that every precaution which the longest ex¬
pel ience has suggested is used to obtain an accurate re¬
sult . hence the attention paid to the selection of the
most proper materials for making the cupels.
The cupels are formed in a circular mould made of cast
steel, very nicely turned, and by which means they are
easily fieed horn the mould when struck. The bone-ash
is used moistened with a quantity of water sufficient to
make the particles adhere firmly together. The circular
mould is filled and pressed level with its surface, after
which a pestle or rammer, having its end nicely turned,
of a globular or convex shape, and its size equal to the
degree of concavity wished to be made in the cupel for
the reception of the assay, is placed upon the ashes in
the mould, and struck with a hammer until the cupel is
properly formed. These cupels are allowed to dry in the
air for some time before they are used. If the weather
is dry, a fortnight will be sufficient.
The greatest possible attention should be paid to the
quality of the lead used in assaying. If it contain silver,
it will be easy to perceive a source of material error in
the delicate operations of the assayer. Lead revived from
litharge contains only about half a grain in the pound
weight, and is preferred on that account to lead immedi¬
ately revived from the ore, which usually contains a larger
quantity.
I he proportion of lead used in an assay of silver varies
according as the external character of the silver to be as¬
sayed indicates a comparative state of fineness or coarse¬
ness to standard metal; which an expert assayer may
pretty accurately determine by the eye: but his opinion
will also in some measure be regulated by the compara¬
tive ease or difficulty of flattening upon an anvil the piece
of silver to be assayed;—if coarse, the metal is harder
than standard, and of a brilliant glossy appearance; but
if soft and easily flattened, and of a dead white colour, it
will indicate a state approaching to purity. The quantity
of lead is then proportioned by the opinion of the assayer,
and varies from 10 to 20 times the weight of the silver
used. It should be observed, that a cupel is capable of
absorbing only its own weight of litharge; and attention
should accordingly be paid to the size of the cupel, when
any silver is to be assayed which requires a great quan¬
tity of lead.
As it is always requisite to proportion the lead to the
estimated quantity of alloy in the silver before cupellation,
the ancient assayers made use of touch-needles, which were
bars or slips of metal made with pure silver, alloyed with
definite proportions of copper in a regularly increasing
series, from the least to the greatest proportion which
may ever be required. The silver to be assayed was ex¬
amined in comparison with the touch-needles in colour,
tenacity, and other external characters; and its alloy was
estimated by that of the needle to which it showed the
closest resemblance. These needles are seldom or never
used now; and the external character of the metal is
sufficient to guide an experienced assayer in the propor¬
tioning of the lead to the estimated alloy in the silver
which he has to assay.
In Aikin’s Dictionary of Chemistry and Mineralogy,
under the article Assaying, there is a table of the pro-
712
Assaying.
ASSAYING.
portions of lead to the estimated alloy in fine silver,
founded upon the experiments of Messrs Tillet, Hellot,
and Macquer, which were the basis of a regulation sub¬
sequently adopted by an edict of the late French govern¬
ment. The great uncertainty of the use of the touch-
needles probably suggested these experiments to the
French chemists; and as this table may be extremely
useful to inexperienced assayers, we shall insert it here,
together with the observations accompanying it in the
above work.
“ Copper, the usual alloy of the fine metals, when taken
singly, is found to require from ten to fourteen times its
weight of lead for complete scorification on the cupel.
Now, all admixtures of fine metal tend to protect the cop¬
per from the action of the litharge, and the more obsti¬
nately, the greater the proportion of fine metal; so that
copper with three times its weight of silver (or 9 oz. fine), Assavinn
requires forty times as much lead as copper; with eleven v--y>j
parts of silver it requires seventy-two parts of lead, and
the like in an increasing ratio. The following is the
table of the proportions of lead required to different al¬
loys of copper, of which a few points are founded on the
above-mentioned experiments, and the rest filled up ac¬
cording to the estimated ratio of increase (being multiples
of the assay integer 24 in arithmetical progression). In
the three first columns is shown the absolute increase of
the quantity of lead in alloys of decreasing fineness; in
the three last columns will be seen the gradual diminu¬
tion of the protecting power of fine metal against sco¬
rification in proportion to the increase of alloy, shown by
the decreasing quantity of lead required for the same
weight of copper under different mixtures.”
TABLE.
Silver.
23 with
22
20
18
16
14
12
10
8
6
4
2
Copper.
1
2
4
6
8
10
12
14
16
18
20
22
requires
Lead.
96
144
192
240
288
336
384
432
480
528
576
624
Ratio Of Increase.
= 4 X 24
— 6 X 24
= 8 X 24
— 10 X 24
= 12 X 24
= 14 X 24
= 16 X 24
= 18 X 24
= 20 X 24
= 22 X 24
24 X
26 X
24
24
and hence
Copper.
1 with
1
1
1
1
1
1
1
1
1
1
1
Silver.
23
11
5
3
2
If
requires
Lead.
96
72
48
40
36
33
32
30
30
29 X
28 X
28 X
In the article just referred to, it is remarked that many
assayers of good authority use proportions of lead to alloy
considerably different from the above table, and that the
whole of the numbers here given may be considered as
rather high in regard to the quantity of lead. The Ger¬
man assayers, it is added, observe the following rule:
Copper. Silver. Lead.
1 with 30 requires 128
1  15   96
1   7   64
1   4   56
1   3   40
1   1   30
1   4  20
. .1   iV  17
In proportioning the lead to the alloy supposed to exist
in the silver to be assayed, care must be taken not unne¬
cessarily to increase the quantity ; though it would be all
oxidated or absorbed by the cupel sooner or later; which
is proved by the cupellation of lead per se, in order to as¬
certain the portion of silver it contains; the latter being
always found in a globular shape on the cupel and in a
state of purity.
In the process of cupellation with lead, however, there
is always a loss of silver. Mr Tillet found, by experi¬
ments which he made with pure silver and lead, whose
retent of silver was known, that after the process of cu¬
pellation, the button of silver was never precisely of the
same weight as before, but was always a portion lighter,
even when the heat of the assay furnace was not sufficient
to drive off any of the silver. The conclusion was obvi¬
ous,—a part of the silver was carried into the cupel by
the lead. This was proved by reviving the oxide of lead
from the cupel, and cupelling the lead by itself, when the
quantity of silver left upon the test was found to be ten
times as great as the natural proportion of this metal in
the lead, and very nearly corresponded with the loss of
silver in the first instance. It will be obvious, then,
that the assayer’s report of the title or purity of any sam¬
ple of silver, unless corrected, would make the metal
somewhat less pure than it actually is, because all loss is
put to the account of alloy. Mr Tillet calculates, when
no more lead is used than is necessary for the entire se¬
paration of the alloy, that it carries down into the cupel
as much silver as, when the whole is again reduced, would
make the noble metal of the mass, when the natural
admixture of the silver is only about ytT2' ^ut ^ an ex'
cess of lead is employed for cupellation, this loss of silver
is somewhat greater, though it does not increase in the
ratio of the excess of the lead; for 10 parts of lead to a
given alloy will not carry down twice as much silver as 5
parts, though the difference of loss will be very sensible.
The weights used in assaying gold and silver are pecu-Assav
liar to the profession. In the assaying of silver a given™?1 Sl
number of grains are taken, which is called the assay pound.
This assay pound varies from 14 to 24 grains Troy. This
imaginary pound is subdivided into ounces and penny¬
weights, and the latter into half-pennyweights, which is
the lowest term used in reporting assays of silver; so that
there are 480 different reports for silver (this being the
number of half-pennyweights in the pound); and therefore
each nominal half-pennyweight weighs fa of a Troy grain
when the entire assay pound is 24 grains.
The report of an assay of silver is made according to
the proportion of pure metal which it is found to contain.
The legal standard of Sterling money of silver is 11 oz.
and 2 dwts. fine, and 18 dwts. alloy. If an assay of silver
was found to contain 11 oz. only of pure silver, it would
be reported worse 2 dwts., meaning worse than standard
silver by 2 dwts. or 48 grains in the pound Troy. If an
assaying.
Assa’ig. assay, on the contrary, contained 11 oz. and 6 dwts. pure
silver, it would be reported better than standard by 4 dwts.
in the pound Troy; because 18 dwts. being the standard
proportion of alloy, it was found that it only contained 14
dwts. alloy. When bullion thus assayed and reported is
for sale, its value is calculated by reducing the bar or
ingot of silver into standard metal.
In the first example which we have given, lbs. Troy. oz.
if the ingot of silver assayed weighed  50 0
there would be deducted from the weight 2
dwts. per lb. or  0 5
which 5 oz. is the excess of alloy above the
proportion of 18 dwts. to the 11 oz. 2 dwts.
of fine metal, and the bar of silver would be,  
in standard weight,  49 7
713
On the contrary, if the ingot weighed 
and the alloy were deficient, which is the
case when the metal is reported better than
standard by 4 dwts. in the pound Troy, there
would be added to the 50 lbs. 4 dwts. per
pound, which would be equal to 
lbs.
50
oz.
0
0 10
Making the standard weight of the ingot,... 50 10
The gold assay pound, which is from 10 to 20 grains
Troy, is subdivided into 24 carats, and each carat into 4
assay grains, and each grain into quarters; so that there
are 384 separate reports for gold, each equal to 15 Troy
grains, or what is termed a quarter carat grain. An ac¬
curate assayer, however, can ascertain, in an assay of gold,
to 3 grains Troy; but it is the custom of the trade not to re¬
port less than a quarter carat, or 15 grains Troy. A substan¬
tial reason is given for this rule to justify the practice of it.
An ingot of gold generally weighs a journey weight, which
is 15 lbs. Troy; from a sample cut from the two opposite
ends, weighing from 10 to 20 grains, the value of the mass
of 15 lbs. is to be determined: if this ingot had been im¬
perfectly melted, the mass would not be homogeneous,
and a difference might exist in it of several Troy grains ;
and the allowance between the quarters given in the assay
report is an indemnity to the purchaser. Indeed, so par¬
ticular are many in the bullion trade, that they will not
purchase any foreign gold bullion until it has been remelt¬
ed by refiners or melters in whose integrity they repose
confidence. This, we believe, is generally the case with
the Bank of England in all her purchases of foreign gold
bullion.
The assay report of gold is made according as it is bet¬
ter or worse than standard. The standard of our gold
coin is 22 carats fine and 2 carats alloy. If, by assay,
an ingot of gold was found to contain 21 carats fine gold,
it would be reported worse 1 carat, the mass containing a
carat of alloy more than the proportion of 2 carats to 22
carats fine. If the ingot weighed 15 lbs. Troy, there
would be deducted from the- gross weight 1 carat, or 240
grains Troy, reducing the standard of the mass to 14 lbs.
11 oz. 10 dwts. If, on the contrary, the mass was found
to contain 23 carats fine gold, it would be reported 1 carat
better than standard; and this carat would be added to the
gross weight of the ingot, which we have supposed to
weigh 15 lbs. Troy, and would be called 15 lbs. 0 oz. 10
dwts. of standard gold. When the gold assay pound or
integer is only 12 grains, the quarter assay grain weighs
only 3V Part of a Troy grain. This will show how delicate
the scales must be by which the assayer works in order to
obtain accuracy. In the Royal Mint the scales of the
assayers will be sensibly affected even with the yotnyth
part of a Troy grain.
VOL. in.
When the assay pound is subdivided, as for silver, in Assaying.
the same manner as the Troy pound, it is obvious that allv ^
the lower denominations bear the same relation to each
other, which is some little advantage in transferring the
assay reports to real mixtures for use. On the contrary
the carat subdivision for gold is confined to assaying; but
its fractions being aliquot parts of the pound Troy, the’ cal¬
culation for real use is very easy. As the pound Troy
contains 5760 grains, the carat corresponds with 240 grains
or 10 dwts.; the assay grain, or fourth part of a carat,
with 60 1 roy grains; and the assay quarter-grain with 15
^ roy grains; to which report, when the assayer has sepa¬
rated the gold (4 oz. for example), he adds 4 oz. gold ina
pound Troy. Whereas in gold-parting he takes two equal
pieces, treats one as a silver assay and the other as a gold
assay, to find the absolute quantity of each metal, after
which the report is made on gold singly, to which is add¬
ed the report of the silver separately. Thus, if he finds 4
oz. of gold, and 3 oz. of silver, he reports worse 14 carats
(2 carats being equivalent to an assay ounce, and conse¬
quently the 4 oz. of gold equal to 8 carats, which subtract-
ed from 22 carats, the gold standard, leaves 14), to which
report he adds,yfoe silver 3 oz. But when the mixed me¬
tal contains more than half alloy, it is called metal for gold
and silver, and the absolute quantity of each is reported
separately.
Having made the reader acquainted with these details,
we shall now proceed to explain the process of assaying
silver, commonly known by the name of cupellation.
When we have an assay of silver to make, we flatten the Assay
portion of metal upon a polished anvil; the face of the of silver,
flatting hammer is also highly polished, that the metal
may receive no extraneous matter whatever. The piece
of metal is flattened to about the thinness of a sixpence, and
an assay pound is cut from it, and most accurately weigh¬
ed in such scales as we have already noticed. This assay
pound is then enveloped in a sheet of lead, which is flat¬
tened from a lead bullet, and circular, but made into a
funnel shape, in order to contain the silver; and the more
nicely to prevent any portion of the silver from being lost,
the corners of this leaden funnel are closely and firmly
folded down. If the assay master has 45, or, indeed, any
number short of 45, they are ranged according to their
number upon the table, fig. 13. When the furnace and
cupels have been prepared according to the number of
assays to be made, and when the proper degree of heat
has been attained, the assays are charged into the cupels;
and the following method is followed in this part of the
process:—In the first instance, a ball of lead is charged
into each cupel, with the charging tongs (fig. 12), and its
weight is according to the quality of the silver to be as¬
sayed, the assayer keeping a stock of leaden bullets of
different weights for the purpose. As soon as this lead is
melted, which is instantaneous, the assays of silver enve¬
loped in lead are also charged into the cupels. The mass
is very soon in complete fusion. The mouth of the muf¬
fle, which had before been partially closed with cylinders
of charcoal about six or seven inches long, and of differ¬
ent diameters suitable to the convenience of the assayers,
as represented in fig. 8, is now nearly closed by smaller
cylinders of charcoal. The object of this precaution is,
that the stream of air admitted to pass over the surface
of the cupels, and which is indispensably necessary for the
oxidation of the lead in the process of cupellation, may
not chill the muffle and retard the progress of the assay.
The oxidation of the metal will proceed with more or less
rapidity, according as the stream of air admitted is great
or small, and which the assayer has it alwaj^s in his power
to regulate at pleasure. The work already referred to in
this article has so beautifully and accurately described
4 x
714
ASSAYING.
Assaying, the progressive appearance of the assay process of silver,
''—"y''-'' that we cannot do better than quote the description:—
“ The melted metal begins to send off dense fumes, and a
minute stream of red fused matter is seen perpetually
flowing from the top of the globule down its sides to the
surface of the cupel, through which it sinks and is lost to
view. This fume and the stream of melted matter con¬
sists of the lead oxidated by the heat and air, in one case
volatilized, in the other vitrified; and in sinking through
the cupel it carries down with it the copper or other alloy
of the silver. In proportion to the violence of the heat is
the density of the fume, the violence with which it is given
off', the convexity of the surface of the globule of melted
matter, and the rapidity with which the vitrified oxide
circulates (as it is termed) or falls down the sides of the
metal. As the cupellation advances, the melted button
becomes rounder, its surface becomes streaky with large
bright points of the fused oxide, which moves with in¬
creased rapidity, till at last the globule, being now freed
from all the lead and other alloy, suddenly lightens ; the
last portions of litharge on the surface disappear with great
rapidity, showing the melted metal bright with irridescent
colours, which directly after becomes opaque, and sud¬
denly appears brilliant, clean, and white, as if a curtain
had been withdrawn from it. The operation being now
finished, and the silver left pure, the cupel is allowed to
cool gradually, till the globule of silver is fixed, after which
it is taken out of the cupel while still hot, and when cold
weighed with as much accuracy as at first. The differ¬
ence between the globule and the silver at first put in
shows the quantity of alloy, the globule being now per¬
fectly pure silver if the operation has been well perform¬
ed. The reason of cooling the globule or button gradually
is, that pure silver, when congealing, assumes a crystalline
texture ; and if the outer surface is too suddenly fixed, it
forcibly contracts on the still fluid part in the centre,
causing it to spurt out in aborescent shoots, by which some
minute portions are often thrown out of the cupel, and
the assay spoiled.” (Aikin’s Dictionary^)
Assay of The assaying of gold, preparatory to the parting pro-
gold. cess, which we are about to describe, is exactly the same
as in the case of silver; the object in the process of cu¬
pellation being to destroy the base metal or alloy contain¬
ed in the gold. If gold contained only copper as alloy,
the assaying of gold would be as simple and expeditious
as that of silver; but all gold contains a portion of silver,
which, though reckoned as alloy, cannot, as we have al¬
ready seen, be destroyed by cupellation. Recourse is had
to the process commonly called the parting process, to
get rid of the silver contained in the gold. This is done
by means of nitric acid, which entirely dissolves the silver*
and leaves the gold perfectly pure. The quantity of sil¬
ver which gold generally contains is too small to allow the
nitric acid to act upon it without addition; and the gene¬
ral allowance by assayers is two or three parts of silver to
one of gold. If the quantity of silver greatly exceeded
these proportions, the operation would not succeed so well;
the fine gold would be obtained in the state of brown
powder, the particles having been too minutely divided
by the excess of silver.
When assays of gold have passed the test, by which all
the alloy, excepting silver, has been destroyed, it is in
this process that the additional quantity of silver is add¬
ed. Suppose, for example, that a gold assay is made
from the integer, or pound, weighing 12 grains Troy, an
addition of from 24 to 36 grains of pure silver is made in
addition to the small portion already supposed to exist in
the mass. This becomes thoroughly incorporated with
the gold in the process of cupellation. The globule or
button, as soon as it is taken from the furnace, is passed
between a pair of polished steel rollers, and drawn out Assayinui
into a thin lamina or plate of the thickness of a sixpence,
and returned into the furnace to be annealed. After be¬
ing kept in a red heat for some time, it is taken out and
suffered to cool. It is then wound up into a cornet This
is put into a glass matrass, of the shape of an inverted
cone, and with about twice or thrice its weight of very pure
nitric acid. M. Vauquelin recommends it to be T25 spe¬
cific gravity. But the true test of its strength is in the
working of the process. The assayer’s attention being
directed to the point of strength that will maintain the
gold when the silver is extracted in the spiral form, if the
acid were too strong, or the silver in too great excess, the
gold, as we have already mentioned, would be reduced to
powder; and considerable danger exists that it would not
be accurately collected, by which an imperfect result
would be obtained. The glass matrass is placed upon a
sand heat or bath, which is generally a square or oblong
pan of copper, with from one to two inches of dry sand in
the bottom. The pan is placed over a small square fur¬
nace, in which is burning charcoal or coke. As soon as
the acid is warm it begins to act upon the silver, and a
dense stream of nitrous gas is disengaged. As long as
the acid continues to act, the metal appears everywhere
to be studded with very minute bubbles, which issue in
jets. The disappearance of these, or their uniting into
a few large ones, is a sign or mark that the acid has ceased
to act. The disappearance also of the nitrous fumes is
an indication that the acid has no silver to act upon. In
the course of fifteen or twenty minutes the process is
finished. But, in order to extend the last portions of sil¬
ver which the mixture may contain, a small quantity of
highly concentrated acid is poured upon the cornet, and
boiled, by which the last portions of the silver are ex¬
tracted. The cornets of gold are thoroughly corroded,
but retain the same form, having lost all the silver to two
thirds or three fourths of their weight; they are slender
and brittle, as we observed before. It is an object of con¬
siderable importance to prevent the cornets from being
broken, the result being more likely to be accurate than
having the gold in fragments; and to prevent this, the
quantity of silver used is no more than is absolutely ne¬
cessary, it being obvious that the less the quantity of gold
compared to the silver used in the assay, the more likely
is the gold to be broken into pieces.
The hot acid is poured very carefully from the matrass,
and warm water is added to wash any remain of silver
from the gold, and the addition repeated until the water
comes off" perfectly clear. The cornets of gold, which are
of a dull brown colour and unmetallic appearance, are
then put according to their numbers into small clay cru¬
cibles, into which they are allowed gently to fall by in¬
verting the matrass, with a portion of water in it, which
breaks their fall, and also collects any grains of gold that
may be in the matrass. The water is then poured off,
and they are put into the furnace, and annealed under a
bright cherry heat. When cooled, the pieces of gold have
regained their beautiful metallic lustre, and possess all
the softness and flexibility of this truly noble metal.
The pieces of gold, thus thoroughly purified, are care¬
fully and accurately weighed, the absolute loss in weight
indicating the purity of the metal assayed.
It is a matter of the greatest importance that the sil¬
ver used in this process should contain no gold, otherwise
a source of very material error would arise in the delicate
operations of the assayer. Silver generally contains a
small portion of gold. Spanish dollars, for example, are
found to contain about 4 troy grains in the pound, and are
generally preferred in the parting process upon the large
scale; but assayers in general use silver revived from a
ASS
precipitation of the nitrate of silver, which they are sure
contains no gold.
The nitrate of silver is precipitated by immersing in it
plates of copper, which throw down the silver in the me¬
tallic state. It may also be recovered by a solution of
common salt, which converts the silver into luna cornea,
of which, when washed and well dried, 100 parts contain
75 of silver. The accuracy of the assay may also be proved
by this process. The luna cornea, however, is more diffi¬
cult to reduce to the metallic state, and the mode of re¬
covery by plates of copper is always preferred.
So that each assay, on an average, was performed in
111 minutes, and the charcoal used did not much exceed
ith of a pound weight. The standard of the silver used
in these experiments was proved by an assay in the ordi¬
nary furnace to be 949 milliemes, and the average result
by the new furnace was 948-75 milliemes, a difference not
more than occurs in the use of the large furnace, and an
object of no importance in point of accuracy.
Experiments were also tried with this small furnace, to
prove the highest degree of heat that could be produced;
and two balls of Wedgwood’s pyrometer were put into the
'These experiments differ very little from those we have
already stated, a trifling increase in the duration of the
assay, and in the charcoal consumed, being the only dif¬
ference ; and the greater facility which this furnace has
of being raised to the necessary degree of heat, before
the assays are charged into the cupels, more than com¬
pensates for the increased duration of the assay and char¬
coal consumed.
This small furnace is particularly recommended for the
service of the Bureaux de Garantie de Province, where a
limited number of assays are from time to time made;
and, in point of economy, presents many advantages to
recommend it to a place in the chemical laboratory.
This furnace may also be used for a melting furnace;
and to convert it to this purpose, the muffle is taken out,
and the various apertures, which are open when the assays
are making, closed by their respective stoppers: a stand
may then be put upon the grate, and a crucible of such
size as the furnace will admit, placed upon it, and which
can very readily and conveniently be done from the open¬
ing h, fig. 15. In this use of the furnace coke may be
employed instead of the charcoal, the heat being greater
and more steady with the former than the latter, (e. e.)
ASSELYN, John, a famous painter, was born in Hol¬
land, and became the disciple of Isaiah Vandervelde, the
battle-painter. He distinguished himself in history-paint¬
ing, battles, landscapes^ animals, and particularly horses.
A S S 715
It remains for us now briefly to mention the process of Assaying
assaying by the Petit Fourneau d Coupelle of Messrs An- 11
frye and d’Arcet. This process is the same in principle,Assenheirn’
in all respects, as that which we have been detailing. The
only difference consists in the greater facility of the pro-French f
cess, and the comparative diminution in the fuel used, assaying
The furnace first used by these gentlemen had a small ^ °
pair of bellows attached to it (see fig. 16); and after the
furnace was brought to a proper degree of heat, which re¬
quired two hours and a half, the following was the result
of the experiments made.
furnace, which, when cold, indicated, the one 35, the other
30 degrees, and is fully equal to the heat of the ordinary
assay furnace.
When Messrs Anfrye and d’Arcet had improved their
furnace by adopting a' tube of iron in place of the bellows,
they could raise the proper degree of heat in the furnace
in half an hour, which required by the original construc¬
tion two hours and a half.
The following experiments were made upon some five-
franc pieces, the standard of which, according to law,
should have been from 897 to 903 milimetres:
He travelled into France and Italy, and was so pleased
with the manner of Bambochio that he always followed
it. He painted many pictures at Lyons, where he mar¬
ried the daughter of a merchant of Antwerp, and return¬
ed with her to Holland. Here he first discovered to his
countrj'men a fresh and clear manner of painting land¬
scapes like Claude Lorraine; upon which all the painters
imitated his style, and reformed the dark brown they had
hitherto followed. Asselyn’s pictures were so much ad¬
mired at Amsterdam that they sold there at a high price.
He died in that city in 1660. Twenty-four pieces of land¬
scapes and ruins, which he painted in Italy, have been
engraved by Perelle.
ASSEMBLY, the meeting of several persons in the
same place, upon the same design. Assemblies of the
clergy are called convocations, synods, councils. The an¬
nual meeting of the church of Scotland is called a Gene¬
ral Assembly.
ASSEN, a town of the Netherlands, capital of the pro¬
vince of Drenthe, containing 1173 inhabitants. It is a lively
and pleasant place, being on the road between Groningen
and Zwole.
ASSENDE, a market-town, with 3314 inhabitants, in
the circle of Ceclo and province of East Flanders. It is
in long. 3. 59. 22. E. and lat. 51. 13. 49. N.
ASSENHEIM, a jurisdiction belonging to the media¬
tized Count of Solme Rodelheim, now in the dominions of
Numeros.
Argent
Employe.
Plomb
Employ^.
Duree de
1’Essai.
Titres.
Charbon
Employe.
1 Gram.
4 Gram.
12 Min.
11 ...
13 ...
10 ...
947 Mill.
950 ...
949 ...
949 ..:
173 Gram.
86 ...
93 ...
60 ...
Termes Moyens,
1 Gram.
4 Gram.
11-5 Min.
948-75 Mill.
103 Gram.
Numeros.
Argent
Employe.
Plomb
Employ^.
Duree de
I’Essai.
Titres.
Charbon
Employ^.
1 Gram.
1 ...
1 ...
7 Gram.
7 ...
7 ...
15 Min.
14 ...
14 ...
900 Mill.
902 ...
901 ...
120 Gram.
123 ...
175 ...
Termes Moyens,
1 Gram.
7 Gram.
14-33 Min.
901 Mill.
139-33
qrs
716 ASS
Assens the prince of Hesse Cassel, in Germany, containing one
II city, ten villages, 654 houses, and 3957 inhabitants. The
Assideans. chief place of the bailiwick is of the same name, and con-
tains 615 inhabitants.
ASSENS, a sea-port town of Denmark, situated upon
the Little Belt, a strait of the Baltic which separates the
isle of Funen from the continent. It is the common pas¬
sage from the duchy of Sleswick to Copenhagen. Long.
10. 30. E. Lat. 55. 15. N.
ASSER, John, or Asserius Menevensis, that is, As-
ser of St David’s, bishop of Sherburn in the reign of
Alfred the Great. He was born in Pembrokeshire in
South Wales, and educated in the monastery of St David’s
by the archbishop Asserius, who, according to Leland,
was his kinsman. In this monastery he became a monk,
and by his assiduous application soon acquired universal
fame as a person of profound learning and great abilities.
Alfred, the munificent patron of genius, about the year 880
sent for him to court. The king was then at Dean in Wilt¬
shire. He was so charmed with Asser that he made him
his preceptor and companion. As a reward for his services,
he appointed him abbot of two or three different monaste¬
ries ; and at last promoted him to the episcopal see of Sher¬
burn, where he died and was buried in the year 910. He
was, says Pitts, a man of happy genius, wonderful modesty,
extensive learning, and great integrity of life. He is said
to have been principally instrumerttal in persuading the
king to restore the university of Oxford to its pristine
dignity and lustre. He wrote De Vita et Rebus Gestis Al-
fredi, first published by Archbishop Parker in the old
•Saxon character, at the end of Walsinghami Hist. Lond.
1574. It was reprinted at Frankfort in 1603, in folio,
and in 8vo at Oxford in 1722. Various other works have
been ascribed to this author by Pitts and by Leland.
ASSESSOR, an inferior officer of justice, appointed
chiefly to assist the ordinary judge with his opinion and
advice.
ASSETS, in English Law, are real or personal. Where
a man hath lands in fee-simple, and dies seised thereof, the
lands which come to his heirs are assets real; and where
he dies possessed of any personal estate, the goods which
come to the executors are assets personal.
ASSHETON, William, doctor of divinity, and rector
of Beckenham in Kent, was born in the year 1641, and
was educated at Brazen-nose College, Oxford. After en¬
tering into orders he became chaplain to the duke of Or¬
mond, and was admitted doctor of divinity in 1673. Soon
after he was nominated to a prebend in the church of
York, presented to the living of St Antholin, London, and
to the rectory of Beckenham in Kent. He was the first
projector of the scheme for providing for clergymen’s wi¬
dows and others, by a jointure payable out of the mercers’
company. He wrote several pieces against the papists
and dissenters, and some devotional tracts. He died at
Beckenham in September 1711, in the 70th year of his
age.
ASSIDEANS, or Chasidjeans (from the Hebrew
chasidim, merciful, pious), those Jews who resorted to
Mattathias to fight for the law of God and the liberties of
their country. They were men of great valour and zeal,
having voluntarily devoted themselves to a more strict
observance of the law than other men ; for after the re¬
turn of the Jews from the Babylonish captivity there were
two sorts of men in their church,—those who contented
themselves with that obedience only which was prescrib¬
ed by the law of Moses, and who were called Zadikim, i. e.
the righteous,—and those who, over and above the law,
superadded the constitutions and traditions of the elders,
and other rigorous observances: these latter were called
Chasidim, i. e. the pious. From the former sprung the
ASS
Samaritans, Sadducees, and Caraites; from the latter the Assient
Pharisees and the Essenes.
ASSIENTO, a Spanish word signifying a farm, in com- •Assump.
merce, is used to denote a treaty between the king of Spain tion•
and other powers, for importing negroes into the Spanish
dominions in America.
ASSIGNATION, in the law of Scotland, is the term ap¬
plied to the transference of a right by deed of conveyance.
ASSIMILATION, in Physics, is that motion by which
bodies convert other bodies into their own substance and
nature.
ASSIN, an African country of considerable extent]
situated in the interior, now comprehended under the do¬
minion of Ashantee.
ASSISSI, a city in the delegation of Perugia, in the
papal territory of Italy. It contains 20 churches, 12 mo¬
nasteries for begging friars, and about 4000 inhabitants,
mostly poor, and depending for subsistence on the saintly
devotees, who, to the number of many thousands, make
annual pilgrimages to the cathedral, which contains the
tomb of St Francis, the founder of the Franciscan order.
Long. 12. 29. 23. E. Lat. 43. 4. 22. N.
ASSITHMENT, a wiregeld, or composition, by a pe¬
cuniary mulct; from the preposition ad, and the Sax. sithe,
vice ; quod vice supplicii ad expiandum delictum solvitw.
ASSIZE, in old English law-books, is defined to be an
assembly of knights and other substantial men, together
with a justice, in a certain place and at a certain time;
but the word, in its present acceptation, implies a court,
place, or time, when and where processes, whether civil
or criminal, are decided by judge and jury.
ASSOCIATION, the act of associating or constituting
a society or partnership, in order to carry on some scheme,
affair, or business, with more advantage. The word is
Latin, associatio ; and compounded of ad, to, and socix), to
join.
Association of Ideas. See Metaphysics.
ASSODNAGUR, a town of Hindostan, in the pro¬
vince of Bejapoor, the capital of a Mahratta district of the
same name, 68 miles S.E. from Poonah. Long. 74.55. E.
Lat. 18. 6. N.
ASSOILZIE, in Law, to absolve or free by sentence of
court.
ASSONANCE, in Rhetoric and Poetry, a term used
where the words of a phrase or a verse have the same
sound or termination, and yet make no proper rhyme.
These are usually accounted vicious in English, though
the Romans sometimes used them with elegance, as
Militem comparavit, exercitum ordinavit, aciem lustraviL
ASSONANT Rhymes is a term particularly applied
to a kind of verses common among the Spaniards, where
a resemblance of sound serves instead of a natural rhyme.
Thus ligera, cubierta, tierra, mesa, may answer each other
in a kind of assonant rhyme, having each an e in the pe¬
nult syllable, and an a in the last.
ASSUMPSIT, in the Law of England, a voluntary pro¬
mise, whereby a person assumes or takes upon him to
perform or pay any thing to another.
ASSUMPTION, a festival in the Romish church, in
honour of the miraculous ascent of the Virgin Mary into
heaven. The Greek church also observes this festival, and
celebrates it on the 15th of August with great ceremony.
Assumption, in Logic, is the minor or second proposi¬
tion in a categorical syllogism.
Assumption, or Assongong, one of the Marianne or
Ladrone Islands, in the Pacific Ocean, of a conical figure,
and 600 feet in height. It is of a dreary aspect, and al¬
most totally covered with lava from the eruptions of a vol¬
cano in the centre. It has no anchorage near the shore.
Long. 140. 55. E, Lat. 19. 45. N.
ASS
Assv'P'
ti:
Aasiia^
Assumption, an island in North America, in the Gulf of
.St Lawrence, at the mouth of the great river of the same
name. Long. 60. 40. W. Lat. 49. 30. N.
j Assumption, the capital city of the province of Para¬
guay in South America. It is situated on an obtuse angle
formed by the eastern bank of the river Paraguay, 18 miles
above the junction of the first mouth of the Pilcomayo,
and 48 above that of the second. It was originally a small
fort, but, from the convenience of its situation, in a few
years it became a city, and in 1547 was erected into a
bishopric. The adjacent territory is rich and fertile in a
high degree, and abounds in a great variety of fruits.
The air is temperate and the climate salubrious ; the trees
are perpetually green, and the rich pastures in the neigh¬
bourhood feed numerous flocks of cattle. The city is in¬
habited by Spaniards, Indians, and Mestizoes, who trade
in hides, tobacco, and sugar. The Paraguay affords a
channel of communication between Buenos Ayres and this
place; but the passage is long, owing to the rapid flow of
the waters of that river: this, however, is considerably ob¬
viated by the favourable winds which blow from the south
for a great part of the year. Long. 59. 35. W. Lat. 24.
47. S.
ASSUMPTIVE Arms, in Heraldry, are such as a per¬
son has a right to assume with the approbation of his so¬
vereign and of the heralds.
ASSURANCE, or Insurance. See Insurance.
ASSYE, a small town of Hindostan, in the province of
Berar, 24 miles N.N.E. from Jalnapoor, noted for a battle
fought near it in September 1803, between a force of 4500
men under General Wellesley, afterwards the Duke of
Wellington, and the combined armies of Sindia and the
rajah of Nagpoor, amounting to 30,000 men, in which the
British were victorious, though with severe loss. Loner.
76. 40. E. Lat. 20. 14. N.
ASSYN-Kalesi, a village of Asia Minor, in Caria, oc-
cupying a peninsula among the branches of Mount Grius,
with a mean but extensive fortress on the summit of the
rock. This village stands on the site of the ancient Jasus,
a considerable city, and many antiquities are still to be
seen in it. Some of the most spacious sepulchres are at
present inhabited by Greek families as their ordinary
dwellings. Long. 27. 32. E. Lat. 37. 18. N.
ASSYRIA, an ancient kingdom of Asia, concerning the
commencement, duration, and extent of which historians
are not agreed. Ctesias and Diodorus Siculus describe
the Assyrian monarchy, under Ninus and Semiramis, as of
very great extent; but the silence of Homer, and the brief
statements of Herodotus, are not easily reconciled with this
opinion; and there is no mention of the greatness of Assy¬
ria in the history of the judges and succeeding kings of
Israel, though during that period the latter kingdom was
oppressed and enslaved by different powers. According to
Ptolemy, Assyria was bounded on the north by Armenia
Major, on the west by the Tigris, on the south by Susiana,
pid on the east by Media; but the name is generally used
in a more comprehensive sense, so as to include Mesopota¬
mia, and sometimes even Babylonia and Chaldea. The
most common account of the origin and revolutions of the
Assyrian monarchy is the following:—The founder of it
was Ashur, the second son of Shem, who, removing out of
Shinar, either by the appointment of Nimrod or to elude
the fury of a tyrant, conducted a large body of adven¬
turers into Assyria, and laid the foundation of Nineveh
(Gen. x. 11). These events happened not long after Nim¬
rod had established the Chaldean monarchy, and fixed
his residence at Babylon. The Persian historians sup¬
pose that the kings of Persia of the first dynasty were the
same with the kings of Assyria, of whom Zohah or Nim¬
rod was the founder of Babel. It does not, however, ap-
A S 8
717
nlvlnl . n°d r“8ned “ The kingdoms of Assyria.
SS-m: ,h A«?rla7ere, ?r'8lnally distinct and sepa- '
rate (Micah v. 6); and in this state they remained until
Ninus conquered Babylon and made it tributary to the
Assyrian empire. Ninus, the successor of Ashur (Gen x
^ Diod. Sic. lib. 1), seized on Chaldea after the death
ot Nimrod, and united the kingdoms of Assyria and Ba-
bylon. This great prince is said to have subdued Asia,
Persia, Media, Egypt, and other countries. If he did so,
the effects of his conquests were of no duration; for in
the days of Abraham we do not find that any of the neigh¬
bouring kingdoms were subject to Assyria. He was suc¬
ceeded by Semiramis, a princess of a heroic mind; bold,
enterprising, fortunate ; but of whom many fabulous things
have been recorded. It appears, however, that there were
two princesses of the same name, who flourished at very dif-
ferent periods. Whether there was an uninterrupted series
of kings from Ninus to Sardanapalus or not, is still a ques¬
tion. Some suspicion has arisen that the list which Cte¬
sias has given of the Assyrian kings is not genuine; for
many names in it are of Persian, Egyptian, and Grecian
extraction. Nothing memorable has been recorded con¬
cerning the successors of Ninus and Semiramis. Of that
effeminate race of princes it is barely said that they as¬
cended the throne, lived in indolence, and died in their
palace at Nineveh. Diodorus (lib. ii.) relates, that, in the
reign of Teutames, the Assyrians, solicited by Priam their
vassal, sent to the Trojans a supply of 20,000 foot and 200
chariots, under the command of Memnon, son of Tithonus
president of Persia. But the truth of his relation is ren¬
dered more than doubtful by the accounts of other writers.
Sardanapalus was the last of the ancient Assyrian kings.
Contemning his indolent and voluptuous course, of life,
Arbaces, governor of Media, withdrew his allegiance, and
rose up in rebellion against him. He was encouraged in
this revolt by the advice and assistance of Belesis, a Chal¬
dean priest, who engaged the Babylonians to follow the
example of the Medes. These powerful provinces, aided
by the Persians and other allies, who despised the effemi¬
nacy or dreaded the tyranny of their .Assyrian lords, at¬
tacked the empire on all sides. Their most vigorous ef¬
forts were in the beginning unsuccessful. Firm and de¬
termined, however, in their opposition, they at length pre¬
vailed, defeated the Assyrian army, besieged Sardanapa¬
lus in his capital, which they demolished, and became
masters of the empire, b. c. 821.
After the death of Sardanapalus the Assyrian empire
was divided into three kingdoms, viz. the Median, Assy¬
rian, and Babylonian. Arbaces retained the supreme
power and authority, and fixed his residence at Ecbatana,
in Media. He nominated governors in Assyria and Baby¬
lon, who were honoured with the title of kings, while they
remained subject and tributary to the Median monarchs.
Belesis received the government of Babylon as the reward
of his services, and Pul was intrusted with that of As¬
syria. The Assyrian governor gradually enlarged the
boundaries of his kingdom. He invaded Israel, and com¬
pelled the usurper Menahem to relinquish the independ¬
ency of his kingdom, and pay 1000 talents of silver. It
is probable that other nations submitted to the power of
his arms. The Syrians were either propitiated by an al¬
liance, or reduced by compulsion, to allow his army to
cross their country on his invasion of Israel, for through'
it he must have marched. On Nabonasser he bestowed
the sovereignty of Babylon, and left his elder son Tiglath-
pileser heir of his Assyrian dominions. This prince also
invaded Israel, and carried more than one of the ten tribes
captive to Assyria. The dominions of Ahaz king of Ju¬
dah being invaded by the confederate hosts of the kings
of Israel and Syria, that prince despoiled the temple of
718 AST
Astabat its gold and silver, and, along with the treasure of his
II palace, purchased the support of Tiglath-pileser, who, en-
Astara. tering the Syrian dominions, vanquished and slew their
—monarch, and fulfilled the predictions of the prophets
Isaiah and Amos, by bringing that ancient kingdom to an
end. Tiglath-pileser died m the midst of his career of vic¬
tory, and was succeeded by Shalmaneser, who carried the
war into the dominions of Hoshea king of Israel, whom he
reduced to submission, imposing an annual tribute upon the
kingdom. Hoshea, in attempting to shake off this yoke,
again brought upon himself the vengeance of Shalmaneser,
who once more subjected the country, and laid siege to
Samaria, which capitulated after a defence of three years.
Hoshea was put in chains and thrown into prison, and the
inhabitants were led into captivity. Hezekiah, king of
Judah, also set at defiance the power of Assyria by refus¬
ing tribute; but he chose the time for this revolt with
greater judgment than Hoshea. The Assyrians were at
that period engaged in an unsuccessful war with the Ty¬
rians, during the prosecution of which Shalmaneser died,
and was succeeded by Sennacherib, who invaded Judah;
upon which Hezekiah, to purchase peace, sent him all the
gold and silver with which the temple, as well as his own
house, was decorated. The treaty, however, was no sooner
concluded than it was trampled upon by Sennacherib, who
sent an army to besiege Jerusalem. But the leaders, while
haranguing the people who were upon the walls, blas¬
phemed against God, for which, as the sacred historian
informs us, they were signally punished, 185,000 of the
Assyrians being cut off in one night by the angel of the
Lord. This terrible destruction forced him back to his own
dominions, where he exercised such tyranny over his sub¬
jects that he was assassinated by two of his own sons. Esar-
haddon, his third son, ascended the throne, and extended
the Assyrian dominions by the conquest of Babylon, Israel,
and Syria, and the subjugation of Judah, Egypt and Ethio¬
pia. After the death of Esar-haddon only a few princes ap¬
pear to have ascended the throne of Assyria, and the king¬
dom at last was split, and annexed to those of Media and
Babylon. Several tributary princes afterwards reigned in
Nineveh ; but no particular account of them is found in the
annals of ancient nations. We hear no more of the kings
of Assyria, but of those of Babylon. Cyaxares king of
Media assisted Nebuchadnezzar king of Babylon in the
siege of Nineveh, which they took and destroyed b. c. 606.
The Chaldean or Babylonish kingdom was transferred to
the Medes after the reign of Nabonadius, son of Evilme-
rodach, and grandson of Nebuchadnezzar. He is styled
Belshazzar in the sacred records, and was conquered by
Cyrus b. c. 538.
ASTABAT, a town of Persian Armenia, situated near
the river Aras, the ancient Araxes, 20 miles south-east of
Nacsivan. It is a small but neat place, and each house is
supplied with a well of water. The neighbouring coun¬
try is fertile, and produces good wine. There is a root
peculiar to this countrjr, called ronas, used for dyeing red,
great quantities of which are cultivated by the inhabitants
and exported to India. Long. 46. 30. E. Lat. 39. N.
ASTAFORT, a town of France, in Gascony. It is the
head of a canton in the department of the Lot and Ga¬
ronne, arrondissement of Agen, and contains 4140 inha¬
bitants.
ASTAND A, in Antiquity, a royal courier or messenger,
the same with Angarus. King Darius of Persia is said
by Plutarch, in his book on the fortune of Alexander, to
have formerly been an astanda.
ASTARA, a town of Persia, and capital of a district, the
governor of which is independent of Ghilan and Schirvan.
It is situated on the river Astara. 70 miles N. of Reshd,
and 100 E. of Tabriz. Long. 49. E. Lat. 38. 20. N.
AST
ASTARAKAT, a town of Persia, in the province of Astarat.
Segistan or Seistan. 100 miles N. of Zareng; 220 W.N.W. || 3
of Candahar. Asti.
ASTAROTH, or Ashtaroth, in Antiquity, a goddess
of the Sidonians. The word is Syriac, and signifies sheep,
especially when their udders are turgid with milk. From
the fecundity of these animals, which in Syria continue
to breed a long time, they formed the notion of a deity,
whom they called Astaroth or Astarte. Solomon, in com¬
pliment to one of his queens, erected an altar to her. In
the reign of Ahab, Jezebel caused her worship to be per¬
formed with much pomp and ceremony; she had 400
priests; the women were employed in weaving hangings
or tabernacles for her; and Jeremiah observes, that “ the
children gathered the wood, the fathers kindled the fire,
and the women kneaded the dough, to make cakes for the
queen of heaven.”
ASTELL, Mary, an English authoress of some name,
was born at Newcastle-upon-Tyne in the year 1668. Her
father, who was a merchant, committed the education of
his daughter to her uncle, who was a clergyman. Con¬
vinced of the general injury done to young ladies at that
period by the deficiency of their education, he taught her
the Latin and French languages, and instructed her in the
principles of logic, mathematics, and natural philosophy.
Having spent 20 years of her life in Newcastle, she went
to London, where she continued the pursuit of her studies;
and, deeply affected with the general ignorance of her sex,
she employed the first fruits of her pen to rouse them to
a proper emulation, in a work entitled A Serious Proposal
to the Ladies, wherein a Method is offered for the Im¬
provement of their Minds, printed in 12mo, at London,
1697. The chief object of this work was to recommend
the erection of a seminary for female education. She
next wrote a book entitled Reflections on Marriage, which
was published in 1700. This lady was a zealous advocate
for the religious system commonly called orthodox, and in
politics defended the doctrine of non-resistance. About
this time she published some controversial pieces, among
which are the following:—Moderation Truly Stated; A
Fair Way with the Dissenters; An Impartial Enquiry in¬
to the Causes of the Rebellion; and A Vindication of the
Royal Martyrs; all printed in 4to, in 1704. Her most
finished performance was, The Christian Religion, as pro¬
fessed by a Daughter of the Church of England; published
in 1705, in a large octavo volume. She died in the year
1731.
ASTELL’S Island, one of the English Company’s
islands, at the north-west part of the Gulf of Carpenta¬
ria, of moderate height, and wooded. Iron ore is found
here. Lat. 11. 55. S.
ASTERIA or Star-Stone. This name is given to
certain varieties of the perfect corundum, when cut in a
peculiar manner. The structure of this gem is that of a
hexagonal prism, surmounted by a double hexagonal py¬
ramid, which, when cut perpendicular to the axis, and
rounded off in the form of a ring-stone, very often pre¬
sents, when held up to a strong light, a distinct star of
six rays. This phenomenon frequently occurs in sap¬
phires and rubies, and, when perfect, the gem is highly
prized.
The same name has been given to the joints of an ex¬
traneous fossil, merely from the form they present.
ASTERISK, a mark in form of a star (*), placed over
a word or sentence, to refer the reader to the margin, or
elsewhere, for a quotation, explanation, or the like.
ASTERN, a sea phrase, used to signify any thing at
some distance behind the ship; being the opposite or
Ahead, which signifies the space before her.
ASTI, a province of the duchy of Piedmont, in the
AST
Ast; continental dominions of the king of Sardinia. It is bound-
11 ed on the north-east and east by Alessandria, on the
Astra A south-east by Aqui, on the south-west by Alba, and on
the west and north-west by Turin. It extends over 400
square miles, or 256,000 acres. It is a plain, with gentle
undulations, watered by the Tanaro and the Po; fruit¬
ful in all the productions of Italy, but more especially in
corn, wine, and silk. It contains one city and 109 towns
and villages, inhabited by 110,623 persons.
Asti, the capital of the above province, is a large and
well-built town, standing on the left bank of the Tanaro,
in Upper Italy. It is the see of a bishop, who is a suffra¬
gan of the archbishop of Turin. It contains many churches
and monastical institutions, with 22,000 inhabitants, who
carry on a considerable trade in corn, wine, and silk,
which is not a little promoted by the situation of the
town on the high road from Alessandria to Turin and
Coni. 20 miles W. of Alessandria, and 24 E. of Turin.
ASTOMI, in anthropology, a people feigned without
mouths. Pliny speaks of a nation of Astomi in India,
who lived only by the smell or effluvia of bodies taken in
by the nose.
ASTORGA, a city of Spain, in the province of Leon,
situated on a plain near the river Tuerto, and having the
appellation of a marquisate, which title it confers on a
noble family. It is surrounded with ancient fortifications,
and has near it a castle in ruins. It has a cathedral, being
the see of a bishop under the church of Compostella. It
was called “ the city of priests,” from the great numbers
of that profession that were formerly resident within its
walls. It contains 2000 inhabitants. Long. 5. 38. 53. W.
Lat. 42. 27. 9. N.
ASTRABAD, or Asterabad, a small province of
Persia, sometimes included in that of Mazanderan. It is
bounded on the west by the Caspian Sea ; to the south it is
separated by a lofty ridge of mountains from the districts
of Damgan and Bistan; it extends to 58° of east longitude,
where it is divided from Dahistan by the river Ashor.
The country, although mountainous, and interspersed with
deep forests, in which it is scarcely possible to travel, pos¬
sesses beautiful and fertile valleys, producing rice, wheat,
and other grains in abundance, or spread out in a bound¬
less expanse of verdure, the pasturage of numerous flocks
and herds. Fraser, who travelled through Persia in 1822,
extols in the most lavish terms the appearance of the
country. “ There is no describing,” he observes, “ the
beauty and richness of these pastures; all is like velvet,
smooth and soft, varying only in the height, not in the
thickness, of the sward.” The soil, with little culture, is
exceedingly productive, owing to the abundance of water
which irrigates and fertilizes it. But while the province
in many parts presents a landscape of luxuriant beauty, it
is a prey to the ravages of disease, and the frequent in¬
cursions of the surrounding tribes. The heavy torrents
which fall in the rainy season stagnate in the forests,
forming morasses which, in the heats of summer and au¬
tumn, exhale a pestilential vapour, from the decomposition
of the vegetable matter they contain. From these seats
of noxious effluvia the wandering tribes of shepherds fly
beyond the Goorgaun or the Attruck, and live on the verge
of the burning sand, although they have to carry water for
each day’s consumption from the distant river. The better
classes retire from the intense heats of summer into the
mountains; but the settled inhabitants of the villages, who
cannot so easily remove, and who generally remain, suffer
severely from sickness. Intermittent and putrid fevers,
dropsies, and all those ailments which proceed from cold
or from unwholesome air, prevail. The inhabitants, not¬
withstanding the unhealthiness of their climate, are a stout
and athletic race. The revenue derived from this pro-
AST 719
the king of Persia does not exceed the value of Astrabad
L.7000 sterling. It is famous, however, for furnishing a ' II
supply of matchlocks, or toffunchees as they are called Astracan.
froth toffuny, a gun or matchlock, with which the troops 'w
who generally attend upon the king’s person are armeti.
This is the ancient Hyrcania, and is the native country of
the Kadgers, a Turkish tribe, of whom the king is the head,
and on whom he considers he can rely in times of danger.
Astrabad or Asterabad, a town of Persia, the capital
of the above province, is situated on the south-east shore
of the Caspian Sea, at the mouth of the river Aster or
Ester, and at the head of an admirably sheltered bay, ex¬
tremely convenient for shipping. This bay is formed by
a neck of land, varying in breadth from 4 to 12 miles,
which runs from a point near Astrabad for about 70 miles
eastward, dividing a strip of water from 8 to 40 miles
broad from the main body of the Caspian Sea. Astrabad
is an ancient city, and owes its origin to Yezzen-ibn-Mess-
lub, an Arab chief of great celebrity, who commanded
the armies of Soliman, the seventh caliph of the Ommiades,
about the beginning of the seventh century. It was de¬
stroyed by lamerlane. In 1744 Hanway visited this
place, and attempted to open a direct trade with it from
Europe. It is a pleasant, well-built town, about 3^ miles
in circuit, and highly picturesque in appearance, from the
buildings being intermingled with trees and extensive gar¬
dens. It was formerly larger, but Nadir Shah contracted
it within its present limits. A mound of earth surrounds
it, the remains of a mud wall once lofty and formidable,
and defended by numerous towers, and also by a wide and
deep ditch, now almost filled with rubbish. The only for¬
tification it possesses is a small parapet, supplied with
loop-holes for musketry, raised upon the mouldered wall.
The streets and lanes are paved with stone, always kept
in good repair; and a drain runs down their centre, a pro¬
vision of infinite importance in this rainy climate, where
the torrents which fall and are thus carried off would
otherwise plough up and destroy the streets, or be allowed
to stagnate in pools. The houses are constructed chiefly
of wood, and are frequently furnished with verandas; their
style of architecture is light and open, the roofs covered
with red tiles, and sometimes with thatch. Many houses
are provided with square towers, having openings, such
as are used in other eastern towns, for ventilating the
rooms. They have a good effect when seen from a dis¬
tance, presenting the appearance of spires. Astrabad has
but little trade; and the bazaars or public markets, though
extensive, are but poorly filled, containing little more than
the necessary supplies for the consumption of the place.
There are no public buildings deserving of notice. The
number of houses within the walls is estimated at from
2000 to 3000. The town is extremely unhealthy during
the hot weather, owing to the damp and noxious exhala¬
tions of the surrounding forests. Astrabad is 400 miles
north-east of Ispahan. Long. 54. 25. E. Lat. 36. 50. N.
ASTRACAN, a large city of Asiatic Russia, the seat of
an archbishop, built on eminences surrounded by the
marshes of the Volga, between 50 and 60 miles from its
influx into the Caspian Sea. It is about three miles in
circumference, or nearly five miles if we include the sub¬
urbs, and is surrounded by a wall mostly in a ruinous con¬
dition. This city was anciently the capital of a kingdom be¬
longing to the Tartars, who were expelled in 1554 by the
Russian prince Iwan Basilowitz. In 1569 it was besieged
by the Turks, who were defeated with great slaughter by
the Russians. In 1672 it was seized by the rebel Slen-
korazin. Since that period it has suffered from conflagra¬
tions, being formerly composed of mean and inconvenient
buildings of wood. But in the modern city attention has
been paid both to its safety and embellishment, by the
720 AST
Astracan. erection of more spacious and elegant houses and public
edifices of stone. The high price of timber has contribut¬
ed to bring about this improvement, the inhabitants finding
it cheaper to use in their modern erections either brick
or a species of freestone found in a quarry near the banks
of the Volga. Of the public buildings, the most conspicu¬
ous are the two commercial halls for the reception and
sale of merchandise, both finished in an elegant style of
architecture, one of which is appropriated to the Arme¬
nians and the other to the Persians. The kremlin, which
is uninhabited, stands on a hill, and contains the cathedral,
a spacious brick edifice. There are, besides, in this city
two convents, twenty-five Russian and one Roman Catho¬
lic church. Some votaries of Brahma, natives of Moultan,
also reside at Astracan ; and the Armenians have a metro¬
politan church, which is surmounted by a cupola, where,
in the course of the worship, Pallas saw exhibited by the
suffragan or archimandrite the holy oil prepared in Mount
Ararat, and which is held sacred by the inhabitants. In
the vicinity of this city are numerous vineyards, which be¬
ing irrigated by the waters of the Volga, produce abund¬
antly; and a considerable quantity of wine is manufac¬
tured, and exported to Petersburg, Moscow, and other
places. The situation of Astracan is favourable for trade;
and it is accordingly a great commercial mart between
Asia and Europe. By means of the river Volga, the
commodities of Eastern Asia are carried into the heart
of Russia, while the produce of Russia, or European
goods imported, are brought down to the Caspian Sea,
and transported across to Resht, Lahajan, Balfroosh, and
Astrabad, whence they find their way into Persia and
the East. Goods are also sent by sea to Mangushluck, on
the eastern shore of the Caspian Sea, and thence eastward
to Khyvah, a distance of 250 miles, and afterwards to
Buckharia, a distance of 250 more. The shipping em¬
ployed in this trade does not exceed, according to the
estimate made by Fraser in his account of the commerce
of Persia, 12 vessels of from 50 to 100 tons. These ves¬
sels belong to Russian or Mahometan merchants settled
at Astracan. Two caravans besides, each of 500 camels,
set out from Astracan eastward for Khyvah and Buckharia.
The exports from Astracan eastward are iron, steel, cop¬
per, quicksilver, leather, furs, cotton, woollen, silk, and
other manufactured goods of Europe; and the imports con¬
sist of fruits, grain, rice, timber, tobacco, raw hides, lamb¬
skins, drugs, turquoises, from Buckharia; silk goods, gold
and silver brocades, from Persia; and shawls from Thibet
and Cashmere. The fisheries on the Volga, in which are
caught the sturgeon and the beluga or great sturgeon, are
of great extent and importance. From the sounds of these
fish are made isinglass and caviare, the demand for which
has been increasing for many years. There is not, except
on the banks of Newfoundland, a more productive fishery.
During the fasts of the Greek church, which continue for
about one third of the year, the sturgeon affords the chief
food to European Russia and its populous cities. Many
thousands acquire wealth either by fishing or by convey¬
ing and retailing the fish in the markets. The population
of Astracan is 70,000, composed of Russians, Armenians,
Greeks, Tartars, Persians, Jews, Indians, English, and
AST
French; but the most numerous are the Tartars and Ar- A t
menians. In 1830 the inhabitants suffered severely from
the cholera morbus. 330 miles S.S.E. Saratov, 1040 S.S.E. AstroW
Petersburg. Long. 47. 44. E. Lat. 46. 21. N.
Astracan was formerly the name of an independent
government of Asiatic Russia, but in 1785 was incorpo¬
rated with that of Caucasus. It was of considerable ex¬
tent, but thinly peopled on account of the barrenness of the
soil, except on the banks of the Volga, the Ural, and their
tributary streams. (Pallas’s Travels; Tooke’s Russia.)
ASTRtEA, in Astronomy, a name which some give to
the sign Virgo, by others called Erigone, and sometimes
Isis. The poets feign that Justice quitted heaven to re¬
side on earth in the golden age; but growing weary of
the iniquities of mankind, she left the earth and returned
to heaven, where she commenced a constellation of stars,
and from her orb still looks down on the ways of men.
ASTRAGALOMANCY, a species of divination per¬
formed by throwing small pieces, with marks correspond¬
ing to the letters of the alphabet, the accidental disposi¬
tion of which formed the answer required. This kind of
divination was practised in a temple of Hercules in Achaia.
The word is derived from aar^ayahog, and guvruu, divina-
tion.
ASTROGNOSIA, the science of the fixed stars, or the
knowledge of their names, constellations, magnitudes, &c.
ASTROLABE, the name for a stereographic projection
of the sphere, either upon the plane of the equator, the
eye being supposed to be in the pole of the world, or
upon the plane of the meridian, when the eye is suppos¬
ed in the point of the intersection of the equinoctial and
horizon.
Astrolabe is also the name of an instrument former¬
ly used for taking the altitude of the sun or stars at sea.
Astrolabe, among the ancients, was the same as our
armillary sphere.
ASTROLOGY, a pretended science, teaching to judge
of the effects and influences of the stars, and to f'oretel
future events by the situation and different aspects of the
heavenly bodies.
This science was divided into two branches, natural
and judiciary. To the former belonged the predicting of
natural effects ; as the changes of weather, winds, storms,
hurricanes, thunder, floods, earthquakes, &c. Judiciary
or judicial astrology is that which pretended to foretel
moral events, as if they were directed by the stars. It
is commonly said to have been invented in Chaldea, and
thence transmitted to the Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans;
though some will have it of Egyptian origin. At Rome
the people were so infatuated with it, that the astrologers,
or, as they were then called, the mathematicians., maintain¬
ed their ground in spite of all the edicts of the emperors
expelling them from the city. The same superstition has
prevailed in modern nations. The French historians tell
us, that in the time of Queen Catherine d’ Medici, astro¬
logy was so much in vogue that the most inconsiderable
thing was not to be done without consulting the stars. And
in the reigns of king Henry III. and IV. of France, the
predictions of astrologers were the common theme of the
court conversation.
721
ASTRO NOM Y.
HjfWy- A STRONOMY, from adr/jo or agrgov, a star, and vcfiog, a
£\_ iaw^ js t]le science which treats of the laws observed
by the stars in their motions. By an extension of signifi¬
cation, it embraces every thing that is known relating to
the nature and constitution, as well as to the motions, of
the celestial bodies.
The present treatise is divided into Four Parts. In
the First, which contains the History of Astronomy,
the progressive advancement of the science from the times
of the Chaldeans and Egyptians to the present day is
briefly sketched, and the labours of those illustrious indi¬
viduals commemorated, who have either theoretically or History,
practically contributed most to its progress. The
cond Part, which we have denominated Theoretical
Astronomy, is devoted to a general view of the science,—
to the explanation of the different theories and methods
by which the motions of the celestial bodies are repre¬
sented, and their places computed; and the description
of such facts as observation has made known respecting
their nature and constitution. Part Third treats of
Physical Astronomy ; and Part Fourth of Practicai.
Astronomy.
PART I.
HISTORY OF
Astronomy, if we dignify by that name the first rude
attempts that were made to discover the order and con¬
nection of the celestial motions, may probably be regarded
as the most ancient of all the sciences. In fact, a certain
degree of attention to the heavenly bodies is forced even
on the savage who inhabits the forest, and derives his sub¬
sistence from the spontaneous productions of the earth.
The regular vicissitude of day and night inevitably com¬
pels him to observe the diurnal course of the sun ; and he
cannot fail soon to perceive, that the variety and succes¬
sion of the seasons is equally dependent on the oblique
annual course of the same great luminary. The moon,
too, in the absence of the sun, is an object so conspicuous,
so consoling, and so useful, that her motions must at all
times have been watched with attention and interest; while
her various phases, her alternate waxings and wanings, her
regular disappearance and return after equal intervals of
time, would be contemplated with admiration and de¬
light. Nor are the wonders of the starry firmament less
calculated to strike even the most heedless observer of the
heavens. The magnificent spectacle of the sky bespangled
with brilliant points, and revolving in obedience to eternal
and unalterable laws, affords a constant succession of new
objects of sublime and exalted contemplation. The occa¬
sional recurrence, also, of eclipses and other unusual phe¬
nomena, which seem to interrupt the general order and
uniformity of the celestial motions, would stimulate to at¬
tentive observation; for the vanity of man has in all ages
rendered him eager to connect his own destiny with the
heavens, while his timidity has prompted him to regard
every apparent deviation from the ordinary course of
events as an emblem of the wrath, and a precursor of the
vengeance, of superior beings.
But though mankind were probably first impelled by
motives of mere curiosity to observe the courses of the
stars, no great length of time could elapse ere they per¬
ceived that the regular and uniform revolutions of the
heavens might be rendered subservient to their own wants
and conveniencies. By the help of the stars the shep¬
herd, during the night, could count the hours, the tra¬
veller track his course through the uniform wastes of the
desert, and the mariner guide his bark over the ocean:
the husbandman, also, learned to regulate his labours by
the appearance of certain constellations, which gave him
warning of the approaching seasons. The indications de-
vol. in.
ASTRONOMY.
rived from the simple observation of such phenomena
were doubtless extremely vague; but as civilisation ad¬
vanced, the necessity of determining accurately the length
of the solar year and of the lunar month, in order to re¬
gulate the calendar and the religious festivals, led to the
accumulation and comparison of different observations,
whereby errors were gradually diminished, and the foun¬
dations laid of a more perfect acquaintance with the
heavenly motions.
Astronomy, presenting so many objects of interesting
curiosity, and having so many practical uses, could not
fail to be one of the sciences first cultivated by mankind.
Its origin is consequently hid amidst the obscurity and
traditions of the remotest ages, and is in fact coeval with
the origin of society, and the earliest development of the
human intellect. The records or traditions of almost
every ancient nation furnish some traces of attention to
the state of the heavens, and of some rude attempts to
discover the laws, the order, and the period of the most
remarkable phenomena,—such as eclipses of the sun and
moon, the motions of the planets, and the heliacal risings
of the principal stars and constellations. The Chaldeans
and Egyptians, Chinese and Indians, Gauls and Peru¬
vians, equally regard themselves as the inventors of astro¬
nomy ; an honour, however, of which Josephus deprives
them all, in order to ascribe it to the antediluvian pa¬
triarchs. The fables relating to the two columns of brick
and marble which these sages are said to have erected,
and on which they engraved the elements of their astro¬
nomy, to preserve them from the universal destruction by
fire and water to which, they are said to have learned
from Adam, the earth was doomed, are not worth the
trouble of repetition; nor is there any better proof than
the assertion of that credulous historian, of their acquaint¬
ance with the annus magnus, or, as is most probably sup¬
posed, the astronomical cycle of 600 years, which brings
back the sun and moon to the same points of the heavens
so nearly, that its discovery implies a pretty correct know¬
ledge of the solar and lunar motions. Passing over, there¬
fore, those periods that present us only with a scanty de¬
tail of traditional observations or unimportant facts, we will
proceed to give a brief account of the state of astronomy
among some early nations who have undoubtedly contri¬
buted to the improvement of the science, or who, at least,
have transmitted to future ages some monuments of their
ASTRONOMY.
722
History, astronomical labours, and of their attention to celestial ob-
servations.
Chaldeans. According to the unanimous testimony of the Greek
historians, the earliest traces of astronomical science are
to be met with among the Chaldeans and Egyptians.
The spacious level and unclouded horizon of Chaldea af¬
forded the utmost facilities for observing the celestial
phenomena; and its inhabitants, enjoying the leisure af¬
forded by a pastoral life, and stimulated by the vain de¬
sire of obtaining a knowledge of the future from the as¬
pects of the stars, assiduously cultivated astronomy and
astrology. By a long series of observations of eclipses,
extending, according to the testimony of some authors,
over nineteen centuries, or even a longer period, they had
discovered the cycle of 223 dunations, or eighteen solar
years, which, by bringing back the moon to nearly the
same position with respect to her nodes, her perigee, and
the sun, brings back the eclipses in the same order. This
is supposed to be the period which they distinguished by
the name of Saros. They had others, to which they gave
the names of Sossos and Neros; but nothing positive is
known with regard to their nature or extent. One thing
only is certain, which is, that these Chaldaic periods,
whatever they were, were founded on no theoretical
knowledge of the celestial motions. They were purely
empirical, detected by the comparison of recorded obser¬
vations, and suppose neither theory nor science, unless,
indeed, a simple arithmetical operation is to be considered
as such; nor is there any reason to suppose that the
Chaldeans employed any process of computation whatever
in their predictions of eclipses. Having once established
their cycle, they were in possession of a simple means of
predicting all those which occurred in the course of it,
with as great a degree of accuracy as they considered re¬
quisite.
The knowledge of these lunisolar periods among the
Chaldeans is doubtless of great antiquity. Simplicius,
the commentator of Aristotle, asserts that Callisthenes
transmitted to Aristotle from Babylon a collection of ob¬
servations of all the eclipses which had happened during
the nineteen centuries that preceded the conquest of
Alexander. This relation, however, is at variance with
the accounts given by other historians. Epigenes, cited
by Seneca and Pliny, who is supposed to have lived short¬
ly before the time of Alexander, mentions observations of
730 years that had been found preserved on columns of
brick. Ptolemy also makes mention of certain observa¬
tions of eclipses that had been brought from Babylon,
several of which he had calculated and verified; but the
earliest of these ascends only to the year 720 before our
era, or to the 26th of Nabonassar; and if either Hippar¬
chus or himself had been acquainted with others of a
more ancient date, they would doubtless have employed
them in the determination of the mean motion of the
moon. From this circumstance it appears probable that
the Chaldeans had no observation sufficiently exact to be
of any use to astronomy prior to the time of Nabonassar.
According to Apollonius of Myndus, the Chaldeans sup¬
posed the comets to be substances of the same nature as
the placets; that they are visible only during a portion of
their revolutions, and that they re-appear after certain
intervals. But this statement, which argues some just
notions respecting the celestial bodies, is contradicted by
Epigenes, who himself studied among the Chaldeans, and
who affirms, that instead of regarding the comets as sub¬
jected like the planets to the operation of eternal laws, Historv
they attributed their formation to vortices of inflamed
matter, supposing them to have only a temporary exist¬
ence, and to move in random directions through the fields
of space. Diodorus says, that they regarded the world
as eternal and imperishable, and held that its order is
due, not to chance, but to a divine providence; that the
planets, which have peculiar motions, announce future
events by their various aspects and colours; that they
portend rains, tempests, excessive heats; sometimes also
the appearance of comets, eclipses, earthquakes, and, in
short, whatever has a beneficial or hurtful influence on
the fortunes of nations or individuals.
From the few facts that can be gleaned from the vague
accounts given by ancient authors of the astronomy of the
ancient Chaldeans, it may be inferred that their boasted
science was confined to observations of the simplest and
rudest kind, neither guided by theory, nor assisted by in¬
struments ; for, notwithstanding the assertion of Hero¬
dotus, it is doubtful if they were acquainted even with
the gnomon, the simplest of all instruments for determin¬
ing the obliquity of the ecliptic, the altitude of the pole,
and the length of the tropical year. If to the knowledge of
their lunisolar periods, the result of ages of observation,
we add the notion of a spherical revolution about an in¬
clined axis, and an idea of the principal circles of the
sphere and the position of the poles, the sum will com¬
prehend all that constituted the science of a people re¬
garded by antiquity as having made the greatest progress
in the science of the stars. Astronomy, however, owes
some obligations to their humble labours. The observa¬
tions which they recorded served to correct the theories
that were afterwards imagined by the more brilliant ge¬
nius of the Greeks, and thereby furnished some materials
for the edifice of the world.
The Egyptians were in ancient times the rivals of the Egyptians.
Chaldeans in the cultivation of astronomy; and although
they have left behind them still fewer monuments of their
labours, they have obtained, through the exaggerated
statements of the Greeks, even a greater reputation. The
Greeks acknowledge themselves indebted to the Egyp¬
tians for their science and civilisation; but regarding
themselves likewise as descendants of that ancient people,
they indulged their vain-glory in magnifying the accounts
of the antiquity and knowledge of their supposed ances¬
tors. It is not improbable that some traditional observa¬
tions of the heavens, along with some arts indispensable
to society even in its earliest stages, were carried into
Europe by tribes migrating from the banks of the Nile;
and it is certain that the early philosophers of Greece
travelled into Egypt for the purpose of acquiring a more
perfect knowledge of astronomy than could be obtained
in their own country. But the facts from which it can
be inferred that the Egyptians had much to communicate,
are few and ill attested. They are also blended with so
much absurdity and fable, that no accurate notions can be
formed, from the accounts that have been transmitted to
us, of the real advances which that people had made in as¬
tronomical science. The priests were the depositaries of
the national knowledge; and they carefully concealed it
from the vulgar by shrouding it in allegories, traces of
which, it has been remarked, may be detected in the
institutions even of the present day.
According to Diogenes Laertius, the Egyptians reck¬
oned 48,853 years from Vulcan to Alexander, during
which they had observed 373 eclipses of the sun, and 832
of the moon. These numbers in fact nearly express the
relative proportion of the eclipses of the two luminaries;
but the enormous length of the period altogether exceeds
Astronomy of the Chaldeans, Egyptians, Phoenicians, Chi¬
nese, and Indians.
ASTRONOMY.
Hist o’, the bounds of credibility; and it has been remarked that
i^/V'-^the same number of eclipses might have been observed
within the more probable period of twelve or thirteen cen¬
turies. Supposing the numbers to be accurately stated,
it will follow that, as the observations terminated with the
conquest of Alexander, the Egyptians must have been in
the habit of observing eclipses at least 1600 years before
the commencement of our era. By attentively observing
the heliacal rising of the star Sirius, to which they gave
the name of Thaat, or Thoth (the Watch-Dog), because
its appearance shortly preceded the overflow of the wa¬
ters of the Nile, the Egyptians had discovered that the
year consists of 3651 days. This was their religious or
sacred year. Their civil year consisted of only 365 days ;
consequently the sacrifices and feasts, which were regu¬
lated by it, successively corresponded to the different sea¬
sons. Instead of attempting to obviate this inconvenience
by intercalation, they imposed an oath on their kings to
maintain the use of the civil year, superstitiously imagin¬
ing that each of the seasons would be blessed and ren¬
dered prosperous by enjoying in its turn the celebration
of the feast of Isis. The difference between the lengths
of the sacred and civil year suggested to them their fa¬
mous sothic or canicular period of 1460 solar years, cor¬
responding to 1461 civil years of 365 days, and which con¬
sequently brings back the months and festivals to the same
seasons. Dion Cassius ascribes the week to the Egyptians,
and says that they first dedicated a day to each of the pla¬
nets ; but it is sufficiently proved that this short cycle was
in use among the Chinese and Indians from the remotest
times, and was even known to the Druids of Gaul and
Britain. It was more probably suggested to different nations
by the phases of the moon. The Egyptians had likewise
been attentive to the courses of the planets. Diodorus
Siculus affirms that they could explain the phenomena of
the stations and retrogradations; and Macrobius ascribes
to them the knowledge of the real motions of Mercury
and Venus, and says that they regarded these planets as
satellites of the sun. This notion would do credit to their
philosophy; but it is unfortunately not mentioned by
any other author, and for this reason the testimony of
Macrobius is suspected. The state of their practical as¬
tronomy may in some measure be inferred from the means
they employed to determine the magnitude of the sun’s
apparent diameter. By comparing the time, observed by
means of a clepsydra, which the sun takes to mount above
the horizon at the equinox, with that in which he makes
a complete revolution of the sky, they estimated his dia¬
meter at 28' 48". An observation of this kind is liable to
great uncertainty; and as there is no evidence that the
Egyptians possessed the slightest knowledge of spherical
trigonometry, they would probably make no allowance for
the obliquity of the equator to their horizon; and if this
correction was left out of the calculation, as it probably
was, their diameter, already too small, ought to have been
still farther reduced, and to have amounted only to 24' 42".
It has been conjectured by Goguet, that the obelisks of
Egypt were intended to serve the purpose of gnomons;
and this conjecture acquires some probability from their
needle-shaped form, and the narrowness of their bases re¬
latively to their heights. It has however been proved by
MM. Jollois and Devilliers, in their description of Thebes,
that the obelisks were connected with the walls of temples
and palaces; a disposition which rendered them entire¬
ly unfit for the purposes of astronomical observation.
Their summits were also of so unfavourable a form, that
the Romans were obliged to surmount them with a ball
in order to obtain a distinct and well-defined shadow.
The pyramids have also been adduced as evidences of the
early progress of astronomy among the Egyptians; for History,
the faces of these stupendous masses are turned directly
towards the four cardinal points, from which it is evident
that the people by whom they were constructed were at
least acquainted with the method of tracing a meridional
line.
From this brief account it appears, that the only cir¬
cumstances with which we are acquainted that imply the
knowledge of astronomical methods among the Egyptians,
are the length of the year, the doubtful discovery of the
true motions of Mercury and Venus, and the position of
the pyramids. The Chaldean observations were of use to
Hipparchus and Ptolemy in the determination of some
important elements; but those of the Egyptians exercised
no influence whatever on the future progress of the science.
The Phoenicians are also generally enumerated among Phoeni-
the nations who cultivated astronomy at a very early cians.
period, though it does not appear, from any facts mention¬
ed by ancient authors, that they addicted themselves to
the observation of the heavens, or made any discoveries
relative to the motions of the planets. That they excelled
in the art of navigation is certain, from the commercial
intercourse which they carried on with many places on the
coasts of Africa and Spain, and in the principal islands
of the Mediterranean; and it may readily be allowed that
in their long voyages they would direct their course
during the night by the circumpolar stars. If they had
any speculative notions of astronomy, these were probably
derived from the Chaldeans or Egyptians.
In China, astronomy has been cultivated from the re-Chinese,
motest ages, and always been considered as a science in¬
dispensably necessary to the civil government of the state.
The Chinese boast of a series of eclipses, recorded in the
annals of the nation, extending over a period of 3858
years, all of which, they pretend, were not only carefully
observed, but calculated and figured previous to their oc¬
currence. The same motives which led the Chaldeans
and Egyptians to attend to the celestial phenomena,
namely, the regulation and division of time, had equal in¬
fluence among the Chinese; and we accordingly find the
care of the calendar occupying the attention of their
earliest princes. The emperor Fou-Hi, whose reign com¬
menced about 2857 years before our era, is said to have
assiduously studied the motions of the celestial bodies,
and laboured to instruct his ignorant subjects in the mys¬
teries of astronomy. But as they were yet in too rude a
condition to be able to comprehend his theories, he was
obliged to content himself with giving them a rule for the
computation of time by means of the numbers 10 and 12,
the combination of which produces the cycle of 60 years,
which is the standard or unit from which they deduce their
hours, days, and months. Tradition is silent with respect
to the sources from which Fou-Hi derived his own know¬
ledge. The Chinese attribute to him also the invention
of arithmetic and music. In the year 2608 b. c., Hoang-
Ti caused an observatory to be built, for the purpose of
correcting the calendar, which had already fallen into great
confusion, and appointed one set of astronomers to observe
the course of the sun, another that of the moon, and a
third that of the stars. It was then discovered that the
twelve lunar months do not exactly correspond with a
solar year; and that, in order to restore the coinci¬
dence, it was necessary to intercalate seven lunations
in the space of nineteen years. If this fact rested on
undoubted evidence, it would follow that the Chinese
had anticipated the Greeks by 2000 years in the dis¬
covery of the Metonic cycle. The reign of Hoang-1 i
is also rendered memorable by the institution of the
Mathematical Tribunal, for promoting the science of
724 A S T R O N O M Y.
History, astronomy, and regularly predicting eclipses, to which
an extraordinary importance has always been attached
in China. The members of this celebrated tribunal were
made responsible with their lives for the accuracy of
their predictions, by a law of the empire, which or¬
dained that, “ whether the instant of the occurrence of
any celestial phenomenon was erroneously assigned, or
the phenomenon itself not foreseen and predicted, either
negligence should be punished with death.” In the reign
of Tchong-Kang, the two mathematicians of the empire,
Ho and Hi, were the victims of this absurd and sangui¬
nary law; an eclipse having taken place which their skill
had not enabled them to foresee.
The emperor Yao, who mounted the throne, according
to the Chinese annals, about the year 2317 b. c., gave a
new impulse to the study of astronomy, which had be¬
gun already to decline. He ordered his astronomers to
observe with the utmost care the motions of the sun and
moon, of the planets and the stars, and to determine the
exact length of each of the four seasons. He sent Hi-
Tchong to the east to observe the star situated at the
point of the vernal equinox, Hi-Tchou to the south to
examine that at the summer solstice, Ho-Tchong to the
west, and Ho-Tchou to the north, to observe those situated
respectively at the autumnal equinox and winter solstice.
These docile observers found stars in the positions assigned
by the emperor; but the extraordinary resemblance of
their names imparts a fabulous air to the whole relation,
and excites a very excusable incredulity even with regard
to those statements which involve no improbability. To
this emperor are attributed the Chinese division of the
zodiac into 28 constellations, called the houses of the
moon, and the severe laws already noticed in regard to
the erroneous prediction of the celestial phenomena.
From the time of Yao the Chinese year consisted of
365^ days. They also divided the circle into 365^ de¬
grees, so that the sun daily described in his orbit an arc
of one Chinese degree. Their common lunar year con¬
sisted of 364|MS- days; and by combining this number
with 365-|:, they formed the period of 4G17 years, after
which the sun and moon again occupy the same relative
positions.
The earliest Chinese observations we are acquainted
with, sufficiently precise to afford any result useful to
astronomy, were made by Tcheou-Kong, whose reign
commenced about the year 1100 before our era. Two
of these observations are meridional altitudes of the sun,
observed with great care at the village of Loyang, at the
time of the summer and winter solstices. The obliquity
of the ecliptic thus determined at that remote epoch is
23° 54/ 3T5"; a result which perfectly agrees with the
theory of universal gravitation. Another observation,
made about the same time, relates to the position of the
winter solstice in the heavens; and it also corresponds to
within a minute of a degree with the calculations of La¬
place. Laplace considers this extraordinary conformity
as an indubitable proof of the authenticity of those an¬
cient observations.
1 he golden age of Chinese astronomy extended from
the reign of Fou-Hi to the year 480 b. c. ; that is, over a
space of 2500 years. It is only, however, towards the
latter part of this long period that the history of China
becomes in any degree authentic; and the true date
which must be assigned for the commencement of obser¬
vations on which any reliance can be placed, is the year
722 b. c.; that is, 25 years posterior to the era of Nabo-
nassar. From that period to the year 400 b. c. Confucius
reckons a series of 36 eclipses, and of these 31 have been
verified by modern astronomers. After this the science
fell into great neglect, notwithstanding the inveterate te- if
nacity with which the Chinese in general adhere to their !
ancient customs. The decline of their astronomy is
ascribed, whether justly or not, to the barbarous policy
of the emperor Tsin-Chi-Hong-Ti, who, in the year 221
b. c., ordered all the books to be destroyed, exceptins
those only which related to agriculture, medicine, and
astrology, the only sciences which he considered as beino'
of any use to mankind. Flis fury, it is true, was prinen
pally directed against those of Confucius, the stern mo¬
rality of which he felt to be a censure on his own profli¬
gacy ; but those of science and astronomy were included
in the general destruction. In this manner, it is said
the precious mass of astronomical observations and pre¬
cepts which had been accumulating for ages was irretriev¬
ably lost.
Lieou-Pang, the successor of Tsin-Chi-Hong, endea-206 Lc
voured to repair the disaster, by re-establishing the tribu¬
nal of the mathematics, and ordering a new series of ob¬
servations to be undertaken. About the year 104 b. c.
the astronomer Sse-Ma-Tsien gave some precepts for
the calculation of eclipses, the motions of the planets,
and the syzygies. He employed instruments of copper,
the nature and construction of which are however not
very well understood, for measuring the extent of the 28
zodiacal constellations; and he observed the meridional
altitudes of the sun, by means of a gnomon 8 feet high.
The differences of right ascensions, and the intervals be¬
tween the risings, settings, and culminations of the stars,
were measured by clepsydrae. It would appear that after
this period astronomical observations continued for some
time to be made in China with considerable regularity.
In the 164th yea? of our era the astronomer Tchang-
Heng constructed armillary spheres and a celestial globe.
He also formed a catalogue of stars, which is said to have
contained 2500, but without either latitudes or longitudes;
a circumstance which gives us a very unfavourable idea
of the state of practical astronomy at that time. About
the eighth century of our era, all knowledge of the science
seems to have been again lost. The predictions were er¬
roneous ; and the Chinese witnessed, with superstitious
terror, eclipses of which their astronomers had given them
no intimation. This induced the emperor Hieng-Tsong
to call to his court the astronomer Y-Hang, by whose in¬
defatigable activity a reform was speedily effected. With
a view to determine the situations of the principal places
of the empire, this astronomer constructed gnomons,
spheres, astrolabes, quadrants, and other instruments;
and sent one company of mathematicians to the south,
and another to the north, with directions to observe
daily the altitudes of the sun and the polar star. The
latitudes of the cities were determined by observing the
shadow of the gnomon, and the longitudes by eclipses of
the moon. Y-Hang had the mortification of announcing
two eclipses which did not take place. On these occa¬
sions he alleged the usual excuse, namely, that his calcu¬
lus was not in error, but that the celestial bodies had de¬
viated from their ordinary courses out of respect to the
virtues of the emperor. The fate of Ho and Hi had pro¬
bably suggested to the Chinese astronomers this ingenious
mode of disarming the emperor’s resentment by flattering
his vanity.
On considering attentively the accounts which have
been given of the Chinese astronomy, we find that it
consisted only in the practice of observations which led
to nothing more than the knowdedge of a few isolated
facts. The missionaries who were sent out by the Je¬
suits about the end of the seventeenth century, to whom
we are indebted for what is known of the early history
ASTRONOMY.
Histo’. of China, either seduced by some appearances of truth,
y-Wor thinking it prudent to conciliate the people whom
they were attempting to convert, adopted their marvel¬
lous relations regarding the antiquity of their science,
and spread them over Europe. As the history of the
nation begins to become more authentic, their astronomy
shrinks into its real but insignificant dimensions. Super-
stitiously attached to their ancient usages, and blindly
adopting the habits of their ancestors, the Chinese con¬
tinued to observe the heavens from century to century
without making the slightest advances in theoretical
knowledge. In later times they have adopted many im¬
provements, for which they are entirely indebted to fo¬
reigners. During the time of the caliphs many Maho¬
metans passed into China, carrying with them the astro¬
nomical methods and knowledge of the Arabians. The
missionaries introduced the science of Europe; and the
most that can be said in praise of the Chinese is, that
their government sometimes relaxed so far its spirit of
jealousy and exclusion, as to afford protection to these
strangers, adopt their arts, and place them at the head
of the mathematical tribunal.
mliansi: The astronomy of the Indians forms one of the most
curious problems which the history of science presents to
the consideration of the learned, and one which, notwith¬
standing the numerous dissertations to which it has given
rise, still continues involved in great uncertainty. Of the
science of the ancient nations, of which we have already
spoken, the accounts which have come down to our times
are founded on conjecture and tradition ; for few monu¬
ments remain to confirm or confute the glowing descrip¬
tions which authors have given of its high antiquity and
great perfection. But the claims of the Indians rest on
more solid foundations. We are in possession of the
tables from which they compute the eclipses and places
of the planets, and of the methods by which they effect
the computation: we have, in short, an Indian astrono-
( my committed to writing, which represents the celestial
phenomena with considerable exactness, and which, there¬
fore, could only be produced by a people far advanced in
( science. But the difficulty of the problem consists in de¬
termining the sources from which this science originated,
and the epoch of its existence; whether it was created
by the people who now blindly follow its precepts without
understanding its principles, or was communicated to
them by another race of a bolder and more original ge¬
nius, through channels with which we are unacquainted.
Some authors regard India as the cradle of all the sci¬
ences, particularly of astronomy, which they suppose to
have been cultivated there from the remotest ages;
■ others date the origin of the Indian astronomy from the
period when Pythagoras travelled into that country, and
:: carried thither the arts and sciences of the Greeks; a
third opinion is, that astronomy was conveyed to India
by the Arabians in the ninth century of our era, and that
l the Brahmins are only entitled to the humble merit of
adapting the rules and practices of that people to their
own peculiar methods of calculation. We shall endea¬
vour to describe very briefly the existing monuments of
the Indian astronomy, which furnish the only data from
which a rational conjecture can be formed relative to its
i antiquity and precision.
We possess four different sets of tables of Indian
astronomy. The first which were known in Europe were
brought from Siam by La Loubere, who had resided in
that country as ambassador from Louis XIV. They wrere
communicated by him to the celebrated Cassini, who,
notwithstanding the difficulties arising from the compli¬
cated and useless operations which they directed, suc¬
ceeded in detecting the principles on which they were
constructed, and in explaining their use and signification.
J.ne date of these tables corresponds to the 21st of March
in the year 638 of our era. They suppose two species of
S0Ja,r troPlcal year> which they make to consist
of 365 days 5 hours 50 min. and 4 sec., and the solar ano¬
malistic year, that is, the period in which the sun returns
to its apogee, which they estimate at 365 days 6 hours 12
min. 36 sec. This determination of the length of the
solar year is too great only by 1 min. 15 sec. By means
of the same tables the longitudes of the sun and moon are
determined with considerable accuracy. They contain
a correction for the sun’s mean place, which corresponds
to the equation of the centre. At 90° from the apogee,
where the inequality of the sun’s motion is greatest, they
estimate the requisite correction at 2° 12', which is about
16' too great. This determination deserves to be parti-
cularly icmarked, because, on account of a secular inequa-
hty of the eccentricity of the sun’s orbit, there was once
a time when the greatest value of the equation of the
centre was nearly 2° 12' ; and this fact is adduced as a
pi oof of the remote antiquity of the observations from
which the tables in question have been constructed.
These tables suppose the apogee to retain always the
same position relatively to the fixed stars; in reality it
advances or gains on the stars about 10" annually; but
the supposition is still much nearer the truth than in the
system of Ptolemy, where the apogee is supposed to be
absolutely at rest with regard to the plane of the sun’s
orbit, and consequently to fall back among the stars by
the whole quantity of the precession of the equinoxes, or
about 50" annually. With regard to the motions of the
moon, they are deduced from a period of 19 years, in
which are comprehended nearly 235 lunations; so that
the cycle of Meton appears to have been known in Siam
as well as in China. The moon’s apogee is supposed to
have been in the beginning of the movable zodiac 621
days after the epoch of the 21st of March 638, and to
make an entire revolution in the heavens in the space of
3232 days. The first of these suppositions agrees with
Mayer’s tables to within a degree, and the second differs
from them only by 11 hours 14 min. 31 sec. They con¬
tain only one correction for the two principal inequalities
of the moon’s motion, the equation of the centre and the
evection.
A second set of Indian tables was sent from Chrisna-
bouram, a town in the Carnatic, by Father Du Champ, to
De Lisle, about the year 1750. They are fifteen in num¬
ber. They give the mean motions of the sun, moon, and
planets; equations of the centre for the sun and moon;
and two corrections for each of the planets, one of which
corresponds to the apparent, the other to the real inequa¬
lity. The epoch of these tables is not so ancient as that
of the former. It corresponds to the 10th of March, at
sunrise, in the year 1491 of our era, when the sun and
moon were in conjunction.
A third set of astronomical tables was sent from India
by Father Patonillet, and received by De Lisle about the
same time with those of Chrisnabouram. These have not
the name of any particular place affixed to them; but
being calculated for the latitude of 16° 16', Badly thinks
it probable that they came from Narsapour. Their epoch
is midnight, between the 17th and 18th of March 1569.
The fourth and last set of Indian tables which we possess
have been published in the Memoirs of the Academy of
Sciences. They were communicated by a learned Brah¬
min of Tirvalore, a small town on the Coromandel coast,
to the French astronomer Legentil, who had gone to In¬
dia to observe the transit of Venus in 1769. The tables
726 ASTRONOMY.
History, of Tirvalore, though somewhat different in form, present year, being affected by the precession of the equinoxes, Histoi
many p0ints of resemblance with those formerly known is subject to a secular inequality, which, according tov^V'
in Europe. They suppose the same length of the year, the theory of Lagrange, renders it actually shorter by
the same inequalities of the sun and moon, and they are 40*5 sec. at the present time than it was at the commence-
adapted nearly to the same meridian. But while they ment of the Calyougham. The error of the Indian ta-
correspond with the other tables in these elements, they bles is thus reduced to 1 min. 5*5 sec. In like manner,
differ from them greatly in the antiquity of their epoch, the obliquity of the ecliptic, which has been gradually
which goes back to the famous era of the Calyougham, diminishing during a great number of centuries, is sup-
that is, the beginning of the year 3102 before Christ. posed in the Indian tables to be greater than it is now
Now, the only question to be determined with regard found to be by observation. The Brahmins estimate it at
to the antiquity of the Indian astronomy is, whether this 24°. The formula of Lagrange makes the variation, in
epoch is real or fictitious; that is, whether the state of 4800 years, amount to 22' 32". This therefore must be
the heavens at the commencement of the Calyougham, added to its obliquity in 1700, that is, to 23° 28' 41", in
as assumed in these tables, was actually determined by order to have the true obliquity at the commencement of
observation, or computed backwards from observations the Calyougham. The sum is 23° 51' 13", and falls short
of more modern date. The solution to this question of the Indian determination by 8' 47". We shall men-
can only be obtained from the internal evidence afforded tion only another element, the equation of the centre of
by the tables themselves; by examining whether the the sun. Badly calculates that, according to the theory
elements and precepts which they furnish are of sufficient of Lagrange, the equation of the sun’s centre, at the
accuracy to enable the places of the sun, moon, and pla- epoch of the tables, was 2° 6' 28". The Indians make it
nets to be calculated through a period of 44 centuries, 2° 10' 32". The difference is only about 4', and incom-
without involving errors which the refined accuracy of the parably less than could have resulted from calculation
modern tables furnishes the means of detecting. A com- by any methods which we can suppose the Indians to
parison of the Indian with the modern tables has been made have possessed.
at great length by Badly, who imagines that he finds These arguments, it must be admitted, are exceedingly
ample evidence of the reality of the era in question, and of specious, but they are not by any means convincing,
the existence of an astronomy prior to that period, hard- Even with the best modern tables we could not, as Bail-
ly yielding in accuracy to that which modern science has ly himself acknowledges, answer for the accuracy of the
built on the theory of universal gravitation. The theory places of the sun and moon computed for so remote an
of Badly has been adopted, and put forth with additional epoch. The corrections for the secular inequalities amount
clearness and evidence, by the late Professor Playfair, in that long period to considerable quantities; and these
One of the principal arguments which these illustrious corrections are deduced by theory from elements with re¬
authors bring forward in support of it is founded on the spect to which there exists great uncertainty. And if we
longitudes of the sun and moon. The mean place of the cannot be sure of the true places by computing back-
moon at the commencement of the Calyougham, that is, wards from our own tables, with what degree of confi-
at midnight, between the 17th and 18th of February 3102 dence can we pronounce upon the accuracy of the places
b. c., is stated by the Indian tables to be 306°. Her mean assigned in the tables of the Indians ? It may be said
place, computed from Mayer’s tables, without taking into that comparisons of this kind can never be supposed to
account the acceleration, with which the Indians in the give results perfectly alike. Granted : but if the discre-
15th century were of course unacquainted, is 300° 51' 16". pancies are such that the lapse of a thousand years more
Hence there would be a discrepancy of 5° 8' 44". But, or less is required to establish a rigorous conformity,
according to the theory and last tables of Laplace, the what becomes of the famous epoch of the Calyougham ?
moon, in virtue of the acceleration of her mean motion, Some of the elements of the Indian tables could not have
has passed over an arc of very nearly 6° more than she the values assigned to them but at a long period before
would have done had her mean motion continued uniform that epoch. In order to find their equation of the sun s
from the period of the Calyougham to the date of Mayer’s centre, for example, it is necessary, according to the re¬
tables. This added to 300° 51' 16" gives 306° 51' 16" suits of modern theory, to go back to 6000 years before
for the mean longitude of the moon at the epoch of the our era. The argument, therefore, proves too much,
Calyougham, differing from the Indian determination by and is consequently inconclusive. The different sets
only 51'16". Now, it is argued that this is a degree of of tables of which we have spoken are closely allied
accuracy which could have been reached only by actual with each other, and the most probable supposition is,
observation, especially since, if the tables had been com- that they are all derived from those of Chrisnabouram, of
puted backwards, the error arising from the acceleration which the epoch is 1491. At that era the Indians were
alone would have amounted to more than 5°. Bailly acquainted with the instruments, the geometry, and the
computes the place of the moon at the same epoch, from researches of the Arabians and Greeks. Through this
all the tables, Greek and Arabian, to which the Indians channel the tables seem to have come into their posses-
can be supposed to have had access, and the discrepancies sion. The Brahmins adapted them to their own particu-
are so great as to render his conclusion almost inevitable, lar methods of computation, and threw back their epoc
that the Indian tables could not possibly have been drawn to the period when, according to these tables, all the
from such sources. The tables of Ptolemy make the planets were in conjunction with the sun. Every circum-
moon’s longitude at that time 11° 52' 7" greater than the stance connected with the science of the Indians con-
Indian tables ; and those of Ulugh-Beigh, constructed at spires to give us the humblest ideas of its value. Their
Samarcand in 1437, give a difference of 6° also in ex- methods of computation are encumbered with the unne-
cess. cessary multiplications and divisions of enormous num-
Similar results are obtained from the consideration of bers, endless additions, subtractions, and reductions, for
other elements. According to the tables of Tirvalore, the purpose of obtaining numbers which could be Put m'
the tropical year consists of 365 days 5 hours 50 min. to technical verses, and even adapted to songs; so tha
35. sec. Lacaille makes it 365 days 5 hours 48 min. 49 the astronomer might be enabled to effect his calculations
sec. The difference is 1 min. 46 sec. Now the tropical from memory alone, without its being necessary to have
ASTRONOMY.
yjgt,y. recourse to tables or books. But simple and rude as these
methods are, if they were really invented by the Brah¬
mins, the science of that people must have greatly retro¬
graded ; for at present they merely follow a blind rou¬
tine, utterly ignorant of theory, or the principles on which
their processes are founded. Their astronomy, whether
of ancient or recent origin, has produced no effect what¬
ever on that of Europe ; it has no filiation or connection
with the science of the present day, and therefore has no
other claim on our attention than such as may result from
motives of mere curiosity.1 * *
Astronomy of the Greeks.
The origin of astronomy in Greece, as in other early
nations, ascends beyond the period of authentic history,
and is concealed amidst the fables and traditions of the
remotest times. During the darkness of the heroic ages
some gleams of an acquaintance with the motions of the
stars occasionally burst forth; and some traces appear of
astronomical observations, probably derived from Egypt,
the country which also furnished Greece with its gods and
its arts. The Greeks seem to have divided the heavens
into constellations about 13 or 14 centuries before the
Christian era; for the sphere of Eudoxus, which is pro¬
bably one of the fruits of the famous voyage of the Argo¬
nauts, must be referred to that period. Their early
attention to the appearances of the heavens is sufficiently
attested by their mythological fables, the greater part of
which are only allegories of the celestial motions, and of
the operations of nature. The lively fancy and brilliant
imagination of this ingenious people strewed flowers in
the most rugged paths, and spread agreeable images over
the driest and most uninviting subjects : hence the sky was
quickly covered with legends of the loves and exploits of
gods and heroes. It would be foreign to our present pur¬
pose to enter into an enumeration of these fables, or at¬
tempt to trace their connection with the first dawnings of
astronomy: we shall content ourselves with barely allud¬
ing to Uranus, to Atlas and his son Hesperus, who gave
his name to the planet Venus; also to his daughters the
Atlantides, from whom the Pleiades received their appel¬
lation ; to Endymion, who, on the summit of Mount Lat¬
inos, held nocturnal converse with the chaste Diana; to
Hercules; and Chiron the centaur, who taught men the
use of the constellations; Musaeus, who imagined the fi¬
gures of men and animals which cover the celestial
sphere; Orpheus and Linus, who explained the theogo-
nies; Atreus, from whose banquet the sun fled back with
horror; and Tiresias, who was struck blind for having
witnessed some secret of the gods.
The true foundations of Grecian science were laid by
Thales, who was born at Miletus 640 years before our
era. He was descended from an illustrious family, which
had formerly reigned in Phoenicia, and inherited an ample
fortune, which he expended in collecting the expiring
embers of oriental science. Instigated by the love of
knowledge, he travelled first into Crete, and afterwards
into Egypt, where he was initiated into the mysteries of
the priests, to whom, in return, he is said to have taught
the method of measuring the height of the pyramids by
comparing their shadows with those of known objects.
Returned to his own country, he publicly taught the
truths he had collected during his travels, and formed a
Thalc
born lift
B.C.
sect which has been distinguished by the title of the
Ionian School His doctrines regarding astronomy con-v
tain a few truths which do honour to his sagacity and ob¬
servation, though they are mixed with much error and
absurdity. He taught that the stars are formed of fire;
that the moon receives her light from the sun, and is in¬
visible at her conjunctions, because she is hid in the sun’s
rays. He also taught the sphericity of the earth, which
he placed at the centre of the world. He divided the
sphere into five zones, by the arctic and antarctic circles,
and the two tropics; and held that the equator is cut
obliquely by the ecliptic, and perpendicularly by the me¬
ridian. He is also said to have observed eclipses; and
Herodotus relates that he predicted the famous one which
put a stop to the war between the Medes and the Ly¬
dians. It does not appear, however, that he ventured to
assign either the day or the month of the eclipse, so that
his prediction must have been confined to the year.
According to Callimachus, he determined the positions
of the stars which form the Lesser Bear, by which the
Phoenicians guided themselves in their voyages. It is
difficult, however, to conceive how Thales, unacquainted
with instruments, could determine the positions of stars
with so much accuracy as to render any essential as¬
sistance to the navigator. It is probable that he only
pointed out the configuration, and some of the more bril¬
liant stars of that constellation, among which he might re¬
mark that which is nearest the pole of the world.
Thales was succeeded by Anaximander, to whom isAnaximan-
also attributed the invention of the sphere, and the know- der, born
ledge of the zodiac. According to Diogenes Laertius,^10
he supposed, like his master Thales, the earth to be sphe¬
rical, and placed at the centre of the universe; but Plu¬
tarch ascribes to him the less philosophical opinion of its
resemblance to a column. He supposed the sun to be of
equal magnitude with the earth. He invented the gno¬
mon, and placed one at Lacedaemon to observe the sol¬
stices and equinoxes. But the circumstance which does
most honour to Anaximander, and which entitles him to
the gratitude of posterity, is the invention of geographi¬
cal charts. He is said also to have believed in the plu¬
rality of worlds,—a sublime idea, which was adopted by
almost every succeeding philosopher of Greece.
Anaximenes succeeded Anaximander in the Ionian Anaxime-
school, and maintained nearly the same doctrines. Pliny nes, born
says he was the first who taught the art of constructing5^0
dials,—an invention which, as we have just seen, has also
been ascribed to Anaximander. These two philosophers
probably revived the knowledge of an instrument the
use of which had been forgotten amidst the general rude¬
ness and ignorance of their countrymen. Before their
time the Greeks only marked the divisions of the day by
the different lengths of the sun’s shadow.
Anaxagoras was the disciple and successor of Anaxi- Anaxago-
menes. If this philosopher really entertained the ridicu- ras, born
lous opinions ascribed to him by Plutarch, the Ionian000 is C-
school must rather have retrograded than advanced in
sound philosophy from the time of Thales. He is said to
have believed that the sun is a mass of red-hot iron, or of
heated stone, somewhat bigger than the Peloponnesus,—
that the heaven is a vault of stones, which is prevented
from tumbling only by the rapidity of its circular motion,—
and that the sun is prevented from advancing beyond the
tropics by a thick and dense atmosphere, which forces
1 For an account of the Indian astronomy, see Bailly, Astronomic Indienne; also a Memoir by Professor f layfair, in the Edinlmrft
Transactions, vol ii., or in the 3d volume of his Works; and the Papers of Jones, Bently, and Davis, in the Calcutta Memoirs, me
theory of Bailly is most satisfactorily refuted by Delambre. See his TIistoire dc l Astronomic Anciennc, tom. i.
ASTRONOMY.
728
History, him to retrace his course. These absurd notions are pro-
bably greatly exaggerated; but it does not appear that
Anaxagoras contributed much to extend the knowledge
of the heavens. A melancholy interest is, however, ex¬
cited in his behalf, on account of the persecution which
he suffered in consequence of his liberal opinions and his
disregard for the superstitious notions of his age. Having
shown the reason of the eclipses of the moon, he was ac¬
cused of ascribing to natural causes the attributes and
power of the gods. Having taught the existence of only
one God, he was accused of impiety and treason towards
his country. Sentence of death was pronounced on the
philosopher and all his family; and it required the power¬
ful interest of his friend and disciple Pericles to obtain
a commutation of this iniquitous sentence into one of per¬
petual banishment.
Pythago- While the Ionian sect was so successfully employed in
ras, horn cultivating and propagating a knowledge of nature in
580 B.C. (qreecej another, still more celebrated, was founded in
Italy by Pythagoras. This renowned philosopher was in
early youth a disciple of Thales. In quest of knowledge,
which in those days could only be obtained by visiting
the sages of foreign lands, he travelled into Egypt, Phoe¬
nicia, Chaldea, and India, where his memory is said still
to subsist. Through the favour of Amadis, king of Egypt,
to whom he was recommended by Polycrates, the tyrant
of Samos, he was admitted into the sacred college at
Memphis, though with great reluctance on the part of
the priests. The severe ordeal through which these char¬
latans compelled him to pass, before they would consent
to initiate him into their mysteries, was sufficient to have
deterred the most courageous votary of knowledge; and
Pythagoras was probably the only stranger who ever suc¬
ceeded in fully exploring their secrets. After an absence
of thirty years he returned to Greece, and began to give
instructions in his native island of Samos. Soon after, he
passed over to the Grecian colony established at Taren-
tum in Italy, and settled at Crotona, where he speedily
acquired a splendid reputation. He was the first who as¬
sumed the modest title of philosopher, or lover of wisdom :
formerly those who devoted themselves to the acquisition
of learning were called sophists or sages.
Pythagoras is said to have acquired in Egypt the know¬
ledge of the obliquity of the ecliptic, and that of the iden¬
tity of the morning and evening stars. What he chiefly de¬
serves to be commemorated for in the history of astronomy,
is his philosophical doctrine regarding the motion of the
earth. He taught publicly that the earth is placed at
the centre of the universe; but among his chosen dis¬
ciples he propagated the doctrine that the sun occupies
the centre of the planetary world, and that the earth is a
planet circulating about the sun. This system, which still
retains his name, being called the old or Pythagorean
system of the universe, is that which was revived by Co¬
pernicus. It is, however, only just to the memory of this
last mentioned great man to observe, that there is a vast
difference between the bare statement of the possibility
of a fact, and the demonstration of its existence by irre¬
fragable arguments. Pythagoras having remarked the
relation which subsists between the tone of a musical
chord and the rapidity of its vibration, wTas led by ana¬
logy to extend the same relation to the planets, and to
suppose that they emit sounds proportional to their re¬
spective distances, and form a celestial concert too melo¬
dious to affect the gross organs of mankind. Another Histon- >'
fancy into which he was led by his passion for analogies,t
was the application of the five geometrical solids to the
elements of the world. The cube symbolically repre¬
sented the earth ; the pyramid, fire; the octaedron, air •
the icosaedron, or twenty-sided figure, water; and the do-
decaedron, or figure with twelve faces, the exterior sphere
of the universe. Pythagoras left no writings; and it is
doubtful whether he really entertained many of the opi¬
nions and reveries which have usually been ascribed to
him.
Philolaus of Crotona, a disciple of Pythagoras, em-Phii0iail
braced the doctrine of his master with regard to the re- 3 8
volution of the earth about the sun. He supposed the
sun to be a disk 6f glass which reflects the light of the
world. He made the lunar month consist of 29± days,
the lunar year of 354 days, and the solar year of 3651
days.
Nicetas of Syracuse seems to have been the first who Nicetas,
openly taught the Pythagorean system of the universe.
Cicero, on the authority of Theophrastus, the ancient his¬
torian of astronomy, gives hirti the credit of maintaining
that the apparent motion of the stars arises from the diur¬
nal motion of the earth about its axis;1 but this rational
doctrine seems to have been first broached by Heraclides
of Pontus, and Ecphantus, a disciple of Pythagoras.
The introduction of the Metonic cycle forms an era inMetonic
the history of the early astronomy of Greece. The Chal-cycle,
deans, as we have already stated, established several luni-433
solar periods; and the difficulty of reconciling the mo¬
tions of the sun and moon, or of assigning a period at the
end of which these two luminaries again occupy the same
positions relatively to the stars, had long embarrassed
those who had the care of regulating the festivals. Me-
ton and Euctemon had the honour of first obviating this
difficulty, at least for a time ; for the motions of the sun
and moon being incommensurable, no period can be as¬
signed which will bring them back to precisely the same
situations. These two astronomers formed a cycle of nine¬
teen lunar years, twelve of which contained each 12 lu¬
nations, and the seven others each 13, which they inter¬
calated among the former. It had long been known that
the synodic month consisted of 29± days nearly; and in
order to avoid the fraction, it had been usual to make
the twelve synodic months, which compose the solar year,
to consist of 29 and 30 days alternately; the former being
called deficient and the latter/m// months. Meton made
his period to consist of 125 full and 110 deficient months,
which gives 6940 days for the 235 lunations, and is nearly
equal to 19 solar years. This cycle commenced on the
16th of July in the year 433 b. c. It was received with
acclamation by the people assembled at the Olympic
games, and adopted in all the cities and colonies of
Greece. It was also engraved in golden letters on tables
of brass, whence it received the appellation of the golden
number, and has been the basis of the calendars of all the
nations of modern Europe. It is still in ecclesiastical use,
with such modifications as time has rendered necessary.
Eudoxus of Cnidus, about the year 370 b. c., obtained f ^
great reputation as an astronomer. According to Pliny,
he introduced the year of 365|- days into Greece. Ar¬
chimedes says that he supposed the diameter of the sun
to be nine times greater than that of the moon, which
shows that he had in some degree overcome the illusions
1 “ Nicetas Syracusius, ut ait Theophrastus, coelum, solem, lunam, Stellas, supera denique omnia, stare censet; neque, praeter terram,
ran ullam in mundo moveri; quae cum circum axem se summa celeritate convertat et torqueat, eadem effici omnia, quasi, stante
terra, caelum moveretur.” (Cicero, Acad. Quasst.: Opera, tom. iv. p. 39, edit. Bipont.) Copernicus himself could not have stated the
doctrine with greater precision.
ASTRONOMY.
729
Hist )'- of sense. The titles of three of his works have been pre- cles. diminishprl hv nnp rW vi • r i
^ served the Period or Circumference of the Earth, the Phe- lection of observations on the hdiacal'S^of "the3
to be honoured for the contempt which he evinced for junction of the tto heLptere^ whkh dlowed'Zefeh"
the Chaldean predictions, and for havmg contnbuied to se- to penetrate from the firmament beyond. Autolycuf ofAutolycus.
Pitaneas wrote two books, one on the movable sphere,
the other on the risings and settings of the stars. These
are the most ancient of the astronomical works of the
Greeks which have come down to our times.
Pytheas of Marseilles, about the time of Alexander thePytheas.
Gieat, determined the length of the solstitial shadows in
various countries by means of the gnomon. He found
   - jn  7 — **«.****£ IU SU"
parate true astronomy from the reveries of judicial as¬
trology. Eudoxus seems to have been the first who at¬
tempted to give a mechanical explanation of the appa¬
rent motions of the planets. He supposed each planet to
occupy a particular part of the heavens, and that the path
which it describes is determined by the combined motion
of several spheres performed in different directions. The
. i .ccwuuo v-uunLiies uy means or me nnomon. Jti
sun and moon had each three spheres; one revolving the shadows equal at Marseilles and Byzantium
rmirm an axis wliirh nacepc tlirnutTl,  u  , , • . . . _ •>
riatoi
Aiistt!?,
bom ill,
died®,
u.a
round an axis which passes through the poles of the workfi
and which occasions the diurnal motion; a second re¬
volving round the poles of the ecliptic, in a contrary di¬
rection, and causing the annual and monthly revolutions ;
the third revolving in a direction perpendicular to the
first, and causing the changes of declination. Each of
the planets had a fourth sphere to explain the stations
and retrogradations. As new inequalities and motions
were discovered, new spheres were added, till the machi¬
nery became so complicated as to be altogether unintel¬
ligible.
Although Plato can hardly be cited as an astronomer,
yet the progress of the science was accelerated by means
of the lights struck out by his sublime and penetrating
genius. He seems to have had just notions of the causes
of eclipses; and he imagined that the celestial bodies ori¬
ginally moved in straight lines, but that gravity altered
their directions, and compelled them to move in curves.
He proposed to astronomers the problem of representing
the courses of the stars and planets by circular and regu¬
lar motions. Geometry was assiduously cultivated in the
school of Plato; and on this account he claims a distin¬
guished place among the promoters of true astronomy.
Astronomy is also under some obligations to Aristotle.
-a cir¬
cumstance which does not give a favourable idea of the
accuracy of his observations, inasmuch as the difference
of the latitudes of the two places amounts to degrees.
The observation is, however, interesting, as it is the most
ancient of the kind which has been preserved after that
of I cheou-Kong, and as it confirms the successive dimi¬
nution of the obliquity of the ecliptic. Pytheas under¬
took several voyages for the purpose of obtaining geogra¬
phical and astronomical information, and advanced north¬
wards as far as Iceland. His relations have been treated
as fabulous by Strabo and Polybius, but the accuracy of
the greater number of them has been confirmed by mo¬
dern observation and experience. He was the first who
distinguished the climates by the different lengths of the
days and nights.
Astronomy in the School of Alexandria.
In the history of the various sects which have hi¬
therto come under our review, we meet only with some
useful remarks, with numerous hypotheses and conjec¬
tures, but with scarcely any appearance of regular and
connected science. Up to this date the astronomical
knowledge of the Greeks was confined to a few facts,
In a treatise which he composed on this science, he re- the discovery of which implies no theory, and scarcely
corded a number of observations which he had made; the aid even of the simplest instruments. The order
and, among others, mentions an eclipse of Mars by the and arrangement of the planets, the causes of eclipses,
moon, and the occultation of a star in the constellation Ge- the identity of the morning and evening stars, the ap-
mini by the planet Jupiter. As such phenomena are of proximate length of the year, that of the lunar month,
rare occurrence, their observation proves that he had paid the obliquity of the ecliptic, and the cycles of Melon
Helicc
and Calippus, were almost the sole results of their astro¬
nomical speculations. In the Alexandrian school we meet
for the first time with regular and systematic observa¬
tions. We there find angular distances measured with
appropriate instruments, and calculations made accord¬
ing to the rules of trigonometry.
After the premature death of Alexander, his principal
considerable attention to the planetary motions.
A great number of astronomers about this time ap¬
pear on the stage, whose labours and observations prepar¬
ed the way for the reformation of the science which was
shortly after effected by Hipparchus. Helicon of Cizi-
cene is renowned for the prediction of an eclipse, which
took place, as Plutarch affirms, at the time announced. ^Liier me premature ueaui or ^iiexanuer, ms principal
History records the names of only three individuals in generals shared among themselves his magnificent con-
,, ancient Greece who predicted eclipses, Thales, Helicon, quests, and Egypt fell to the lot of Ptolemy Soter. This
,u et,s. and Eudemus. Eudemus composed a history of astrono- prince was distinguished by an ardent love of science,
niy, a fragment of which, consisting of only a few lines, and a desire to promote every species of liberal knowledge
is preserved by Fabricius in the Bibliotheca Grceca. In "— ’■—n„,i —
this it is mentioned that the axes of the ecliptic and equa¬
tor are separated from each other by the side of a pente-
decagon, which is equivalent to saying that they contain
an angle of 24°. This is the first value which we find as¬
signed by the Greeks to the obliquity of the ecliptic. It
is given in round numbers, and may easily be supposed to
Calippp
contain an error of a quarter of a degree." ne nau auracieu io ms capital, to wmcn ne aiso auueu an
Calippus is celebrated for the period which he formed observatory, and the famous library, which had been col-
of four Metonic cycles. Having observed, by means of lected with great care and at a vast expense by Deme¬
an eclipse of the moon which took place about six years trius Phalerius. The prince took great delight in the
before the death of Alexander, that the Metonic cycle Museum; he visited it frequently, entered into familiar
contained an error of a fourth of a day, he introduced conversation with its inmates on the subject of their vari-
the period of 940 lunations, containing four Metonic cy- ous pursuits, and by his own example stimulated their
He accordingly invited to his court, which he had esta¬
blished at Alexandria, the most eminent philosophers of
Greece, and fixed them there by his liberality and muni¬
ficent protection. His son, Ptolemy Philadelphus, who
inherited his throne, also inherited his genius and love of
science and learning. A superb edifice, styled the Mu¬
seum, was assigned to the use of the men of science whom
he had attracted to his capital, to which he also added an
VOL. m.
4 z
730
ASTRONOMY.
281.
History, zeal and encouraged their inquiries. This noble institu-
tion, which survived all the vicissitudes of nine centuries,
was the means of conferring incalculable benefits on the
human race ; and the name of its founder, Ptolemy Phi-
ladelphus, will be gratefully remembered while science
and learning occupy a place in the estimation of man¬
kind.
Aristillus The first astronomers of the Alexandrian school were
and Timo- Aristillus and Timocharis, who flourished under the first
charis, 300ptoiemy? about 300 years before Christ. The chief ob-
B’ C' ject of their labours was the determination of the rela¬
tive positions of the principal stars of the zodiac, instead
of merely announcing their risings and settings, as had
been the practice of the orientals and the ancient Greeks.
The observations of these two astronomers conducted
Hipparchus to the important discovery of the precession
of the equinoxes, and served as the basis of the theory
which Ptolemy, some centuries afterwards, gave of that
phenomenon.
Aristar- " Aristarchus of Samos, the next in order of the Alexan-
chus, B. C. drian astronomers, composed a treatise on the Magnitudes
and Distances of the sun and moon, which has been pre¬
served to our times. In this treatise he describes an
ingenious method which he employed to obtain the re¬
lative distances of the two luminaries. At the instant
when the moon is dichotomized, that is, when the ex¬
act half of her disk appears to a spectator on the earth
to be illuminated by the sun’s light, the visual ray pass¬
ing from the centre of the moon to the eye of the ob¬
server is perpendicular to the line which joins the cen¬
tre of the moon and sun. At that instant, therefore, he
measured the angular distance of the two bodies, and
finding it to be 87 degrees, he concluded, by the resolu¬
tion of a right-angled triangle, that the distance of the
sun is between eighteen and nineteen times greater than
that of the moon. This method is perfectly correct in
theory, but it is difficult to be assured of the exact instant
of the moon’s dichotomy, and in an angle of such mag¬
nitude a very small error greatly affects the result. The
error of Aristarchus is very considerable, the true angle
being about 87° 50'. The estimated distance of the sun
is by consequence far too small; yet the determination,
faulty as it was, contributed to expand greatly the exist¬
ing notions relative to the boundaries of the universe, for
the Pythagoreans had taught that the sun is only three,
or at most three and a half times more distant than the
moon. Another delicate observation made by Aristarchus
was that of the magnitude of the sun’s diameter, which,
as we learn from Archimedes, he determined to be the
720th part of the circumference of the circle which the
sun describes in his diurnal revolution. This estimate is
not very far from the truth, and the observation is by no
means an easy one. He embraced the doctrine of Py¬
thagoras respecting the earth’s motion, and appears to
have entertained juster notions than any of the astrono¬
mers who preceded him, on the magnitude and extent of
the universe. The treatise on the Magnitudes and Dis¬
tances is published in the third volume of the works of
Dr Wallis, with a Latin translation by Commandine, and
some notes.
. Eratosthenes, the successor of Aristarchus, was a na¬
tive of Gyrene, and invited to Alexandria by Ptolemy
Evergetes, who appointed him keeper of the royal libra¬
ry. He is supposed to have been the inventor of armil¬
lary spheres, a species of instrument extensively used by
the ancient astronomers. By means of an instrument of
this kind he observed the distance between the tropics to
be to the whole circumference of a great circle as 11 to 83;
a ratio equivalent to 4)7° 42' 39", half of which gives 23°
F.ratos-
thenes,
born 276
B. C.
5P 19*5" for the obliquity of the ecliptic. This is a very Historv
important observation, and confirms the gradual diminu-'^>-vv
tion of the obliquity as indicated by theory. Eratos¬
thenes is celebrated for being the first who attempted, on
correct principles, to determine the magnitude of the
earth. Having remarked, by some means with which we
are unacquainted, that Syene, the most southern of the
cities of ancient Egypt, is situated nearly on the same
meridian with Alexandria, he conceived the idea of de¬
termining the amplitude of the celestial arch intercepted
between the zeniths of the two places, and of measuring
at the same time their distance on the ground; operations
which would afford data for the determination of the
whole length of the terrestrial meridian. Syene was
known to be situated exactly under the tropic; for at the
summer solstice the gnomon had no shadow, and the sun's
rays illumined the bottom of a deep -well in that city.
On the day of the solstice he found the meridional dis¬
tance of the sun from the zenith of Alexandria to be 7°
12', or a fiftieth part of the circumference. It had also
been ascertained by the bematists or surveyors of Alex¬
ander and the Ptolemies, that the itinerary distance be¬
tween Alexandria and Syene was 5000 stadia; therefore
5000 x 50 — 250,000 stadia form the circumference of
a great circle of the earth, or the length of the ter¬
restrial meridian. Unfortunately, on account of the un¬
certainty respecting the length of the stadium here em¬
ployed, we possess no means of estimating the degree of
approximation afforded by this rude though ingenious
attempt; but the idea does immortal honour to Eratos¬
thenes, and the moderns have added nothing to his
method: their better success is owing solely to the pro¬
gress of the arts and the perfection of astronomical in¬
struments.
About this time the science of astronomy was enriched
by the discoveries of some of the distinguished geometri¬
cians whose labours have so greatly extended the glory
of the Alexandrian school. Euclid, the celebrated author Euclid,
of the Elements, lived in the reign of the first Ptolemy.
He composed a book on the sphere, which probably served
as a model for future works of the same kind, and was the
first who treated in a geometrical manner of the pheno¬
mena of the different inclinations of the sphere. CononConon.
of Samos, the friend of Archimedes, collected the records
of eclipses, which had been observed by the ancient
Egyptians; and Callimachus ascribes to him the constella¬
tion of Berenice’s hair. Archimedes, whose profoundArchi-
genius and deep knowledge of geometry and mechanicsmris
entitle him to the appellation of the Newton of the an¬
cients, also claims a high rank among, the cultivators of
astronomy. His celebrated planetarium, which repre¬
sented the motions of the sun, moon, planets, and starry
sphere, has been a frequent theme ot the admiration and
praises of the poets :
Jura poli, rerumque fidem, legesque deorum,
Ecce Syracusius transtulit arte senex.
Apollonius of Perga solved the important problem of the Apollo-
stations and retrogradations of the planets by means otnius'
epicyles and deferents; and he is entitled to the glory of
having formed the alliance between the two sciences ot
geometry and astronomy, which has been productive of
the greatest advantages to both. .
Astronomy, which had as yet only consisted of a know-Hjpp •
ledge of isolated facts, acquired a systematic form, an(|,gi c, %
almost a new existence, from the genius and assiduity ot
Hipparchus, one of the most astonishing men of antiquity,
and perhaps the greatest of all in the sciences which are
not purely speculative. This illustrious founder ot astro¬
nomical science was born at Nice in Bythinia, and ob-
ASTRONOMY.
Hisry- served at Rhodes. Flamsteed and Cassini, probably mis-
^>'',*^,led by some ambiguous expressions of Ptolemy, have re¬
lated that his observations were made at Alexandria ; and
this opinion seems generally to have been adopted by his¬
torians. The question has been examined carefully, and at
considerable length, by Delambre (Astronomie Ancienne),
who comes to the conclusion that there is no reason what¬
ever to infer that Hipparchus ever saw Alexandria.
Ptolemy, in reporting the observations of Hipparchus,
supposed Rhodes and Alexandria to be situated on the
same meridian, and consequently does not find it neces¬
sary to mention the place at which the observations were
made.
Hipparchus commenced his brilliant career by verifying
the determination of the obliquity of the ecliptic made by
Eratosthenes. He next directed his attention to the
length of the tropical year. By comparing an observation
of his own, of the summer solstice, with a similar one made
by Aristarchus 140 years before, he found that the an¬
ciently received value of 365£ days was too great by seven
minutes. This leaves the tropical year a value still too
great; but it is probable that the error arose from the in¬
accuracy of the observation of Aristarchus: for the ob¬
servations of Hipparchus, compared with those of the
moderns, make the length of the tropical year amount
to 365 days, 5 hours, and 49 minutes, which is only 12
seconds greater than the truth. By a careful observation
of the solstices and equinoxes, he discovered that the year
is not divided by these points into four equal parts,* the
sun occupying 94-|- days in passing from the vernal equi¬
nox to the summer solstice, and only 92-|- from the same
solstice to the equinox of autumn. The sun, consequent¬
ly, remained 187 days in that part of the ecliptic which
lies between the equator and the north pole, and there¬
fore only about 178 in the other part. This observation
led Hipparchus to the great discovery of the eccentricity
of the solar orbit. He accounted for the apparent inequa¬
lity of the sun’s motion, by supposing that the earth is not
placed exactly at the centre of the circular orbit of the sun,
and that consequently his distance from the earth is subject
to variation. When the sun is at his greatest distance,
he appears to move more slowly; and when he approaches
nearer, his motion becomes more rapid. The distance of
the earth from the centre of the orbit is called the eccen¬
tricity : it produces an equation between the real and ap¬
parent motions, which is called the equation of the centre.
He determined the magnitude of this equation in terms
of the radius of the ecliptic, and fixed the position of the
line of the apsides, or that which joins the two opposite
points of the orbit which are at the greatest and least
distance from the earth. With these data he formed the
first tables of the sun which are mentioned in the history
of astronomy. The discovery of the eccentricity also led
Hipparchus to that of the inequality of the lengths of
the solar days at different seasons of the year. In the
interval which elapses between the sun’s passage over
the meridian and his return to it the following day, the
sun advances by his own proper motion towards the east
nearly a degree. But the rate of this motion is unequal,
varying between 57 and 61 minutes of a degree; and the
accumulation of the inequalities forms what is called the
equation of time, that is, the difference between the true
time, as shown by the sun, and the mean time, shown by
a well-regulated clock, the motions of which are equal
and uniform.
The attention of Hipparchus was next directed to the
motions of the moon; and on this subject his researches
were attended with equal success. From the comparison
of a great number of the most circumstantial and accurate
observations of eclipses recorded by the Chaldeans, he
was enabled to determine the period of the moon’s revo¬
lution relatively to the stars, to the sun, to her nodes, and
to her apogee. These determinations are amono- the
most precious relics of ancient astronomy, inasmuch as
they corroborate the results of theory in one of its
finest deductions—the acceleration of the mean lunar mo¬
tion—and thus furnish one of the most delicate tests Of
the truth of Newton’s law of gravitation. It was, indeed,
by a comparison of the observations of Hipparchus with
those of the Arabian and modern astronomers, that Dr
Halley was led to the discovery of that curious and im-
portant. phenomenon. Hipparchus also determined the
eccentricity of the lunar orbit, and its inclination to the
plane of the ecliptic; and the values which he assigned
to these elements, making allowance for the evection^and
the inequalities of the moon’s motion in latitude, are to a
few minutes the same as those which are now observed.
He had also an idea of the second inequality of the moon’s
motion, namely, the evection, and made all the necessary
preparations for a discovery which was reserved for Pto¬
lemy. Fie likewise approximated to the parallax of the
moon, which he attempted to deduce from that of the sun,
by determining the length of the frustum cut off from
the cone of the terrestrial shadow by the moon when she
traverses it in her eclipses. From the parallax he con¬
cluded that the greatest and least distances of the moon
are respectively equal to 78 and 67 semi-diameters of
the earth, and that the distance of the sun is equal to
1300 of the same semi-diameters. The first of these de¬
terminations exceeds the truth; the second falls greatly
short of it, the distance of the sun being nearly equal to
24,000 terrestrial semi-diameters. It may, however, be
remarked that Ptolemy, who undertook to correct Hip¬
parchus with regard to the parallax, deviated still farther
from the truth.
The apparition of a new star in the time of Hipparchus
induced him to undertake the formation of a catalogue of
all the stars visible above his horizon, to fix their relative
positions, and mark their configurations, in order that
posterity might have the means of observing any changes
which might in future take place in the state of the hea¬
vens. This arduous undertaking was rewarded by the
important discovery of the precession of the equinoxes,
one of the fundamental elements of astronomy. By com¬
paring his own observations with those of Aristillus and
Timocharis, he found that the first point of Aries, which,
in the time of these astronomers, or 150 years before,
corresponded with the vernal equinox, had advanced two
degrees, according to the order of the signs, or at the rate
of 48 seconds a year. This determination is not very
far from the truth; for, according to modern observations,
the x'ate of the precession is about 50" 1 seconds annually.
His catalogue contained 1080 stars: it is generally, but
erroneously, stated to have contained only 1022, after that
of Ptolemy, in which the nebulous and some obscure stars
are omitted. He also commenced a series of observations
to furnish his successors with the means of forming a
theory of the planets. Hipparchus likewise invented the
planisphere, or method of representing the starry firma¬
ment on a plane surface, which afforded the means of
solving the problems of spherical trigonometry in a manner
often more exact and more commodious than the globe
itself. He was the first who demonstrated the methods
of calculating triangles, whether rectilineal or spherical;
and he constructed a table of chords, from which he drew
nearly the same advantages as we derive at present from
the tables of sines. Geography is also indebted to him
for the happy idea of fixing the position of places on
731
History.
732 ASTRO
History, the earth by means of their latitudes and longitudes ;
and he was the first who determined the longitude by
the eclipses of the moon.
These various labours and brilliant discoveries give a
high idea of the industry and genius of Hipparchus. His
writings have unfortunately all perished, excepting a com¬
mentary on the poem of Aratus; but the principal ele¬
ments of his theories, together with a few observations,
have been preserved in the Almagest of Ptolemy.
After the death of Hipparchus, nearly three centuries
elapsed before any successor arose worthy of the name.
During this long period astronomy gained no essential
advancement. Some rude observations, scarcely superior
to those of the Chaldeans, and a few meagre treatises, are
the only monuments which exist to testify that science
had not fallen into utter oblivion in an age so fertile of
poets and orators. Geminus and Cleomedes wrote trea¬
tises, which have been preserved to our times; Agrippa
and Menelaus are said to have observed; the Roman ca¬
lendar was reformed by Julius Caesar and the Egyptian
astronomer Sosigenes ; and Posidonius measured a de¬
gree, and remarked that the laws of the tides depend on
the motions of the sun and moon.
Ptolemy, Ptolemy was born at Ptolemais in Egypt, and flourish-
A. D. 130. eci at Alexandria about the 130th year of our era, under
the reigns of Adrian and Antoninus. This illustrious or¬
nament of the Alexandrian school is entitled by his own
discoveries to the high rank among astronomers which has
universally been assigned to him; but the most signal
service which he conferred on science was the collection
and arrangement of the ancient observations. Out of
these materials he formed the Mtyahri 2uvra£/f, or Great
Composition, a collection which exhibits a complete view
of the state of astronomy in the time of Ptolemy, and
which contains the germ of most of the methods in use at
the present day.
The hypothesis which Ptolemy adopted for the purpose
of explaining the apparent motions, was that which had
been followed by Hipparchus. We have already seen
that the genius of Pythagoras, soaring above the illusions
of sense, had conceived the sun to be situated at the cen¬
tre of the universe, and the earth to circulate, like the
other planets, about the sun; and that the same opinion
was entertained and supported by Aristarchus and a few
other astronomers. It would seem, however, that this
philosophical idea never gained much ground in antiquity,
even among the learned. The vulgar prejudice respecting
the immobility of the earth continued to prevail; and it
had become an inveterate axiom, that all the celestial
motions must be circular and uniform. Ptolemy himself,
who felt in its full force the difficulty of reconciling the
appearances with the notion of a uniform circular motion,
adopted the common opinion without scruple as a primor¬
dial law of the universe; for, says he, this perfection be¬
longs to the essence of celestial things, which neither ad¬
mit of disorder nor irregularity. To save this chimera—
the uniform circular motion—Apollonius imagined the
ingenious apparatus of epicycles and deferents ; and Hip-
paixhus advanced a step farther, by placing the centre of
the sun’s circle at a small distance from the earth. Ptolemy
adopted both hypotheses, and supposed the planet to
describe an epicycle by a uniform revolution in a circle,
the centre of which was carried forward uniformly in an
eccentric round the earth. By means of these supposi¬
tions, and by assigning proper relations between the radii
of the epicycle and deferent circle, and also between the
velocity of the planet and the centre of its epicycle, he
was enabled to represent with tolerable accuracy the ap¬
parent motions of the planets, and particularly the phe-
N o M Y.
nomena of the stations and retrogradations, which formed History,
the principal object of the researches of the ancient as-'^Vv
tronomers. The notions of Apollonius and Hipparchus
were thus reduced to a systematic form, and the propor¬
tions of the eccentrics and epicycles of all the planets as¬
signed, by Ptolemy; on which account the system has
been generally ascribed to him, and obtained the name of
the Ptolemaic System of the universe. As a first attempt
to bring the celestial motions within the grasp of geome¬
try, it does infinite honour to the genius of its inventors.
It is, however, totally irreconcilable with the precision of
modern observations; for it is impossible to represent on
this hypothesis the variations of the distances of the
planets at the same time with their apparent motions.
But this difficulty could scarcely be felt by Ptolemy, inas¬
much as it was impossible, before the invention of the
telescope and micrometer, to form any accurate estimate
of the variations of the apparent diameter of a planet, and
consequently of its distance. It must be admitted, how¬
ever, that the Ptolemaic hypothesis might be sufficient
for the wants of practical astronomy, that is, for calculat¬
ing the places of the planets and forming tables of their
motions, were it not for its extreme complication. The
discovery of every new irregularity in the planetary mo¬
tions exacts the addition of a new epicycle ; and such was
the confusion resulting from this circumstance, that Al-
phonso X., despairing of being able to comprehend the com¬
plicated machinery, was tempted to exclaim, that if the
Deity had called him to his counsels at the creation of the
world, he could have given good advice. Yet, notwith¬
standing all its defects, the system of Ptolemy gained a
complete ascendency over the minds of mankind, and, so
difficult is it to leave the beaten path, continued to be im¬
plicitly followed by every astronomer during fourteen cen¬
turies, having been only finally exploded by Kepler’s dis¬
covery of the elliptic orbit of Mars.
The most important discovery which astronomy owes
to Ptolemy is that of the Erection of the moon. Hippar¬
chus had discovered the first lunar inequality, or the equa¬
tion of the centre, which serves to correct the mean mo¬
tion at the syzygies, and had also remarked the necessity
of another correction for the quadratures. He even un¬
dertook a set of observations, with a view to ascertain its
amount and its law; but death put a stop to his labours
before he had brought them to a successful issue. Pto¬
lemy completed the investigation, and discovered that
the eccentricity of the lunar orbit is itself subject to an
annual variation, depending on the motion of the line of
the apsides. The variation of the position of the apsides
produces an inequality of the moon’s motion in her quar¬
ters, which has been technically denominated the evec-
tion. The equation given by Ptolemy, though of course
empirical, is remarkably exact.
Ptolemy employed a very simple process for determin¬
ing the moon’s parallax, which was probably suggested to
him by the situation of Alexandria, where he observed.
He determined the latitude of a place a little to the south
of that city, over the zenith of which the moon was ob¬
served to pass when her northern declination was the
greatest possible. But when the moon is in the zenith, or
in the same straight line with the observer and the centre
of the earth, she has no parallax ; consequently the obli¬
quity of the ecliptic and the latitude of the station being
known, the moon’s greatest northern latitude was also
determined. The next step was to observe the moons
meridian altitude fifteen days after the first observation,
when her southern latitude was necessarily the greatest
possible. This observation gave the apparent altitude oi
the moon, but her greatest northern and southern dech-
Air
ASTRONOMY.
Histor- nations being supposed equal, her true altitude, as seen
the centre of the earth, was easily computed from
the previous observation, and the difference between the
true and apparent altitudes gave the amount of the paral¬
lax.
The observations of Hipparchus relative to the mo¬
tion of the stars in longitude, or the regression of the
equinoctial points, were confirmed by Ptolemy, although
he mistook its amount, and diminished a quantity which
Hipparchus had already estimated too low. According
to Hipparchus, the regression is at the rate of two
degrees in 150 years. Ptolemy reduced it to one de¬
gree in 90 years. This disagreement would seem to in¬
dicate an error of more than a degree in the observations,
which can with difficulty be admitted, considering the ac¬
cordance which subsists among the different observations
cited by Ptolemy in support of his own determination.
For this and some other reasons Ptolemy has been ac¬
cused of altering the observations of Hipparchus, and ac¬
commodating them to his own theory; but there does not
appear to be any just ground for the imputation. The
error with regard to the regression probably arose from
the circumstance, that Hipparchus had assigned too great
a value to the length of the year, whence the motion of
the sun with regard to the equinoxes would be made too
slow, and the longitudes employed by Ptolemy conse¬
quently diminished.
Ptolemy has been called the Prince of astronomers,—a
title which may perhaps be justified by the universal and
long-continued prevalence of his system, but to which he
has no claim from the number or value of his own obser¬
vations. After a laborious and minute examination of
the Almagest, Delambre doubts whether any thing, saving
the author’s declarations, is contained in that great work,
from which it can be decisively inferred that Ptolemy ever
observed at all. He indeed frequently makes mention of
observations made by himself; but his solar tables, rate of
the precession, eclipses, determination of the moon’s mo¬
tion and parallax, and, above all, his catalogue of stars,
render it impossible to doubt that the greater part of the
results which he has given as observations are merely
computed from the tables of Hipparchus. It is therefore
difficult to allow to Ptolemy that good faith and “ astro¬
nomical probity which forms one of the most indispensa¬
ble qualities of an observer.” He never in any instance
cites a single observation more than is just necessary for
the object he has immediately in view, and consequently,
by precluding all comparison of one observation with an¬
other, has deprived us of the means even of guessing at
the probable amount of the errors of his solar, lunar, and
planetary tables. If an astronomer, as Delambre justly
remarks, were to adopt the same course at the present
day, he would be certain of forfeiting all claim to confi¬
dence ; but Ptolemy stood alone; he had neither judges
nor rivals; he claimed admiration, and received it; and
now no one condescends to calculate the few observations
he has left us. (Delambre, Astronomic Ancienne, tom. i.
Discours Preliminaire.) His catalogue contains only
1029 stars, and is therefore less extensive than that of
Hipparchus, but it is exceedingly valuable on account of
its details.
The name Almagest (Msy/ffr?;, with the Arabic prefix)
was bestowed on the Syntax by the Arabians, into whose
language it was translated in the ninth century. The
first Latin translation was from the Arabic, and published
at Venice in 1515. It abounds in Arabic words and
idioms, and is very inaccurate and barbarous. The second
Latin translation was made from the original Greek by
George of Trebizond, and is greatly superior to the first.
733
It was published at Basle in 1541, and in 1551. The History.
Greek text was published at the same time in 1538
Ptolemy was the author of numerous other works con¬
nected with astronomy, of which his Geography, in eight
books, is the best known. It contains a list of all the
places of which the latitudes and longitudes had at that
time been determined. His treatise on Optics was sup¬
posed to be lost, till an imperfect Latin translation, from
an Arabic version, was lately discovered in the king’s
library at Paris. The last book of this work contains a
theory of astronomical refraction, more complete than any
which existed before that of Cassini. It would seem that
Ptolemy had not discovered the refraction at the time he
composed the Almagest, no mention being made of the
subject in that work. The explanation which he gives of
the phenomenon is natural and satisfactory, indeed entirely
conformable with that which is now universally adopted.
The idea and explanation remained buried in the Optics
till repioduced by Alhazen; but neither Ptolemy nor
Alhazen attempted to estimate the amount of the refrac¬
tion. His Planisphere and Analemma, in which he treats
of the stereographic and orthographic projections of the
sphere, show a perfect acquaintance with spherical trigo¬
nometry. In the last-mentioned work he makes use of
the sines, and his constructions comprehend three of the
four general theorems in modern use. Divers treatises
also on music, dialling, chronology, and mechanics, attest
the universality of Ptolemy’s genius, and his unremitting
application to the pursuits of science. Like Archimedes,
he had a desire to transmit to posterity the history of his
labours by a public monument. In the temple of Serapis,
at Canopus, he is said to have consecrated a marble pil¬
lar, with an inscription containing the principal elements
of his astronomy, such as the length of the year, the ec¬
centricity of the solar and lunar orbits, the dimensions and
forms of the epicycles of the planets, &c.
On the death of Ptolemy astronomy ceased to be culti-Decline of
vated among the Greeks. The Alexandrian school sub-astronomy-
sisted indeed for some centuries after ; but genuine science
had fled, and its place been usurped by the vain wrang-
lings of theologians and grammarians. During the long
period of six or seven centuries, the labours of those who
assumed the name of astronomers were confined to need¬
less or trifling commentaries on the works of Hipparchus
and Ptolemy, and were productive of no observations, or
even remarks, having a tendency to enlarge the boundaries
of the science. The genius of the Roman dominion was
unfavourable to the development or exercise of the higher
faculties of the human intellect; and the natural sciences,
with the liberal arts, faded away under the withering in¬
fluence of military despotism.
From the brief account which has now been given, it
will be easily inferred that the Greeks cultivated astro¬
nomy rather as a speculative than a practical science.
None of their numerous sects ever evinced any taste for
observation or experiment; and hence, while geometry
made great and rapid advances in their hands, physics and
experimental philosophy were entirely neglected. The
prevailing passion for speculation pervaded even their as¬
tronomy. They explained the doctrine of the sphere, and
the apparent motions of the planets ; and framed ingenious
theories to account for such phenomena as came imme¬
diately under the cognizance of their senses; but if we
except the observations of Hipparchus and Ptolemy, and
perhaps two solstitial distances of the sun from the zenith,
observed by Eratosthenes, we remark among them no ob¬
servations made with instruments capable of measuring
angular distances. Before Hipparchus, no mention is made
of the astrolabe : and the recorded determinations do not
734 ASTRONOMY.
History, give us a very favourable idea of the accuracy of that in- The Syntax of Ptolemy was translated into Arabic History.1 ^
strument. On casting our eyes over the catalogue of under the reign of Almamon, by Isaac ^Ben Honain. Ihev-^'w/ ^
Ptolemy, we scarcely ever meet with a fraction of a degree translation was afterwards revised by fhabet or Ihebith
smaller than one-twelfth, that is to say, less than five mi- Ben Korah, and it was about this time that it received the
nutes; whence we may infer that the astrolabe only mea- appellation of Almagest. Astronomical observations, which,
sured twelfth parts of a degree. Occasionally, indeed, the as we have had occasion to remark, had been greatly ne-
fractions one-fourth and three-fourths occur ; but these glected by the successors of Hipparchus, formed a prin-
were most probably inserted by estimation. The Greeks cipal object of the attention of the Arabians. By the
of Alexandria committed an error of no less than 15' with orders of Almamon, the obliquity of the ecliptic was ob-
re°vard to the altitude of the pole, one of the most essen- served, and found to be 23° 33'. According to the mo-
tial elements to an observer; and it does not appear that dern tables, the obliquity at that time was 23° 36' 34)", so
they were ever able to determine the time to within a that the error was less than that of Hipparchus and
quarter of an hour. Yet notwithstanding these circum- Ptolemy, in their determination of the same element.
stances, which indicate that the art of observation was This observation supposes instruments of some accuracy,
still in its infancy, the science of astronomy is vastly in- Among the astronomers whom Almamon drew to his
debted to the labours and speculations of the Greeks, court, we find the names of Habash of Bagdat, who com-
The complicated but ingenious hypotheses of Ptolemy posed three books of astronomical tables ; Ahmed, or Mo-
prepared the way for the elliptic orbits and laws of Kep- hammed Ben Cothair, better known by the name of Al¬
ter, which, in their turn, conducted Newton to the great fragan, or Alfranius, who, from his great expertness in
discovery of the law of gravitation. computing, was styled the calculator. He composed an
elementary treatise on astronomy, which was only an
Astronomy of the Arabians. abridged extract of the works of Ptolemy; and likewise
wrote on sun-dials, and gave a description of the astrolabe.
While the nations of western Europe were involved in The Jew Meshala, whose treatise on the elements was
the thickest shades of ignorance and barbarism, the torch published at Nuremberg in 1549, also lived in the time of
of science was rekindled, and blazed forth with extraor- Almansor or Almamon.
dinary splendour, among the Saracens. The burst of fa- S he most celebz'ated of the Arabian astronomers was Aliateg.
naticism which enabled the followers of Mahomet to carry Albategnius, or Muhammed Ben Geber Albatani, so call- nius.
their religion and their arms over the fairest portion of ed from Batan, a city of Mesopotamia, where he was
the ancient world subsided, in a great measure, after a born. He was a prince, of Syria, and resided at Aracte
century and a half of uninterrupted conquest, and was or Ilacha, in Mesopotamia; but many of his observations
succeeded by a period of repose, during which they cul- were made at Antioch. Having studied the Syntax of
tivated the arts of peace and civilisation with the same Ptolemy, and made himself acquainted with the methods
ardour which had characterized their achievements in practised by the Greek astronomers, he began to observe,
arms. Under the enlightened and munificent protection and soon found that the places assigned to many of the
of the caliphs, Bagdat became what Alexandria had been stars in Ptolemy’s tables were considerably different from
under the Ptolemies, the centre of politeness and know- their actual situations, in consequence of the error which
ledc-e. that great astronomer had committed with regard to the
The accounts which we possess of the Saracen litera- precession of the equinoxes. Albategnius measured the
ture are imperfect and scanty; but the first of the caliphs rate of the precession with greater accuracy than had
who appears to have encouraged the study of astronomy been done by Ptolemy; and he had still better, success in
was Abougiafar, surnamed Almansor, or the Victorious, his attempt to determine the eccentricity of the solar
who reigned in the eighth century. His grandson Alma- orbit, his value of which differs extremely little from that
rnon, the seventh of the Abassides, and second son of the which results from modern observations. In assigning
famous Haroun A1 Raschid, who reigned at Bagdat from the length of the year, however, he fell into an error of
813 to 833, is celebrated for the protection which he gave more than tw o minutes ; but this proceeded, as has been
to learning, and the zeal with which he laboured to pro- shown by Dr Halley, from too great confidence in the
pagate the sciences of the Greeks among his subjects, observations of Ptolemy. Albategmus also remarked
In granting peace to the emperor Michael III., he stipu- that the place of the sun’s apogee is not immovable, as
lated for liberty to collect in Greece all the writings of former astronomers had supposed, but that it advances at
the philosophers. These he transported into his own coun- a slow rate, according to the order of the signs,—a disco-
try, and caused to be translated into Arabic. Finding it very which has been confirmed by the theory of gravita-
mentioned in the geography of Ptolemy that a degree of tion. A new set of astronomical tables, more accurate
the earth was equivalent to 500 stadia, he resolved to than those of Ptolemy, likewise resulted, from the inde-
have this fact verified by a new measurement; and in fatigable labours of Albategnius; and his observations,
obedience to the commands of the caliph, a company of important in themselves, are doubly interesting on account
mathematicians assembled in the spacious plain of Sinaar, that they form a link of connection between those of the
where, having observed the altitude of the pole, they se- astronomers of Alexandria and of modern Europe. Inc
parated themselves into two parties, and proceeded in op- works of Albategnius were published in 1537, under the
posite directions along the meridian, measuring the dis- title of De Scientia Stellarum. T, ,
tanee they passed over till the altitude of the pole varied Thebith Ben Korah, another Arabian, acquired ce^e®rity jje^ora;
one degree. Being unacquainted with the nature of the by proposing an explanation of the motions.of the stais,
instruments made use of in these geodetic operations, we which, under the name of the “ System of Trepidation,
cannot, estimate the probable accuracy of the result; but was eagerly received by the astronomers of the nuud e
as it agreed perfectly with the statement of Ptolemy, we ages, and disfigured the tables of Alphonso, and even
have a right to infer that the measurement was executed those of Copernicus.- He ascribed to the eighth sphere,
in a very inadequate manner, and that the mathematicians or that of the fixed stars, two motions; one the diurnal
of the caliph adopted the ancient determination from motion, the other that of trepidation, performed in sma
wunt of confidence in their own. circles round the first points of Aries and Libra, and Q
ASTRONOMY.
F,bn
nis.
HisiiT* "which the radii were 46 18' 33". He therefore supposed
^.^two ecliptics, one fixed in the ninth sphere, the other
movable in the eighth. According to this construction,
the motion of the stars is sometimes direct and some¬
times retrograde.
The Arabians have been said to be not only the culti¬
vators but the apostles of the sciences, on account of the
activity with which they propagated them among all the
nations subjected to their dominion. The Fatimite ca¬
liphs, who reigned in Egypt during two centuries, rivalled
their predecessors the Ptolemies in the encouragement
which they gave to astronomy. Under the caliph Hakem,
who reigned from 996 to 1021 of our era, Ebn Jounis ac¬
quired a splendid reputation. He constructed a set of
tables, and composed a sort of celestial history, in which
he has recorded numerous observations of his own and of
other astronomers belonging to the same country. This
work, imperfectly known through some extracts, long ex¬
cited the curiosity of astronomers, as it was supposed to
contain observations tending to establish the acceleration
of the mean motion of the moon. A manuscript copy of it,
belonging to the university of Leyden, was, in 1804, trans¬
mitted to the French Institute, and translated by Professor
Caussin. It contains 28 observations of eclipses from the
year 829 to 1004 ; seven observations of the equinoxes ;
one of the summer solstice ; one of the obliquity of the
ecliptic made at Damascus, by which the value of that
element is found to be 23° 35'; and likewise a portion of
tables of the sun and moon, with some other matter illus¬
trative of the state of astronomy among the Arabians.
The observations which regard the acceleration of the
mean lunar motion are two eclipses of the sun and one of
the moon, observed by Ebn Jounis, near Cairo, in the
years 977, 978, and 979, and they agree with theory in
confirming the existence of that phenomenon.
The Saracen conquests in Spain were attended wdth
the same happy results as in Egypt, and science flourish¬
ed in that country while the rest of Europe was involved
.uzai; l. in the darkest shades of ignorance. Arzachel is supposed
to be the author of the Toledo Tables, constructed about
the year 1180, but which, on account of the established
reputation of those of Albategnius, were never in great
estimation. He made some changes in the dimensions
which had been assigned by Hipparchus and Ptolemy to
the solar orbit, and deserves the praise of having been an
exact and attentive observer. Alhazen, who flourished in
the same country about the same period, contributed to
the progress of astronomy by a treatise on Optics, in
which he clearly indicated the necessity of making an
allowance for the celestial refraction in astronomical ob¬
servations. His treatise contained a theory of reflection
and refraction, an explanation of the cause of the twilight,
and of the magnitude of the horizontal moon. Averroes,
a physician of Cordova, made an abridgement of the
Almagest in the twelfth century, and Almansor found
the obliquity of the ecliptic to be 23° 33' 30", which
proves that practical astronomy had now attained to a
tolerable degree of exactness.
If we inquire what effect the labours of the Arabians and
their disciples had on the progress of astronomy, we shall
find that their services were confined entirely to the practi¬
cal part. In point of theory they did absolutely nothing.
They admitted all the hypotheses of Ptolemy without the
slightest alteration, even with timid and superstitious re¬
spect, and did not advance a single step towards the disco¬
very of the solar system. But with regard to instruments
and methods of calculation, their improvements were nume¬
rous and important. They constructed instruments on a
larger scale, and divided them with greater care; and,
735
Aihazii.
Averr
even from the time of Almamon, we remark among them Historv.
new and more exact determinations of the obliquity oD-^v^-
the ecliptic, of the positions of some stars, of the preces¬
sion, of the length of the year, and of the eccentricity of
the sun’s orbit. To these fundamental points they added
numerous observations of eclipses and conjunctions; they
industriously sought out and corrected the errors of
Ptolemy’s tables ; they perceived the necessity of mark¬
ing the instant of each phenomenon with greater care;
and their determinations of the commencement and end
of eclipses are in general accompanied with the altitude
of a star, which afforded them the means of calculating
the hour, angle, and the true time. In cases where less
precision w^as wanted, they made use of their clepsydra
and solar dials, to the construction of which they paid par¬
ticular attention. Trigonometry derived signal advantages
from their constant care to facilitate the calculations of
spherical astronomy. Albategnius substituted the sines
for the chords,—a most important improvement, the idea
of which was probably suggested to him by the Analem-
ma of Ptolemy. By this happy substitution the solution
of all rectangular spherical triangles was reduced to four
general formulae, of which the Greeks had the equivalent
in a much less commodious form. The same astronomer
also appears to have invented a very remarkable rule for
the oblique-angled triangles, perfectly identical with one
of the four general formulae now in use. Ebn Jounis, and
his contemporary Aboul Wefa, were acquainted with the
tangents and secants, and employed them very dexter¬
ously in reducing complicated binomial expressions to a
single and simpler term. They also employed subsidiary
arcs and other artifices in the calculus of the sines, in
order to facilitate the labour of computation. These
substitutions are now common; but they remained long
unknown in Europe ; and 700 years after they were em¬
ployed by the Arabians, we first meet with some examples
of their use in the writings of Thomas Simpson.
The zeal of the Arabians for astronomical observations Holegu-
was communicated by them to the Persians and Tartars. ;i“ou'
About the year 1072, Omar Cheyam determined the (|v.]]
length of the tropical year, and introduced the calendar
which has ever since been used in Persia. Holegu-Ilecou-
Khan, who conquered that country about the year 1264,
caused an observatory to be built at Maragha, near Tauris,
where he assembled the most celebrated astronomers who
could be found within his dominions, and employed them
in forming new astronomical tables. This work w7as di¬
rected by the famous Nassireddin, and brought to a con¬
clusion in the year 1269. With the exception of some
trifling corrections of the mean motions, the whole of
these tables are copied from Ptolemy.
Ulugh Beigh, a Tartar prince, and grandson of the great Ulugh
Tamerlane, not only encouraged the study of astronomy,
but was himself a diligent and successful observer. At 1CC
Samarcand, the capital of his dominions, he established an
academy of astronomers, and caused the most magnificent
instruments to be constructed for their use. By means
of a gnomon 180 feet in height, he determined the obli¬
quity of the ecliptic to be 23° 30' 20", the precession of
the equinoxes at 1° in 70 years, and obtained elements for
the construction of tables which have been found to be
scarcely inferior in accuracy to those of Tycho Brahe.
The ancient astronomy had produced only one catalogue
of the fixed stars, that of Hipparchus. Ulugh Beigh has
the honour of having formed a second, after an interval of
sixteen centuries. This learned and munificent prince,
whose virtue and talents deserved the esteem of mankind,
was assassinated by his own son in the 58th year of his
age.
736
ASTRONOMY.
History.
Frederick
II.
Alphonso
X., died
1284.
Revival of Astronomy in Europe.
Roger Ba¬
con, born
1214, died
1294.
Purbacli,
born 1423,
died 1461.
After the death of Ulugh Beigh, astronomy received
no farther accessions in the east. But the seeds of know¬
ledge had now begun to take root in a more propitious
soil, and Europe, destined to carry the development of
the human energies to its fullest extent, began to awake
from the lethargy in which it had continued during so
many ages. The first dawnings of returning day appeared
in Spain. In spite of the horror inspired by the Moslem
religion, the Christians began to perceive and acknowledge
the superiority and utility of the science of the Moors;
and the schools of Cordova became the resort of all those
whom curiosity, or love of knowledge, induced to seek
abroad for that information which could not be obtained
in their own countries. Geber, afterwards Pope Silvester
II., acquired the knowledge of arithmetic from that source ;
and John of Halifax, better known by the name of Sacro-
bosco, after having studied some time in Spain, made an
abridgement of the Almagest, which was long famous un¬
der the title of a Treatise of the Sphere.
The emperor Frederick II. is no less celebrated for his
protection of the sciences, than for the continual struggles
in which he was involved with the popes. He founded the
university of Naples, and caused Latin translations to be
made of the works of Aristotle and the Almagest of
Ptolemy. About the same time astronomy was zealously
encouraged and cultivated by Alphonso X., king of Castile.
This monarch, whose liberal mind seems to have been far
superior to the age in which he lived, formed a college or
lyceum at Toledo, the capital of his dominions, whither he
assembled the most eminent astronomers that could be
found, whether Christians, Moors, or Jews, and engaged
them in the task of correcting the errors of the ancient
tables. From their united labours were produced the
Alphonsine Tables, which obtained great celebrity, and
were, in some respects, superior in accuracy to any which
had preceded them. They are supposed to have been
chiefly the work of the Rabbi Isaac Aben Sid, surnamed
Kazan, inspector of the synagogue of Toledo. They are
said to have cost the king 40,000 ducats,—a sum certainly
far exceeding their real value, which is confined to the
correction of some epochs, and a more accurate determi¬
nation of the sun’s motions and the length of the year.
The same century gave birth to several other individuals
distinguished by their attachment to the sciences. Cam-
panus of Nivari translated Euclid, and left a treatise on
the sphere. Vitello, a native of Poland, composed a
treatise on optics, in ten books; and Albert, bishop of
Ratisbon, whom his contemporaries styled the great,
was the author of some works on arithmetic, geometry,
astronomy, and mechanics. But the greatest luminary
of that age was Roger Bacon, a Franciscan friar, whose
numerous works contain many indications of a powerful
and inventive genius. He made many important discove¬
ries in optics; but his knowledge of natural philosophy
and chemistry, uncommon in those days, had nearly
proved fatal to him ; for he was suspected of necromancy,
and thrown into a dungeon, from which he did not escape
till he had satisfied his superiors and the pope that he had
never held unlawful intercourse with the devil. He com¬
posed a work on the utility of astrology, the places of
the stars, and the aspects of the moon; and he had the
merit of perceiving the necessity of reforming the calendar.
The fourteenth century produced no astronomer from
whose labours the science gained any accessions. George
Purbach, or Beurbach, so named from a small town in
Austria, where he was born in 1423, obtained great cele¬
brity as a professor. He studied at Vienna, and after
giving proofs of distinguished talents, he travelled into Historr
Italy, where he was favourably received by the cardinal of'^vv
Cusa, who himself cultivated astronomy. On his return
to Vienna he undertook a translation of the Almagest; and
although ignorant both of Greek and Arabic, his perfect
acquaintance with the subject enabled him to correct
many errors which had been introduced through the care¬
lessness or ignorance of former translators. He published
a table of sines for every ten minutes to a radius of
6,000,000 parts, which was afterwards extended by his
scholar Regiomontanus to every minute of the quadrant.
The most celebrated of his works is his Theoricce Nova
Planetarum, which was published in 1460. He construct¬
ed a celestial globe, on which was represented the motion
of the stars in longitude from the time of Ptolemy to the
year 1450. He also measured the obliquity of the eclip¬
tic, and is considered as the inventor of decimal arithme¬
tic. He died in 1461, having only reached his 38th year,
with the reputation of being, at that time, the first astro¬
nomer in Europe.
Purbach had the good fortune to form a disciple whoRegiomon
executed many of the plans which had been interrupted
by his premature death. This was the celebrated JohnJ®'
Muller of Kbnigsberg, better known by the name of Re- 'a'
giomontanus. Attracted in his youth to Vienna by the
great reputation of Purbach, he continued to study there
during ten years, and on the death of his master repaired
to Rome for the purpose of acquiring the Greek language,
and of making himself, through it, acquainted with the
Almagest. At Rome he continued his observations, and
translated into Latin the works of Ptolemy, the Conics of
Apollonius, and some other treatises of ancient science.
In 1471 he retired to Nuremberg, where, with the aid of
Bernard Walther, a wealthy burgess, he founded an ob-
servatorj', and furnished it with excellent instruments,
principally of his own invention, by means of which he
was enabled to detect many errors in the ancient tables.
On the invitation of Pope Sixtus IV., who wished to re¬
form the calendar, he again repaired to Rome; but after
a few months’ abode there he died suddenly, according to
some accounts, of the plague, according to others, through
the effects of poison administered to him by the sons of
George of Trebizond, who adopted this execrable method
of revenging the exposure which he had made of their
father’s errors in the translation of the Almagest. Regio¬
montanus was a learned and skilful man, but the great ex¬
pectations which his early labours gave of future services
to astronomy were disappointed by his untimely death.
He paid great attention to trigonometrical calculation;
and, although he did not reach the point which had been
attained by the Arabians, he had the merit of introducing
some useful theorems which till then were entirely un¬
known in Europe. His genius, however, did not enable
him to rise above the prejudices of his age, for he was an
astrologer as well as an astronomer, and is said to have
most lamented the errors of the Alphonsine Tables on ac¬
count of the uncertainty which they occasioned in the
calculation of genitures or horoscopes.
After the death of Regiomontanus, Walther continued Walther.
to observe at Nuremberg during thirty years. His obser-jj®™^
vations were collected by order of the senate of Nurem- 1
berg, and published by Schbner in 1544, a second time by
Snellius, and, lastly, along with those of Tycho Brahti. In
1484 Walther began to make use of clocks, then a recent
invention, to measure time in celestial observations. He
was also the first who employed the planet Venus as a
term of comparison for determining the longitudes of the
stars.
Nuremberg had the honour of producing another astro-
nr-
I) >rn
ASTRONOMY.
H*tf- nomer of some celebrity. John Werner was the first who
explained the method which was afterwards brought into
',r"'nfl general use by Maskelyne, of finding the longitude at sea,
1 8- by observing the distance between a fixed star and the
moon. He published some mathematical and geographical
treatises, and made a number of observations to determine
the obliquity of the ecliptic and the precession of the
equinoxes.
OvertHw We are now comedown to a period in the historyofastro-
; of the o-nomy when the science was destined to undergo a total reno-
lemaic: vati0n, and the system which had been so laboriously esta-
svstera blished by Ptolemy, and blindly followed as an article of
religious belief by Arabs, Persians, Tartars, and Euro¬
peans, during so many centuries, was about to be explod¬
ed for ever. In proportion as the observations became
more numerous and accurate, the difficulty of represent¬
ing them by the Ptolemaic system became greater; and
astronomers were obliged to have recourse to the most
violent and improbable suppositions in order to ex¬
plain the phenomena, and, in the language of Ptolemy,
save the appearances. We have mentioned that Pytha¬
goras and his disciples entertained an idea very dif¬
ferent from that which commonly prevailed, and supposed
the sun to be the immovable centre of the celestial mo¬
tions. It appears, however, from Aristotle, that this opi¬
nion was not founded on any analysis of the phenomena,
but on certain metaphysical notions respecting the com¬
parative dignity of the several elements. For example,
fire, being a nobler substance than earth, ought to occupy
the centre or place of honour. But such arguments could
have little weight except in the schools, and accordingly
were rejected by Ptolemy as too absurd to require a
serious refutation. In order to give any probability to
the Pythagorean doctrine, it was necessary to explain
the succession of the seasons and the precession of the
equinoxes on the hypothesis of the annual revolution of
the earth about the sun ; to show how the unequal motions
of the planets in concentric orbits would give rise to the
phenomena of the stations and retrogradations; to ac¬
count, in short, for all the appearances, and point out
their coherence and mutual connection. All this was
effected by Copernicus, who had thereby the glory of first
making known the true system of the universe, and of
leading the way in that career of astronomical discovery
in which the genius of the human race has gained its
noblest trophies,
opern! Nicholas Copernicus was born at Thorn, a city of Prus-
s*a> on the confines of Poland, according to Junctinus on
1.54^ January 1472, and according to others on
the 19th February 1473. From his earliest years he
displayed a great fondness and aptitude for mathematical
studies, and pursued them with corresponding success at
the university of Cracow. Stimulated by the desire of
acquiring a reputation equal to that of Regiomontanus,
he set out for Italy at the age of 23 years, in order to
study astronomy at Bologna under the celebrated Domi¬
nic Maria. He afterwards removed to Rome, where he
employed himself in studying and teaching the mathema¬
tics, and where he made several astronomical observations
about the year 1500. On his return to his native coun¬
try he was made a canon of Ermeland by his uncle the
bishop of Worms, and took up his residence at Frauen-
berg, a small Prussian town near the mouth of the Vistula,
where he passed 36 years of his life in observing the hea¬
vens and meditating on the system of the world. In this
retirement he composed his famous work entitled Astro-
nomia Restaurata, sive de Revolutionibus Orbium Cceles-
tium, in which he explained the celestial motions in a man¬
ner as simple and connected as the system of Ptolemy
VOL. in.
was complicated and incoherent. The system which Co¬
pernicus adopted in this work is now so familiar to every
one, that it is almost unnecessary to describe it The
heaven, composed of stars perfectly at rest, occupies the
remotest bounds of space, then the orbit of Saturn next
Jupiter, Mars, the Earth accompanied by its moon, Venus
Mercury, and, lastly, the Sun immovable at the cen-
tre. By this arrangement the stations and retrograda¬
tions of the planets became simple mathematical corolla¬
ries, following from the differences of the radii of their
orbits and their unequal motions. The diurnal rotation
of the earth explained more simply and rationally the ap¬
parent daily revolution of the heavens; and the pre¬
cession of the equinoxes was referred to a small variation
m the inclination of the earth's axis to the plane of the
ecliptic. But the simplicity of the system, and its conse¬
quent probability, were the only arguments which Coper¬
nicus w as able to bring forward in proof of its reality.
The motion of the earth can indeed never be made an
object of sense ; but after Richer’s discovery of the dimi¬
nution of gravity towards the equator, it was impossible
to doubt longer of the existence of its rotatory motion;
and when Roemer had measured the velocity of light,'
and Bradley observed the phenomena of the aberration!
the evidences of its annual revolution were rendered
equally convincing. Great, however, as were the merits
of Copernicus, it must be acknowledged that he left his
system in a very imperfect state. After the example of
the ancients, he assumed as an axiom the uniform circu¬
lar motion of the planets; and as the only motions which
are observed are in a state of incessant variation, he was
obliged, in order to save the inequalities, to suppose a dif¬
ferent centre to each of his orbits. The sun was placed
within the orbit of each of the planets, but not in the cen¬
tre of any of them, consequently he had no other office
to perform than to distribute light and heat; and, exclud¬
ed from any influence on the system, he became as it were
a stranger to all the motions. Yet notwithstanding these
and other imperfections, the establishment of the doctrine
of the earth’s motion, with an evidence which dissipated
the illusions of sense, was a great step towards the true
knowledge of the planetary system ; and when we consider
the ignorance and prejudices of the age, and that Coper¬
nicus was moreover a priest, we cannot hesitate to admit
his claim to a high rank among philosophers. But whether
the actual services which he rendered to astronomy are
commensurate with the great fame he has obtained, may ad¬
mit of doubt. He revived an ancient opinion opposed to the
prejudices and religious dogmas of his times, and fortified
it with new and strong, though not absolutely convincing,
proofs. It seldom happens, however, with regard to those
sciences which ultimately appeal to experience, that gene¬
ral reasoning, even of the soundest kind, tends much to
their real advancement; and there is little reason for
thinking that astronomy would have been less perfect, or
that any discoveries since made in it would have been re¬
tarded a single day, even if Copernicus had never lived.
His great merit, like that of Lord Bacon, consists in the
sound views which he took of nature, and in advancing so
far before the general attainments of his age.
Fearing the opposition which was likely to arise from
religious bigotry to opinions so much at variance with
vulgar prejudice, Copernicus long delayed the publication
of his great work; and it was only at the urgent request
of his friends that he at last allowed it to be printed. He
is said to have received the last sheet of it only on the
day of his death. He was buried in the cathedral of
Frauenberg, and his only epitaph consisted of some spheres
cut out in relief on his tombstone.
5 a
738
ASTRONOMY.
History.
Nonius,
born 1497,
died 1577-
William
IV., died
1592.
Tycho
llrahe,
born 1546,
died 1601.
The ideas of Copernicus soon spread over Germany,
where astronomy was at that time diligently cultivated;but
they do not seem to have met with general favour before
the commencement of the seventeenth century. The art of
observing was, however, gradually receiving improvement;
instruments were constructed on better principles, and
more accurately divided ; and the methods of computation
were rendered much less laborious. Nonius, or Nunez, a
Portuguese, invented the ingenious method of subdividing
the small divisions of instruments which still retains his
name; Reinhold extended the table of tangents of Re¬
giomontanus to every minute of the quadrant, reformed
the tables of Copernicus, and composed many works of
practical utility ; but of the immediate successors of
Copernicus, no one deserves to be more honourably men¬
tioned than William IV., landgrave of Hesse. This
prince built a magnificent observatory on the top of his
palace at Cassel, which he furnished with excellent in¬
struments of copper, and is said to have calculated him¬
self the positions of no less than 400 stars. He was aid¬
ed in the labours of the observatory by some astrono¬
mers of great merit whom his liberality drew to his court;
among others, by Rothman, and Justus Byrgius, a distin¬
guished artist, to whom Kepler has ascribed some idea of
the logarithms.
Tycho Brahe, one of the best and most indefatigable
observers of whom practical astronomy can boast, was
born at Knudstorp, in Scania, the 13th of December 1546.
His family was one of the most ancient and noble in Den¬
mark ; and his father, probably thinking that illustrious
birth superseded the necessity of education, refused his
consent to have his son instructed in Latin. Through
the kindness of a maternal uncle, however, he was rescu¬
ed from the state of barbarous ignorance to which he had
been doomed by his parent; and, after having received
the requisite preliminary instruction, he was sent to the
university of Leipsic to study jurisprudence and scholas¬
tic philosophy. The tastes of the future astronomer were
first excited by an eclipse of the sun which happened in
1560. Struck with astonishment at the accuracy of the
prediction, he conceived a vehement desire to become ac¬
quainted wdth the principles of so certain a science, and
exerted his utmost ingenuity to elude the obstacles which
were interposed by his parents and governor to prevent
him from acquiring the elementary notions of mathema¬
tics and astronomy. By placing the hinge of a common
compass near his eye, he contrived to guess at the dis¬
tances of the planets from the stars, and by this means,
according to his own account, detected several errors in
the Ephemerides of Stadius. By his persevering efforts
he at last obtained the consent of his family to study ac¬
cording to his own inclinations; and from that moment
he divided his time between the observation of the hea¬
vens, and chemical experiments. He visited the different
cities of Germany where he hoped to meet with astrono¬
mers and skilful mechanicians, and was received with flat¬
tering attention by the landgrave of Hesse-Cassel, with
whom he contracted an intimate friendship. On his re¬
turn to Denmark he obtained from Frederick II. a grant
of the small island of Huen, in the strait of Sunda, toge¬
ther with a pension and some presents, by means of which,
and an expenditure of 100,000 crowns of his own patri¬
mony, he was enabled to build the castle of Uraniburg,
and procure a magnificent collection of the largest and
most accurate instruments which could then be construct¬
ed. In this celebrated retreat he passed twenty-five
years, actively employed in making observations, and at¬
tracting by his discoveries the attention of the learned
throughout Europe. On the death of his protector Fre¬
derick he fell under the displeasure of the government, History. *
and a storm of persecution was raised against him, from'v-^V>j.
causes which he has not explained, by a minister named
Walckendorp, who, on this account, has been devoted by
Lalande to the infamy and execration of all ages. Fie
was deprived of his pension, compelled to leave the castle
of Uraniburg, and to banish himself from Denmark. He
retired first to Wandesburg, near Hamburg; he after¬
wards sought an asylum in Bohemia, and ultimately set¬
tled at Prague under the protection of the emperor Ru¬
dolph II. Here he resumed his observations, assisted by
the illustrious Kepler and Longomontanus. The causes
of his exile are involved in mystery; but to whatever it
was owing, it turned out fortunate for the progress of
astronomy. Had he remained in his island, his observa¬
tions would not probably have fallen into the hands of
Kepler, and the discovery of the laws of the planetary
motions might have been deferred to another age. He
died at Prague on the 24th of October 1601.
As an indefatigable and skilful observer, Tycho is justly
considered as far superior to any astronomer who had
preceded him since the revival of the science in Europe.
His ample fortune gave him the means of procuring the
best instruments which the age could produce; and by
his ingenuity and persevering application, he was admi¬
rably qualified to employ them to the best advantage.
He computed the first table of refractions, and if it ex¬
tended only to 45°, the reason was, that the effects of
refraction, at a higher altitude, were altogether insensible
to his instruments. His solar tables were brought to so
great a degree of exactness, that he affirms he could
never detect an error in them exceeding a quarter of a
minute ; but there is reason to suspect some exaggeration
in this statement, particularly as Cassini, a century after,
with much better means, could scarcely answer for errors
of a whole minute. He contributed greatly to the im¬
provement of the lunar tables, and detected a consider¬
able inequality in the moon’s motion in longitude, to which
he gave the name of the Variation, by which it has ever
since been distinguished. He also discovered an equa¬
tion in latitude similar to the evection which had been
observed by Hipparchus, and fixed its amount with great
accuracy. He remarked the fourth inequality of the
moon in longitude, although he failed in his attempt to
ascertain its amount, or assign its law\ He represented
the inequalities of the motions of the nodes, and in the
inclination of the lunar orbit, by the motion of the pole
of that orbit in a small circle round the pole of the eclip¬
tic. He demonstrated that the region of the comets is
far beyond the orbit of the moon, and determined the re¬
lative and absolute positions of 777 fixed stars with a
scrupulous attention, which gave his catalogue an im¬
mense superiority over those of Hipparchus and Ulugh
Beigh; and he left to his successors a regular series of
observations on the planets, amassed for the purpose of
establishing the truth of his own system, but of which
Kepler made a better use by employing them to establish
the system of Copernicus.
These are some of the important benefits which result¬
ed to astronomy from the labours of Tycho. As a philo¬
sopher he ranks low. Alchemy and judicial astrology, in
the reveries of which he was a firm believer, engrossed
as much of his attention as astronomy. Yet his errors,
or rather weaknesses, ought to be viewed with indulgence.
He was seated, to use the simile of Badly, on the con¬
fines of two ages; partaking of the darkness which pi e-
ceded, and the light which came after him. He rejected
the simple system of Copernicus, and, whether from par¬
ticipating in the religious scruples of his age, or from the
Lonflo-i
'nioi'.taii''!
Keplen
ASTRONOMY.
jjigtcf/- ambition of appearing as the author of a new system, he
restored to the earth its immobility, and placed it in the
centre of the motions of the sun and moon. The Tycho-
nic system was an unsuccessful attempt to reconcile the
incongruous hypotheses of Ptolemy and Copernicus. It
never enjoyed any real estimation ; and its followers were
only found among those who dreaded the anathemas of the
church, or who, belonging to some university or religious
corporation, were deprived of the liberty of expressing
their real opinions.
Tycho was assisted in his observations at Huen, du¬
ring eight years, by Longomontanus, who afterwards be-
came professor of the higher mathematics at Copenhagen,
died '(■ 'p}1js astronomer composed a large work, entitled Astro-
rwmia Danica, in which he deduced the elements of the
different theories from the observations made at Urani-
bourg, and gave formulae for computing the planetary
motions, according to the three systems of Ptolemy, Co¬
pernicus, and Tycho.
The great mass of accurate observations accumulated
lorn l.'ll, by Tycho furnished the materials out of which his dis-
Cip]e Kepler may be said to have constructed the edifice
of the world. This great man, the true founder of mo¬
dern astronomy, was born at Wiel, in the kingdom of
Wurtemberg, on the 27th of December 1571. He studied
philosophy at Tubingen, and was instructed in mathe¬
matics and astronomy by Mcestlin, whose name deserves
a place in the history of science, on account of his having
been one of the first who had the courage to adopt and
to teach the system of Copernicus. The philosophical
mind of Kepler, disgusted with the improbabilities and
absurdities of the ancient system, received with transport
the novel doctrines explained by Moestlin. The ap¬
pointment of mathematician to the emperor, which he
procured on the death of Stadius, confirmed him in the
resolution which he had taken to devote himself to astro¬
nomical pursuits; and the energy of his character enabled
him in a very short time to make himself thoroughly mas¬
ter of the different hypotheses and principal discoveries
which had been made prior to his time. In the year
1596 he published a Prodromus of Dissertations on the
properties and causes of the celestial orbits, which pro¬
cured him the friendship of Tycho, and an invitation to
take part in the observations and researches of that great
astronomer at Prague. On the death of Tycho, which
happened soon after, Kepler obtained possession of his
invaluable collection of observations, and was charged
with the task of completing and publishing the Rudolph-
ine Tables.
During his short residence with Tycho, Kepler learned
to check the fanciful suggestions of his brilliant imagina¬
tion, and to draw his conclusions from observations alone,
by rigorous and patient induction. The observations of
the Danish astronomer had furnished him with the means
of establishing with certainty the truth or inaccuracy of
the various hypotheses which he successively imagined;
and the diligence with which he laboured in comparing
and calculating these observations during 20 years, was
finally rewarded by some of the most important discoveries
which had yet been made in astronomy. Deceived by an
opinion which had been adopted by Copernicus, and had
never been called in question by the ancients, that all the
celestial motions are performed in circles, he long fruit¬
lessly endeavoured to represent, by that hypothesis, the
irregular motions of Mars; and after having computed
with incredible labour the observations of seven opposi¬
tions of that planet, he at length succeeded in breaking
down the barrier which had so long obstructed the progress
of knowledge, and found that the motions could only be
739
accurately represented by supposing the planet to move History,
in an ellipse, having the sun in one of its foci. Having
arrived at this important result, he next proceeded to con¬
sider the angular motion of the planet, and finding that it
was not uniform in respect of any point situated within
the orbit, he concluded that the uniform motion, till then
universally received as an axiom, was a vain chimera, which
had no existence in nature. He perceived, however, that
the areas described by the radius vector of the planet, at
its greatest and least distances, were equal in equal times;
and subsequent observations enabled him to demonstrate
that this equality extended to every point of the orbit.
It was therefore discovered that Mars moves in an elliptic
orbit, of which the sun occupies a focus, and in such a
manner, that the area described by a line drawn from the
centre of the planet to that of the sun is always propor¬
tional to the time of description. The same conclusions
he found to be true in respect of the orbit of the earth;
and therefore he could no longer hesitate to extend them
by analogy to the other planets. These are two of the
three general principles which are known by the name of
the Laws of Kepler.
It was some years later before Kepler arrived at the
knowledge of the analogy which subsists between the dis¬
tances of the several planets from the sun, and the periods
in which they complete their revolutions. To the dis¬
covery of this analogy he attached the greatest impor¬
tance, and regarded all his other labours as incomplete
without it. After having imagined numberless hypotheses,
it at last occurred to him to compare the different powers
of the numbers which express the distances and times of
revolutions ; and he found, to his infinite satisfaction, that
the squares of the periodic times of the planets are alwrays
in the same proportion as the cubes of their mean dis¬
tances from the sun. This is the third law of Kepler.
He demonstrated it to be true of all the planets then
known. It has been found to be equally true in regard to
those which have been since discovered, and likewise to
prevail in the systems of the satellites of Jupiter and Sa¬
turn. It is indeed, as can be shown mathematically, a ne¬
cessary consequence of the law of gravitation, directly as
the masses, and inversely as the squares of the distances.
By these brilliant discoveries, the solar system was re¬
duced to that degree of beautiful simplicity which had
been conceived by Copernicus, but from which that great
astronomer had found himself constrained to depart. The
sun could not occupy the common centre of the circular
orbits, but his place is in the common focus of the elliptic
orbits of all the planets ; and it is to this focus that every
motion is to be referred, and from which every distance
is to be measured. The discovery of the elliptic motion,
of the proportionality of the areas to the times, and the
method of dividing an ellipse, by straight lines drawn from
the focus to the periphery, into segments having a given
ratio, formed the solution of a problem which had been the
constant object of the labours of all astronomers from Pto¬
lemy to Tycho, namely, to assign the place of a planet at
any instant of time whatever. The tables which he com¬
puted for the elliptic motions form the model of those in
present use. Some additions have been made in conse¬
quence of the perturbations, which the geometry of Kep¬
ler was inadequate to estimate, and which were only
partially detected by the genius of Newton. It has been
considered matter of surprise that Kepler did not think
of extending the laws of the elliptic motion to the comets.
Prepossessed with the idea that they never return after
their passage to the sun, he imagined that it would only be
a waste of time to attempt the calculation of the orbits of
bodies which had so transitory an existence. He supposed
740
ASTRONOMY.
History, the tail to be produced by the action of the solar rays, which,
^-V^^in traversing the body of the comet, continually carry off
the most subtile particles, so that the whole mass must be
ultimately annihilated by the successive detachment of the
particles. He therefore neglected to study their motions,
and left to others a share of the glory resulting from the
discovery of the true paths of the celestial bodies.
The observations of eclipses had formed the principal
object of the earliest astronomers, but it was Kepler who
first showed the practical advantages which may be deriv¬
ed from them, by giving an example of the method of
calculating a difference of meridians from an eclipse of the
sun. The method extends to occultations of the stars,
and is deservedly considered as the best we possess for
determining geographical longitudes and correcting the
tables. He composed a work on optics, replete with new
and interesting views, and gave the first idea of the tele¬
scope with two convex glasses, which has since been advan¬
tageously substituted for that of Galileo. Prompt to seize
every happy idea of his contemporaries, he perceived with
delight the advantages which practical astronomy would
derive from the new invention of the logarithms, and he
immediately constructed a table, from which the loga¬
rithms of the natural numbers, sines, and tangents could
be taken at once.
Kepler was not merely an observer and calculator; he
inquired with great diligence into the physical causes
of every phenomenon, and made a near approach to the dis¬
covery of that great principle which maintains and regulates
the planetary motions. He possessed some very sound
and accurate notions of the nature of gravity, but unfor¬
tunately conceived it to diminish simply in proportion to
the distance, although he had demonstrated that the in¬
tensity of light is reciprocally proportional to the surface
over which it is spread, or inversely as the square of the
distance from the luminous body. In his famous work
De Stella Martis, which contains the discovery of the laws
of the planetary motions, he distinctly states that gravity
is a corporeal affection, reciprocal between two bodies of
the same kind, which tends, like the action of the magnet,
to bring them together, so that when the earth attracts a
stone, the stone at the same time attracts the earth, but
by a force feebler in proportion as it contains a smaller
quantity of matter. Further, if the moon and the earth
were not retained in their respective orbits by an animal
or other equipollent force, the earth would mount towards
the moon one fifty-fourth part of the interval which sepa¬
rates them, and the moon would descend the fifty-three
remaining parts, supposing each to have the same density.
He likewise very clearly explains the cause of the tides
in the following passage. “ If the earth ceased to attract
its waters, the whole sea would mount up and unite itself
with the moon. The sphere of the attracting force of the
moon extends even to the earth, and draws the waters
towards the torrid zone, so that they rise to the point
which has the moon in the zenith.” It is not difficult to
imagine how much these views must have contributed to
the immortal discovery of Newton.
It is afflicting to consider how frequently the just re¬
wards of true merit are usurped by charlatanism and pre¬
tension. While the fire-eaters and astrologers of Rudolph
were basking in the sunshine of imperial favour, Kepler,
from whose labours the sciences derived the most signal
benefits, passed his life in extreme indigence. Born with¬
out fortune, the only revenue he possessed, and out of
which he had to maintain a numerous family, arose from
the precarious produce of his writings, and his pension of
mathematician to the emperor,—a pension which, owing
to the calamities of the times, was seldom duly paid.
On this account he was obliged to prefer frequent solid- Hist
tations, and undertake long journeys, whereby he lost his^Vv
time, always precious to genius, and exhausted his mind
in anxiety. He died on the 15th of November 1630, at
Ratisbon, whither he had gone to solicit the arrears
that were due to him. In the present century a marble
monument has been erected to his memory by an enlight¬
ened prince, Charles of Alberg. It contains his bust and
the ellipse of Mars; a monument more glorious and more
imperishable than brass or marble.
>0
Contemporary with Kepler was the illustrious Galileo, Galileo
whose discoveries, being of a more popular nature, and born ^4
far more striking and intelligible to the generality of man-died IG42.’
kind, had a much greater immediate effect on the opinions
of the age, and in hastening the revolution which was soon
about to change the whole face of physics and astronomy.
Galileo-Galilei, a Florentine patrician, was born at Flo¬
rence in the year 1564. He passed his youth at Venice,
where he continued till he w'as appointed to a professor’s
chair at Padua. After a residence of eighteen years in
that city, he was induced to remove to Pisa by Cosmo II.,
who assigned him a pension, and conferred on him the title
of his first mathematician. While residing at Venice, he
heard it reported that Metius, a Dutch optician, had dis¬
covered a certain combination of lenses, by means of which
distant objects were approximated to the sight. This
vague and scanty intelligence sufficed to excite the
curiosity of Galileo, who immediately set about inquir¬
ing into the means whereby such an effect could be
produced. His researches were attended with prompt
success, and on the following day he had a telescope
which magnified about three times. It was formed
by the combination of two lenses, a plano-convex and
plano-concave, fitted in a leaden tube. In a second trial
he obtained one which magnified seven or eight times ; and
subsequent essays enabled him to increase the magnifying
power to 32 times. On directing his telescope to the
moon, he perceived numerous inequalities on her surface,
the diversified appearances of which led him to conclude
almost with certainty that the moon is an opaque body
similar to the earth, and reflecting the light of the sun
unequally, in consequence of her superficial asperities.
The planet Venus exhibited phases perfectly similar to
those of the moon. These phases had been formerly an¬
nounced by Copernicus as a necessary consequence ofhis
system ; and the actual discovery of their existence made
it impossible to doubt of the revolution of Venus round
the sun. He detected the four satellites or moons of
Jupiter, and, in honour of his patron, gave them the name
of the Medicean Stars. The discovery of these little
bodies circulating round the huge orb of Jupiter afforded
him a strong analogical proof of the annual revolution
of the earth, accompanied by its moon. He perceived
spots on the disk of the sun, from the motions of which
he concluded the rotation of that body about its axis
in the space of 27 days. The singular appearances
of Saturn were beheld by him with no less pleasure than
astonishment. His telescope was not sufficiently power¬
ful to separate the ring from the body of the planet; and
to explain the appearances he supposed Saturn to be com¬
posed of three stars almost in contact with one another.
These discoveries proved that the substances of the ce¬
lestial bodies are similar to that of the earth, and demo¬
lished the Aristotelian doctrine of their divine essence
and incorruptible nature. They enlarged the ideas of
mankind respecting the planetary system, and furnished
the most convincing arguments in favour of the doctrines
of Copernicus.
The discoveries of Galileo excited the envy of his
,VrV*-/ 1
ASTRONOMY.
His)#'r* contemporaries, and stirred up against him a persecu¬
tion which embittered the last days of his life. The
motion of the earth, which he had proved so triumphant¬
ly, was considered contrary to many express declarations
of Scripture; it was also considered as a heresy in the
schools, where the doctrines of Aristotle were followed
with implicit submission. In defending the Copernican
system, Galileo had incurred the bitterest resentment,
both of theologians and peripatetics. His great reputa¬
tion, his title of professor and first mathematician, gave
them reason to dread that the new doctrines, recommend¬
ed by such an advocate, would spread too rapidly, and
finally overthrow the altars of Aristotle. They therefore
combined to check their progress, and to procure the ruin
of Galileo by injurious representatives to the Grand Duke
and the court of Rome. Soon after his first telescopic
discoveries he was cited to appear before the Inquisition,
and a promise extorted from him that he would never,
either by word or writing, support the opinion of the mo¬
tion of the earth. But in a great mind the love of truth
is the most imperious of all passions, and cannot be re¬
strained by the frowns of despotism, or the persecution of
a fanatical tribunal. The evidences of the motion of the
earth burst forth from every point of the heavens; and
Galileo, in his celebrated Dialogues on the system of the
world, exposed them in so clear and forcible a manner,
that, although he appeared to put them forth for the pur¬
pose of refuting them, it was not difficult to perceive that
he regarded them as complete and indubitable. For this
relapse into heresy he was again brought before the tri¬
bunal of the Inquisition, and, in the seventieth year of his
age, condemned formally to retract and abjure the doc¬
trine of the earth’s motion, and to be imprisoned during
the pleasure of the Inquisition. This scandalous proceed¬
ing has called forth the indignant reprobation of every
lover of truth and freedom. “ What a spectacle,” ex¬
claims Bailly, “ an old man, whose hairs were blanched
with study, watchings, and benefits to mankind, on his
knees before the sacred Scriptures, abjuring the truth in
the eyes of Italy, which he had enlightened, in opposition
to the testimony of his conscience, and in spite of the
manifestations given by nature through all her works.”
The sentence passed on Galileo was not inflicted with
great severity. At the end of a year the Grand Duke
had the influence to procure his release from prison ; but
he was prohibited from returning to Florence, and obliged
to confine himself to the Tuscan territory. He retired to
the village of Arcetri, where he resumed his observations,
and shortly afterwards discovered the libration of the
moon. The satellites of Jupiter continued also to engage
his attention, and he commenced a table of their motions,
and pointed out the method of determining the longitude
by means of their eclipses. The states of Holland, aware
of the great benefit of his researches to commerce and
navigation, sent two astronomers, Hortensius and Blaeu,
to present him with a gold chain, and encourage him to
persevere in his useful labours. A short time after re¬
ceiving this honourable mark of esteem from a foreign
country, Galileo suddenly became blind; and the task of
forming the tables of the satellites was reserved for Cas¬
sini. He survived this misfortune only a few years, and
expired in 1642, in the seventy-eighth year of his age.
Science is indebted to Galileo for two other discoveries
of a different kind, less brilliant perhaps, but of far greater
importance than those which we have yet enumerated.
These are the isochronism of the vibrations of the pendu¬
lum, and the law of the acceleration of falling bodies. His
telescopic discoveries could not have remained long un¬
known ; in fact, with the exception of those of the phases
741
of Venus, and of the triple form of Saturn, they were all Historv.
fiercely disputed, even during his own lifetime. It is now^'v^O
universally admitted that he was the first who discovered
the satellites of Jupiter, and the spots of the sun; but
the very circumstance of other claimants to these disco¬
veries having arisen, proves that they were within the
reach of ordinary attention. No one ever thought of dis¬
puting with Kepler the discovery of the laws of the plane¬
tary motions. Those of Galileo required only eyes, and
may be regarded as following of course from the disco¬
very of the telescope; but his persecution, his condem¬
nation, and his being compelled to retract and abjure a
doctrine of which he had given the physical proof, inspire
a hallowed interest in his history, and contributed much
to the great reputation which he acquired throughout
Europe.
While astronomy was making these rapid advances in Loga-
the hands of Kepler and Galileo, an event occurred inrithms in-
Scotland which contributed, though less directly, no less vented,
powerfully, to the acceleration of its progress. This was1^’
the invention of the logarithms by Lord Napier, baron of
Merchiston; “an admirable artifice,” says Laplace, “which,
by reducing to a few days the labour of many months,
doubles the life of the astronomer, and spares him the
errors and disgust inseparable from long calculations; an
invention of which the human mind has the more reason
to be proud, inasmuch as it was derived exclusively from
its own resources.” It may be added, that without this, or
some equivalent artifice, the computations rendered neces¬
sary by more correct observations would far exceed the
limits of human patience or industry, and astronomy
could never have acquired that precision and accuracy
by which it is now distinguished above all the other
branches of human knowledge.
The same epoch presents to us a great number of ex- Labours of
cellent observers, who, although they did not produce any different
revolution in the state of astronomy, still rendered it use- astron°-
ful service. Scheiner is celebrated for his observationsmeis'
on the solar spots, and his disputes with Galileo. John
Bayer of Augsburg published a description of the constel¬
lations, accompanied by maps, in which the stars are
marked by a Greek letter ; a simple idea, which has been
universally adopted. Lansberg, a Flemish mathematician,
published in 1632 a set of astronomical tables, which,
though filled with inaccuracies, rendered good service to
science by apprizing Horrox of the transit of Venus over
the sun’s disk, which that young astronomer and his
friend Crabtree had the satisfaction of observing on the
24th of November 1639. They were the first who ever
witnessed that interesting but rare phenomenon. Snellius
is celebrated for his measure of the earth. Gassendi,
who had the merit, along with Descartes, of hastening the
downfall of the Aristotelian philosophy in France, made
some useful observations, particularly one of a transit of
Mercury in 1631. His works, which fill six folio vo¬
lumes, abound with curious and useful researches. Ric-
cioli, a Jesuit, born at Ferrara in 1598, contributed to the
progress of astronomy, not so much by his own dis¬
coveries, as by collecting and rendering an account of those
of others. He rejected the system of Copernicus, and
was more zealous in maintaining the doctrines of the
church than in investigating nature ; but his works form a
vast repertory of useful information. His Novum Alma-
gestum is a collection of the observations, opinions, and
physical explanations of the phenomena, together with all
the methods of computation then known. He was as¬
sisted in his labours by Grimaldi, who discovered the in¬
flection of light, and gave the names to the principal spots
of the moon which are now used by astronomers.
ASTRONOMY.
742
History. The most accurate observations that were ever made
prior to the adaptation of the telescope to astronomical
Hevelius, instruments were those of Hevelius, a rich citizen of
!™ed 1087 ^antz‘°> wh° devoted his life and a large fortune to the
service of astronomy. Having fitted up an observatory,
and furnished it with the best instruments which could be
procured, he commenced a course of observations, which
he followed assiduously upwards of forty years. In his
Selenographia he has given an accurate description of the
face and spots of the moon, accompanied with excellent
delineations of her appearance in her different phases and
librations. The idea of making drawings of the different
phases of the moon had previously occurred to Gassendi
and Peiresc, but they had not been able to execute the
project; indeed the difficulty attending it was such, that
it occupied Hevelius, who was an excellent draughtsman,
as well as observer, during a great number of years.
Hevelius made an immense number of researches on
comets ; and finding that the observations could not be
represented by rectilinear or circular orbits, he supposed
them to move in parabolas. During a temporary absence
from Dantzic, this indefatigable astronomer had the mis¬
fortune to lose, in a great fire which occurred in the city,
his observatory, instruments, manuscripts, and almost the
entire edition of the second volume of his Machina Cceles-
tis, which contained the results of his long labours and
numerous observations. He was now in his old age, but
his zeal did not give way under the terrible calamity.
He patiently recommenced all his calculations, recon¬
structed tables of the sun, and prepared for publication
his Firmamentum Sobiescianum, or celestial chart, which
did not appear till after his death. Towards the latter
part of his life, the use of telescopic sights began to be
generally adopted. Hevelius, however, resisted the inno¬
vation, and continued to employ plain sights. This pre¬
ference given to the ancient method by so skilful an ob¬
server induced Dr Halley to visit him at Dantzic, for the
purpose of ascertaining, by a comparison of observations
made at the same time and place, which of the two
methods gave the most correct results. Dr Halley ob¬
served with the telescope, and Hevelius with his own in¬
struments ; but such was the dexterity he had acquired
through long practice, that the difference of their obser¬
vations seldom amounted to more than a few seconds, and
in no case to so much as a minute. Notwithstanding this
agreement, it is to be regretted that Hevelius did not
adopt the new method; for, on account of the greater
precision given to instruments by the use of the telescope,
his observations, which were made without it, cannot now
be admitted in the construction of tables, and consequent¬
ly are for the most part useless to astronomy.
Huygens, Few individuals have rendered more important services
born 1629, to science than Huygens. Born at the Hague in 1629,
died 1695. he studied geometry under Schooten, the commentator of
Descartes, and gave early proofs of proficiency in that
science by a treatise on the quadrature of the conic sec¬
tions. Having passed into France, he studied law at the
university of Angers ; but his principal attention was di¬
rected to the physical sciences, particularly to optics. He
employed himself in grinding and polishing lenses; and
constructed a telescope of ten feet, with which he disco¬
vered one of the satellites of Saturn. His application of
the pendulum to clocks deserves to be considered as one
of the best gifts which genius has ever conferred on science.
He seems to have conceived the idea of this application
in 1656 ; and he presented the first description of the
pendulum clock to the states of Holland in 1657. He en¬
deavoured to make this invention subservient to the pro¬
blem of the longitudes ; and if his efforts were not attend¬
ed with the desired success, it may be said, that without HistoiV
another invention, in which also he had a principal share,
that of the spiral spring, the object would never have been
accomplished so nearly as it was a hundred years later.
By means of his excellent telescopes he discovered that
the extraordinary appearance exhibited by Saturn was
occasioned by a ring surrounding the body of the planet,
and inclined to the ecliptic in an angle which he estimated
at 21°. He published his observations on this planet in a
work entitled Systema Saturnium, which still shows some
traces of that species of reasoning from final causes which
so greatly disfigures the writings of Kepler. For example,
on discovering the satellite, he conceived that as the num¬
ber of satellites now equalled the number of planets, it
was in vain to look for more, the equality being necessary
to the harmony of the system. He lived, however, to
witness the discovery of four more satellites belonging to
the same planet. Huygens was invited to settle in France
by Colbert, the patriotic minister of Louis XIV., who
assigned him a pension and a seat in the academy of
sciences. He continued in that country till the revocation
of the edict of Nantz in 1681, when he resigned his pen¬
sion and retired to Holland. After this he contributed
several papers to the Philosophical Transactions, and in
1690 published a treatise on light and gravitation. Geo¬
metry, mechanics, and optics, are indebted to the genius
of Huygens for many important discoveries. His theo¬
rems on central forces, his researches on the doctrine of
probabilities and continued fractions, and his theory of
involutes and evolutes, raise him to the highest rank
among the mathematicians of his age. He died on the
8th of June 1695, at the age of 66 years.
The application of telescopes and micrometers to gra-Telescope;
duated instruments forms an important epoch in the his-applied to
tory of astronomy. This happy improvement was first(lua^raBts’
brought into use by Picard in 1667. Morin, indeed, had100'1
applied a telescope to the quadrant so early as 1634, and
perceived the stars in full day in 1635. In 1669 Picard
began to observe the stars on the meridian in the day¬
time, with a quadrant, to which, in concert with Azout,
he had applied an astronomical telescope having cross
wires in its focus. Huygens invented the plate microme¬
ter in 1650; Malvasia that with the fixed wires in 1662;
and Azout that with the movable wire in 1666. (SeeDe-
lambre, Astronomic du Moyen Age, p. 618. Note by Bou-
vard.) It is principally to the happy discoveries and in¬
genious inventions just referred to, and the fine appli¬
cation of the pendulum to clocks by Huygens in 1656,
that we must attribute the rapid progress since made in
practical astronomy, and the extreme precision of modern
observations. Picard was also the first who introduced
the modern method of determining the right ascensions
of the stars, by observing their meridional passages, and
employed the pendulum for that purpose. He likewise in¬
troduced the method of corresponding altitudes, and is
entitled to be regarded as the founder of modern astro¬
nomy in France.
Roemer, the friend and pupil of Picard, discovered the
progressive motion of light in 1675, and measured its velo¬
city by means of the eclipses of Jupiter’s satellites. He
was the first who erected a transit instrument, which gave
a new accuracy to observations of right ascension.
The Royal Observatory of Paris was completed in 1670, Dominic
and its direction intrusted to Dominic Cassini. This cc-^j11^
lebrated astronomer was born at Perinaldo, in the coun-^ ijn
ty of Nice, and educated in a college of the Jesuits at
Genoa. He acquired an early passion for astronomical
observations; and in 1644 was invited to Bologna by the
marquis Malvasia, where, in 1650, he succeeded Cavallen
ASTRONOMY.
jlistiy. as professor of astronomy. In this situation he continued
till 1669, when he went to Paris on the invitation of Louis
XIV. He was naturalized in France in 1673, and conti¬
nued in the charge of the observatory till his death, which
happened in 1712.
Cassini enriched astronomy with a great number of cu¬
rious observations and discoveries. He determined the
motions of Jupiter’s satellites from observations of their
eclipses, and constructed tables of them, which were
found to be remarkably exact. He observed that the
ring of Saturn is double, and discovered four of the satel¬
lites of that planet. He also determined the rotation of
Jupiter and Mars, and made a number of observations on
Venus with the same view. He observed the zodiacal
light, and made a near approximation to the parallax of
the sun. We also owe to him the first table of re¬
fractions, calculated on correct principles ; and a complete
theory of the libration of the moon. Galileo had only ob¬
served the libration in latitude; Hevelius explained the
libration in longitude, by supposing that the moon always
presents the same face to the centre of her orbit, of which
the earth occupies a focus. Cassini made the important
remark, that the axis of rotation of the moon is inclined
to the ecliptic, and that its nodes coincide with those of
the lunar orbit, so that the poles of the orbit, ecliptic, and
equator of the moon, are on the same circle of latitude,
the pole of the ecliptic being situated between the other
two. The greater number of these discoveries are, how¬
ever, only of secondary importance ; and it must be con¬
fessed that Cassini took no part in the great and perma¬
nent improvements which astronomy received in that age.
He has, nevertheless, obtained an extraordinary reputa¬
tion. Lalande remarks, that in his hands astronomy un¬
derwent the most signal revolutions, and that his name is,
in France, almost synonymous with that of creator of the
science. Delambre has, however, taken a different and
far more accurate view of the real services of Cassini.
“ The revolution in Astronomy,” this judicious critic ob¬
serves, “ was brought about by Copernicus, by the laws of
Kepler, by the pendulum of Huygens, the micrometers
of Azout and Picard, by the sectors and mural of Picard,
and his method of corresponding altitudes, by the transit
instruments of Iloemer; and Cassini appears to us an
entire stranger to all these innovations. He followed
another route ; he devoted a long life to painful observa¬
tions, which at last deprived him of sight. Let us not
refuse him the praise which he has so well merited, but
let us reserve a place in our esteem for labours less bril¬
liant perhaps, but of greater and more permanent utility,
and which evince at least equal talent and sagacity.”
Marak, Cassini was assisted in his observations by his nephew,
James Philip Maraldi, who determined the regression
of the nodes, and the progressive motion of the apsides
of the orbit of Jupiter. This astronomer also corrected
the theory of Mars, and observed the sun’s parallax. He
rejected the hypothesis of the progressive motion of light,
as being insufficient to explain the inequalities of Jupiter’s
satellites; and he conceived the design of forming a new
catalogue of the stars, which, however, was never exe¬
cuted. He died in 1729.
hogre There is no period in the history of mankind so distin-
guishedby great and important discoveries, or so remark-
centuri ^bl6 ^or ^le rapid development of the human intellect, as
' the seventeenth century. We have already noticed the
invention of the pendulum, and its application to regulate
the motion of time-keepers ; of the telescope, and some of
the phenomena of the new worlds it has exposed to view;
of the logarithms, by which computations are so much
abridged ; and of the mechanical contrivances for measur¬
ing minute angles, in the heavens. The same century History,
witnessed the nppliccition of nlgebra to geometry^ the
covery of the laws of the planetary motions, of the infi¬
nitesimal calculus, the acceleration of falling bodies, the
sublime theory , of central forces, and the great prin¬
ciple of gravitation which connects the celestial orbs, and
regulates the motions which it had been the business of
the astronomer to observe since the earliest ages of the
world. The different steps which conducted to this im¬
portant discovery, and the immediate consequences de¬
duced from it by its immortal author, are so fully deve¬
loped in the admirable Dissertation on the Progress of the
Physical Sciences, in this Encyclopedia, that it is unne¬
cessary to enter into any detail respecting them here; we
may only remark, that if observation has furnished the
data for the discovery of the mechanical principle and
primordial laws of the universe, the knowledge of these
laws has been, in turn, of the most essential service to ob¬
servation, by guiding and directing it to its most im¬
portant objects. Many of the inequalities of the planetary
motions, in consequence of their minuteness and the slow'-
ness with which they vary, could not have been detected
by observation; others might perhaps have been per¬
ceived, but we should still have been ignorant whether
their constant accumulation might not ultimately change
the state of the system, and, by destroying all confidence
in the tables, demolish the fabric which had been reared
at such a vast expense of time and labour. But when
these inequalities are detected by theory, and separated
from the mean motions with which they were blended, it
becomes an object of the highest interest to confirm their
existence by the most delicate and accurate observations.
Hence, a more refined practice has constantly followed
every theoretical discovery. Besides, it is the perfec¬
tion of theory, and not the mere knowledge of isolated
facts, which gives astronomy its greatest value in the
eyes of the philosopher. Numerous and important as its
applications are, they have but a subordinate interest, in
comparison of the knowledge of those general laws to
which every particle of matter in the universe is subject,
and by the discovery of which man has penetrated so
deeply into the mysteries of nature.
By the discovery of the law of gravity Newton laid Hiscove-
the foundations of physical astronomy; and by the con-1'!68 ot
sequences which he deduced from that law, proceeded
far in the erection of the superstructure. He showed (}ie(j \^'
that the motions of all the bodies of the planetary system
are regulated by its influence; he determined the figure
of the earth on the supposition of its homogeneity; he
gave a theory of the tides, discovered the cause of the
precession of the equinoxes, and determined some of the
principal lunar inequalities and planetary perturbations.
Many of his theories were left in an imperfect state; for
it is not in matters of science that it is given to the same
individual to invent and bring to perfection: their com¬
plete development required that several subsidiary scien¬
ces should be farther advanced; but it has been the
triumph of his system, that every subsequent discovery
has only tended to strengthen and confirm it. This bright
ornament of the human genius was born on the 25th of
December 1642, the day of the death of Galileo, and died
on the 20th of March 1727, in the 85th year of his age.
While physical astronomy was undergoing a complete Flamsteed,
revolution in the hands of Newton, the practical part was born 1640,
receiving great improvement from Flamsteed, the firstdietl HLi-
astronomer royal, who conducted the Greenwich Obser¬
vatory. This celebrated institution, from which so many
important discoveries have emanated, was erected under
the reign of Charles II. in 1675, Flamsteed was appoint-
744
ASTRONOMY.
History ed to it in 1676, and continued with indefatigable zeal to
discharge the duties of the office during the long period
of 33 years. In the course of this time he made an im¬
mense number of excellent observations, the results of
which are given in the Historia Ccdestis, the first edition
of which was published in 1712, at the expense of Prince
George of Denmark, the husband of Queen Anne. The
second appeared in 1723, some time after the death
of the author, in three volumes folio. The first vo¬
lume contains the observations which he made, first
at Derby, and afterwards at Greenwich, on the fixed
stars, planets, comets, spots of the sun, and Jupiter’s sa¬
tellites. The second volume contains the transits of the
planets and stars over the meridian, and the places of the
planets deduced from these observations. The third con¬
tains an historical notice, in which he gives a description
of the instruments used by Tycho and himself; cata¬
logues of fixed stars by Ptolemy, Ulugh Beigh, Tycho, the
landgrave of Hesse, and Hevelius ; together with the Bri¬
tish Catalogue, containing the places of 2884 stars. The
labours of Flamsteed were, however, confined entirely to
the practical part of astronomy. He made no improve¬
ments in theory; but he is entitled to the merit of having
been the first who brought into common use the method
of simultaneously observing the right ascension of the
sun and a star, a method by means of which the determi¬
nation of the positions of the stars is reduced to the observa¬
tion of meridional transits and altitudes. He was likewise
the first who explained the true principles of the equa¬
tion of time ; and he improved the lunar tables by intro¬
ducing into them the annual equation which had been
suggested by Horrox. The Atlas Ccelestis, another post¬
humous work of Flamsteed, was published in 1753.
Halley, Flamsteed was succeeded in the observatory by Dr
born 1(156, Halley, a philosopher whose inventive genius and indefati-
died 1742. gable activity rendered him one of the brightest ornaments
of his country. Halley was the son of a wealthy citizen
of London, where he was born on the 8th of November
1656. From his earliest years he applied himself with
ardour to the study of mathematics and astronomy ; and
having procured a few instruments, he began to make
observations, by which he was led to remark the inaccuracy
of the tables of Jupiter and Saturn. In his 19th year he
published a direct and geometrical method of finding the
eccentricities and aphelia of the orbits of the planets ; and
in the year following he undertook a voyage to St Helena,
with a view to form a catalogue of the stars in the southern
hemisphere. The station was unfortunately chosen, for,
owing to the incessant rains and foggy atmosphere of that
island, he was able to determine the places of only 360
stars in the course of a whole year. He had, however,
the satisfaction of observing a transit of Mercury over the
sun’s disk, a phenomenon which suggested to him the im¬
portant remark, that the transits of the inferior planets
might be advantageously employed in determining one of
the most essential elements of the planetary system, viz. the
parallax of the sun, and consequently the diameters of the
orbits. The method has since been successfully employ¬
ed in the case of Venus : the transits of Mercury, though
much more frequent, are not so well adapted to the
purpose. On his return from St Helena he was commis¬
sioned by the Royal Society to visit Hevelius at Dantzic,
and determine, by a direct comparison of observations, the
dispute which had arisen between that astronomer and
Dr Hooke respecting the relative advantages of plain and
telescopic sights. After this Halley for some time travelled
on the Continent, and on his return to England devoted
himself entirely to scientific pursuits. The fruits of his
leisure soon began to appear in the multitude of treatises
which he published from time to time in every depart- History
ment of the mathematical and physical sciences. The'^-'^vN'
most important of those connected with astronomy was
his Synopsis Astronomies Cometicce,—a work abounding in
profound and original views, and which, in respect of the¬
ory, formed perhaps the most remarkable accession to the
science that had been made since the time of Kepler.
In this work he revived an ancient opinion, that the
comets belong to the solar system, and move in very ec¬
centric orbits round the sun, returning after stated but
long intervals. He also ventured to predict that the
comet of 1681 would again return to its perihelion in
1759,—-the first prediction of the kind that was verified.
In 1720 Dr Halley was appointed to succeed Flamsteed
in the Royal Observatory; and though now in the 64th
year of his age, he undertook, with a view to improve the
lunar theory, to observe the moon through a whole revo¬
lution of her nodes, erroneously supposing, that after
such a revolution the errors of the tables would again ap¬
pear in the same order. He was the first who, by a com¬
parison of ancient and modern observations, remarked the
acceleration of the mean motion of the moon, and thus
called the attention of mathematicians to an important and
curious phenomenon, the physical cause of which was at
length detected by the powerful analysis of Laplace. He
was also the first who pointed out the secular inequalities of
Jupiter and Saturn, occasioned by their mutual perturba¬
tions,—a theory that formed the subject of several pro¬
found memoirs of Euler and Lagrange, and for the com¬
plete development of which astronomy is likewise in¬
debted to Laplace. Besides these important discoveries
in astronomy, the labours of Dr Halley also greatly con¬
tributed to the promotion of geometry and navigation.
He undertook two long voyages, and traversed the Pacific
Ocean to observe the deviations of the magnetic needle;
and posterity will gratefully recollect that it was through
his pressing solicitations that Newton consented to the
publication of the Principia. In 1703 he succeeded Dr
Wallis as professor of geometry at Oxford. He became
secretary of the Royal Society in 1713, and died at
Greenwich in 1742.
The discoveries of Bradley, who succeeded Halley as Bradley,
astronomer royal, form a memorable epoch in the history bom 169!
of the science. This great astronomer was born at Sher-d‘ed
borne in Gloucestershire in 1692, and acquired from his
uncle, Mr Pound, an early taste for astronomical obser¬
vation. He was destined for the church, and for some
time held a curacy, which he resigned in 1721, on being
appointed to succeed Keill as Savilian professor of astro¬
nomy at Oxford. His first essays indicated no extraor¬
dinary talent; but an opportunity having presented itself
of engaging in more important researches, he embraced
it with ardour; and by his sagacity and perseverance
was conducted to two discoveries which have entirely
changed the face of astronomy.
A singular motion of the polar star had been observed Discovei
by Picard, of which, however, that astronomer could nei'^^j
ther assign the law nor give any satisfactory explanation. |. ,t
He only remarked that the inequality was annual, and
amounted to about 40 seconds. Hooke, in 1674, a few
years after the observations of Picard, imagined that he
had discovered a parallax in some of the stars; and Flam¬
steed, following the ideas of Hooke, explained, by means
of parallax, the minute changes of position which he had
observed in Polaris and some circumpolar stars. Manfredi
and Cassini demonstrated the error of Flamsteed, but
were not more successful in their attempts to explain the
motion in question. Samuel Molyneux conceived the
idea of verifying all that had been said respecting the
ASTRONOMY.
Hisjry- supposed parallaxes, and for this purpose commenced a
series of observations at Kew, with an excellent 24 feet
sector constructed by Graham. Bradley, who happened
at that time to reside at Kew, took a part in these obser¬
vations, the result of which was, that the remarks of Pi¬
card were confirmed beyond the possibility of doubt. It
was, however, abundantly evident that the apparent mo¬
tions alluded to were not connected in any manner with
parallax; it therefore became an object of the greatest in¬
terest to determine their physical cause, and assign their
law and period. The first idea that occurred was to in¬
quire whether they arose from a change of position in the
earth’s axis; but this supposition was found to be inade¬
quate to the explanation of the phenomena. Molyneux
having been in the mean time appointed a lord of the
admiralty, the observations were discontinued at Kew;
they were, however, shortly after resumed by Bradley at
Wanstead, with a smaller but more convenient instrument;
and after they had been continued several years, it was
found that the star (y draconis) on which they were prin¬
cipally made, appeared to describe annually a small el¬
lipse, the transverse axis of which amounted to 40". This
was an important determination; for the ellipse afforded
the means of computing at all times the aberration of
any star whatever, whether in longitude, latitude, declina¬
tion, or right ascension. Bradley also pointed out the
physical cause of the aberration, and demonstrated that it
resulted from the combination of the motion of light with
the annual motion of the earth. This capital discovery
was made in 1728.
Disco'y Bradley, anxious to verify his ingenious theory, conti-
of tham-nued his observations, and soon felt the difficulty that had
“s so much embarrassed Picard. The places of the stars,
triai 'calculated according to his formula for the aberration,
could not be reconciled with the observations. The er¬
rors continued to augment during nine years, after which
they went on diminishing during the nine years following.
This inequality, of which the period, like that of the nodes
of the moon, was 18 years, was. readily explained by sup¬
posing a slight oscillation of the earth’s axis, occasioned
by the action of the moon on the protuberant parts sur¬
rounding the equator of the terrestrial spheroid. After
assiduously observing its effects during twenty years,
Bradley found that the phenomena could be accurately
represented by giving the pole of the equator a retrograde
motion about its mean place in an ellipse whose axes are
18" and 16", and completing its revolution in the period
of 18 years. This result was communicated to the Royal
Society in 1748. To these two grand discoveries of Brad¬
ley, the aberration and nutation, modern astronomy is
wholly indebted for all its accuracy and precision; and,
as Delambre remarks, they assure to their author a dis¬
tinguished place, after Hipparchus and Kepler, above the
astronomers of all ages and all countries.
Bradley was appointed astronomer royal in 1741, and
from this time to the period of his death made an im¬
mense number of observations, which were presented by
his heirs to the university of Oxford, on condition that
they should forthwith be published. The first volume ap¬
peared only in 1798, edited by Dr Hornsby. The rest
were committed to the care of the late Dr Abraham Ro¬
bertson, and appeared in 1805. Dr Bradley was chosen
a corresponding member of the Academy of Sciences in
1748. In 1752, twenty-four years after his great disco¬
very of the aberration of light, he was admitted into the
Royal Society. He died on the 13th of July 1762, in
the 70th year of his age.
While England was deriving so much glory from the
brilliant discoveries of Bradley, France produced a multi-
vol. in.
745
tude of excellent astronomers, by whose successful la- History
hours every department of the science was signally pro-^^w
mot?d' Among these Lacaille is pre-eminently distin-Lac,llle
gu,shed, both by the variety and importance of hisobserva- bo “ i jis,
tions, and the indefatigable zeal with which, during twen-died 1762.
ty-two years, he prosecuted the most laborious research¬
es. He commenced his astronomical career in 1739, by
assisting Cassini de Thury (grandson of the first Cassini)
in the verification of the measurement of the meridian
through France. In 1751 he undertook a voyage to the
Cape of Good Hope, the primary objects of which were
to determine the sun s parallax, by means of observations
on the parallaxes of Mars and Venus, while similar obser¬
vations were made in Europe; and to form a catalogue of
the southern circumpolar stars. No undertaking for the
benefit of science was ever more successfully executed.
In the course of a single year, Lacaille, without assistance,
observed upwards of ten thousand stars, situated between
the tropic of Capricorn and the pole, and computed the
places of 1942 of them ; a labour which would scarcely be
credited, if the details of his observations had not been
published in the Cesium Australe Stellifcrum, a work
which was given to the world in 1763. Our admiration
of the rapid execution of this vast undertaking will be in¬
creased, when we consider, that during the same time he
measured a degree of the meridian, and made numerous
observations on the moon simultaneous with those of La-
lande, who observed at Berlin, in order to determine the
moon’s parallax, by means of direct observations made at
the extremities of a meridional arc of upwards of 85 de¬
grees. Before his return to Europe, he visited the isles
of France and Bourbon, where he measured the length of
the pendulum, and made numerous remarks on the natu¬
ral and civil history of those countries. Astronomy is
likewise indebted to Lacaille for a table of refractions
which he computed from a comparison of above 300 ob¬
servations made at the Cape and at Paris. In 1757 he
published his Astronomies Fundamenta, in which he gave
rules and tables for computing the apparent motions of the
stars, which continued to be employed till Lambert sup¬
plied the corrections depending on the nutation, and
Delambre those depending on the aberration. To defray
the expense attending the publication of this important
work, which he distributed in presents to the different
observatories and astronomers in Europe, he submitted to
the drudgery of calculating ephemerides during ten years.
Lacaille composed several elementary works for the use
of the students in the college of Mazarin, where he occu¬
pied the chair of astronomy, and inserted a great number
of memoirs in the volumes of the Academy of Sciences.
This great astronomer, distinguished as much by the ex¬
cellence of his moral qualities as his profound knowledge
and indefatigable zeal, died suddenly in 1762.
The Royal Observatory of Paris continued under the Cassini II
direction of the family of Dominic Cassini during 120 born 1677,
years. James Cassini, the second of that name, is prin-ffie(l H56*
cipally known by a work on the magnitude and figure
of the earth, and his Elements of Astronomy. He seems
not to have duly appreciated the new discoveries which
were daily making around him. His Elements, published
in 1740, contains no mention of the aberration; and he
adopted the opinion that the earth is elongated instead of
being flattened at the poles. His son, Cassini de Thury,
was chiefly occupied with the meridian, and the geome¬
trical survey of France. The last astronomer of the fa¬
mily, the Count de Cassini, was obliged to resign the ob¬
servatory at the revolution.
The question of the figure of the earth furnished ample Measure-
materials for the practical as well as the speculative as-ment of
5 B the earth.
746
ASTRONOMY.
History.
Delisle,
born 1688,
died 1768.
Lemon-
nier, died
1799.
Wargen-
tin, born
1717, died
1783.
Lalande,
born 1732,
died 1807.
tronomer during the last century. The results of the
measurement of the meridian by Cassini were at variance
with the theories of Newton and Huygens; and the
Academy of Sciences resolved on making a decisive ex¬
periment by the actual measurement of the lengths of
two degrees, one at the equator, and another in as high a
latitude as could be reached. In the year 1735, three
astronomers, Godin, Bouguer, and La Condamine, were
commissioned by the French government to accom¬
plish the first of these objects in Peru; and the year
following, Maupertuis, Clairaut, Camus, and Lemonnier,
went to Lapland to execute the second under the
polar circle. Notwithstanding the greater difficulties
they had to contend with, the first party were the most
successful; but the result of both operations established
the compression of the earth at the poles. Bouguer pub¬
lished the details of the Peruvian measurement in an ad¬
mirable work on the Figure of the Earth, in which he has
also inserted an account of a great number of experiments
made by him in the same country to determine the
length of the seconds’ pendulum, and the effects of the
attraction of mountains on the plumb-line. Bouguer is
likewise the author of an excellent treatise on light.
This accomplished mathematician and experimenter did
not adopt the Newtonian theory of gravitation, but he
was the last apostle of the Cartesian philosophy in the
Academy of Sciences.
It would greatly exceed the limits of this article to give
even an abridged account of the numerous observers who,
about this period, contributed to the improvement of every
department of practical astronomy. We must therefore
content ourselves with merely noticing the names of some
of the most distinguished, leaving the details of their la¬
bours to be given in the biographical articles interspersed
throughout the work.
Delisle formed a school of astronomy in Russia, and has
left a method of computing the heliocentric places of the
sun’s spots, and of Mercury and Venus in their transits over
the sun’s disk, and likewise of determining, by means of the
stereographic projection, the directions of their path when
they enter and leave the disk. Lemonnier introduced the
discoveries of Bradley into his Astronomical Institutions,
and w as the instructor of Lacaille and Lalande. Pie pub¬
lished a Histoire Celeste, containing a collection of obser¬
vations from 1666 to 1685, and a number of other works
and memoirs connected with astronomy. He made an
immense number of observations, but their accuracy is
far inferior to those of Bradley. Wargentin, secretary of
the Academy of Sciences of Stockholm, devoted the
whole of his life to the correction of the tables of the sa¬
tellites of Jupiter. The theory of the satellites was not
then far advanced ; but when theory failed him, he profit¬
ed by the remarks of others and by his own reflections,
and endeavoured by repeated trials to find empirical
equations capable of conciliating the tables with the best
observations. By confining himself almost exclusively to
this subject, he acquired a high reputation, and was
ranked among the first astronomers of an epoch which
abounds in great names. His tables of the satellites have,
on account of their superior accuracy, been employed in
determining the masses, and other elements, which serve
as the basis of the analytical theories.
One of the most celebrated astronomers of the last cen¬
tury was Lalande. He commenced his early career by a
set of lunar observations at Berlin, undertaken simulta¬
neously with those of Lacaille at the Cape, for the pur¬
pose of determining the moon’s horizontal parallax. On his
return to Paris he was received, though only twenty-one
years of age, into the Academy of Sciences; and on the
resignation of Delisle was appointed professor of astrono- Hist<y
my in the college of France. By his extraordinary zeal,v~^Vi
indefatigable activity, and the care which he took to
have his name constantly before the public, Lalande soon
became one of the most distinguished men of his day; but
his reputation, acquired in a great measure from attention
to subjects which had only an ephemeral interest, and not
through any permanent or fundamental additions to sci¬
ence, has already begun to wane; and his works, many
of which are of considerable utility, seem to have fallen
into unmerited neglect. His character as an astronomer is
fairly and impartially summed up by Delambre in the fol¬
lowing terms:—“ If Lalande did not renew the founda¬
tions of astronomical science, like Copernicus and Kepler,—
if he did not, like Bradley, immortalize himself by two
brilliant discoveries,—if he was not so learned and accu¬
rate a theorist as Mayer,—if he was not to the same de¬
gree as Lacaille an exact, expert, scrupulous, industrious,
and indefatigable observer and calculator,—if he had not
the constancy to attach himself, like Wargentin, to a
single object, in order to become the first in a particular
department,—and if, in all these respects, he was only an
astronomer of the second rank,—he was the first of all as a
professor. No one ever did more to propagate the know¬
ledge and love of astronomy. It was his object to be
useful and celebrated ; and he succeeded, through his la¬
bours, his activity, his credit, and his solicitations: by
means of a most extensive correspondence he incessantly
laboured for the benefit of science : he even endeavoured
to serve it after his death, by founding a medal, which the
Academy of Sciences adjudges annually to the astronomer
who has made the most interesting observation, or writ¬
ten the most useful memoir.” (Delambre, Astronomie du
Moyen Age.)
Bradley was succeeded in the Greenwich Observatory Mask-
by Dr Bliss, who died in the course of a few years afterIpe.tx
his appointment. Dr Bliss was in turn succeeded by Drjj^
Maskelyne, the late astronomer royal, under whose care
the observatory maintained the high character which it
acquired from the immortal labours of his illustrious pre¬
decessors. Dr Maskelyne began his astronomical career
in 1761, when he was appointed to observe the transit of
Venus at the island of St Helena, and endeavour to verify
the existence of a small parallax of the star Sirius, which
seemed to be indicated by the observations of Lacaille at
the Cape. Unfortunately the state of the weather pre¬
vented him from observing the transit; and his observa¬
tions on Sirius were abandoned in consequence of the
discovery of a defect in the zenith sector which he had
carried out with him for the purpose of making the ob¬
servations in question. The main objects of his voyage
were thus frustrated; but some indirect advantages re¬
sulted from it, which compensated in some measure for
the disappointment. The attention of Ramsden was
called to the sector, and a better method of constructing
these instruments was devised. At St Helena he made
several interesting observations on the tides, the variation
of the compass, the moon’s horary parallaxes, &c. In
going out and returning home, he paid particular attention
to the different methods of finding the longitude at sea,
and practised that which depends on observations of the
lunar distances from known stars, taken with a Hadley s
sextant, or other reflecting instrument. He also composed
a set of rules for the use of the seamen, which he pub¬
lished on his return, first in the Philosophical Transactions,
and afterwards in the British Mariner s Guide. In the
year 1765 he was appointed astronomer royal, and soon
after recommended to the Board of Longitude the general
adoption in the navy of the lunar method of finding the
ASTRONOMY.
HJory. longitude, and proposed that tables for facilitating that
method should be calculated and published in the Nauti¬
cal Almanac. This recommendation was adopted, and
the Nautical Almanac continued to be published under
his superintendence during forty-eight successive years.
He also published a set of tables requisite to be used
with that long-celebrated ephemeris; and by these means
contributed to bring nautical astronomy to its present
state of precision. Dr Maskelyne was most assiduous in
the discharge of his important duties as astronomer royal.
On one occasion only did he consent to leave the observa¬
tory, viz. when at the request of the Royal Society he
proceeded to Scotland for the purpose of determining, by
experiments on Schehallien, the deflection of the plumb-
line occasioned by the attraction of the mountain. The
result of the observations made on this occasion furnished
data for the determination of the mean density of the
earth, which Dr Hutton, by a laborious process of calcu¬
lation, found to be about five times greater than that of
water. Dr Maskelyne had the credit to procure, at the
expense of the Royal Society, the regular publication of
his observations, by which he rendered a great service to
all the astronomers of Europe. The lunar method of de¬
termining the longitude, the Nautical Almanac, the cata¬
logue of 36 stars, and some improvements in the construc¬
tion of instruments, are the principal benefits for which
astronomy is indebted to Dr Maskelyne.
Hemel, Sir William Herschel, born in Hanover in 1738, has
borni738, rendered his name immortal by the discovery of a new
diedii22. pianet without the orbit of Saturn, and thereby doubling
the ancient boundaries of the solar system. Having set¬
tled in England, at Bath, he began to devote his leisure
to the construction of telescopes and the polishing of re¬
flecting mirrors. Endowed with equal skill and patience,
he soon obtained instruments superior to any that had
been known before, by means of which he was led to the
most brilliant discoveries that have been made in the hea¬
vens since the time of Galileo. Being employed in mak¬
ing a review of the sky with a powerful telescope, he per¬
ceived, on the 13th of March 1781, near the feet of Gemi¬
ni, a star of the fifth magnitude, having a disk perfectly
well defined, and differing in appearance from the other
stars which afforded the same quantity of light. On ob¬
serving it with a telescope whose magnifying power was
932, he perceived its diameter was enlarged, while that of
the stars underwent no change. These circumstances
were sufficient to draw his attention to the star, and no¬
thing more was requisite to enable him speedily to disco¬
ver that it had a slow motion. He at first supposed it
was a comet, and acquainted Dr Maskelyne with the disco¬
very. The circumstance was soon made known at Paris;
and it was gradually perceived, that as the distance of the
star did not sensibly vary, it was necessary to regard it
as a seventh planet. Herschel, in honour of his royal
patron, gave it the name of the Georgium Sidus ; but the
mythological appellation of Uranus has prevailed. On the
11th of January 1787 he discovered two satellites revolv¬
ing round the new planet, and subsequently found that it
was accompanied by four others. It was soon noticed
that Uranus had been observed by Flamsteed, Mayer, and
Lemonnier, who had each supposed it to be one of the
fixed stars. Their observations enabled Delambre to cor¬
rect the elements of the orbit, and calculate tables of its
motion. By means of his powerful telescopes Herschel
determined the figure and rotation of Saturn, discovered
the parallel belts on his surface, and perceived that the
ring was double. In 1789 he discovered two new satel¬
lites belonging to this planet, and revolving within the
ring. From some appearances indicated by the fixed stars,
747
Herschel was led to conclude that the whole solar system Historv.
is in motion about some distant centre, and that its direc-v-*~v-0‘
tion is at present towards the constellation Hercules, a
conclusion, however, which succeeding observations have
not verified. His observations on nebulae and double
stars have opened up a new field of research, boundless
in extent, and interesting by reason of the variety of the
objects it presents to the attention of the observer. The
extraordinary activity with which he pursued his favour¬
ite occupations is attested by 67 memoirs communicated
from time to time to the Royal Society. A great part of
these, however, is filled with speculations of no value to
astronomy; and his taste was rather to observe astrono¬
mical phenomena than to engage in computations, or the
more arduous and essential, though less fascinating, labours
through which the science can be really benefited. In
the course of the following chapters we shall have frequent
occasion to allude to his discoveries, and his ingenious
speculations concerning the constitution of the sun and
the sidereal heavens.
Few individuals have contributed so eminently to the Delambre,
perfection of modern astronomy as Delambre, the late b?rn 1740,
perpetual secretary of the Academy of Sciences. Thedied 1822-
scientific life of this illustrious astronomer did not com¬
mence till he had attained his 40th year; but from that
time till his death it was occupied by a series of unremit¬
ting labours to enlarge the boundaries, and ameliorate
the practice and theory of the science. Associated with
Mechain, he was employed during the troubles of the re¬
volution in measuring the meridian from Dunkirk to Bar¬
celona,—a labour which was prosecuted with admirable
zeal in the face of innumerable difficulties, and even dan¬
gers of the most formidable kind. By an immense num¬
ber of excellent observations he determined the constants
which enter into the formulae deduced from theory by the
profound researches of Lagrange and Laplace, and also
formed a set of tables much more exact than any that had
appeared before them. His Astronomic Theorique et Pra¬
tique, in three quarto volumes, contains the best rules and
methods which have yet been devised for the guidance of
the practical astronomer; and his Histoire, in six large vo¬
lumes 4to, gives an account of every successive improve¬
ment which has been made in the science, and a full ab¬
stract of every work of celebrity which has been written
respecting it, since the first rude observations of the Greeks
to the end of the last century. It is invaluable to the
historian, and will ever remain a proud monument of the
profound learning and laborious research of its author.
The observatory which was established at Palermo Piazzi,
about the year 1790, under the active superintendence of^?r? *746,
Piazzi, holds a distinguished rank among the similar insti- 16 182R'
tutions of Europe. Piazzi, born in 1746, took the habit
of the religious order of the Theatins at Milan, and finish¬
ed his noviciate in the convent of St Anthony. Among
his preceptors he had the advantage of counting Tira-
boschi, Beccaria, Le Sceur, and Jacquier; and from these
illustrious masters he speedily acquired a taste for mathe¬
matics and astronomy. After filling several professors’
chairs in the colleges of the Jesuits at Rome and Raven¬
na, he was appointed in 1780 professor of the higher ma¬
thematics in the academy of Palermo. Here his first care
was to reform the general system of education; and, by
the alterations which he introduced, he contributed power¬
fully to dissipate the shades of ignorance, which, under
the double influence of the Jesuits and the Inquisition,
still lowered over the soil of Sicily. After having render¬
ed this service to literature, he obtained from the prince
of Caramanico, viceroy of the island, permission to found
an observatory, and undertook a voyage to France and
748
ASTRONOMY.
History.
Discovery
of the pla¬
net Ceres.
Discovery
of Pallas,
Juno, and
Vesta.
England, in order to provide the instruments necessary
for the new establishment. Having procured a vertical
circle, a transit, and some other instruments from Rams-
den, he returned to Palermo and commenced his ob¬
servations. His first care was to prepare a new catalogue
of stars, the exact positions of which he justly considered
as the basis of all true astronomy. In prosecuting this ob¬
ject he did not content himself with a single observation,
but before he fixed the position of any star, observed it se¬
veral times successively; and, by this laborious but accu¬
rate method, he constructed his first great catalogue of
6748 stars, which was crowned by the Academy of Sciences
of France, and received with admiration by the astrono¬
mers of all countries. His constant practice of repeating
his observations led to another brilliant result, the discovery
of an eighth planet. On the 1st of January 1801, Piazzi,
searching for the star 87 of the catalogue of Mayer,
cursorily observed a small star of the eighth magnitude,
between Aries and Taurus. On the following day he re¬
marked that the star had changed its position, and ac¬
cordingly supposed it to be a comet. He communicated
his observations to Oriani, who, seeing that this luminous
point had no nebulosity like the comets, and that it had
been stationary and retrograded within comparatively
small limits like the planets, computed its elements on
the hypothesis of a circular orbit. He found that this
hypothesis agreed with the observations, and other astro¬
nomers soon confirmed its accuracy. He gave the planet
the name of Ceres Ferdinandea, in honour of Ferdinand,
king of Naples, in whose dominions it was discovered,
and who proposed to consecrate the event by a gold me¬
dal, struck with the effigy of the astronomer; but Piazzi,
nobly preferring the interests of science to vain honours
which could add nothing to his glory, requested that the
money destined for this purpose should be employed in
the purchase of an equatorial, which was still wanting to
his observatory. In 1814 he published a new catalogue,
extended to 7646 stars,—a splendid monument of indefati¬
gable zeal and activity. He made an uninterrupted se¬
ries of solstitial observations from 1791 to 1816, for the
purpose of determining the obliquity of the ecliptic, which,
compared with those of Bradley, Mayer, and Lacaille, in
1750, give a diminution of 44" in a year. Besides these
labours, sufficient to occupy a life of ordinary industry,
Piazzi composed a number of memoirs for the different
societies of which he was a member, and was intrusted by
the Neapolitan government with several important com¬
missions respecting the public instruction and the regula¬
tion of weights and measures in Sicily. He died in 1826,
after having bequeathed his library and all his instru¬
ments to the observatory at Palermo, and assigned a libe¬
ral annuity to be devoted to the instruction of young men
who evince a decided taste for astronomy.
The discovery of Ceres led to that of three other little
planets, circulating at nearly the same distance from the
sun,—a circumstance unique in the construction of the so¬
lar system. On account of the smallness of the new
planet, and the nebulosity by which it is surrounded,
the difficulty of finding it after it had for some time ceased
to be observed, was so considerable, that Dr Olbers of
Bremen was induced to examine, with particular care,
the configurations of all the small stars situated in the vi¬
cinity of its path, in order to have the means of detecting
it at any time with greater facility. While engaged in
making observations for this purpose, he discovered, on
the 28th of March 1802, and nearly in the same place
where he had before observed Ceres, another planet simi¬
lar in size and appearance, to which he gave the name of
Pallas. The extraordinary circumstance of the discovery
of two planets having nearly the same mean distance, and History
performing their revolutions nearly in the same time, led'^'v>j!
Dr Olbers to imagine that Ceres and Pallas were frag¬
ments of a larger planet which had revolved in the same
place, and been shattered by some external force or inter¬
nal convulsion. The immediate consequence of this hy¬
pothesis was the probability of the existence of other
fragments of the original planet, hitherto undiscovered;
and that if such fragments existed, the planes of their or¬
bits would pass through the points in which the orbits of
Ceres and Pallas intersect each other. This bold idea
acquired some probability from the subsequent discovery
of two other planets in the very quarter of the heavens to
which Dr Olbers had directed the attention of astrono¬
mers. Juno was discovered by M. Harding of Lilienthal,
on the 2d of September 1804; and Vesta, by Dr Olbers
himself, on the 29th of March 1807. Diligent observa¬
tion has not since added to their number.
Astronomy is a science which borrows the aid of several Improve-
other sciences, with which its advancement is simultane-me?tsm
ous. Instruments capable of appreciating or measuringopticalin-
the exceedingly minute quantities about which the oh- struments•
server now concerns himself, could only be produced
in a very advanced state of mechanics. In the accurate
graduation of large instruments, our English artists have
long maintained an unrivalled superiority. Graham, a Graham,
celebrated watch-maker, united to great dexterity in
the mechanical arts a decided taste for observation;
and the extraordinary improvements which he effect¬
ed in the art of dividing form an era in the history
of practical astronomy. The sector used by Bradley,
in the observations which led to the discovery of the
nutation, was of his construction, and he was also the
inventor of the first compensation pendulum. Sisson, Sisson,
who succeeded him, maintained in this department the
honour and pre-eminence of England. Bird was ori-Bird.
ginally a weaver in Durham, and first gave proof of his
mechanical genius by dividing dials for the watch-makers
in a manner far superior to what had been commonly prac¬
tised. He was employed by Sisson in the division of ma¬
thematical instruments, and recommended by that artist
to Graham, who instructed him in his methods. He con¬
structed the 8 feet quadrants employed in the Greenwich
and Paris observatories, and another of 6 feet for Mayer
at the observatory of Gottingen. Ramsden invented altamsden.
machine for the more accurate division of instruments,
on account of which he received a premium from the
Board of Longitude. The mural quadrants of this art¬
ist were held in high estimation, and the transit instru¬
ment, sextant, and refracting micrometer, in passing
through his hands, received considerable ameliorations.
His astronomical instruments in general were consider¬
ed the best that could be procured in Europe. Mr
Trough ton, who at present stands the foremost of ourTroughton
British opticians, has more than rivalled his predeces¬
sors. In the hands of this distinguished artist and astro¬
nomer, the division of instruments has been carried to a de¬
gree of precision and accuracy which probably will never be
surpassed; while the great improvements he has introduced
into the methods of constructing and mounting large instru¬
ments, and his ingenious inventions to elude natural obsta¬
cles, and guard against the accidental derangements from
which it is impossible altogether to protect them, entitle
him to the high place which he holds by universal con¬
sent among the most eminent philosophers and original
mechanicians of the age. The numerous circles and other
instruments of his manufacture, whether in the hands of
private individuals or deposited in the different public
observatories, are considered as the finest specimens of
Jtf'
d
la
*
ASTRONOMY.
bodie
Hi-ory. what art has yet accomplished for the advancement of
astronomical science.
Progress of Physical Astronomy.
Having now endeavoured to give an account of the
labours of those astronomers who have principally contri¬
buted to make us acquainted with the state of the heavens,
and the order and succession of the various phenomena
they exhibit, we will conclude this part of the article by
briefly adverting to the profound researches of some illus¬
trious mathematicians who have developed the theory of
Newton, and raised the fabric of physical astronomy to its
present proud elevation.
Prob-.n of Although the law of gravitation, as proposed by New-
tbeuee ton, had from the first been admitted by all the most
eminent astronomers of Britain, it was for a long time
either opposed or neglected on the Continent. In fact,
great improvements were required both in analysis and
mechanics before it admitted of other applications than
had been made by its great author, or could be regarded
as any thing more than a plausible hypothesis. Newton
demonstrated, that if two bodies only were projected in
space, mutually attracting each other with forces propor¬
tional directly to their masses, and inversely to the
squares of their distance, they would each accurately de¬
scribe an ellipse round the common centre of gravity;
and the spaces described by the straight line joining that
centre and the moving body, would be proportional to
the time of description, according to the second law of
Kepler. But when it is attempted to apply Newton’s law
to the case of the solar system, great difficulties immediate¬
ly present themselves. Any one planet in the system is
not only attracted by the sun, but also, though in a greatly
smaller degree, by all the other planets, in consequence
of which it is compelled to deviate from the elliptic path
which it would pursue in virtue of the sun’s attraction
alone. Now, the calculation of the effects of this disturb¬
ing force was the problem which geometers had to resolve.
In its most general form it greatly transcends the power of
analysis; but there are particular cases of it, and those too
the cases presented by nature, in which,by reason of certain
limitations in the conditions, it is possible to obtain an ap¬
proximate solution to any required degree of exactness.
For example, the Sun, Moon, and Earth form in a manner
a system by themselves, which is very slightly affected by
the aggregate attractions of the other planets. In the
same way the Sun, Jupiter, and Saturn form another sys¬
tem, in which the motions are very little influenced by the
action of any other body. In these two cases, then, the
number of bodies to be taken into consideration is only
three; and in this restricted form, the problem, celebrat¬
ed in the history of analysis under the denomination of
the Problem of the Three Bodies, is susceptible of being
treated mathematically. With the hope of ameliorating
the lunar tables, and of completing the investigations
which Newton had commenced in the Principia, three
distinguished geometers, Clairaut, D’Alembert, and Euler,
about the middle of the last century, undertook, simul¬
taneously, and without the knowledge of each other, the
investigation of the problem of the three bodies, and
commenced that series of brilliant discoveries which it is
the glory of our own times to have seen completed.
Clairaut’s solution of the problem of the three bodies
thod, but also the
749
, . evcc^lon’ the annual equation, and History,
many other inequalities which Newton had not succeeded
m connecting with his theory. It happened, however,
curiously enough, that in the calculation of one effect of
the disturbing force, namely, the progression of the
moon’s apogee, Clairaut was led into an error which pro¬
duced a result that threatened to overturn the system of
gravitation. The error consisted in the omission of some
of the terms of the series expressing the quantity in ques¬
tion, which he wrongly supposed to have only an insen¬
sible value; and by reason of this omission, his first ap¬
proximation gave only half of the observed progressive
motion of the apogee. As this result was confirmed by
D’Alembert and Euler, who had both fallen into the same
error, it seemed to follow, as a necessary consequence,
either that the phenomenon depended on some other
cause than the disturbing force of the sun, or that the law
of gravity was not exactly proportional to the inverse
square of the distance. The triumph which this result
gave to the Cartesians was not of long duration. Clairaut
soon perceived the cause of his error; and by repeating
the process, and carrying the approximations farther, he
found the computed to agree exactly with the observed
progression,—a result which had the effect of dissipating
for ever all doubt respecting the law of gravity. The re¬
searches of Clairaut were followed by a set of lunar tables,
much more correct than any which had been previously
computed.
The return of the comet of 1682, which Halley had
predicted for the end of 1758, or beginning of 1759, af¬
forded an excellent opportunity for putting to the test
both the theory of gravity and the power of the new cal¬
culus. Clairaut applied his solution of the problem of
the three bodies to the perturbations which this comet
sustained from Jupiter and Saturn, and, after calculations
of enormous labour, announced to the Academy of Sci¬
ences, in November 1758, that the comet would return in
the beginning of the following year, and pass through its
perihelion about the 15th of April. It returned according
to the prediction, but passed its perihelion on the 13th of
March. The correction of an error of computation re¬
duced the difference to nineteen days; and if Clairaut
had been aware of the existence of the planet Uranus,
he might have come still nearer the truth.
Besides these important researches on the system of the
world, Clairaut composed an admirable little treatise on
the figure of the earth, in which he gave the differential
equations, till then unknown, of the equilibrium of fluids,
whether homogeneous or heterogeneous, supposing an at¬
tractive force, following any law whatever, to exist among
the molecules. He applied these equations to the earth;
demonstrated that the elliptic figure satisfies the conditions
of equilibrium; assigned the ellipticityof the different strata
of which the earth may be supposed to be formed, toge¬
ther with the law of gravitation at the exterior surface.
He likewise discovered the important theorem which
establishes a relation between the oblateness of the ter¬
restrial spheroid and the increase of gravitation towards
the poles, on every supposition which can be imagined
relative to the interior construction of the earth. By
means of this theorem the ellipticity of the spheroid is
deduced from observations of the lengths of the seconds'
pendulum at different points of the earth’s surface.
. -TV, wutuauLs suiuuun ui me piuuiem m uic mice uumco D’Alembert, as has already been mentioned, presentedD’Alem-
^ was presented to the Academy of Sciences in 1747, and a solution of the problem of the three bodies to the Aca-^f orn
1 * was applied to the case of the moon. From this solution demy of Sciences at the same time with Clairaut. In the lie<
he deduced with great facility, not only the inequality of year 1749 he published his treatise on the precession of
the variation, which Newton had obtained by a more com- the equinoxes,—a work remarkable in the history of ana-
plicated, though at the same time a very ingenious me- lysis and mechanics. By means of his newly invented
Claira
750 ASTRONOMY.
History, calculus of Partial Differences, and the discovery of a
fertile principle in dynamics, he determined from theory
the rate of the precession, which is nearly 50" in a year.
He also determined the nutation of the earth’s axis, which
had been discovered by Bradley, and assigned the ratio of
the axes of the small ellipse which the true pole of the earth
describes around its mean place, in the same time in which
the nodes of the lunar orbit complete a revolution. The
solution of .this problem led to the determination of the
ratio of the attractive forces of the sun and moon, which
D’Alembert found to be that of seven to three very near¬
ly; whence he inferred that the mass of the earth is 70
times greater than that of the moon. He proved likewise
that the precession and nutation are the same in every
hypothesis concerning the interior constitution of the
earth. In 1754 he published the first two volumes of his
Researches on the System of the World. In this work he
applied the formulae by which he had calculated the mo¬
tions of the moon to the motions of the planets disturbed
by their mutual attraction, and pointed out the simplest
method of determining the perturbations of the motions,
of a planet occasioned by the action of its own satellites.
D’Alembert also treated the subject of the figure of the
earth in a much more general manner than had been
done by Clairaut, who had confined his investigations to
the case of a spheroid of revolution. He determined the
attraction of a spheroid of small eccentricity, whose sur¬
face can be represented by an algebraic equation of any
order whatever, and even supposing the spheroid to be
composed of strata of different densities.
The works of D’Alembert, which are extremely nume¬
rous, abound generally in profound and original views,
and contributed greatly to the advancement of the phy¬
sical and mathematical sciences ; but it is to be regretted
that they are very frequently deficient in that perspicuity
and order so necessary in abstruse speculations, and that
the course of his reasoning can be followed with difficul¬
ty when he descends into the detail of analytical opera¬
tions. He had a horror of calculation, and delighted in
general considerations and speculations which frequently
turned on matters of pure curiosity.
Euler, The first memoir of Euler on the planetary perturba-
born 1707, tions was transmitted to the secretary of the Academy of
died 1783. Sciences in July 1747, some months before Clairaut and
D’Alembert had communicated their solutions of the pro¬
blem of the three bodies, and it carried off the prize which
the academy had proposed for the analytical theory of
the motions of Jupiter and Saturn. In this memoir Eu¬
ler gave the differential equations of the elements of the
disturbed planet, but suppressed the analysis by which he
had been conducted to them. This analysis, however, he
subsequently expanded in two memoirs, the first of which
appeared in the Berlin Memoirs in 1749, and the second
in those of Petersburg in 1750. Of these supplementary
memoirs the first is remarkable on several accounts. It
contains the first example of a method which has been
fruitful of important consequences—namely, that of the
variation of the arbitrary constants in differential equa¬
tions, and the development of the radical quantity
which expresses the distance between two planets in a
series of angles, multiples of the elongations. The
expressions which he gave for the several terms of this
series were simple and elegant; and he demonstrated
a curious relation subsisting among any three consecu¬
tive terms, by means of which all the terms of the series
may be calculated from the first two. He was thus
enabled to develop the perturbing forces in terms of the
sines and cosines of angles increasing with the time, and
thereby to surmount a very great analytical difficulty. Not¬
withstanding, however, the great merit of Euler’s memoir, Hist i
several of the formulae expressing the secular and periodic
inequalities were found to be inaccurate; and in order to
procure a correction of these errors, and give greater per¬
fection to so important a theory, the academy again pro¬
posed the same subject for the prize of 1752. This prize
was also carried off by Euler. In the memoir which he
presented on this occasion, he considered simultaneously
the motions of Jupiter and Saturn, and determined, in the
first instance, the amount of their various inequalities, inde¬
pendently of the consideration of the eccentricities of
their orbits. Pushing the approximations farther, and
having regard to the inequalities depending on the eccen¬
tricities, he arrived at a most important result relative
to the periodic nature of the inequalities occasioned by
the mutual perturbations of the planets; which laid the
foundation of the subsequent discovery by Lagrange and
Laplace of the permanent stability of the planetary sys¬
tem. He demonstrated that the eccentricities and places
of the aphelia of Jupiter and Saturn are subject to con¬
stant variation, confined, however, within certain fixed
limits, which it never exceeds; and he computed that
the elements of the orbits of the two planets recover
their original values after a lapse of about 30,000 years.
In the year 1756 the Academy of Sciences crowned a third
memoir of Euler on the same subject as the two former,
namely, the inequalities of the motions of the planets pro¬
duced by their reciprocal attractions. This memoir, ana¬
lytically considered, is also of great value. The method
which he followed and illustrated has since been general¬
ly adopted in researches of the same nature, and consists
in regarding as variable, in consequence of the disturbing
forces, the six elements of the elliptic motion, viz. ls£, the
greater axis of the orbit, which, by the law of Kepler*
gives the ratio of the differential of the mean longitude to
the element of the time ; 2c?, the epoch of this longitude;
3c?, the eccentricity of the orbit; 4*A, the motion of the
aphelion ; 5th, the inclination of the orbit to a given fixed
plane ; and, 0th, the longitude of the node. By consider¬
ing separately the variations introduced into each of these
elements by the disturbing forces, Euler obtained some
important results; but even in this memoir his theory was
not rendered complete. He did not consider the varia¬
tion of the epoch ; and the expression which he gave for
the motion of the aphelion did not include that part of it
which depends on the ratio of the eccentricities of the
orbits of the disturbed and disturbing planet. Besides,
the present memoir, like the two former, contained seve¬
ral errors of computation, which, by leading to results
known to be wrong, probably prevented the author him¬
self from being aware of the full value of the ingenious
methods of procedure which he had exposed. Euler con¬
cluded this important memoir by making an extended ap¬
plication of his formulae to the orbit of the earth as dis¬
turbed by the action of the planets. From some probable
suppositions, first employed by Newton, relative to the
ratios of the masses of the planets to that of the sun, he
determined the variation of the obliquity of the ecliptic
at 48" in a century,—a result which agrees well with obser¬
vation. By this determination the secular variation of the
obliquity of the ecliptic, which had been regarded by
Lahire, Lemonnier, D’Alembert, and other eminent as¬
tronomers, as uncertain, was placed beyond doubt. The
three memoirs which we have mentioned contain the
principal part of Euler’s labours on the perturbations;
but physical astronomy is indebted to him for many other
researches. He gave a solution of the problem of the
precession of the equinoxes, and made several important
steps in the lunar theory, with which he seems to have
ASTRONOMY.
Hilary, occupied himself before he undertook the mvestigation of explained and made use of. Lagrano-e had the honour of u
carrying off the prize; but although he treated the sub-
751
the planetary perturbations. In the year 1772, when entire¬
ly blind, he directed his son, Albert Euler, and two illus¬
trious pupils, Krafft and Lexell, in the composition of a
work of enormous labour on the same subject, which was
undertaken with a view to discover the cause of the moon’s
acceleration. This work was concluded with a set of
lunar tables deduced entirely from theory; but they were
found to be far inferior to those of Mayer, and in some
respects hardly equal to those of Clairaut.
May’s
luna .a-
bles..
ject in a manner altogether new, and with extraordinary
analytical skill, he did not on this occasion arrive at a com¬
plete solution of the problem. In 1766 he obtained an¬
other prize for a theory of Jupiter’s satellites. In the ad¬
mirable memoir which Lagrange presented to the aca¬
demy on this subject, he included in the differential equa¬
tions of the disturbed motion of a satellite, the attract¬
ing force of the sun, as well as of all the other satellites,
I he labours of Euler forrn an epoch m the history of and thus, in fact, had to consider a problem of six bodies,
the mathema ical sciences. From the arithmetic of sines, His analysis of this problem is remarkable, inasmuch as
and the simplest formula of trigonometry up to the vana- contained the first general method which was given for de-
tion of the arbitrary constants of differential equations, termining the variations which the mutual attractions of the
there is hardly an analytical theory which has not receiv- satellites produce in the forms and positions of their orbits
ed extension or improvement from the creative powers of and pointed out the route which has since been so success¬
es grfat miAnd- r.he transactions of the Berlin and fully followed in the treatment of similar questions.
Petersburg Academies are filled with his inestimable Of all the grand discoveries by which the name of La-Discovery
productions ; and if fecundity were not itself one of the grange has been immortalized, the most remarkable igoftheinva-
attributes of genius, the number of the profound and la- that of the invariability of the mean distances of the nla riabihty of
borious researches in which he was engaged would appear, nets from the sun. We have already mentioned that11?6 mean
Euler had perceived that the inequalities of Jupiter and^8^68*
altogether incredible.
The first theory of Euler formed the basis of the excel¬
lent lunar tables which were calculated by Tobias Mayer,
and first published in the Memoirs of the Academy of
Gottingen in 1753. Mayer was a skilful astronomer, and
determined the co-efficients of the arguments of the dif¬
ferent lunar inequalities from his own observations. He
continued to correct and improve his tables till the time
of his death, which happened in 1762, when a copy of
them, containing his last corrections, was presented by his
widow to the Board of Longitude in London. Bradley as¬
certained their accuracy by comparing them with a great
number of his own observations, and made so favourable
a report concerning them, that the Board of Longitude
presented the widow of Mayer with a gratuity of L.30.00.
They were printed along with the author’s lunar theory
in 1765. Subsequently, the Board of Longitude directed
Mason, who had been assistant to Bradley, to revise them,
under the superintendence of Dr Maskelyne. Mason
compared them with about 1200 of Bradley’s observations ;
he corrected the co-efficients of Mayer, and introduced
some new equations which had been indicated by that
astronomer, but which he had considered as too uncertain,
or of too small a value, to render it necessary to load his
tables with them. Mayer’s tables, thus corrected, were
published in 1784, and for a long time continued to be
the most accurate that had appeared.
The solution of the problem of the three bodies by
Clairaut, D’Alembert, and Euler, gave rise to many other
important works relative to the theory of the moon, into
the merits of which, however, our limits will not permit
us to enter. Thomas Simpson, Walmesley, Frisi, Lam¬
bert, Schulze, and Matthew Stewart, treated the subject
with more or less success; but the complete explication
of the theory of the lunar and planetary perturbations was
reserved for two mathematicians, whose discoveries per¬
fected the theory of gravitation, and explained the last
inequalities which remained to be accounted for in the
celestial motions,—we mean Lagrange and Laplace.
In the year 1764, the Academy of Sciences of Paris,
Jj0™ which had so successfully promoted the great efforts that
11 13, had already been made to perfect the theory of attrac¬
tion, proposed for the subject of a prize the theory of the
libration of the moon. This was considered as an appeal
to the genius of Lagrange, whose splendid talents had
suddenly shone forth in two profound papers on the theory
of sound, inserted among the Memoirs of the Turin Aca¬
demy, and in which the calculus of variations was first
Saturn, in consequence of their mutual actions, are ulti¬
mately compensated, though after a very long period.
In prosecuting this subject, which Euler had left imper¬
fect, Laplace had discovered that, on neglecting the
fourth powers in the expressions of the eccentricities and
inclinations of the orbits, and the squares of the disturb¬
ing masses, the mean motions of the planets, and their
mean distances from the sun, are invariable. In a short
memoir of 14 pages, which appeared among those of the
Berlin Academy for 1776, Lagrange demonstrated gene¬
rally, and by a very simple and luminous analysis, that
whatever powers of the eccentricities and inclinations are
included in the calculation of the perturbations, no secu¬
lar inequality, or term proportional to the time, can pos¬
sibly enter into the expression of the greater axis of the
orbit, or, consequently, into the mean motion connected
with it by the third law of Kepler. From this conclu¬
sion, which is a necessary consequence of the peculiar
conditions of the planetary system, it results that all the
changes to which the orbits of the planets are subject in
consequence of their reciprocal gravitation, are periodic,
and that the system contains within itself no principle of
destruction, but is calculated to endure for ever.
In 1780 Lagrange undertook a second time the subject
of the moon’s libration; and it is to the memoir which he
now presented to the Berlin Academy that we must look
for the complete and rigorous solution of this difficult pro¬
blem, which had not been resolved before in a satisfactory
manner, either on the footing of analysis or observation.
In the same year he obtained the prize of the Academy
of Sciences on the subject of the perturbations of comets.
In 1781 he published, in the Berlin Memoirs, the first of
a series of five papers on the secular and periodic inequa¬
lities of the planets, which together formed by far the
most important work that had yet appeared on Physical
Astronomy since the publication of the Prineipia. This
series did not, properly speaking, contain any new disco¬
very ; but it embodied and brought into one view all the
results and peculiar analytical methods which had ap¬
peared in his former memoirs, and contained the germs
of all the happy ideas which he afterwards developed in
the Mecanique Analytique.
On account of the brilliant discoveries and important
labours which we have thus briefly noticed, Lagrange
must be considered as one of the most successful of those
illustrious individuals who have undertaken to perfect the
theory of Newton, and pursue the principle of gravi-
752
ASTRONOMY.
History.
Laplace,
bom 1749,
died 1827.
Discovers
the cause
of the
moon’s ac¬
celeration.
Inequali¬
ties of Ju¬
piter and
Saturn.
tation to its remotest consequences. But the value of
his services to science are not limited to his discoveries
in physical astronomy, great and numerous as they were.
After Euler, he has contributed more than any other in¬
dividual to increase the power and extend the applica¬
tions of the calculus, and thereby to arm future inquirers
with an instrument of greater power, by means of which
they may push their conquests into new and unexplored
fields of discovery.
With the name of Lagrange is associated that of La¬
place, whose rival labours divided the admiration of the
scientific world during half a century. Like Newton and
Lagrange, Laplace raised himself at an early age to the
very highest rank in science. Before completing his
24th year, he had signalized himself by the capital dis¬
covery of the invariability of the mean distances of the
planets from the sun, on an hypothesis restricted, indeed,
but which, as we have already mentioned, was afterwards
generalized by Lagrange. About the same time he was
admitted into the Academy of Sciences, and thencefor¬
ward devoted himself to the development of the laws
which regulate the system of the world, and to the com¬
position of a series of memoirs on the most important
subjects connected with astronomy and analysis. Elis
researches embraced the whole theory of gravitation; and
he had the high honour of perfecting what had been left
incomplete by his predecessors.
Among the numerous inequalities which affect the mo¬
tion of the moon, one still remained which no philosopher
as yet had been able to explain. This was the accelera¬
tion of the mean lunar motion, which had been first sus¬
pected by Dr Halley, from a comparison of the ancient
Babylonian observations, recorded by Hipparchus, with
those of Albategnius and the moderns. The existence of
the acceleration had been confirmed by Dunthorne and
Mayer, and its quantity assigned at 10" in a century, but
the cause of it remained doubtful. Lagrange demonstrat¬
ed that it could not be occasioned by any peculiarity in
the form of the earth ; Bossut ascribed it to the resistance
of the medium in which he supposed the moon to move;
and Laplace himself at first explained it on the supposi¬
tion that gravity is not transmitted from one body to an¬
other instantaneously, but successively in the manner of
sound or light. Having afterwards remarked, however,
in the course of his researches on Jupiter’s satellites, that
the secular variation of the eccentricity of the orbit of
Jupiter occasions a secular variation of the mean motions
of the satellites, he hastened to transfer this result to the
moon, and had the satisfaction to find that the accelera¬
tion observed by astronomers is occasioned by the secu¬
lar variation of the eccentricity of the terrestrial orbit.
This was the last celestial phenomenon which remained to
be accounted for on the principle of gravitation.
Another discovery relative to the constitution of the
planetary system, which does infinite honour to the saga¬
city of Laplace, is the cause of the secular inequalities
indicated by ancient and modern observations in the mean
motions of Jupiter and Saturn. On examining the differ¬
ential equations of the motions of these planets, Laplace
remarked, that as their mean motions are nearly commen¬
surable (five times the mean motion of Saturn being
nearly equal to twice that of Jupiter), those terms of
which the arguments are five times the mean longitude of
Saturn, minus twice that of Jupiter, may become very
sensible by integration, although multiplied by the cubes
and products of three dimensions of the eccentricities and
inclinations of the orbits. The result of a laborious cal¬
culation confirmed his conjecture, and showed him that in
the mean motion of Saturn there existed a great inequa¬
lity, amounting at its maximum to 48' 2"-3, and of which History
the period is 929 years ; and that in the case of Jupiter
there exists a corresponding inequality of nearly the same
period, of which the maximum value is 19' 46", but which
is affected by a contrary sign, that is to say, diminishes
while the first increases, and vice versa. He also per¬
ceived that the magnitude of the co-efficients of these in¬
equalities, and the duration of their periods, are not always
the same, but participate in the secular variations of the
elements of the orbits.
The theory of the figures of the planets, scarcely less Figure of
interesting than that of their motions, was also greatly ad-d*e earth,
vanced by the researches of Laplace. He confirmed the
results of Clairaut, Maclaurin, and D’Alembert, relative to
the figure of the earth, and treated the question in a much
more general way than had been done by those three
great mathematicians. From two lunar inequalities de¬
pending on the non-sphericity of the earth, he determined
the ellipticity of the meridian to be very nearly.
Newton, in the Principia, explained the cause of the Tides,
phenomena of the tides, and laid the foundations of a
theory which was prosecuted and extended by Daniel
Bernoulli, Maclaurin, Euler, and D’Alembert; but as no
one of these geometers had taken into account the effects
of the rotatory motion of the earth, the subject was in a
great measure new when it was taken up by Laplace in
1774. Aided by D’Alembert’s recent discovery of the cal¬
culus of Partial Differences, and by an improved theory
of hydrodynamics, he succeeded in obtaining the differ¬
ential equations of the motion of the fluids which surround
the earth, having regard to all the forces by which these
motions are produced or modified, and published them in
the Memoirs of the'Academy in 1775. By a careful exami¬
nation of these equations, he was led to the curious re¬
mark, that the differences between the heights of two con¬
secutive tides about the time of the solstices, as indicated
by Newton’s theory, are not owing, as Newton and his suc¬
cessors had supposed, to the inertia of the waters of the
ocean, but depend on a totally different cause, namely,
the law of the depth of the sea, and that it would disap¬
pear entirely if the sea were of a uniform and constant
depth. He also arrived at the important conclusion, that
the fluidity of the sea has no influence on the motions of
the terrestrial axis, which are exactly the same as they
would be if the sea formed a solid mass with the earth.
The same analysis conducted him to the knowledge of
the conditions necessary to insure the permanent equili¬
brium of the waters of the ocean. He found that if the
mean density of the earth exceeds that of the sea, the
fluid, deranged by any causes whatever from its state of
equilibrium, will never depart from that state but by very
small quantities. It follows from this, that, since the mean
density of the earth is known to be about five times greater
than that of the sea, the great changes which have taken
place in the relative situation of the waters and dry land
must be referred to other causes than the instability of
the equilibrium of the ocean.
Closely connected with the problem of the tides is that Precessioi
of the precession of the equinoxes, which also received^
similar improvements in passing through the hands of q
Laplace. He demonstrated, as has just been mentioned,
that the fluidity of the sea has no influence on the pheno¬
mena of precession and nutation. He considered some of
the effects of the oblate figure of the earth which had not
been attended to by D’Alembert, and showed that the
annual variation of the precession causes a corresponding
variation in the length of the tropical year, which at pre¬
sent is about 9 or 10 seconds shorter than it was in the
time of Hipparchus. He proved that the secular inequa-
ASTRONOMY.
Hiory
Jupii-’s
sallies.
Hties of the motions of the earth and moon have no sen¬
sible effect in displacing the axis of the earth’s rotation ;
and he determined the nutation of the lunar orbit corre¬
sponding to the nutation of the terrestrial equator.
Physical astronomy is also indebted to Laplace for a
complete theory of the system of Jupiter’s satellites, from
which Delambre constructed a set of tables which repre¬
sent the motions of these bodies with all desirable accu¬
racy. And when to these numerous and most important
researches we add the mathematical theories of molecular
attraction, and the propagation of sound, together with
many great improvements in analysis,—and reflect, besides,
that he is the author of the Mecanique Celeste, the Systeme
du Monde, and the Theorie des Probabilites,—we shall not
hesitate to rank him next to Newton among the greatest
benefactors of the mathematical and physical sciences.
By the brilliant discoveries of Laplace, the analytical
solution of the great problem of physical astronomy was
completed. The principle of gravity, which had been dis¬
covered by Newton to confine the moon and the planets to
their respective orbits, was shown to occasion every ap¬
parent irregularity, however minute, in the motions of the
planets and satellites ; and those very irregularities which
were at first brought forward as objections to the hypo¬
thesis have been ultimately found to afford the most
triumphant proofs of its accuracy, and have placed the
truth of the Newtonian law beyond the reach of all future
cavil. Such is the state to which analysis has now at¬
tained, that the geometer embraces in his formulae every
circumstance which affects the motions or positions of the
different bodies of the planetary system; and the condi¬
tions of that system being made known to him at any given
instant of time, he can determine its conditions at any
other instant in the past or future duration of the world.
He ascends to remote ages to compare the results of his
theories with the most ancient observations; he passes on
to ages yet to come, and predicts changes which the lapse
of centuries will hardly be sufficient to render sensible to
the observer. But notwithstanding the proud elevation to
which the theory of astronomy has been raised, it is still
far from having reached the limit beyond which further
refinement becomes superfluous. The masses of the
planets, and some other elements, remain to be deter¬
mined with still greater precision, by a diligent compa¬
rison of the analytical formulae with good observations;
and the labours of the geometer may still be beneficially
employed in giving greater simplicity to the calculus,
or in extending its power over subjects which have
hitherto eluded its grasp. The recent discovery of two
periodic comets completing their revolutions in compara¬
tively short intervals of time, opens up an interesting field
for speculation and research, and will doubtless be the
means of throwing light over some curious, and as yet
very obscure, points, respecting the appearances, motions,
and physical constitution of those strange bodies.
In the other departments of the science, also, numerous
questions still remain to be discussed, the solution of which
will occupy and reward the future labours of the astrono¬
mer. The curious phenomena of double and multiple
stars, some of which appear to form connected systems of
bodies revolving about one another, or a common centre
of motion,'—the variable stars,—the proper motions of the
stars,—the translation of the solar system in space,—the
progressive condensation of nebulae,—are subjects still in a
great measure new; for it is only of late years that ob¬
servers have begun to direct the requisite attention to¬
wards them, or indeed have been in possession of instru¬
ments of sufficient power and delicacy to observe and
measure the minute changes which take place beyond the
VOL. in.
boundaries of our own system. The observations of some
living astronomers, particularly of Mr Herschel and Mr«
oouth, have made known some important facts reeardimr
the nebulae and double-stars, and laid the foundations of
interesting discoveries to be realized by their successors
in future ages of the world.
Among the events auspicious to the future progress of
astronomy in our own country, we cannot forbear to re¬
gard the establishment of the Astronomical Society of
London, an association which, though it dates only from
1820, includes in its list of Members the names of the
greater part of the most distinguished cultivators of the
science in Europe. The society has already given the best
proofs of its energy and usefulness, by the publication of
a catalogue of the reduced places of 2881 of the princi¬
pal stars visible above our horizon, and four splendid vo¬
lumes of Memoirs, replete with information and remarks of
the most useful kind to the observer. The number of
public observatories recently established, or at present in
a state of progress, in various parts of the country and its
colonies, also holds out a cheering prospect to the friends
of astronomical discovery. Nor if we turn our eyes abroad
shall we perceive less reason for congratulation. The
same zeal for extension and refinement is manifested in
every country of Europe; and while some of the states,
among which Prussia and Denmark deserve to be honour¬
ably mentioned, are gaining themselves glory by the en¬
couragement they hold out to the cultivation of this de¬
partment of science, the exertions of individual observers
appear to increase in proportion as the field is narrowed
by their success. Armed with instruments to which for¬
mer times had nothing to compare, the astronomer of
the present day not only anticipates a more perfect know¬
ledge than he yet possesses of the nature and number of
the bodies belonging to the solar system, but aspires to
set at rest the disputed question of parallax, to determine
the proper motions of the stars, and trace the effects of
gravity in the remotest regions of the universe.
Such are the present prospects of astronomy. The mind
delights to contemplate unlimited advancement in a walk in
which its efforts have been so signally triumphant; yet in
consequence of what has already been done, the future
progress of the science must necessarily be slow; and it
must be acknowledged that greater precision than has al¬
ready been attained is unnecessary to navigation or geo¬
graphy, or any practical application of which astronomy
admits. The future results of observation may add to the
stock of speculative knowledge, but can only be remotely
useful to mankind.
753
History.
The following works may be consulted on the history ofWorks on
astronomy:—Riccioli, AlmagestumNovum, Bononiae, 1653, thy history
2 vols. folio ; Sherburn’s Translation of the Astronomicon of ^ astron°-
Manilius, London, 1675 ; Ne\d\ex, Programma de Veteris et™^’
NoveeAstronomiesDiscrimine,yCittembergze, 1720; Souciet,
Observations Mathematiques, Astronomiques, &c. 1729,
2 vols. 4to. The second volume of this work, by Gaubil,
contains a history of the Chinese Astronomy, with Dis¬
sertations. Weidler, Historia Astronomies, Wittemb. 1741;
Idem, Commentatio de Mechanica Astronomica Medii JEvi,
1742; Long’s Astronomy, London, 1742; Costard’s Let¬
ter to Martin Folkes concerning the Rise and Progress of
Astronomy among the Ancients, London, 1746 ; Foulques’
History of Astronomy, London, 1746 ; Heathcote, His¬
toria Astronomies, Cantab. 1747, 8vo; Esteve, Histoire
Generate et Particidiere de TAstremomie, Paris, 1755,
3 vols. 12mo; Goguet, Origine des Lois, des Arts, et
des Sciences, various editions ; Jablonow, De Astronomies
Ortu ac Progressu, &c. Romse, 1763, 4to; Bailly, His-
5 c
ASTRONOMY
754
Theoretical toire de VAstronomie Ancienne et Moderns, 1775, 1779,
Astronomy. 1782, 4 vols. 4to. This work has been published without
the notes and calculations, in 2 vols. 8vo, Paris, 1805.
Gentil, Sur lAstronomie des Indiens, Hist. Acad., Paris,
1772; Gaubil, Histoire de VAstr. Chinoise, in the Lettres
Edifiantes et Curieuses, tom. xxvi.; Bailly, Traite de l Astr.
Indienne, Paris, 1787, 4to; Playfair’s Remarks on the
Astronomy of the Brahmins, in the Edinburgh Transac¬
tions, republished in the 3d volume of his Works ; Asia¬
tic Researches, vols. ii. vi. viii.; Adam Smith’s Fragment
on the History of Astronomy ; Lalande, Astronomic, Paris,
1792, 3 vols. 4to; Idem, Bibliographie Astronomique, avec
VHistoire de VAstronomic depuis 1781 jusques d 1802;
Vince’s Astronomy, vol. ii. Cambridge, 1799; Kaestner,
Geschichte der Mathematik, Gottingen, 1796 ; Schaubach,
Geschichie der Griechischen Astronomic bis auf Era¬
tosthenes, Gottingen, 1802, 8vo ; Montucla, Histoire des Theoretical 1
Mathematiques, Paris, an 7, an 10 (1802), 2d edit. Astronomy, 1
4 vols. 4to; Laplace, Exposition du Systems du Monde
and Pond’s Translation of the same work; Small’s His¬
tory of the Discoveries of Kepler, 1803; Bossut, Histoire
Generals des Mathematiques, Paris, 1810, 2 vols. 8vo;
Voiron, Histoirede lAstronomic depuis 1781 jusquesd 1811,
Paris, 1811, 8vo, a continuation of Bailly; Delambre,
Histoire deVAstronomic Ancienne, Paris, 1817, 2 vols. 4to;
Idem, Histoire de VAstronomie du Moyen Age, 1819, 4to;
Idem, Histoire de VAstronomie Modems, 1821, 2 vols. 4to;
Idem, Histoire de VAstronomie du xviii. Siecle, 1827, 4to.
These six volumes of Delambre’s Histoire contain copious
extracts of all the principal works which have been pub¬
lished on the subject of astronomy, interspersed with much
enlightened criticism.
PART IT.
THEORETICAL ASTRONOMY.
CHAP. I.
GENERAL PHENOMENA OF THE HEAVENS.
Sect. I.— Of the Celestial Sphere.
When a spectator on a clear evening directs his atten¬
tion to the sky, he perceives a concave hemisphere stud¬
ded with innumerable brilliant points, all which appear to
move in parallel directions, constantly preserving the
same distances and relative positions. New groups of
stars incessantly follow one another, rising in the east,
mounting to a certain height, and then gradually sinking
till they disappear in the west. On turning his face to¬
wards the north he observes some groups of stars which
remain visible during the whole night; wheeling round a
certain fixed point, and describing circles of greater or
less magnitude, according as they are at a greater or less
distance from that point. The same phenomena are ob¬
served every successive night; and as the stars present
always the same configurations, and succeed each other
in the same order, the mind is irresistibly led to the hy¬
pothesis of the diurnal revolution of the whole heavens
about a fixed axis. This hypothesis implies that the stars
move in parallel planes, and that their mutual distances
remain invariable. In order, however, to be assured that
such is the case, it is necessary to have recourse to more
accurate observations, and to refer their successive posi¬
tions to something that is fixed,—to certain points or
planes which do not participate in the general motion.
Horizon. What is most obviously adapted for this purpose is the
Horizon, or the plane which appears extended all round
us, and bounded by a circle of which the eye of the spec¬
tator occupies the centre. Let the circle SENW (fig.
Plate 1) represent the horizon, C being the centre or place of
LXXIX. the observer. Suppose now that a star is observed to rise
Eig-l. at a certain point of the horizon A, and, after tracing its
circuit in the sky, to set at the point A'; suppose, also,
that another star rises at B, and sets at B'; then, if the
distances AB, A'B' are measured by means of some an¬
gular instrument, it will be found that AB is equal to A'B',
and that this is the case with regard to any two stars
whatever. Since therefore the arcs AB and A'B' are
equal, it follows that the chords A A', B B', joining their
extremities, are parallel; whence we infer, that if two
stars rise successively at the same point of the horizon A,
they will also set at the same point A', a circumstance
which is of itself strikingly indicative of the uniformity
of the motion of the celestial bodies.
Through C let a perpendicular be drawn to the chord Cardinal
A A', meeting the boundary of the horizon in S and N. points.
These two points are the South and North points of the
horizon ; and another straight line drawn through C, pa¬
rallel to A A', will meet the horizon in E and W, the East
and West points. The four together, namely, S, E, N, W,
are called the four Cardinal points of the horizon. The
horizontal circle is itself denominated the Azimuth Cir-Azimuth,
cle. Azimuth distances are measured from the North
and South points, so that S A is the azimuth distance of a
star’s rising at A, and S A' is that of its setting at A'. The
complement of the azimuth, or its defect from a right an¬
gle, is called the Amplitude, which is consequently mea-Ampli-
sured from the East and West points; thus the arc EAtude.
is the amplitude of a star’s rising at A, or its ortive am¬
plitude, and WA' is that of its setting, or its occasive am¬
plitude.
Conceive a straight line to pass through C, perpendi¬
cular to the horizon. This line, which is called the Ver¬
tical, will meet the visible hemisphere in a point directly
above the observer, which is denominated the Zenith; the Zenith,
point diametrically opposite, in which the prolongation of ^
the vertical meets the invisible hemisphere, is the Nadir. Nadir.
The plane determined by the vertical and the straight
line NS is called the Meridian, because when the sunMendar.
reaches it, he is equally distant from the points at which
he rises and sets, or, it is mid-day. The great circle
formed by the intersection of the meridian with fhe ce¬
lestial sphere is the Meridional circle; it divides the
sphere into the eastern and western hemispheres. Any
circle passing through the Zenith and Nadir is called a
Vertical Circle ; that which intersects the meridional _cir- e 1Cl'
cle at right angles, or which passes through the points
E and W, is called the Prime Vertical.
Let HPZH' (fig. 2) represent a meridional circle pass-rig -
ing through P, that point of the sphere which appears to
remain immovable; and let Z be the zenith, and HH'the
horizon. Join PC', and let it meet the circle in P.
points P and P' are denominated the Poles of the won ,
and the straight line PP' is the Axis about which the
whole heavens appear to revolve. Let also uv, lh/> >
iEiE, g'R', be projections of the paths of different stars
Equal.
1 Second
iries.
Colure
ParalU.
iAlmic*-
ASTRONOMY.
Theorccal on the vertical plane PZH. One of the first circum-
Astromny. stances which strikes the attention of the observer is the
inequality of the times during which different stars con¬
tinue visible above the horizon. A star which describes
the circle JEM continues visible during a shorter time
than one which describes kl, and still shorter than one
which moves in Hg. It will be remarked, however, that
the interval between two successive risings of the same
star is always the same, in whatever point of the horizon
it makes its appearance. Those which describe MM are
peculiar in this respect, that the interval between their
rising and setting is exactly equal to that between their
setting and rising; hence the great circle which they de¬
scribe is called the Equator, and when the sun de¬
scribes that circle, the days and nights are exactly of the
same length. In general, the time during which a star
continues visible is greater in proportion as its path is
nearer to the visible pole. Those, however, which de¬
scribe the circle Hg, or any other parallel, as uv, nearer
to P, remain always above the horizon; hence such
circles are called circles of Perpetual Apparition, and the
stars describing them are called Circumpolar Stars.
There are some other technical terms, chiefly employ¬
ed in the old treatises of astronomy, to denote particular
cii’cles of the sphere. A Secondary to any great circle, is
a circle passing through the poles of its primary: thus
the meridian is a secondary to the horizon HIT, and to
the equator MM. The Colures are two secondaries to
the equator, one of which passes through the equinoctial
points, and is called the Equinoctial Colure; the other
intersects the equator at the distance of 90° from the
former, and is denominated the Solstitial Colure. The
small circles parallel to the equator are simply termed
Parallels; those which are parallel to the horizon are
called Almicantars ; and the different meridians are like¬
wise termed Hour Circles.
The hypothesis of a spherical revolution implies, as has
already been mentioned, that the stars move in parallel
planes, or describe parallel circles round the pole. This
point, in reference to any particular star, must be deter¬
mined by observing whether its angular distance from the
pole remains invariable during its whole revolution. Let
Z (fig. 3) be the zenith, P the pole, and S the place of a
star. The arcs PZ, ZS, PS, which join these points on
the sphere, will form a spherical triangle, of which the
sides PZ and ZS, or the distances of the pole and the star
from the zenith, are given by direct observation. The
angle PZS is also given in the same manner, for it is
equal to the star’s azimuth counted from the north point
of the horizon. In the triangle ZPS we have therefore
given the two sides ZP and ZS, together with the includ¬
ed angle PZS, from which data the polar distance PS
is found by the following formula of spherical trigono¬
metry: aril .yah-bim u ,to ,8l9a hoc asaii off
cos. PS = sin. ZS sin. ZP cos. PSZ -j- cos. ZS cos. ZP.
In order to adapt this formula to logarithmic computa¬
tion, an auxiliary angle <p may be assumed such, that
tan. <p = cos. PZS tan. ZP, by the substitution of which
the formula becomes
cos. ZP. cos. (PZS — f)
'ig. 3„
cos. PS =
cos. p
from which the polar distance PS of the star can be easi¬
ly computed.
On performing the computation for any particular star,
PS is always found to be of a constant magnitude, what¬
ever may be the value of PZS, that is, at whatever part
of its course the star is observed. Hence we infer that
the diurnal motion of the stars round the pole is exactly
circular. eruxicj orfi 10.enoij
/DO
. Afte.r1 recognised that the celestial bodies move Theoretical
in parallel planes, the next object of the astronomer is to^stronomy*
determine whether they revolve with velocities uniform
or variable. For this purpose it is necessary to compare,
by means of a well-regulated clock, the angular distances
between the meridian and the successive positions of a
star, with the times elapsed since the star’s passage over
the meridian. Let mno (fig. 4) be the parallel described Fig. 4.
by a star, and sd two of its successive positions. The arcs
ns, US', intercepted between the meridional plane and the
planes passing through the axis PP; and the points s, s’,
are measured by the arcs of the equator Ca, Cb. Now, it
is the result of constant experience, that the number of
degrees in the arc Ca or Cb is to the number in the
whole circumference as the time employed by the star in
describing na or nb is to the time in which it completes
a revolution. The time occupied by the star in com¬
pleting its revolution is called a sidereal day; and the
uniformity of the diurnal revolution enables us to calcu¬
late the angle CPs, which is measured by Ca, without
having recourse to any other observation than that of the
star’s meridional passage. Denoting a sidereal day by T,
the interval of time which elapses while the star describes
the arc ns by t, and the angle at the pole by P, we shall
have the analogy T: £:: 360 : P; therefore P= 370° ;
a formula which gives the angle at P, or its measure Co.
The angles CPs, CPs’, and sIY are called Hour Angles, Hour
because the arcs which they intercept on the star’s pa-anSles-
rallel of declination correspond to the hours and fractions
of an hour into which the sidereal day is divided. For
example, if the hour angle sPs’ contain 15°, the two
planes passing through s and s' will intercept on mn, the
diurnal circle of the star, an arc equal to 15°; conse¬
quently there will be 24 such arcs in the whole circum¬
ference, each of which will be described in the 24th part
of a sidereal day, or in one hour of sidereal time. In con¬
sequence of this perfect uniformity of the diurnal motion,
the arc which a star describes on its parallel is conve¬
niently measured by the time of its description ; and the
sidereal day, or the interval between two successive re¬
turns of the same star to the plane of the meridian, offers
the most perfect unit of time, inasmuch as it is exactly
the same to all the inhabitants of the earth, and remains
absolutely unalterable in all ages, being one of the very
few invariable elements of the system of the world.
In fixing the position of a point on a plane surface, Method of
geometers usually refer it to two straight lines at right^etei'min-
angles to each other, the positions of which are SUP‘^j^tions
posed to be known. The same practice is imitated by0gp0;nts
astronomers, who refer the position of any point on the on the
surface of the sphere to two great circled, which are em-sphere,
ployed as a system of rectangular co-ordinates, and from
which all distances are measured. The equator being a
circle of the sphere not subject to any arbitrary condition,
but determined by the very nature of the spherical revo¬
lution, is obviously well adapted for this purpose. It is
therefore universally employed as a term of comparison
in assigning the places of the celestial bodies. Suppose
an hour circle passing through the star s to intersect the Fig. 4.
equator at a; the arc sa, which measures on the sphere
the distance of s from the equator, is called the Declination Heclina-
of the star. All other stars situated on the same paralleltlon*
mo have the same declination; and it is invariable for all
places of the earth, because it is not affected by the
diurnal motion which is performed in the parallel mo.
The declination is northern or southern, according as
the star is situated in the northern or southern hemi¬
sphere. It is expressed in degrees from 0 to 90, proceed'
756
ASTRONOMY.
Theoretical ing from the equator to the pole. The polar distance
Astronomy. p5 is the complement of the declination, because Ps -}■ sa
= 90°. In order to distinguish s from all other stars
which may be situated on the same parallel, we must also
know the point a of the equator to which it corresponds ;
and for this purpose it is necessary to select a point of
the equator for the origin of the co-ordinates. This point
ought to be independent of the diurnal motion, otherwise
its position could only be determined for a single instant
of time ; and it must be such that it can be readily found,
in whatever part of the earth the observer may be si¬
tuated. Astronomers have agreed to employ for this
purpose the point determined by the intersection of the
equator with another very remarkable circle of the sphere,
of which we shall speak hereafter, and to count the de¬
grees on the equator, setting out from from 0 to 360,
in the direction opposite to that of the diurnal motion, or
from west to east. The arc fya, which measures the
Right as- distance between <y> and a, is called the Right Ascension
Fig. 2.
of the star s: it is also the right ascension of any other
star situated in the hour circle PsP'. It is measured
by the interval of time which elapses between the tran¬
sit of the star s over the meridian, and that of the
point <r> which has been chosen as the point of de¬
parture. It may be remarked that the point is also the
origin of sidereal time; that is to say, the time is count¬
ed 0 hour 0 min. 0 sec. when that point passes the me¬
ridian.
From these definitions it is easy to conceive the gene¬
ral method of forming a catalogue of stars. A clock be¬
ing regulated to sidereal time, and marking 0 hour at the
instant of the transit of the point <y> (or any star chosen
arbitrarily), the hours, minutes, and seconds, are noted
at which the stars successively pass the axis of the tran¬
sit instrument, together with their respective altitudes at
the same instant. These observations give the right
ascensions and declinations ; for the time is easily convert¬
ed into degrees, at the rate of 15° an hour, or by the for¬
mula given above for determining the hour angle. If
the star s pass the meridian one hour after s', the arc a b,
which measures the distance between their horary circles,
PaP', P&P', is 1 hour or 15° ; and the declination of a star
s which moves in the parallel hi (fig. 2) is Ml-= — H'iE,
that is, equal to the difference between its meridional al¬
titude and the complement of the altitude of the pole H P.
Modern celestial charts are constructed on the principle
of assigning to each star the place indicated by the values
of these two co-ordinates ; and as observation proves that
the mutual distances and relative positions of the stars
scarcely undergo any sensible variation, a globe or chart
once constructed will serve to represent the state of the
heavens for at least a long series of ages.
Having now considered the general phenomena of the
the diurnal revolution, and explained the terms that are tech¬
nically employed in assigning the positions of the celestial
bodies, wre may next proceed to inquire how these phe¬
nomena are to be accounted for,—whether the stars are
really in motion, as they seem to be, or if the apparent
motion is only an illusion occasioned by the revolution of
our own earth. The perfect uniformity of the motions of
the different stars renders it exceedingly improbable that
they are disconnected; hence the simplest view of the
phenomena is obtained by substituting for each star its
projection on the celestial sphere, at an infinite distance,
and supposing this sphere, with the projections of all the
stars, to revolve in 24 hours from east to west round an
immovable axis. But it is easy to see that the pheno¬
mena will be equally well explained by supposing that
the starry firmament is absolutely at rest, and that
Fxplana-
pheno-
mena.
the earth revolves in the same time, round the same The
axis, but in an opposite direction, from west to east. InAstr on
both cases the stars remain immovable, the pheno-'^’'^
mena are exactly the same, and, relatively to Spherical
Astronomy, in which we only concern ourselves with the
apparent motions, it is absolutely indifferent which of the
two hypotheses we adopt. They are both only modes of
explaining certain appearances; and the one may be em¬
ployed which renders the explanation most simple and
perspicuous. The proofs of the earth’s motion will go on
accumulating as we proceed. At present we need only
remark, that as the organ of sight makes us acquainted
with the existence of relative, and not of absolute motion,
it is impossible to decide, merely from appearances, whe¬
ther the motion we perceive is real or otherwise; for
whatever motion one body may have in respect of another, it
is always possible to explain the phenomena by supposing it
to be perfectly at rest, and the other to move in an opposite
direction. The conclusions which we draw from the opti¬
cal effects of motion afford no mathematical certainty with
regard to the cause of that motion. The hypothesis of
the revolution of the sphere is attended with innumerable
and insurmountable difficulties. The distance of the near¬
est fixed star from the earth is not less than 350,000 times
the distance of the sun; a distance which light, prodi¬
gious as its velocity is, would not traverse in less than five
years. This immense line, therefore, supposing the hea¬
vens to revolve round the earth, would form the radius of
a circle, the circumference of which, six times larger,
would be passed over by the star in the space of 24 hours;
its velocity must therefore be 6 x 5 x 365= 10950 times
greater than that of light. This velocity, which is nearly
equivalent to 2100 millions of miles in a second of time,
is so enormous that it baffles the utmost efforts of the ima¬
gination to form any conception of it; and the supposi¬
tion of its existence will appear still more revolting when
we reflect that the distance of the nearest star is probably
many thousand times less than that of the Milky Way.
If we ascribe the motion to the earth, its velocity, though
it may still be supposed great, is moderate in comparison
of many well-known phenomena of nature. A point on
the equator will describe in 24 hours a circle of about
25,000 miles, or about 17 miles in a minute; a velocity
somewhat exceeding that of sound, but 7400 millions of
times less rapid than the preceding.
In all that has hitherto been said respecting the appa¬
rent motion of the starry sphere, we have only had regard
to the innumerable multitude of stars which constantly
maintain the same relative situations, and which are in
consequence called Fixed Stars. There are, however, seve¬
ral other bodies, some of them remarkable on account of
their splendour, which, besides participating in the general
motion, have peculiar motions of their own, and are inces¬
santly shifting their positions among the fixed stars. An
attentive observation of the state of the sky during a few
successive evenings, will suffice to show that there are
some stars which have in the mean time changed their
places ; and, on continuing to observe them, they will be
found to separate themselves from particular constella¬
tions, and gradually but imperceptibly to approach others,
till they at length appear, after unequal intervals of time,
in an opposite quarter of the heavens. From this cir¬
cumstance they were designated by the Greeks Planets, fhue
that is, wandering stars, in contradistinction to those which
obey only the law of the diurnal motion. Besides the sun
and moon, there are five discernible by the naked eye, and
which have consequently been known from the remotest
ages. These are Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, and Sa¬
turn. Five others, namely, Uranus, Ceres, Pallas, Juno,
ASTRONOM
Heretical and Vesta, have been discovered by the aid of the tele-
uronomy. scope. Astronomers, with a view to abbreviate their de-
X ^Ascriptions, have appropriated a certain symbol to each of
these planets, as well as to the sun and moon : thus, in the
order of distance from the sun, the names and character¬
istics are as follows :—
The Sun q
Mercury £
Y. 757
itSeIf ft0n' ,he sun’jTtare.ic.l
the same star, it sets as the sun risps arm __
Venus 5
Mars $
Vesta 
Juno.
the same star, it sets as the sun" ri^ anS in thil case it
s said to set cosmically (occasus cosmicus): at nearly the
Ceres 3 Same 'T ^ nses when the sun sets, and is said to rise
Pallas a acromcally (ortm acronyctus). The sun afterwards begins
iupiteV I t0 W™* the star, till he advances so near thatT2
Saturn.V.'V.T.V.V.'lb letZltacali^ byilis light; k is now said to
tt ^ neiiacally, or iust so Inno1 nfi-pr ttio cr. -i,
Uranus
aet Miacally or juB, s„ longer & sin as to be visTbk
when he has disappeared (occasus heliacus). At the end
ot a year the star again rises and sets at the same mo-
The Earth, which, as we shall afterwards see, is also a ment with tif 8 ^ agf-n nses sets at the same mo-
planet, and takes its place between Venus and Mars, has casus acromwfcl'T ’ Tl,'S “T •t0 set acronimlly (oc-
for its symbol ©, and the moon J . Venus, Jupiter, and tad se^Xrs „f d'sta<=t.ons, and the ancients
sometimes Mars, are distinguished by their extraordinarv bv Ptnlpm^ ° tbe S^me ^lnd’ wlllch are ad defined
brilliancy. Mercury, on aicount of ^is proximky ,o the KhtwLle of^eTta 7 TI*y h-e
sun, is rarely visible to the naked eye. Uranus, discover! astrononX f • G f ^ S\nCe’m the ^ogress of
ed by Sir W. Herschel in 1778, can with difficulty bv determinmo- th Certain methods have been discovered of
reason of his great distance, be perceived without a^tele^ sons. & 6 commencement of the year and the sea-
scope. Ceres, Pullets, Juno, cind ^estu, discovered smep pa.i i
1801, are extremely small in size, and can only be seen that of f ho sun ° ,-le ll ane^ are 111 general, like Stations
with the aid of the telescope. 7 ^on 1 , ? dlrectlon °PP°s‘te to the diurnal mo-and retro.
.fasof Of all the eelestial bodies, the most interesting to us not’preserve thelme^hLTr bu5,th7 dogtadations.
e the sun and moon; and their peculiar motions havp nr. finmofimoci   .-i ^ \ ^ plclliet
cordingly, m every age of astronomy, been studred with even advances from east to 'west in® the dhect.oTof tht
diurnal motion. In this case it is said to retrograde.
cordingly, in every age of astronomy, been studied with
the greatest attention. The proper motion of the moon is
particularly remarkable. In the course of a single night
she separates herself very sensibly from the stars in her
vicinity, moving over a space nearly equal to her own
breadth in an hour, and completing a whole circuit in
about 27 days. The sun moves with much less velo-
This retrograde motion is, however, not of long"7 con¬
tinuance. After having been accelerated during a short
time, it begins to relax. The planet again becomes sfo-
tionary, and then resumes its direct motion from west to
talf’ bUtfc-b,S TTn T stlll su*c.iently apparent. If we antiquity, anddieir explanation^rmed^he pHndpal^art
take notice of the stars which immediately follow him of the rational astronomy of the Greeks and the Arabians
®esideS the Planets, Mother bodies ^“Xcomet,
c .e ot a tew nights they will be no longer visible, their appearance m the heavens, which, by reason of the
Otiers which, some time previously, did not set till long extraordinary phenomena they exhibit, have been fre-
hTnVhTe ken beirhP aCeSandn°WaCCOmpanythe qUentIy contemplated with terror and dismay, and re-
s . In the morning similar appearances present them- garded by superstitious ignorance as harbingers of cala-
selves, but in a contrary order. The stars which appear in mity, and precursors of the divine vengeance. These
bodies shoot down, from the remote regions of space, with
inconceivable velocity, towards the sun. At their first ap¬
pearance they are small; their light is feeble and dusky;
and they are generally accompanied by a sort of nebulo¬
sity or luminous tail, from which they have derived their
appellation of Comets (coma, hair). As they approach the
sun, their apparent magnitudes and brilliancy greatly in¬
crease, and the nebulosity sometimes occupies a large
the eastern horizon at sun-rise, are, after a few days, con¬
siderably elevated above it at the same time. Thus the sun
seems to fall daily behind the stars, by insensible degrees,
till at last he appears in the east when they are about to
set in the west. lo account for these appearances, the
ancients supposed the sun’s diurnal motion to be really
slower than that of the stars; hence they supposed him
to be attached to a different sphere. For like reasons
  •! j x- i , 1 ,  — iicuuiuaii-y ouuieumies occupies a larm
they ascribed particular spheres to the moon and each of portion of the heavens, presenting a magnificent and as
the planets; and as no trace of these imaginary spheres is tonishing spectacle. Having attained the point of their
perceptible in the heavens, they next supposed them to be orbits nearest the sun, they again recede to enormous dis-
crystalhne and transparent. The appearances are ex- tances, and vanish by insensible degrees. They differ
plained equally well, and with infinitely greater simplicity, from the planets not only by the appearances they present,
by ascribing to the sun a proper motion, in a direction op- but also by the diversity of their motions; for, instead of
posite to that of the diurnal rotation of the sphere, in con- being confined to a particular zone, and moving from west
sa<lueJlce which he advances to meet the stars, instead to east, they traverse the sky indifferently in all directions.
°t railing behind them. They are visible only in a small part of their orbit, which,
I he greater part of the observations of the early as- being near the sun, is passed over with prodigious rapidity,
tronomers had for their object the determination of the They seldom continue visible longer than six months.
positions of the stars relatively to the sun at his rising
and setting, by which they fixed the seasons, and regulat¬
ed the operations of agriculture. They distinguished all
these phenomena by technical terms, which occur very
frequently in the works of the ancient poets, particularly
m Hesiod and in Ovid’s Fasti. A star which rises at the
Their number is entirely unknown, but during the last
two centuries upwards of 150 have been observed, and
their orbits computed.
Thus we recognise three distinct classes of celestial
bodies ; the planets, the comets, and the fixed stars. It
is the business of the astronomer to determine the posi-
xxxxvx xxx jl wove. DLcu which ii&ea ai me is me uusincdb ui uie cisiroiiumer to determine tne posi-
same time with the sun is effaced by his light, and is said tions of these bodies in the heavens; to observe their
to rise cosmicaliy (ortus cosmicus). Soon after, when the motions, and measure them with precision ; to discover
sun by his proper motion has advanced so far to the east the laws by which their courses are regulated; and from
that the star can be perceived on the eastern horizon in these laws to assign the past or future state of the heavens
758
ASTRONOMY.
Theoretical at any given instant of time. The fixed stars form infi-
Astronomy. nitely the most numerous class; but their motions being
sensibly uniform, and their mutual distances invariable, the
principal object with regard to them is to determine their
places and relative positions. The comets in general re¬
turn only after long periods ; and observations are not yet
sufficiently numerous to allow any certain deductions to be
made with respect to their nature and constitution. The
planets present a great variety of curious phenomena;
they are always within our view; observations on them
may be multiplied indefinitely ; and for this reason, as well
as on account of their proximity, and their forming a
system of which the earth constitutes a part, they present
by far the most interesting objects of astronomical study.
Sect. II.— Of the Globular Form of the Earth, Parallax,
and Refraction.
Having now considered the general phenomena of the
diurnal motion, we proceed next to inquire into the form
of the earth, and our situation with respect to the centre
round which the celestial sphere appears to revolve. The
plane of the horizon seems to be stretched out indefinitely
till it actually meets the sky; but this illusion is quickly
dissipated by transferring ourselves from one place to an¬
other on the surface of the earth, and attending to the
phenomena which such a change of place gives rise to.
Let an observer, for example, set out from any given
point in the northern hemisphere, and proceed directly
south. In proportion as he advances, the stars in the
southern region of the heavens will be elevated more above
the horizon, and describe larger segments of their diurnal
circles, while new ones come into view which w ere invisible
at the station he left. On the other hand, the polar star,
with those in its vicinity, will be depressed, and some stars
which before continued above the horizon during the whole
time of their revolution will now rise and set. The planes
of the diurnal circles become also more perpendicular to
the horizon, so that the aspect of the heavens is entirely
changed. If, instead of advancing in the direction of the
meridian, the spectator proceeded towards the east or
west, he would in this case also remark that his horizon
constantly shifted its position. A star will pass his meri¬
dian sooner as he advances eastward, or later as he travels
westward; in short, by a change of place in any direction
whatever, the perpendicular to the horizon, or the plumb-
line, w ill correspond to a different point of the heavens.
The plane of the horizon is therefore variable, and its va¬
riation by insensible degrees indicates with the greatest
evidence the rotundity of the earth. Experience also
shows that a spectator sees more of the terrestrial surface
in proportion as he is elevated above it; and that on a
mountain surrounded by the sea, or standing in the middle
of a level plain, the horizon appears equally depressed all
round, which is the distinctive feature of a spherical cur-
Fig- 5- vature. In fig. 5 let O be the place of a spectator on the
summit of a mountain, the straight line H H will represent
his horizon, and Oh, Oh' the directions of visual rays to
the remotest visible points on the surface of the earth. The
inclinations of these lines to the plane of the horizon, or
the angles HO A, ITOA' are called the apparent depression ;
and these being always observed to be equal to each other,
it follows that the curve AAA' is a circle. On the Peak
of Teneriffe, Humboldt observed the surface of the sea to
be depressed on all sides in an angle of nearly 2°.. The sun
arose to him 12 minutes sooner than to an inhabitant of the
plain ; and from the plain, the top of the mountain appeared
enlightened 12 minutes before the rising or after the set¬
ting of the sun. The same phenomena, though on a smaller
scale, are observed with regard to every mountain or ele- Theo
vation on the earth. Another familiar illustration of the AstroS
globular figure of the earth is derived from the successive
and gradual disappearance of a ship which leaves the shore
and stands out to sea. The hulk disappears before the
sails and the rigging, and the top of the mast is the last part
that is visible. The ship thus appears gradually to sink
under the horizon, exactly in the same manner as she must
necessarily do on the supposition that the surface of the
sea is spherical. The appearance of the moon at the time
she is eclipsed is also demonstrative of the roundness of
the earth. When the moon penetrates the shadow of the
earth, the line which separates the illuminated from the
eclipsed portion of the disk is circular; evidently proving
the conical form of the shadow, and consequently the
roundness of the body by which the shadow is projected.
From all these considerations, it is inferred with the high¬
est certainty that the earth with its waters forms a round
mass, isolated in space.
The globular form of the earth is a property common
to it with the other bodies which compose the planetary
system. The sun and moon are evidently round bodies;
and when the planets are examined through a telescope
their disks appear sensibly circular; and as they are known
to have a motion of rotation, in consequence of which
they successively present different points of their surfaces
to the earth, the uniform roundness of their disks may be
taken as a conclusive probf of their sphericity. We shall
by and by have occasion to remark other striking ana¬
logies between the planets and the earth.
Since the figure of the earth is spherical, the horizon-Sensible
tal plane cannot coincide with any considerable portionand ra-
of its surface. It may be defined to be the plane which tionah101'
touches the earth at any given point, and is perpendicu-zon'
lar to the vertical line, or the direction of gravity at that
point. The Sensible Horizon of any place is the plane which
passes through the eye of the spectator, perpendicular to
the plumb-line at that place. The Rational Horizon is a
plane parallel to this, passing through the centre of the
earth. The particular phenomena of different places de¬
pend on the position of their horizon with respect to the
planes of the apparent diurnal motion of the sun and stars.
The rational horizon of a place on the equator passes
through the poles, and divides equally the equator and
its parallels. Hence the days and nights are always
equal in such places, and each of the stars performs one
half of its revolution above, and the other below its ho¬
rizon. The circles of diurnal motion are all perpendicular
to the horizon, and therefore the inhabitants are said
to be under a Right Sphere. If a spectator could place
himself directly under the pole, his horizon would co¬
incide with the equator, and the whole of the north¬
ern celestial hemisphere would be within his view,
while no part of the southern hemisphere would be vi¬
sible to him, on account of its being always beneath the
horizon. The circles of the diurnal motion being parallel
to the equator, and consequently also to the horizon, the
fixed stars would never either rise or set. A spectator
thus situated is said to be under a Parallel Sphere. In in¬
termediate places the circles of the diurnal motion are
oblique to the horizon, one pole being always elevated
above it, and the other equally depressed below it. dhe
stars whose distances from the elevated pole are not
greater than the arc of its elevation above the horizon
never set, while those within the same distance ol the
depressed pole never rise. These phenomena belong to
all places situated between the equator and the poles,
and the inhabitants of such places are said to be under
an Oblique Sphere.
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ASTRO NOM Y.
759
isoreti.-
The situation of a place on the surface of the earth is as the hup-Ip O q P „
termined by two co-ordinate circles, in the same man- of thp o-ront ’i; '1   lemely small on account Theoretical
itronoi 'determined by two co-ordinate circles, in the same man
" ner as that of a star on the celestial sphere. Let Z
(fig. 2) be a place of which the position is required to
be assigned with reference to circles of the terrestrial
sphere, analogous to those which we have described as
belonging to the sphere of the heavens. Since the axis
of the celestial sphere passes through the centre of the
earth, we may suppose the poles of the world, the equa¬
torial circle, and the meridians, to be transferred to the
earth’s surface, so that the same figure may represent
dither the celestial or terrestrial sphere. The intersec¬
tion of the plane P Z iE with the surface of the earth is
the terrestrial meridian of the place Z, and the straight
lines CZ, CiE, in that plane, intercept an arc of the ter¬
restrial meridian between Z and the equator, containing
as many degrees as the arc of the celestial sphere which
measures the declination of the zenith of the place Z.
The angle iE C Z which is measured by the meridional
arc iE Z is called the Geographical Latitude of Z. But in
order to particularize the point at which the equator is
intersected by the meridian, it is necessary to assume
some point of the equator to which all the other points of
that circle may be referred. The meridian passing through
the assumed point is called the First Meridian ; and the
angular distance between the planes of the first and any
ather meridian measured by the equatorial arc intercep¬
ted by these planes on the equator, is called the Geo¬
graphical Longitude of the place through which the last
neridian passes. The longitude is said to be east or west,
iccording as the degrees of the equator are counted from
he first meridian towards the east or west. It is usual to
eckon the degrees towards the east, all round the globe, or
rom 0 to 360°. From these definitions it is evident that
he geographical latitudes and longitudes are exactly ana-
ogous to the declinations and right ascensions on the ce-
estial sphere. The first point of the terrestrial equator
annot be determined by any star or fixed point in the
leavens, on account of the diurnal motion ; it is therefore
ecessary to fix its position by means of known places on
he earth; and geographers are in the habit of assuming
s the first meridian that which passes through the capi-
al city or principal observatory of their country. The
hoice is of no importance; for in geography, as in astro-
omy, what is essential to be known is only the difference
f longitudes or meridians, in order to reduce the situ-
tion of a place, or observations which have been made at
-j to any indicated meridian.
The length of the terrestrial radius is a very im-
ortant element in astronomy, inasmuch as it furnishes
ie observer with the only scale by which he can esti-
late the distances of the sun, moon, and planets. On
ie supposition that the figure of the .earth is perfectly
iherical, the general principles on which its magnitude
iay be determined are sufficiently obvious; but the ac-
yate determination of its actual dimensions is attended
ith great practical difficulties, which can only be over-
ime by the perfect instruments and refined science of
odern times. Eratosthenes seems to have been the
rv-p i.t_ > ■«. j uxi dccouni i neoretic^I
. n s distance, may be neglected in the cal--^strononiy-
cuffition, the angle ZCS at the centre is also equal tov'^v^
/ 12, and therefore the whole circumference equals
360
7° 12' ^ ^ O. To obtain the length of the meridian, it
12'
is therefore only necessary to measure the arc MO.
Eratosthenes assumed the distance between Syene and*
Alexandria to be 5000 stadia; hence the circumference of
360°
the earth = x 5000 stadia = 250,000 stadia. The
7° 12'
uncertainty which exists respecting the length of the
Egyptian stade prevents us from deriving any precise in¬
formation from this rude attempt to estimate the dimen¬
sions of the globe.
The method which has just been described takes for
granted that the meridian is exactly circular,—an assump¬
tion which, even supposing the method perfect in all
other respects, would lead to erroneous results, especially
in an arc of so great a magnitude as seven degrees. In
a small arc, of 1° for example, the error arising from the
non-sphericity of the earth will be insensible; for it is
certain, from the phenomena before explained, that the
deviation from the spherical figure is not very consider¬
able ; and besides, whatever the nature of the meridional
curve may be, it will sensibly coincide with its osculating
circle, throughout the extent of an arc of 1°. It has been
found by numerous and accurate experiments, that the
lengths of arcs of 1° on the same meridian are longer in
proportion as we advance nearer the pole. Hence, on ac¬
count of the similarity of the isosceles triangles of which
these arcs form the bases, their sides, or the terrestrial
radii, must also be longer, and consequently the convexity
of the earth is less towards the pole than at the equator.
I he surface of the earth is extremely irregular, even in¬
dependently of the inequalities occasioned by mountains
and cavities; yet it has been discovered that the meri¬
dional curves differ almost insensibly from ellipses; whence
it is concluded that the figure of the earth is an ellipsoid
of revolution about its shortest axis. In comparing the
results of the various measurements which have been
made with the formulae belonging to the dimensions of
such a body, this conclusion has been fully verified; and
the lengths of the arcs, the ellipticity, the distance of the
pole from the equator, and, in short, all the elements of
the spheroid, have been determined. The results of
theory and observation give an ellipticity amounting very
nearly to ^ t0 say> the equatorial is to the polar
diameter in the ratio of 306 to 305. The following mav
be regarded as a very near approximation to the dimen¬
sions of the earth in English miles:—
Semidiameter of the equator 3963*7
Semidiameter of the pole 3949*8
Semidiameter at the latitude of 45° 3956*2
Ellipticity jfor  13
Length of 1° of the meridian  69*06
Quarter of the meridian of Paris 6214*47
-   occiuo Lu uttve ueen me The figure of the earth is one of the most difficult and
st who made use of astronomical methods to determine most important questions of astronomy ; and as our limits
lie. ch'eumference of the earth, or the length of the me- will not permit us to treat it in this place with all the de-
han. He remarked that, at Syene, in the Thebais, the tails which its importance renders necessary, we shall re¬
in on the meridian, at the time of the summer solstice, serve, for a separate article, an account of the different
as vertical; and that at Alexandria, at the same time, geodetical operations which have been undertaken with a
i's zenith distance was 7° 12'. Now let S (fig. 6) be the view to determine it, together with the development of
the mathematical theory of its equilibrium. See Figure
of the Earth.
In describing the phenomena of the diurnal revolution,
we have supposed the eye of the spectator to be placed
in, vertical to M, and Z the zenith of Alexandria, C
mig the centre of the earth, and O Alexandria. The
j gle Z O S is the sun’s zenith distance, which was ob-
| rved to be 7° 12'. But Z OS = ZC S + O SC ; whence,
760
ASTRONOMY.
Fig. 6.
Parallax
Theoretical in the centre of motion, on which supposition the appa-
Astronomy. rent an(j true places of the celestial bodies will be the
same. This, however, as is evident, can only be rigorous¬
ly true in respect of one point of the earth’s surface, and
is therefore most probably not true of any. Astronomers
have on this account agreed to refer all the motions to
the centre of the earth; that is, to consider the centre
of the earth as the centre of the celestial sphere, and to
regard as the true geocentric place of a star, that at which
it would appear to a spectator placed at the centre. But
the spectator is necessarily placed at the surface. In or¬
der, therefore, to render observations made at different
stations on the earth’s surface comparable with one ano¬
ther, we must consider what changes will be produced in
the apparent positions of the celestial bodies, in conse¬
quence of their being observed from a point not situated
in the centre of motion.
Let O' and O (fig. 6) be two stations on the earth’s
surface on the same meridian, from both of which a star
S is observed at the same time. As an object is always
seen in the direction of the visual ray, the spectator at O
will refer the star S to a certain point I on the surface of
the celestial sphere, while the spectator at O' will refer it
to a different point T in the direction O'T; and the differ¬
ence of the apparent places I and P depends on the mag¬
nitude of the angle OSO', which is subtended by the chord
of the arc 00'. If a third spectator could be placed at C,
the centre of the earth, the same star would appear to
him in the direction CS, and be referred to its true place
on the sphere at Q. Now, the difference between the
angles ZOS and ZC&, that is, the angle OSC, under which
the radius of the earth is seen by an observer at S, is
called the parallax of S. On account of the great dis¬
tance of the fixed stars, this angle is altogether insensible
with regard to them; it is, however, very sensible in the
case of the moon, with regard to which it amounts to
about 1°. The greatest parallax of the nearest planets
does not exceed 30".
From the definition which has just been given, it ap¬
pears that the parallax of a star is the angle comprised
between two lines drawn from the star, the one to the
centre of the earth, and the other to any point whatever
on its surface. But it is evident, that while the distance
of S from the earth remains constant, the angle OSC will
vary with the angle ZOS, that is, with the distance of the
star from the zenith, or its altitude above the horizon.
Let OH (fig. 7) represent the horizon. It is easy to
see that the angle OSC will have its greatest value when
OS touches the surface of the earth, or coincides with the
horizon OH, that is, when the angle ZOS = 90°. It is
equally evident that the parallax OSC vanishes entirely
when the line CS coincides with CZ, that is, when the
star is in the zenith of the observer at O; hence the
parallax depends on the altitude of the star, according to
a law which we now proceed to determine.
In the triangle OSC (fig. 7), we have sin. OSC: sin.
SOZ ;: CO : CS, whence sin. OSC = ~ sin. SO Z. Let
the angle SOZ, or the zenith distance of the star = Z,
the semidiameter of the earth OC rr «, the distance of
the star CS — r, and the parallax OSC we have
Fig. 7.
that is to say, the parallax of a star is proportional to tho Tt,
sine of its zenith distance. At the zenith! Z = 0, there-SS'
tore sin. Z z= 0, and the parallax vanishes: at the hori v-'V
zon, Z = 90°, and sin. Z = 1; the parallax, therefore, be'-
comes equal to In this case it is at its maximum, and
is denominated the Horizontal Parallax; in all other cases
it is called the Parallax of Altitude. Denoting the hori¬
zontal parallax by P, we have P = -, whence
T
/? = P sin. Z ;
that is to say, the parallax of altitude is equal to the hori¬
zontal parallax, multiplied hy the sine of the apparent zenith
distance. It is evident that the apparent altitude SOH is
always less than the true altitude SBH, by the whole
amount of the parallax; the effect of the parallax is there¬
fore to depress the object, or increase its zenith distance •
hence, if 6 be the apparent altitude of the star, and & its
true altitude, ff will be found from the equation (H—Qj-Y
sin. Z. '
From the above results it is manifest, that if the hori-
zontal parallax can be by any means determined, the
parallax at any other altitude will be found at the same
time. The determination of the horizontal parallax is,
however, attended with considerable difficulty, and vari¬
ous methods have been proposed and practised to ascer¬
tain its exact amount, modified by particular circum¬
stances in the cases of the different celestial bodies. The
method, however, which serves as the basis of all the
others is extremely simple, and exactly analogous to that
by which the distance of a remote object is determined
on the surface of the earth. Suppose two observers to
be stationed at the points O and O' (fig. 6), of which the Fig. 6.
latitudes are known, and which are both situated on the h
same meridian, and let them simultaneously observe the
zenith distances of the star S ; these observations will
g*ve the angles ZOS, Z'O'S, whence their supplements
SOC and SO'C become known at the same time. A third
angle of the quadrilateral figure SOCO', namely OCO,' is
also known, being measured by the meridional arc OMCf,
the difference or sum of the latitudes of the two observ¬
ers, according as they are on the same or opposite sides
of the equator. The two sides also, CO and CO', being
semidiameters of the earth, are supposed to be known;
every part of the quadrilateral figure is therefore deter¬
mined, and its diagonal CS may be calculated by the rules
of plane trigonometry. But when CS is determined, the
horizontal parallax is obtained immediately from the for¬
mula P = -, that is, P = On this principle the ho-
Fig. 7-
then sin. P — r sin. Z. On account of the smallness of
the angle y?, which, as we have mentioned, in no case ex¬
ceeds 1°, the arc may be substituted for the sine (for their
difference even in an arc of 1° does not exceed 0"*18):
the above expression therefore becomes p z= ~ sin. Z •
r '
rizontal parallax of the moon was determined by Lacaille
and J^alande, the former observing at the Cape of Good
Hope, and the latter at Berlin ; and the parallax of Mars
by Lacaille at the Cape, and Wargentin at Stockholm.
Let us suppose two lines to be drawn from the centre
of a planet touching the surface of the earth in points
diametrically opposite; the inclination of these two straight
lines is the double of the horizontal parallax; but the
same angle also measures the diameter of the earth as
seen from the planet: hence the horizontal parallax of a
planet is equal to the apparent semidiameter of the earth
at the distance of the planet. From this consideration
the true diameter, and consequently the volume, of a
planet may be found by measuring its apparent diame¬
ter, that is, the optical angle under which its diameter
appears when seen from the earth. Let d be the appa¬
rent, and D the true diameter of a planet; the angle
is comprised between two straight lines drawn from the
ASTRONOMY.
'61
T,ieorscal earth, the first of which is directed to the centre of the earth’s semidiameter. That the apparent place of an ob- Theoretical
‘ '"“r’0 an P ^ a — ~ ject must be changed in consequence of a change in the Astronomy-
situation of the observer, is a simple geometrical truth
which no experiment was required to discover. The first
observers must accordingly have anticipated a parallax
in all the celestial bodies; and it was doubtless only
after considerable experience that they admitted the ex¬
istence of any exception to the general law. There is,
however, another cause of variation in the apparent posi¬
tions ot the celestial bodies also connected with the earth,
the existence of which could not be known a priori, but
must have been discovered by experience alone. We al¬
lude to the refraction of the rays of light in passing through
the earth’s atmosphere.
i i . • , . .v , • i „ The angular distance between two stars is found to un-Refraction
ax of a planet, is constant; the horizontal parallax may d v ® sensib|e wiations a( different hours of th{/iC‘raC‘'0n-
fterefore ^found at any tune whatever by measuring day. Thfg phenomerlo„ cannot be explained by any pro-
per motion of the stars, because it evidently depends on
their altitude above the horizon; and the differences are
found to be the same daily at the same altitude. It is
most striking when we compare a star which, without set¬
ting, passes the meridian twice a day, once near the ze¬
nith, and the second time near the horizon, with another
star situated very near the pole, and of which the alti¬
tude is consequently nearly invariable. It will be found
that at the time of the first transit the distance between
the two stars is greater than at the second by nearly half
a degree. It is evident, therefore, that the phenomenon
consists in diminishing the distance between a star situated
AstroiiTiy. planet, and the last is a tangent to it: hence D r
tan. \doxr sin. \d, according as r is the line which touches
the planet or that which is directed to its centre. Now,
on account of the smallness of the angle \d, the sine and
tangent are sensibly equal to the arc ; we may therefore
suppose in all cases V) — r d. Combining this with the
equation P = p we deduce — A ; which gives the ra¬
tio between the true diameters of the planet and the earth
in terms of the apparent magnitude and horizontal paral¬
lax of the planet. It follows also from this last equation
that -p-, or the ratio of the apparent diameter and paral-
the planet’s diameter.
From the equation P=A we have >■= p; that is, the dis¬
tance of a planet from the earth is known in terms of its
parallax and the earth’s semidiameter. The parallaxes,
therefore, give the ratio of the distances of all the planets
from the earth, and consequently of their distances from
one another, and from the sun; hence the radius of the
earth furnishes the scale by which the astronomer mea¬
sures the dimensions of the whole solar system, and the
magnitudes or volumes of all the bodies of which it is
composed. On this account the accurate determination
of the parallaxes of the celestial bodies is a problem of in the horizon and the visible pole, that is to say, in ele-
Fig. I
great importance in practical astronomy,
It is evident from the mere inspection of the figure,
that the plane in which the straight lines C S and O S are
situated is the vertical plane passing through S, conse¬
quently the whole effect of the parallax is to diminish the
altitude of a planet in its vertical circle. When the ob-
vating the stars, whereas the effect of the parallax is to
depress them. The refraction also takes place in an
equal degree with regard to the fixed stars, and even the
moon and planets, without being in any degree modified
by the great differences in the distances of the celestial
bodies, contrary in this respect likewise to the parallax,
servation, therefore, is made in the meridian, the effect of which depends entirely on the distance. The reason of
the parallax is to alter the declination, without producing ’ *1 1 ^ 1 ' 1
any change whatever in the right ascension of the planet.
Out of the meridian it is necessary to have regard to the
azimuth or hour angle, as well as to the altitude, in calcu¬
lating the correction due to the parallax. When we sup-
{)ose the earth to be spherical, the formulae for the calcu-
ation of the parallax are extremely simple, because the
radius is constant, and the vertical line, or perpendicular
to the surface of the earth, passes through its centre.
But in the case of the true or elliptical figure of the earth
neither of these circumstances takes place. The radius
in this case is variable, and must be determined by a par¬
ticular process of computation for every point on the me¬
ridian ; and the vertical line, with reference to which the
latitude of the place and the altitudes are determined,
does not pass through the centre of the earth, but makes
different angles with the axis. These circumstances ren¬
der the calculation of the parallax a matter of much
greater complication and difficulty.
The term parallax in its general signification properly
denotes change of place. There are consequently various
kinds of parallaxes, such as parallax of right ascension, of
declination, longitude, latitude, &c. In what has preced¬
ed, we have supposed the earth to be at rest in the centre
of the universe, and therefore have had regard solely to
the variations produced in the apparent diurnal motions
by the eccentric position of the observer on the surface
of the earth, and which are comprehended generally under
the denomination of the diurnal parallax.
The effects of the diurnal parallax are only sensible
with regard to those bodies of which the distance from
the earth is not so great as to be incomparable with the
vol. m.
this will be evident from the consideration of the physical
cause of the phenomenon.
According to the known principles of optics, a ray ofTheory of
light, in passing obliquely from one transparent medium refraction,
into another of a different density, does not hold on in its
rectilinear course, but is refracted, or bent towards the
denser medium. Now', the atmosphere which surrounds
the earth may be regarded as composed of an infinity of
concentric spherical strata, the densities of which are
greater in proportion as they are nearer to the earth’s sur¬
face. When a ray of light, therefore, proceeding from a
star enters the atmosphere, it is inflected towards the
earth, or bent so as to form a smaller angle with a per¬
pendicular to the surface of the earth ; and this inflection
will be increased by every successive stratum of the at¬
mosphere through which the light passes. In fig. 8, let Fig. 8.
AA', BB', CC', represent the boundaries of the successive
strata, which, for the sake of illustration, we here suppose
to have a finite thickness. A ray of light proceeding
from S comes in contact with the highest stratum of the
atmosphere AA' at a. The molecular attraction of this
atmospherical stratum, acting in the direction of a normal
to A A' at a, causes the luminous ray to deviate from the
direction S x, and assume another, a y, in which it would
continue to move if the atmosphere were equally dense
from A A' to the earth. But in the course of its progress
the ray penetrates another denser stratum at b, and con¬
sequently suffers another inflection; so that instead of
proceeding in the direction a y, it is bent into a new direc¬
tion bz, more nearly perpendicular to the concentric strata.
A similar effect is produced at c, so that the luminous
ray, when it finally reaches the observer at O, has as-
5 D
7fi2
ASTRONOMY.
Fiar. 9.
heoretical sumed the direction c O. In its progress from a to O, it
wronomy. j^g therefore successively moved in the direction of the
sides of the polygon a, b, c, O; and to the spectator at O,
the star from which it proceeded, instead of appearing in
its true place at S, will appear to be at S', or in the last
direction of the visual ray. Now, if A A' is the most ele¬
vated stratum of the atmosphere into which the ray enters
in the direction S a, it is clear that the whole effect is
produced by the atmospherical strata situated below A A',
and that the length of S « is perfectly indifferent; hence
the refraction is entirely independent of the distance of
the stars, provided they are beyond the limits of the
earth’s atmosphere.
The decrease of the density of the atmosphere, from the
sui face of the earth upwards, follows the law of continuity,
or takes place by insensible degrees ; so that the luminous
rajr, in traversing the atmosphere, enters at every instant
into a denser medium, and is therefore continually brought
nearer and nearer to the vertical direction. Hence the
true path of the ray is curvilinear, and concave towards
tne earth, as represented in fig. 9. This is equivalent to
the supposition that the thickness of the different concen¬
tric strata of uniform density is infinitely small, and that
the light, as it successively penetrates each, deviates from
its former path by an infinitely small angle, which may be
considered as. the differential of the refraction, the total
amount of which will therefore be obtained by integration.
The direction of the ray, when it reaches the eye of the
observer, is the tangent to the last portion of its curvilinear
path; and the apparent zenith distance of the star will be
ZQS', while the real zenith distance is ZOS. The difference
of these two angles, namely S'OS, is wTiat is denominated
the Astronomical Refraction. It is evident that the whole
path of the ray is confined to the vertical plane, in which
the star and the eye of the observer are situated ; for the
earth and its atmosphere being very nearly spherical,
that plane will divide the strata symmetrically; the attract¬
ing forces will therefore be equal on each side of it, and
consequently produce no effect in a lateral direction.
When the observed star is due north or south, the vertical
plane is the plane of the meridian ; hence, in meridional
observations, the whole of the refraction, like that of the
parallax, takes place in declination, while the right ascen¬
sion remains unaltered.
It is evident that the amount of the refraction is greater
retraction. in proportion as the observed star is nearer to the horizon ;
for in this case the luminous rays strike the tangent planes
of the atmospherical strata more obliquely, and have be¬
sides to traverse a greater extent of atmosphere before
they arrive at the eye of the observer. On determining
by experiment the refraction at every altitude from zero
to 90°, tables of Refraction may be constructed, which
will furnish the means of discovering the law of its dimi¬
nution ; but as such a process would be exceedingly
tedious, and likewise subject to lead to erroneous results
on account of the inevitable errors of observation, it is
found, more convenient to assume some hypothesis for
a basis of calculation, and to verify the results which
it leads to by comparing them with observation. In
regard to media which may be said to be permanent, such,
for instance, as water and glass, the determination of
the refraction is not attended with great difficulty; but
the circumstances are greatly altered when we come to
make experiments on the atmosphere. In this case the
difficulty arises from the incessant changes which the at¬
mosphere is undergoing relatively to its refringent powers ;
changes which it is impossible for the observer fully
to appreciate, inasmuch as he can only determine its
physical state within a short distance of the earth, while
that of^the upper strata remains wholly unknown to him. Theory
Law of
The refringent power of the atmosphere is affected by itsAWu
density and temperature. The effects of the humidity are W 'L
insensible ; for the most accurate experiments seem to ^
prove that the watery vapours diminish the density of the
air in the same ratio as their refractive power is greater
It is therefore only necessary, even in delicate experiments*
to have regard to the state of the barometer and thermo¬
meter at the time the observation is made. At a medium
density, and at the temperature of melting ice, it was
found by Biot and Arago, from a great number of exact
experiments, that at any altitude between 10° and the
zenith the refraction is very nearly represented by the
formula r = 60"*6 tan. (Z — 3*25 x r), in which r is
the refraction corresponding to a given zenith distance Z.
v\ ith the exception of the numerical co-efficients, this for¬
mula was first given by Bradley; but whether it was de¬
duced from theory by that great astronomer, or was only
empirical, is uncertain. Bradley’s formula was r — 57"
tan. (Z — 3 x r). When the direction of the lumi¬
nous rays makes a smaller angle than 10° with the horizon,
it becomes indispensable to take into account, in the cal¬
culation of the refraction, the law of the variation of the
density of the atmosphere at different altitudes; a law
which is subject to incessant variation, from the operation
of winds, and other causes which agitate the atmosphere,
as well as the decrease of temperature in the superior
regions. For this reason all astronomical observations
which have not refraction directly for their object, or
which are by their nature independent of its influence,
are made at an elevation exceeding 10°. For lower
altitudes, it is to be feared that no theory will ever be
found sufficiently exact to entitle the observations to
much confidence.
The existence of the atmospherical refraction was not un- First ob.
known to the ancient astronomers; but it is only in modern
times that the subject has been studied with the requisite°frefrac‘
care to admit of its influence being calculated in the reduc-1'011'
tion of observations. Ptolemy does not allude to the subject
in the Almagest, but he has given a sufficiently exact idea
of it in his wmrk on Optics. He mentions experiments
made to ascertain how far a ray of light is bent from its
rectilinear course in passing from air into glass and water;
and observes that the astronomical refraction brings a
star nearer to the zenith, and that it is feebler in propor¬
tion as the star is more elevated. He likewise indicates
a method of measuring its effects, although he does not
seem to have attempted to practise it. The same notions,
but in a less precise form, were reproduced in the Optics
of Alhazen. Walther began to estimate the effects of re¬
fraction near the horizon; and Tycho, a century after,
found the means of measuring them with greater accuracy,
and was thereby enabled to construct a table. Tycho es¬
timated the horizontal refraction at 34/, and supposed it
to vanish at the altitude of 45°; which proves that his
ideas on the subject were less accurate than those of
Ptolemy, who says expressly that it vanished only at the
zenith. Dominic Cassini was the first who proposed an hy¬
pothesis for calculating the refraction at any altitude; and
he computed a table, which was published in 1662. Since
that time the subject of refraction has been investigated,
theoretically and practically, with the most scrupulous and
delicate attention, and tables constructed to exhibit its
amount at every altitude, and at the different seasons of
the year. (See Mecanique Celeste, tom. iv. p. 231; Mr
Ivory’s Paper in the Phil. Trans, for 1823, p. 409; Be-
lambre, Astronomic du xviii. Siecle, p. 774.)
The refringent power of the atmosphere gives rise to a
number of curious phenomena. When the sun appears in
lilt
nzon.
ASTRONOMY.
Theore«al the horizon, the rays of light which issue from the extre-
A<tr<ro«y'mities of his vertical diameter are refracted unequally on
account of the difference of altitude, so that the disk, at
Oval ai Qthgj. times circular, then assumes an oval appearance;
tt and on measuring the horizontal and vertical diameters by
^ im(,i means of the micrometer, the former is sometimes found
the.- to exceed the latter by four or five minutes of a degree.
This effect is particularly remarkable when the sun is ob¬
served at his rising or setting from the top of a mountain,
or an elevation near the sea-shore, in which cases the dif¬
ference of the two diameters sometimes, in particular
states of the atmosphere, amounts to upwards of 6', or a
fifth of the whole apparent diameter of the sun. In the
case of the moon this oval appearance is seldom so per¬
ceptible ; for unless she happens to be exactly full, or in
opposition, at the same time that she is in the hori¬
zon—and this can rarely be the case—the defect of the
illumination of her disk reduces her figure to those
rounder but somewhat irregular shapes which it often
exhibits. The horizontal refraction being equal to the
apparent diameter of the sun or moon, it happens also
that either of these luminaries, and consequently any
other of the celestial bodies, may be entirely visible
above the plane of the horizon, when in fact it has set
below it. A curious instance of this was observed at
Paris in 1750. The moon rose eclipsed, while the sun,
whose place at the time of a lunar eclipse is diametrically
opposite to that of the moon, still appeared above the ho¬
rizon. Another phenomenon occasioned by the refraction
of the atmosphere is the appearance of the moon when
she is eclipsed, or immersed in the earth’s shadow, and
consequently receives no light directly from the sun. On
these occasions her disk continues distinctly visible, and
is of a dusky red colour, exhibiting the appearance of
tarnished copper, or iron nearly red-hot. This phenome¬
non occasioned great perplexity to the ancient astrono¬
mers who were unacquainted with the refractive powers
of the atmosphere; and some of them ascribed it to the
native light of the moon, in virtue of which she continues
visible when hid from the sun’s rays. Plutarch ingeniously
supposed it to be occasioned by the light of the stars re¬
flected from the dark surface of the moon; but the quan¬
tity of this light is greatly too small to produce the effect
in question. It is now explained by the scattered beams
of light bent into the earth’s shadow by refraction in
their passage through the atmosphere.
The refraction of the rays of light in traversing the
earth’s atmosphere is the cause of Twilight, which sensibly
lengthens the duration of the day, and prevents a sudden
transition from light to darknesS on the disappearance
of the sun. When the sun is more than 33' below the
horizon, the refraction is not powerful enough to bring
his rays sufficiently near the earth to reach our eyes;
they pass over our heads, and are irregularly reflected
by the molecules of the atmosphere. By this means a
portion of the celestial vault is enlightened, while the
sun is invisible. This illumination of the upper regions
is called the twilight. It commences as soon as ob¬
jects can be distinguished before sun-rise, and terminates
when they cease to be visible after the sun has set. The
time, however, at which the twilight commences and ter¬
minates cannot be assigned with any degree of precision.
It is generally supposed to be limited by the depression
of the sun 18° below the horizon. Lacaille found the li¬
mit in the torrid zone to be between 16° and 17°. Ac¬
cording to Lemonnier, it varies in France between 17°
and 21°. The duration of the twilight will evidently be
longer or shorter according as the inclination of the plane
of the sun’s orbit to the horizon is more or less oblique.
763
^Tivilip
To assign the time at which it is a maximum or mini- Theoretical
, or o a given length at a given latitude, is a pro-Astronomy,
blem of pure geometry, which has been frequently solved
since the time of the Bernoullis. J
I he scintillation or twinkling of the stars is another Scintilla-
phenomenon produced by certain modifications of atmo-tion of the
spherical refraction. The atmosphere is at all times morestars-
oi less agitated •, and on this account the clusters of mole¬
cules ol which it is composed are constantly undergoing mo¬
mentary compressions and dilatations, which occasion mi¬
nute differences of refraction, and consequent changes in
the directions of the luminous rays. The minute and ra¬
pid vaiiations thus occasioned in the apparent places of
the stars produce the twinkling or tremulous appearances
which, in certain states of the atmosphere, particularly on
the approach of rain after a long drought, are very re¬
markable. The. agitations of the atmosphere are mani¬
fest to the eye in the tremulous motion of the shadows
cast from high towers, and in looking at objects through
the smoke of a chimney, or over beds of hot sand. The
scintillation of the planets is much less than that of the
stars. This proceeds from the magnitude of their disks,
which, although apparently very small, are still far greater
than those of the fixed stars, and indeed so considerable,
that the accidental variations in the directions of the rays
of light are too minute to displace them entirely. The
borders of their disks are affected only by a slight undula¬
tion ; whereas the stars, which are merely brilliant points
of insensible magnitude, undergo a total displacement.
The apparent enlargement of the sun and moon in the Horizon-
horizon is an optical illusion, connected in some measure tal moon,
with the atmosphere, of which various explanations have
been given since the time of Ptolemy. According to the
ordinary laws of vision, the celestial bodies, particularly
the moon, which is nearest to the earth, ought to appear
largest in the meridian, because their distance is then less
than when they are near the horizon; and yet daily ex¬
perience proves that the contrary takes place. To an ob¬
server placed at E (fig. 10), the visual angle subtended by Fig. 10.
the moon in the horizon at M is somewhat less than that
under which she appears in the zenith at O ; and this fact, a
consequence indeed of her circular motion, is proved by
accurate measurements of her diameters in those circum¬
stances by the micrometer. The mean apparent diameter
of the moon, at her greatest height, is 31' in round num¬
bers, but in the horizon she seems to the eye two or three
times larger. The commonly received explanation of this
phenomenon was first given by Descartes, and after him
by Dr Wallis, James Gregory, Malebranche, Huygens,
and others, and may be stated as follows. The opinion
which we form of the magnitude of a distant body does
not depend exclusively on the visual angle under which
it appears, but also on its distance; and we judge of the
distance by a comparison with other bodies. When the
moon is near the zenith there is no interposing object
with which we can compare her, the matter of the atmo¬
sphere being scarcely visible. Deceived by the absence of
intermediate objects, we suppose her to be very near. On
the other hand, we are used to observe a large extent of
land lying between us and objects near the horizon, at
the extremity of which the sky begins to appear; we
therefore suppose the sky, with all the objects which are
visible in it, to be at a great distance. The illusion is also
greatly aided by the comparative feebleness of the light
of the moon in the horizon, which renders us in a manner
sensible of the interposition of the atmosphere. Hence
the moon, though seen under nearly the same angle, al¬
ternately appears very large and very small. Desaguliers
illustrated the doctrine of the horizontal moon on the
764 ASTRONOMY.
Theoretical supposition of our imagining the visible heavens to be
Astronomy. oniy a sraall portion of a spherical surface, as mnop (fig.
10), in which case the moon, at different altitudes, will
lo' ‘ appear to be at different distances, and therefore seem to
vary in magnitude, as at m, re, o. It is evident, however,
that this affords no explanation of the phenomenon; for
why does the sky, it may be asked, appear to be a smaller
segment than a hemisphere ? In the solution of this ques¬
tion the whole difficulty is contained.
It may be remarked that these illusions disappear as
soon as the intermediate objects are concealed from view.
They may be destroyed by regarding the moon through
a tube, which permits her disk alone to be seen, and in
this manner she will appear no larger at the horizon than
near the zenith. The same effect may be produced by
viewing her through a smoked glass, because the dark
tint permits only the luminous object to be seen, and con¬
ceals all the rest. The only precaution necessary to be
observed in making this experiment, is to place the eye in
such a position that the surrounding bodies may not be
visible.
CHAP. II.
OF THE SUN.
Sect. I.— Of the Apparent Circular Motion of the Sun in
the Ecliptic, and Position of the Ecliptic in Space.
The consideration of the diurnal motion common to all
the celestial bodies, and the succession of day and night
resulting from it, forms the first object of astronomy. The
second is to pass from the diurnal motion of the sphere to
the proper motion of the sun, and from the vicissitudes of
the day to the seasons of the year. The sun, as has al¬
ready been remarked, is constantly shifting his place
among the stars. If we observe the altitude of any star,
or group of stars, above the eastern horizon at sun-set, we
shall find, on making the same observation a few days af¬
terwards, that its elevation is considerably increased, and
that it has approached nearer to the meridian. At the
end of three months it will appear at sun-set on the meri¬
dian, and from that time continue to advance nearer and
nearer to the sun, till it is at last concealed by the splen¬
dour of his rays. After remaining for some time invisible,
it will again make its appearance in the morning to the
westward of the sun, and its distance from him will con¬
tinue to jncrease daily, till, at the end of a year, it has
made a complete circuit of the sky, and regained the po¬
sition it occupied at the time of the first observation.
The earliest observers explained this phenomenon by sup¬
posing the diurnal motion of the sun to be less rapid than
that of the stars, in consequence of which he constantly
falls behind them. This supposition would be admissible
if the sun remained constantly in the plane of the equa¬
tor ; but as he deviates considerably from that plane,
on both sides of it, it is infinitely more simple to ascribe
to the sun a motion of his own, independent of the diur¬
nal motion, and performed in a contrary direction, in vir¬
tue of which he traces an oblique route among the stars.
Sun’s The oblique path of the sun may be determined by ob-
course serving the positions of the stars near which, he succes-
in the sively passes in the course of the year. The same obiect
is however accomplished with much greater precision by
the modern practice of observing his declinations and
right ascensions, that is to say, his distances from the
equator, and an arbitrary meridian. In this manner his
place may be accurately assigned every day; and, by a
repetition of similar observations, a series of points will
be obtained on the surface of the celestial sphere, which
mark out his annual course. The result of constant ex-Theoretic
perience shows, that the declination reaches its maximum •Astr°nom
on the south side of the equator about the 22d of De-'V-*“V'V
cember, when it amounts to 23‘465 degrees. From this
time it gradually diminishes till about the 21st of March,
when the sun reaches the plane of the equator. At this
time the days and nights are of equal length all over the
earth, and the instant of time at which the sun’s centre
is in the equatorial plane is called the instant of the
equinox. The sun then appears on the opposite side of
the equator, and his declination or meridional altitude
continues to increase till about the 22d of June, when he
becomes stationary, and then again shapes his course
towards the equator. His maximum declination on the
north side of the equator is exactly equal to that on the
south, amounting to 23°-465. The sun now continues to
approach the equator till about the 24th of September,
when he again reaches that plane, and a second equi¬
nox succeeds. Continuing still to move in the same di¬
rection, he declines from the equator southward, till he
reaches his former limit about the 22d of December, after
which he resumes his former course.
The two small circles of the sphere, parallel to the Tropics,
equator, which pass through the two points where the de¬
clination is great, are called the Solstices, or the Tropics ;
that on the northern hemisphere is called the Tropic of
Cancer, and the other is called the Tropic of Capricorn.
These two parallels, which mark the extreme limits of
the sun’s declination, are, as has just been stated, equally
distant from the equator, with regard to which the varia¬
tions of declination on either side are perfectly symme¬
trical and uniform.
If at the time of the vernal equinox we remark the
stars which set in the true west while the sun is rising in
the east, and which are then separated from him by a semi¬
circumference, it will be found that the difference of their
right ascensions, and the right ascensions of those which
have precisely a similar situation relatively to the sun at
the time of the autumnal equinox, is exactly 180°. It
follows, therefore, that the solar orbit intersects the equa¬
tor in two points diametrically opposite ; but we have seen
that its northern and southern declinations are equal;
hence the orbit projected on the.sphere must be a great
circle, provided it lies wholly in the same plane. Whether
this is the case or not it will be easy to prove by means of
a few observations, in the following manner.
Let AQ (fig. 11) be the equator, AE the orbit of the Fig- 11-
sun, PSM, PTN two circles of declination, drawn through
any two points S and T of the orbit. If the sun’s path is
confined to a plane, then AE must be a great circle, and
we shall have the equation sin. AM— tan* accord-
^ tan. MAS
ing to the well-known properties of spherical triangles.
Let the cotangent of the unknown but constant angle
MAS=re, the declinations MS = D, NT = D', the right
ascensions AM=./E, ANrziE'; then, according to the
above formula, we must have sin. iE := re tan. D, and sin.
iE' — re tan. D', at whatever points of the orbit S and T
may be situated. From these two last equations there result
also cos. JE = Vl—re2 tan.2D, cos. JE' = V1—re2 tan.2D',
which, being substituted in the trigonometrical formula
sin. (iE'—7E)=sin. iE'cos. JE—cos. JE' sin. JE, we shall
have sin. (2E1—JE)—n tan. D' Vl—re2 tan.2 D — re tan. D
Vl — re2 tan.2 I)'. The observations of the meridional al¬
titudes will give the declinations D and D'; and the dif¬
ference of right ascensions, JE'—JE, will be found by com¬
paring the time of the sun’s culmination, or transit over
ASTRONOMY.
■r/■» ^
/OD
T1)e0(ical the meridian, with that of a star. If, therefore, it is
Astrn'my- found that, by assigning a certain constant value to n, this
equation will satisfy all the observations, combined by
pairs, of the sun’s right ascensions and declinations, it will
follow that the plane determined by any two points in
the sun’s course and the point in which it intersects the
equator, has always the same inclination to the equator;
in other words, all the planes so determined are identical.
Now the observations of the sun’s right ascensions and
meridional altitudes, which have been made daily during
so great a number of years, and under so many different
meridians, are found to conform entirely with the preced¬
ing formulae: they therefore furnish so many proofs that
the projection of the sun’s orbit is a great circle of the
celestial sphere, and that the orbit itself is wholly confined
to the same plane.
Eerie. The great circle which the sun describes in virtue of
his proper motion is called the Ecliptic. It has received
this name from the circumstance that the moon, during
eclipses, is either in the same plane or very near it.
These phenomena can in fact only happen when the sun,
earth, and moon are nearly in the same straight line,
and, consequently, when the moon is in the same plane
with the earth and the sun. The angle formed by the
planes of the ecliptic and equator, and which is measured
by the arc of a circle of declination intercepted between
the equator and tropic, is called the Obliquity of the Ecliptic.
The two points in which the equator and ecliptic intersect
each other are called the Equinoctial Points : they are also
Nc i. denominated the Nodes of the Equator ; and the straight
line conceived to join them is the Line of the Equinoxes, or
the Line of the Nodes. The node through which the sun
passes on coming from the south to the north of the equa¬
tor is called the Ascending Node, and is usually distin¬
guished by the character Q ; the opposite node is the
Descending Node, and is marked by 23. A straight line
passing through the centre of the earth, perpendicular to
the plane of the ecliptic, is called the Axis, and the
points in which its prolongation meets the sphere are
called the Poles, of the Ecliptic ; these denominations be¬
ing analogous to those of the axis and poles of the equa¬
tor. The two small circles of the sphere which pass
through the poles of the ecliptic, and are parallel to the
equator, are called the Polar Circles.
Sts of The ecliptic has been divided by astronomers, from time
tljodiac. immemorial, into twelve equal parts, called Signs, each of
which consequently contains 30 degrees. The names and
symbols by which they are characterized are as follows :—
North of the Equator.
Aries  ^
Taurus  8
Gemini  n
Cancer  So
Leo  SI
Virgo  ii£
South of the Equator.
Libra  =£=
Scorpio  HI
Sagittarius  $
Capricornus  >y
Aquarius  ZZ
Pisces  X
In each of these signs the ancients formed groups of
stars, which they denominated asterisms, constellations,
animals (^wS/a), not confined to the ecliptic, but included
within an imaginary belt, extending 8° on each side of it,
to which they gave the name of Zodiac xv-/J.og,
circle or zone of the animals). The term sign is now em¬
ployed only to denote an arc of 30°, and will probably
soon be banished entirely from the astronomical tables.
It is already confined to the tables of the planets. ^ ihus,
to denote that the longitude of a planet is 276° 12', it is
usual to write 9s 6° 12'. Formerly it was usual to employ
the characteristic symbol, and to write >y 6° 12', meaning
that the planet was 12' in the 6th degree of Capricornus,
or the tenth sign. This inconvenient practice is now laid Theoretical
aside, and the signs, when they are employed, are simply Astronomy-
distinguished by the ordinal numbers.
As the greater part of the celestial phenomena con¬
nected with the planetary system take place either in the
ecliptic or in planes not greatly inclined to it, it is found
to be most convenient to refer the positions of the planets,
and frequently those of the stars also, to that plane. The
first point of Aries, which is the technical expression for
the intersection of the ecliptic and equator, or the place of
the sun at the vernal equinox, is assumed as the origin from
which the degrees of the equator, as well as of the ecliptic,
are counted from west to east, or in the direction of the
sun’s annual motion. The angular distance of the sun from
this point is called his Longitude; and the longitude of a
star is the arc intercepted on the ecliptic between the same
point and a great circle passing through the star perpendi¬
cular to the ecliptic. The arc of this circle intercepted be¬
tween the star and the ecliptic, or, which is the same thing,
the complement of the star’s distance from the pole of the
ecliptic, is called the Latitude of the star; so that longitude
and latitude are with regard to the ecliptic whatrlght ascen¬
sion and declination are with regard to the equator. Thus,
let O'Y’Q (fig- 12) be the equator, ItL the ecliptic, P and Fig. 12.
E the north poles of these two circles respectively, and S
the place of a star. Having drawn through the pole of
the ecliptic and the star the great circle ESM perpendi¬
cular to the ecliptic in then <y) M is the longitude of S,
counted on the ecliptic from the vernal point <y> towards
the east; and SM, the distance of the star from the eclip¬
tic, is its latitude ; and for this reason all great circles pass¬
ing through the poles of the ecliptic are called Circles of
Latitude. The place of a star is thus determined by its
longitude qeM, and its latitude SM, as well as by its right
ascension T’Rj and its declination SR; and when the an¬
gle L<Y>Qis known, it is easy to pass from the one system
of co-ordinates to the other by means of the formulae of
spherical trigonometry. These formulae are of constant
use, for it is the declinations and right ascensions only
which are directly observed.
The plane of the sun’s orbit will be determined com-Obliquity
pletely when its inclination to the equator and the posi-of the
tion of the line of the nodes in space have been made “fipt10-
known by observation. The declination of the sun twice
a year, namely, at the summer and winter solstice, is
equal to the obliquity of the ecliptic; whence, if the sol¬
stice happened exactly at mid-day, the obliquity would
be given directly by an observation of his meridional alti¬
tude. This circumstance, however, can happen only
for one terrestrial meridian ; but as the declination of the
sun when he approaches the tropics varies little from one
day to another, his greatest observed declination will be
a very near approximation to the obliquity, at whatever
part of the earth the observation may have been made.
It is easy, however, to correct the error which results
from the observation being made on a meridian different
from the solstitial colure. Taking an example from
Woodhouse, let us suppose the sun’s declination to be ob¬
served on three successive days (the 20th, 21st, and 22d
of June), and found to be on these days respectively,
23° 27' 37", 23° 27' 41", 23° 27' 20";
then it is obvious, that if the middle observation gave the
greatest inclination exactly, the other two would differ
from it equally, which they do not. The maximum de¬
clination is therefore a quantity somewhat different from
23° 27' 41"; and it is easy to conclude, from the inspection
of the numbers, that it is nearer to 23° 27' 41" than to
either of the other two. It is obvious, therefore, that that
observation must have been made within 12 hours of the
766
ASTRONOMY.
Theoretical time when the sun was exactly in the solstitial point. In
t!^Sord.er t0 form an exact notion of amount of error
which may possibly arise from this circumstance, let S
ph^XXX-Cfig. 13) be the place of the sun at the time of the obser-
* vation, and X the true but as yet unknown solstitial
point, and S s, X a; meridional arcs intersecting the equa¬
tor in s and x. The arc S X must be less than 30', for in
12 hours the variation of the sun’s longitude does not ex¬
ceed an arc of that magnitude. Suppose it 30': then,
by Napier’s rules,
rad. X sin. Ss = sin. <y> X sin. S <Y',
and rad. X sin. Xa? = sin. <y> X sin. X ;
whence, on eliminating sin. rys and observing that
sin. X t = sin. 90° = 1, we shall have
. „ sin. S s sin. S s
sin. X x = ■ ■ = — .
simSfY1 cos. SX
By taking, according to the observation, S s =r 23° 27' 41",
and S X = SO7, we shall find from the logarithmic tables
X a: = 23° 27' 44"'5. It will be observed that 30' is the
maximum error in longitude; if instead of 30' it had
been supposed only 3', the corresponding error in declina¬
tion would have amounted only to 0"'035. In the example
chosen, the error of longitude is about 20', whence the er¬
ror of declination is 1"*5 nearly, and consequently the re¬
sulting obliquity differs little from 23° 27' 42"*5. This
result is, however, to be understood of the apparent obli¬
quity, which is subject to slight variations, depending on
the longitudes of the moon’s nodes: the mean obliquity,
deduced from the comparison of a great number of obser- Theo..
vations, both of the summer and winter solstice, may be Astro"!
regarded as amounting to 23° 27' 41" at the commence-i
ment of the year 1830. We shall see, when we come to
speak of the Nutation, in what the difference between the
apparent and mean obliquity consists.
When the mean value of the obliquity of the ecliptic,
as determined by the delicate instruments of the present
day, is compared with that given by ancient observations,
it appears to have undergone a progressive diminution,
and is always greater as the observation is more remote.
The ancient observers were not, indeed, possessed of the
means of determining an element of this sort with great
precision; but as all the observations recorded in history
agree in making the obliquity greater in former times than
it is now, the probability is almost infinite that the angle
formed by the planes of the equator and ecliptic has
really diminished; for, had the differences of the values
assigned to it arisen solely from errors of observation,
they would have been in excess and defect indifferently,
instead of being, as they are, uniformly in excess. The
various observations and traditions by which the progres¬
sive diminution of the obliquity is confirmed have been
collected by Badly; in the following table we have in¬
serted those which appear to be the best authenticated,
and have added the results of some recent observations,
which exhibit the present value of the obliquity, and the
rate of its diminution.
Year.
Before
Christ.
200
160
After
Christ.
827
880
1150
1278
1437
1490
1590
1646
1660
1672
Name of Observer.
Eratosthenes, confirmed by Hip¬
parchus and Ptolemy  
The Chinese  
Arabians at Bagdad.
Albategnius 
Almansor 
The Chinese 
Ulugh Beigh 
Walther 
Tycho 
Riccioli 
Hevelius 
Cassini 
Obliquity.
23° 51' 15"
33 45 52
23 33 52
23 35 40
23 33 30
23 32 12
23 31 58
23 29 47
23 29 52
23 30 20
23 29 10
23 29 00
Year.
After
Christ.
1690
1703
1736
1743
1750
1755
1756
1769
1780
1800
1813
1815
1816
1825
Name of Observer.
Flamsteed 
Bianchini 
Condamine 
Cassini de Thury.
Lacaille 
Bradley 
T. Mayer 
Maskelyne 
Cassini 
Maskelyne 
Piazzi 
Delambre 
Pond 
Bessel 
Dr Brinkley 
Dr Pearson 
Obliquity.
23° 28'
23 28
23 28
23 28
23 28
23 28
23 28
23 28
23 27
23 27
23 27
23 27
23 27
23 27
23 27
23 27
48"
35
24
26
19
15
16
10
54
56-6
56-3
57
48- 66
47-46
49- 21
44-01
Secular Although the comparison of these observations with
minuti u °ne anotller S^ves vei7 discordant results relatively to the
mmu ion. jaw accor(iing to which the obliquity varies, their totality
places the fact of its progressive diminution beyond all
manner of doubt. Lacaille, who was followed by the
greater number of astronomers, estimated the diminution
of 44" in a hundred years; a result to which he was led
chiefly by a comparison of his own observations with
those of Walther. Lalande, after comparing an immense
number of modern observations with those of the 17th,
16th, and 15th centuries, and also with those of the Ara¬
bians and Chinese, found the secular diminution to be 50".
Bessel, rejecting the ancient observations as too uncer¬
tain, and comparing those only which have been made
since the time of Bradley, has fixed the secular diminu¬
tion at 45"-7, which differs inconsiderably from the deter¬
mination of Lacaille. It cannot yet be determined by
observation whether this diminution is uniform, or acce¬
lerated, or retarded; but so slow is the rate at which it
proceeds, that it may, without any sensible error, be re¬
garded as uniform for many centuries to come.
The gradual diminution of the obliquity of the ecliptic-
might lead us to suppose that a time will ultimately arrive
when that plane Mull coincide with the equator, and the
earth be deprived, in consequence, of the agreeable vicis¬
situde of the seasons. But the theory of universal gravi¬
tation, which has revealed the cause of the diminution,
has also shown that there are certain limits which the an¬
gle of the two planes can never exceed, and between
which it must continue for ever to oscillate. Geometers
have not yet ventured to assign the precise extent of these
limits, but their existence is certain; and the planes of
the ecliptic and equator, which have been approaching to
each other during the last 2000 years, will, in the course
of some thousands of years more, begin to recede. jy .
In what has yet been said respecting the diminution ofmei[t; 0f
the obliquity of the ecliptic, no fact has been mentionedthe eclij
from which it can be inferred, whether the phenomenon is tic.
ASTRONOMY.
A^eticai occasioned by the displacement of the plane of the eclip- compared with those of Lacaille, gives 50"i.
767
On com-Theoretical
W{iomy. tic or that of the equator. This question may also be de- paring modern observations with one another, we find Astronomy-
cided by a comparison of modern with ancient observa- 50"*06. Delambre, in his solar tables, supposes the an-v^^v^wy
tions; for it is evident, that if the inclination of these two nual precession to be equal to 50"*1. According to this
planes becomes less, the stars which are situated between estimate the equinoctial points go backwards at the rate
them, particularly those near the solstitial colure, will ap- of one degree in 7T6 years nearly, and therefore will make
pear to approach to that plane which changes its posi- a complete revolution of the heavens in about 25,868, or
tion; so that if the ecliptic is displaced, the latitudes of nearly 26 thousand years.
those stars will be diminished, or their declinations if the The discovery of the precession of the equinoxes is ge-
displacement belongs to the equator. It was first ob- nerally attributed to Hipparchus, who, on comparing
served by Tycho, and the observation has been confirmed his own observations with those of Timocharis, more an-
by succeeding astronomers, that the latitudes of the south- cient by 160 years, perceived that in this1 interval the
ern stars situated near the solstitial colure, that is, of longitudes of the stars had been augmented by about two
those stars whose longitudes are nearly 90°, have dimi- degrees. It would seem, however, from many proofs col-
nished upwards of 20' since the time of Hipparchus and lected by Bailly, that this motion, slow as it is, was known
Ptolemy, while the latitudes of the northern stars have to all the ancient nations who cultivated astronomy, long
undergone a corresponding augmentation. From this fact before the time of Hipparchus. It is indeed easy to con¬
it is proved that the diminution of the obliquity is occa- ceive, from the great attention which they gave to the
sioned by the displacement of the ecliptic; and theory heliacal risings of the remarkable stars, that they might ob-
has shown that the cause of the displacement is the ac- serve a gradual change of the seasons at the occurrence
tion of the planets, particularly of Jupiter and Venus, on of these phenomena, from which they would necessarily
the earth, by virtue of which the plane of the earth’s or- be led to conclude a variation of the star’s longitude. In
bit is drawn nearer to the planes of the orbits of these two consequence of this regression of the equinoctial points,
planets. This, however, though by far the most consider- the sun’s place among the zodiacal constellations at any
able, is not the sole cause of the phenomenon; for theory given season of the year is now greatly different from
also shows that a slight motion of the plane of the equa- what it was in remote ages. Some time prior to Hippar-
tor is produced by the attraction of the sun and moon, chus, the first points of Aries and Libra corresponded to
but so very minute that its effects will only become ap- the vernal and autumnal equinoxes; those of Cancer and
preciable after a long series of ages. Capricorn to the summer and winter solstices: at present
P 3ssion After determining the inclination of the plane of the these constellations have receded 30 degrees from the
d e ecliptic to that of the equator, the only element requisite same points of the ecliptic. _ Ihe vernal equinox now- hap-
I a ioxes-10 its position absolutely in space, is the situation of pens in the constellation Pisces, the summer solstice in
c-fralrrlii-lino fnrmprl hv its intersection with that nlane. Gemini, the autumnal equinox in \irgo, and the winter
768
ASTRONOMY.
Theoretical their action in producing it varies with their distance from
Astronomy, that plane. Twice a year, therefore, the effect of the
sun in causing precession is nothing; and twice a year,
namely at the solstices, it is a maximum : on no two suc¬
cessive days of the year is it exactly the same, and
consequently the regression of the equinoctial points,
which results from the sun’s action, must be unequable.
On this account the obliquity of the ecliptic is subject to
a semi-annual variation; for the sun’s force, which tends to
produce a change in the obliquity, is variable, while the
diurnal motion of the earth, which prevents the change from
taking place, is constant. Hence the plane of the equator
is subject to an irregular motion, which is technically called
the Solar Nutation. The existence of the solar nutation is,
however, only a deduction from theory, for its amount is too
small to be perceptible to observation; but a similar effect of
the moon’s action is sufficiently appreciable, and was, in
fact, discovered by Dr Bradley before theory had indicated
its existence. Its period, however, is different, and depends
on the time of the revolution of the moon’s nodes, which
is performed in 18 years and about 7 months. During
this time the intersection of the lunar orbit with the ecliptic
has receded through a complete circumference; and the
inequality of the moon’s action will consequently, in the
same time, have passed through all its different degrees.
Bradley observed that the declinations of the stars con¬
tinued to augment during nine years, that they diminished
during the nine years following, and that the greatest
change of declination amounted to 18". He remarked fur¬
ther, that this motion was connected with an irregularity
of the precession of the equinoxes, which followed exactly
the same period ; whence he concluded that the motion of
the poles of the equator, occasioned by this vibration of
its plane, was not confined to the solstitial colure. A
series of observations on stars differently situated proved
that all the phenomena could be explained on the hypo¬
thesis that the pole of the equator describes in 18 years
a small circle of 18" diameter, contrary to the order of the
signs ; or that the axis of the world, following the circum¬
ference of this circle, describes the surface of a cone, the
axis of which forms with its side an angle of 9". This ap¬
parent vibratory motion is significantly denominated the
Nutation of the Earth's Axis.
Path de- In consequence of the two motions which occasion the
scribed in precession and the nutation, the true path of the pole of
the^ole 0fthe e<luator roun(l that °f the ecliptic is an epicycloidal
the equa- curve> which will be understood by referring to fig. 14.
tor. Let E be the pole of the ecliptic, round which the pole of
Fig. 14. the equator P describes, in virtue of the precession, and
in a direction contrary to the order of the sines, the circle
PQR, of which the radius EP is equal to the obliquity of
the ecliptic, or the mean distance of the two poles. While
P, the mean place of the pole, moves in the circle PQR,
with a velocity equal to the regression of the equinoctial
points, or at the rate of 50"'1 a year, the true pole p de¬
scribes at the same time round P a small circle of 18"
diameter in the same direction jD§T. The true path of
the pole is therefore along the circumference of a circle
pqr, the centre of which retrogrades on the circumference
of another circle, and consequently moves in an epicy¬
cloid abcdefg, the curve which results from the composi¬
tion of the two motions. Suppose the mean pole at Q,
the true pole at a, and «Q=:9". In the course of nine years
the mean pole will have retrograded from Q to R, making
QR=9X50"-1, while the true pole will have accomplish¬
ed a semi-revolution in its circle. It will'therefore be at
c (Rc beings 9"), and have described the epicycloidal
arc abc, the greatest distance of which from the circle
PQR is at b, and equal to 9". At the end of the following
nine years the mean pole has retrograded from R to S, orTheore i
9 x 50"T, and the true pole has returned to the same 1
point a of its epicycle ; it will therefore be found at e '^v- j
Se being =9". In this interval it has necessarily been
within the circle PQR, its greatest distance from which
at d is 9", so that in 18 years it has traced the curve
abode. But ac = QR + «Q-fRcz=9x 50"*1 a. 18"
= 7' 49", andce=RS — Re—Se = 9 X 50"-l —18" = 7' 13"
From a to c the motion of the true pole in the epicycle is in
the same direction as that of the mean pole ; from c to e it
is in an opposite direction, but as it is always much
slower, being only about 3" in a year, while that of the
mean motion is 50"T, the true motion which results from
the combination of both will always be in the direction ce,
and at d its velocity will be equal to their difference. At
b and d the difference between the latitudes of the true
and mean pole is a maximum, while the difference of
their longitudes is nothing; in other words, the correction
of the obliquity is greatest when that of the precession
vanishes : at a, c, and e the correction of the obliquity va¬
nishes, and that of the precession is a maximum.
Dr Bradley remarked that the effects of the nutation Pole d{
would be represented still more accurately by supposing scribes
the curve described by the pole of the equator about its61^86,
mean place to be an ellipse instead of a circle, the trans¬
verse and conjugate axes being 18" and 16" respectively.
This is also confirmed by theory, from which Laplace cal¬
culated the semi-axes of the ellipse at 9"’63 and 7"T7. The
semi-transverse axis of the ellipse described by the pole
in virtue of the sun’s action alone does not exceed half a
second, and is consequently totally inappreciable. The
sensible part of the nutation, therefore, follows exactly the
period of the revolution of the nodes of the moon. From
a series of 810 observations, embracing three complete
revolutions of the moon’s node, the major and minor semi¬
axes of the ellipse have been found by M. Lindenau to
be 8",977 and 6"‘682 respectively.
It is now easy to see the reason of the distinction
drawn above between the mean and the true or apparent
obliquity. The mean obliquity is represented by the ra¬
dius EP of the deferent circle PQR, along the circum¬
ference of which the centre of the small circle or ellipse
is carried, while the true obliquity is that quantity in¬
creased or diminished by the nutation. The calculation
of the mean obliquity from the true is performed by the
aid of the astronomical tables.
The progressive diminution of the mean obliquity and
the nutation of the earth’s axis are inequalities distin¬
guished from each other, not only by their being derived
from different and distinct causes, but still more by the
very great difference of time required for their full de¬
velopment. Almost every other element of the planetary
system is affected in a similar manner by inequalities of
two kinds, which are distinguished by the terms secular
and periodic. The secular inequalities proceed with ex¬
treme slowness, and continue progressive in the same
sense during many centuries; while the periodic are much
more rapid in their march, and run through the whole
period of their changes in comparatively short intervals
of time. The inequalities of the first kind are also periodic;
but their periods are vastly longer, and may be reckoned
by centuries instead of years ; and from this circumstance
they derive their name of secular inequalities.
Sect. II.— Of the Orbit of the Sun.
Having now considered the situation of the plane in
which the sun is observed to move relatively to the fixed
stars, and also the small secular and periodic variations
ASTRONOMY.
p retical to which it is subject, we proceed next to inquire into the
At-'nomy. nature of his orbit, or the curve which he describes on
u/^that plane. The means which we have of determining
the solar orbit are the observed variations of the sun’s
angular velocity, and of his distance from the earth;
hence two kinds of observations are necessary,—the first,
of his daily meridional altitudes, from which, as the incli¬
nation of the orbit is known, his angular velocity is easily
found; and the second, of his apparent diameter, the va¬
riations of which follow the inverse ratio of his distance.
That the angular velocity of the sun’s motion in his or¬
bit is not uniform, is obvious from the fact that he re¬
mains 7§ days longer in the northern than in the south¬
ern signs, or, which is the same thing, that the interval
between the vernal and autumnal equinoxes is 7f days
longer than the interval between the autumnal and ver¬
nal. It is proved by numerous observations that the sun
moves with the greatest velocity when at a point situated
near the winter solstice ; while at the opposite point of the
orbit, or near the summer solstice, his velocity is the
least. At the first point the diurnal motion is 1°-01943,
and at the second only 0°-95319. It is constantly varying
between these two points; and the variation is observed
to be nearly proportional to the sun’s angular distance
from the point of his orbit where his velocity is a maxi¬
mum or minimum. The mean velocity is 0°'9B632, or
nearly 59' 11", which is the rate of the sun’s daily motion
about the beginning of April and October.
The point of the solar orbit, which is .the most remote
from the earth, is called the apogee (am yns, away from
the earth) ; that which is nearest is called the perigee (mp
yr\i, near the earth). The same points are also called re¬
spectively the superior and inferior Apsis of the orbit, and
the straight line which joins them is called the Line of the
Apsides.
The exact determination of the sun’s diameter is a pro¬
blem which engaged the earliest astronomers, but of
which, before the invention of the telescope and micro¬
meter, it was impossible to obtain a solution sufficiently
accurate to make known its variations. Archimedes, by
an extremely ingenious though imperfect method, de¬
monstrated that it must be included between the limits
^ and yJpf of a right angle, that is, between 27' and 32'
55"-7. The Egyptians, by observing the time which the
sun takes to rise above the horizon, found it to be between
a 750th and a 700th part of a circumference, that is, be¬
tween 28' 48" and 30' 51"-5. Aristarchus of Samos sup¬
posed it to be 30'. The precision of modern observations
shows that the apparent diameter is greatest about the
time of the winter solstice, and least about the summer
solstice; but there is some discrepancy among the results
of different astronomers with respect to its actual magni¬
tude. According to Lalande, the greatest apparent dia¬
meter, about the end of December, is 32' 35"‘5 ; the least,
about the end of June, 31' 30"‘5. According to the tables
of Delambre, its greatest value is 32' 35"’6, and its least
31'31"; the mean apparent diameter, or the diameter at
the sun’s mean distance, is equal to 32' 2"’9.
From these remarks it is obvious, that if the orbit of the
sun be a circle, the earth is not situated in the centre of
that circle, otherwise the distance of the sun from the
earth would remain always the same, which is contrary to
fact. It is possible, however, that the variation in his angular
: l5, velocity may not be real, but only apparent. Ihus, in fig.
15, let AMPN be the orbit of the sun, C the centre of that
orbit, and E the position of the earth at some distance
from the centre. It is obvious that P is the sun s perigee,
and A his apogee. Now, as the sun’s apparent orbit is a
circle having the earth in its centre, it is evident that this
VOL. in.
769
orbit must be and that the angular motion of the Theoretical
sun will be measured upon that circle. Suppose now that Astronomy*
the sun in his apogee moves from A to A', it is obvious
that his apparent or angular motion will be the segment
a a' of the apparent orbit, considerably smaller than A A';
so that at the apogee the angular motion of the sun will
be less than his real motion. Again, let the sun in his
perigee move from P to P', describing a segment precise¬
ly equal to the segment AA'. This segment, as seen from
the earth, will be referred to pp’, which in that case will
be the sun’s angular motion, evidently considerably greater
than his real motion.
Hence it is obvious, that even on the supposition that
the sun moved equably in his orbit, his angular motion as
seen from the earth would still vary, that is, would be
smallest at the apogee and greatest at the perigee, and
that the angular and real motion would only coincide in
the points M and N, where the real and apparent orbits in¬
tersect each other. From the figure, it is obvious also that
the angular velocity would increase gradually from the
apogee to the perigee, and diminish gradually from the
perigee to the apogee, which likewise corresponds with
observation.
But if the variation in the angular motion of the sun Sun’s mo-
were owing alone to the eccentric position of the earth tion varies,
within the solar orbit, it is easy to demonstrate that in
that case the diminution of his angular velocity would
follow the same ratio as the diminution of his diameter.
The fact however is, that the angular velocity diminishes
in a ratio twice as great as the diameter of the sun does.
The variation of the angular velocity cannot then be
owing to the eccentricity alone. Hence it follows that the
variation of the motion of the sun is not merely apparent,
but real, and that its velocity in its orbit actually dimi¬
nishes as his distance from the earth increases. Pwo
causes, then, combine to produce the variation in the sun s
angular velocity; namely, 1. the increase and diminution
of his distance from the earth, and, 2. the real increase
and diminution of his velocity in proportion to this varia¬
tion of distance. These two causes combine in such a
manner that the daily angular motion of the sun dimi¬
nishes as the square of his distance increases, so that the
product of the angular velocity multiplied into the square
of the distance is a constant quantity. # .
The observation, that the sun’s angular motion in his
orbit is inversely proportional to the square of his distance
from the earth, is due to Kepler. The discovery was made
by a careful comparison of the sun’s diurnal motion with
his apparent diameter, which is inversely proportional to
his distance from the earth. Let ASB (fig. 16) be the Fig. 1C.
sun’s orbit, E the earth, and S' the sun. Suppose a line
ES joining the centres of the earth and sun to move
round along with the sun. It is obvious that when S
moves to S', ES, moving along with it, is now in the situa¬
tion ES', having described the small sector SES'. In the
same time that S performs one revolution in its orbit, the
radius vector ES will describe the whole area ABS in¬
closed within the sun’s orbit. Let SS' be the sun’s angu¬
lar motion during one day. It is evident that the
sector SES' is proportional to the square of ES, multiplied
by SS'; for the radius vector is the sun’s distance from
the earth, and SS' his angular motion. Hence this sector Describes
is a constant quantity, whatever the angular motion of theareas prn-
sun be; and the whole area SEA increases as the numberPo^onal
of days which the sun takes in moving from S to •times_
Hence results that remarkable law, first pointed out by
Kepler, that the areas described by the radius vector are
proportional to the times of description. Suppose the sun
to describe SS' in one day, and SA in twenty days; then
5 £
ASTRONOMY.
770
Theoretical the area SES' is to the area SEA as 1 to 20, or the area
Astronomy. SEA is 20 times greater than the area SES'.
The knowledge of these facts enables us to draw upon
paper, from day to day, lines proportional to the length
of the radius vector of the solar orbit, and having the
same relative position. If we join the extremity of these
lines, by making a curve pass through them, we shall per¬
ceive that this curve is not exactly circular. Let E
Fig. 17. (fig. 17) represent the earth, and E a, E &, E c, E d, E e, &c.
the position and length of the radius vector during every
day of the year ; if we join together the points a, b, c, d, e,
f g, h, i, k, l, m, n, o, by drawing the curve aeim through
them, it is obvious that this curve is not a circle, but elon¬
gated towards a and i, the points which represent the
sun’s greatest and least distance from the earth. The
resemblance of this curve to the ellipse induced Kepler
to compare them together; and he ascertained their iden¬
tity, and thus proved that the orbit of the sun is an ellipse,
having the earth in one of its foci.
Having arrived at the knowledge of the true nature of
the sun’s orbit, it becomes necessary, in the next place, to
determine its position on the plane of the ecliptic, that is,
to assign the position of the transverse axis, or line of the
apsides, with reference to some other straight line given
by position on that plane. The line which it is most con¬
venient to assume for this purpose is the line of the equi¬
noxes ; and the position of the apsides may be determin¬
ed from observations of the time which the sun occupies
in performing a semi-revolution, counting from different
points of his orbit. Thus, if among the observations of
the sun’s longitude made daily during the course of a
year, we compare, two and two, all those which are dia¬
metrically opposite, or which differ by 180°, it will be
found that the interval between them will be somewhat
less than half a year, if the sun, during that interval, has
passed through his perigee, or longer if he has passed
through his apogee; and that the time between the two
observations will differ less from half the time of a whole
revolution, in proportion as the sun’s place, at the time of
the two observations, was nearer to the apsides. If the
difference of time between the two observations is exactly
half a year, then the place of the apsides would be obtain¬
ed at once, because the sun must have been in those points
when the observations were made. The probability is,
however, infinitely small, that this can ever happen exact¬
ly ; but as the position of the apsides is known very nearly
from the diurnal Observations of the variation of the sun’s
angular velocity, the necesssary corrections can easily be
supplied by computation.
From the comparison of observations made in different
ages, it appears that the position of the apsides is not fixed
on the plane of the ecliptic, but that the greater axis of
the solar ellipse revolves in the direction of the sun’s an¬
nual motion. The observations of Hipparchus, compared
with those of the present times, show that the apsides
have a direct motion at the rate of 65" in a year. Ac¬
cording to the observations of Walther, the longitude of
the apogee in 1496 was 93° 57' 57"; and according to
Lacaille, the same element in 1750 was 98° 37' 28"; whence,
dividing the difference by 254, the interval between the
two epochs, the annual motion of the line of the apsides
amounts to 66". Delambre found, by the comparison of a
great number of modern observations, that the annual mo¬
tion is 61"'95 a year. The theory of attraction, which, in
respect of such slow and minute variations, must be con¬
sidered as giving more accurate results than can be obtain¬
ed directly by observation, gives 61"-9 for the yearly pro¬
gressive motion of the apsides.
In the above determination, the position of the ap¬
sides is referred to the line of the equinoxes, and their TneoreL
motion compared with the sun’s tropical revolution. But Astronj, I
if we wish to determine their motion with reference to the''--rv! J
fixed stars, it is necessary to have regard to the retrograde
movement of the equinoctial points ; for it is obvious, that
if the line of the equinoxes is not fixed, the displacement
of the apsides with respect to the stars will be increased
or diminished by the whole amount of its motion, accord¬
ing as the two motions are in the same or opposite direc*
tions. Now the motion of the line of the apsides is direct,
and has just been stated to amount to 61"*9 in a solar
year; that of the equinoxes is, on the contrary, retrograde,
and amounts to 50"T in the same time. Hence the dis¬
placement of the apsides, with reference to a star or fixed
point in the ecliptic, is 61"-9 — 50"T = 11"*8 a year, in the
direction of the sun’s annual motion. The time, therefore,
in which the solar perigee completes a revolution in the
360°
heavens, or returns to the same star, is equal near¬
ly to 110,000 years.
Since the greater axis of the solar ellipse has a pro¬
gressive motion on the plane of the ecliptic, it forms a
variable angle with the line of the equinoxes, and at dis¬
tant epochs will coincide with that line, or be perpendicu¬
lar to it. The epochs at which these phenomena happen
may be easily found by simple proportions, when the longi¬
tude of the perigee at any given time, and its annual mo¬
tion, are known. According to the observations of Lacaille,
already quoted, the longitude of the perigee in 1750 was
278° 37' 28"; but when the longitude of the perigee was
270°, the greater axis of the solar ellipse must have been
perpendicular to the line of the equinoxes. The difference
of these two longitudes is 8° 37' 28", and the number of
years requisite to describe that arc, at the rate of 61"-9
8° 37' 28"
annually, is —gpAj— — years nearly; whence the
major axis was perpendicular to the line of the equinoxes
in the year 1250, when the perigee of the orbit coincided
with the winter solstice.
Suppose it were required to assign the epoch at which
the major axis coincided with the line of the equinoxes.
At the occurrence of this phenomenon the longitude of
the perigee was 180°, consequently from that time to 1750
the perigee had advanced 278° 37'28"—180° 98° 37'28".
98° 37' 28"
Now —Qp%9  — 5735; therefore 5735 is the number
of years intervening between the occurrence of the pheno¬
menon and 1750. Hence about 4000 years before the
commencement of our era, the transverse axis of the solar
orbit coincided with the line of the equinoxes ; and it is a
singular coincidence that this epoch is considered by
chronologists to be that of the beginning of the world, or,
to speak more correctly, of the first traces of the existence
of the human race ; for numerous physical circumstances
attest that the earth itself has existed during an infinitely
longer period. The same phenomenon will again occur
when the longitude of the perigee shall have reached 360°,
or become zero; and by calculating as above, this will be
found to take place in the year 6485 of our era. The
solar perigee will then coincide with the vernal equinox;
in the former case it coincided with that of autumn.
By reason of the progressive motion of the perigee, theSeasor .
length of the seasons is continually varying. Let AP (figs. val7 ^ ^
18, 19, 20) represent the line of the apsides, S and \V
the summer and winter solstices, V and O the vernal and
autumnal equinoxes. When the greater axis was perpendi¬
cular to the line of the equinoxes, as happened in the
year 1250 of our era, the perigee P (fig. 18) coincided Fig. l
\
ASTRONOMY.
771
r^etical with W the winter solstice; and on that account the time
^.nomy. between the autumnal equinox O, and the winter solstice
W, was equal to the time between W and V, or between
the winter solstice and the vernal equinox. But in this
position the equator, which is here represented by VO,
divides the ellipse into two unequal portions, the smaller
of which must be described in less time than the greater,
because the times of description are proportional to the
spaces passed over. The summer was therefore, at that
time, longer than the winter, and both were divided into
equal parts by the solstices. In any other position the
seasons differ in length from each other. In the time of
Hipparchus, the longitude of the perigee was less than in
1750 by 32°*292, or was 24)6°-330. The position of the
ellipse with regard to the equinoxes was therefore such
as is represented in fig. 19, the angle PEW being 270°
 246°-33 = 23° 40' 12". The interval between V and S
was then 94-|- days, and that between S and O only 92^
days. The spring was therefore at that time longer than
the summer, and the winter longer than the autumn. The
position of the ellipse in 1800 is represented in fig. 20.
The angle PEW was then 9° 29', and the following were
nearly the lengths of the seasons :—
. Days. Hours.
20.
from V to S...
S to O.,
O to W.
W to V..
92
93
89
89
21
13
16
1
Min.
45
35
47
42
length of the year, nearly 365 5 49
The spring is therefore at present shorter than the sum¬
mer, and the autumn longer than the winter,
jentri- After describing the position of the transverse axis of
| oftl?ethe solar ellipse on the plane of the ecliptic, we come
r orbit. consider the species of that ellipse, or its eccen¬
tricity, on which depend the apparent inequalities of the
sun’s angular motion. It is evident that this element will
be made known if we can by any means determine the
ratio of the two segments into which the major axis is di¬
vided by the focus. This ratio might seem to be obtainable
without any difficulty by comparing the sun’s apparent
diameters at the perigee and apogee, to which the dis¬
tances are inversely proportional; but such observations,
on account of the irradiation and other difficulties, are
liable to considerable uncertainty: it is therefore neces¬
sary to have recourse to other methods of estimating the
eccentricity, and the variations to which it is subject.^
These methods are derived from the fundamental law of
the elliptic motion, namely, the proportionality of the
areas described by the radius vector to the times of de¬
scription, by which the inequalities of motion and the
ellipticity pf the orbit are connected with each other; so
that when the inequalities are made known by direct ob¬
servation, the species of the ellipse can be computed from
the principles of geometry. It will, however, be neces¬
sary to attend more closely than we have yet done to the
phenomena resulting from the eccentric position of the
earth in the sun’s orbit, and to explain some terms tech¬
nically employed by astronomers to abbreviate and sim¬
plify their descriptions.
The sun’s motion may be regarded as composed of two
distinct parts, namely, a circular uniform motion, which
constitutes the principal part of it; and a correction de¬
pending on the deviation of the orbit from a circle, which
modifies the first, and alternately accelerates and retards
the mean angular velocity. To illustrate this, let E
(fig. 21) be the earth, PSA the orbit of the sun, AP the
'" ’ line of the apsides, and op =£5= the intersection of the plane
of the orbit*with that of the equator, While the true sun
S moves round his elliptic orbit, describing areas propor- Theoretical
tional to the times, conceive a fictitious sun s to move Astronomy*
round the earth in the circumference of a circle of which
the radius is equal to EP the sun’s distance at the peri¬
gee, and with a uniform motion such, that if the two suns
set out at the same instant from P, they may also return
to the same point together, after having completed each
a revolution. At the perigee the radius vector of the
real sun is a minimum; his velocity is consequently a
maximum, and he therefore advances before the fic¬
titious sun. But his motion relaxes in proportion as his
distance from P becomes greater ; and at a certain point
S of the orbit it becomes equal to that*of the fictitious
sun, which has then only reached the point s. After
passing the point S, the angular distance SEs continues
to diminish on account that the motion of the real sun
continues to relax, and it vanishes altogether when he
reaches his apogee at A, the fictitious sun arriving at a
in the same straight line with A and E at the same in¬
stant of time. From the apogee to the perigee the phe¬
nomena are reversed. The motion of the real sun being
then the slowest possible, he at first falls behind the ficti¬
tious sun; but his motion continuing to be gradually ac¬
celerated, he has again acquired the same velocity when
he reaches S', after which his motion is more rapid than
that of the fictitious sun, which he at last overtakes at P.
If, therefore, we conceive a radius vector to be drawn from
the earth to each of the two suns, those lines will form
with each other a variable angle, having its maximum
value when the velocities are equal, and vanishing at the
perigee and apogee. This angle, namely, SEs, is call-
ed the Equation of the Centre, or Equation of the Orbit. Equation
It is the correction necessary to be made to the longitude of ^
of the sun deduced from his equable motion, in order tocen le‘
have his real longitude. Those quantities which form the
difference between the true and mean results are, in as¬
tronomy, denominated equations. The ancients employed
the term Prosthaphceresis in the same sense.
From the perigee to the apogee, the true longitude of
the sun is found by adding the equation of the centre to
the mean longitude, and in the other half of the orbit by
taking the difference of the same quantities. The equa¬
tion of the centre is a maximum when the sun is at the
points S and S', or when the mean and true motions are
equal; and if its value can be obtained from observation
at those times, the eccentricity of the orbit may be de¬
duced by means of the geometrical properties of the el¬
lipse. Now the points S and S' may be found very nearly
by observing when the diurnal velocity of the sun is equal
to the mean motion, or to 0-985647 parts of a degree. By
these observations the angle SES', which is the difference
of the real longitudes of the sun, or of his distances from
ty, will be given. But sEf is also given; for it is the
angle which would be described by the sun, in virtue of
his mean motion, during the interval between the two ob¬
servations. Hence the difference between sEs' and SES'
is given, being equal to twice SEs the maximum equa¬
tion of the centre, in consequence of the symmetrical
position of the points S and S', and also of s and s', in re¬
spect of the line of the apsides AP. The accuracy of a re¬
sult obtained in this manner may appear questionable, on
account of the impossibility of determining by observation
the exact moment at which the sun’s true motion in lon¬
gitude is equal to his mean motion; but as the real motion
varies very little during a few days before and after that
epoch, the equation of the centre will be scarcely affected
by a slight error in the time. Besides, any error in the re¬
sult is corrected by taking the mean of a great number of
similar observations.
772
ASTRONOMY.
Theoretical By a comparison of numerous observations of this kind,
Astronomy. Delambre found that the greatest equation of the centre,
the year 1776, amounted to 1°*9254, or 1° 55' Sl'H.
In 1801 the same equation was 1° 55' 27"* 3. (See Baily’s
Astronomical Tables, p. 66.)
Having obtained the value of the greatest equation of
the centre, the eccentricity of the orbit may be computed
from the first two terms of the following series,
= iE-^E3
587
21«-3'5
E5 — &c.
in which e represents the eccentricity, and E the greatest
equation of the centre. By reversing the series the fol¬
lowing expression is found for the greatest equation in
terms of the eccentricity, viz.
^ n 11 , 599 , , „
E = 2 C + 2^ ^ ^ + &C>
For an investigation of the above formulae the reader
may consult Biot, Astronomic Physique, tom. ii. p. 185.
Secular It has been discovered by observation, that the equation
diminu- of the centre of the sun’s orbit is subject to a nearly uni-
tion of the form secular diminution. This fact is confirmed by theory,
cit^ufthe from which aiso the secular diminution has been assigned,
solar orbit. ^ amounts to 8°‘0047 in a century. This phenomenon im¬
plies a corresponding diminution of the eccentricity of the
solar orbit amounting to ’000037495 in the same time,
the semiaxis major being unit. This will be conceived
more distinctly by converting the above fraction into some
familiar expression of linear magnitude. Supposing the
mean distance of the sun to be 96,000,000 of miles, the
fraction *000037495 will represent nearly 3700 miles, so
that the annual diminution of the eccentricity is nearly at
the rate of 37 miles,—a line which is considerable on the
surface of the earth, but which has scarcely an appreciable
ratio to the immense distance of the sun. If, however, this
diminution, small as it is, were to be continued indefinite¬
ly, the eccentricity would ultimately vanish, and the sun’s
orbit would be changed into a circle ; but the theory of
universal gravitation proves that, like all the other varia¬
tions of the elements of the solar system, the variation of
the eccentricity is subject to periodic laws. After hav¬
ing continued during a certain time to diminish, the ec¬
centricity will again begin to increase, and will successive¬
ly pass through all its former values. Thus it will con¬
tinue to oscillate within certain limits, of which the ex¬
tent, though not precisely known, cannot be very great:
and the solar orbit will eternally preserve its elliptic form,
unless the application of some external force shall derange
the system of the world, or modify the laws by which it is
at present governed.
Betermi- The true nature of the solar orbit being known, to-
nation of gether with its situation on the plane of the ecliptic, and
^aceln his ^le amoun^ 'ts eccentricity, as also the time of a revo-
orbit Slution, the sun’s longitude may be determined at any as¬
signed epoch. This determination is what is usually
Kepler’s termed Kepler's Problem, having been first proposed by
problem, that great astronomer on the hypothesis of an elliptic or¬
bit. Its solution, which is not susceptible of being ex¬
hibited under a finite form, is derived from the principle
of the equable description of areas. Let ASP (fig. 22)
represent the semi-orbit of the sun, C the centre of the
orbit, E the focus occupied by the earth, and let the time
and motion be counted from the perigee P. On AP de¬
scribe a semicircle, on the circumference of which let a
point M be supposed to move uniformly, and to describe
the semicircle PMA, in the same time in which the
sun describes the semi-ellipse PSA. Now, suppose that
at the end of a given time t, the sun has moved from P
to S; then, denoting by T the time of a complete revolu¬
tion, and putting w for the semi-circumference, the place TheonkLi
of M, at the end of the same time t, will be given by the^stron y,
t
equation PM = 2 v. Through S let a perpendicular Fig. 2
J
be drawn to AP, meeting the semicircle in D and AP in
N, and join EM, ES, ED, CM, and CD. The different angles
of this figure have received certain technical names, which
it is necessary to explain. The angle PES, which is the
true longitude of the sun, is called the True Anomaly;
PEM is called the Mean Anomaly, and PCD is denomi¬
nated the Eccentric Anomaly. This last is measured by
the arc PMD, which is the perigean distance of a star
describing a circle circumscribed about the solar ellipse,
and having constantly the same absciss PN as the sun.
The word anomaly originally signified inequality; it now
simply designates the angular distance of a planet from its
perihelion, seen from the sun, or, as in the present case,
the angular distance of the sun from his perigee.
According to the law of the equable description of
areas, we have the sector PCM to PES as the surface of
the semicircle to the surface of the semi-ellipse; that is,
as the semi-transverse to the semi-conjugate axis, or as
ND to NS, according to a well-known property of the
ellipse. Hence PCM : PES : : PED : PES, and there¬
fore PCM = PED = PCD — ECD. Now, if we express
the arc PM by z, PD by x, the eccentricity EC by e, and
make the radius equal to unity, we shall have the sector
PCM = ^z, the sector PCD = ^x, and the triangle ECD
= -|e. DN = -ic sin. x. Substituting, therefore, these ex¬
pressions in the above equation, it will become, on multi¬
plying both sides of it by 2,
Z — x — e sin. x (1.)
where z denotes the mean, and x the eccentric, anomaly.
If in this equation x and e were both known, it would
be easy to deduce from it the mean anomaly z; but the
data are z and e, and the value of x can only be obtained
in a series, the equation being a transcendental one. Its
resolution gives the value of the eccentric in the mean
terms of anomaly ; and if another equation can be found
in which the eccentric anomaly is expressed in terms of
the true, it will only remain to put these two expressions
equal to one another in order to have an equation be¬
tween the mean and true anomaly.
For this purpose it will be necessary to equate two
values of the radius vector ES, expressed in terms of the
eccentric and true anomalies respectively. Putting ES
= r, we shall have, in the first place,
r2 = EN2 + NS2;
but if the semiaxis minor is represented by b, the com¬
mon equation of the ellipse gives
NS2 = (a2 —CN2) = i2 —CN2;
a2 v 7 a2
and we have also
EN2 = EC2 + 2 EC . CN + CN2
= e2 + 2e . CN + CN2;
therefore, by addition,
NS2+EN2 = 52+e2+2e . CN+(l—|J)cN2.
fe2 e2
Now, IP+e2 = a2, and 1 5- = —3-; therefore
a2 a2
NS2+EN2 = r2 = a2-f-2c . CN+-^ CN2;
consequently
r = a+- CN.
a
But CN = a cos. x ; therefore ultimately
r = a+e cos. x (2.)
ASTRONOMY.
•vetical To obtain a second value of r, let SF be drawn fromS
i„nomy» to the other focus of the ellipse, and let SF = r. I he
^ rectangular triangles ESN, FSN give SN^ = — EN ,
^ and SN2 = r'2 — (2 e — EN)2; therefore r2 — EN = Z2
 (2 e — EN)2, whence we derive f — r12 = 4 e. EN —
4«2. But by the property of the ellipse r-p/ = 2 a, from
which it is easy to deduce r2 — /2 = 4a2 — far1 z= bar
4a2; and hence, by equating these two values of r2 —
e' en & — ar — a2. Now, if we denote the angle PES,
which is the true anomaly, by v, then EN = r cos. «?, and
consequently by substitution, er cos. v — $ — ar a,,
whence
r =-*=£— (3.)
a — e cos. v
If we now compare the two values of r given by the
equations (2) and (3), we shall find
cos. x z=
a cos. v
a — e cos. v
and therefore, 1 — cos. xz=. («+e) (1 — cos. v)
1 + cos. x = (a—e) (1 + cos* v) ’
whence, by dividing,
1 — cos. v a—e 1 — cos, x
1 + cos. v a +e 1 + cos. x ’
consequently, by the trigonometrical formulae,
tan. \vz= tan* 2*  t4')
2 \a+e)
The equations (1) and (2) were first given by Kepler;
the last is due to Lacaille. The problem of finding the
sun’s place after any given time is solved analytically by
(1) and (4).
To express v the true anomaly, in a series involving
the powers of x the mean anomaly, is a problem requir¬
ing the aid of the higher analysis, and which it is unneces¬
sary to investigate here. The following are a few of the first
terms of the series, in which nt is substituted for x, n be¬
ing the mean motion in the unit of time, and t the time
elapsed since the passage through the perihelion :—
v — nt— (2e —4 e5)‘ sin* ^
+ sin-2
nt
DISTANCE OF THE SUN FROM THE EARTH.
In Perigee 
In Apogee 
At Mean Distance 
Greatest diameter of his orbit
Semidiameters
of the Earth.
23580
24388
23984
47969
English
Miles.
93280945
96478967
94879956
189764357
773
Theoretical
Astronomy.
/13 , 43 . Q .
+ »
p’s pa- The form of the sun’s orbit is discovered from the va-
lax and nations of his apparent diameter in passing from the pe-
tance. rjgee tiie apogee ; but in order to obtain a knowledge
of its real dimensions, or of the mean distance of the sun
from the earth, it is necessary to determine his parallax,
that is to say, the angle subtended by the earth’s semi¬
diameter as seen from the sun. This angle is too small
to be measured directly in the manner which was point¬
ed out when treating of parallax; it is most accurately
deduced from observations of the time occupied by an
inferior planet in passing over the sun’s disk, as will be
explained afterwards. From such observations it has
been found to be less than 9", an angle of which the sine
is to radius in the ratio of 1 to 23,000 nearly; whence
the distance of the sun is about 23,000 times the semi¬
diameter of the earth. The following table exhibits more
accurately the numerical results of calculation.
When the sun’s parallax is known, we are enabled not Sun’s vo-
only to estimate his distance,but also to compare his diame-lume.
ter and magnitude with those of the earth. For example,
the mean parallax of the sun is 8''-56; his mean apparent
semidiameter, seen from the earth, is 961"*4; the semi¬
diameter of the sun and earth are therefore to each other in
the ratio of 961-4 : 8-56, or of 112 to unity nearly. Suppos¬
ing the sun and earth to be both spherical bodies, which
is a supposition sufficiently accurate for the present pur¬
pose, their volumes will be to one another as the cubes of
their radii; hence the volume of the sun is to that of the
earth as the cube of 112 to unity, or the sun’s volume is
about 1,300,000 times greater than that of the earth.
Sect. III.—Of the Motion of Translation of the Earth, and
the Aberration of Light.
Hitherto we have regarded the sun as being actually
in motion round the earth in an elliptic orbit, of which
the earth occupies one of the foci. This supposes the mo¬
tion which we observe to be real. But we have already
seen that all the phenomena of the diurnal revolution of
the celestial bodies may be equally well explained by
supposing these motions to be only optical illusions, of the
same nature as those by which a person sailing rapidly
along a river, or the sea-shore, is almost irresistibly led to
ascribe the motion to the banks on the shore, even when
fully aware that the appearance is only occasioned by his
own motion in a contrary direction. In the same manner
all the phenomena of the annual motion are susceptible of
an equally simple explanation, on the hypothesis that the
earth revolves in an elliptic orbit, and that the sun is at
rest in one of the foci of the ellipse. In fact, if there
were no other bodies in the universe than the earth and
the sun, it would be matter of absolute indifference which
of the two hypotheses we should adopt in order to ex¬
plain the appearances. Supposing, for example, the earth
to revolve in a circular orbit (the eccentricity, on account
of its smallness, being here neglected), and the sun to be
placed at the centre; a spectator at E (fig. 23) sees the Fig. - •
sun S in the heavens at the point A, and corresponding
to the star a on the celestial sphere. If the earth now
take the place of the sun, and the sun be placed on the
curve at A, the spectator will still see the sun correspond to
the star a. Let the earth be transferred from E to E';
the spectator will then see the sun in A'. 'I he sun there¬
fore appears to him to have moved from A to A', which
is exactly the same appearance as would be presented to
a spectator at the centre by a real translation of S from
A to A'; so that, in respect of the annual motion, the ap¬
pearances, when referred to the celestial sphere, are pre¬
cisely the same on either hypothesis.
If we now consider the phenomena with reference to
the earth, we shall find that they may be all equally well
explained on the hypothesis of the earth’s motion, and
the immobility of the sun. The most remarkable pheno¬
menon connected with the annual revolution is the vari¬
ation of the seasons; and'in order to explain their cause,
it is only necessary to suppose that the earth, in describ¬
ing its oblique orbit, always preserves its axis parallel to
the same straight line. Let A, B, €, D (fig« 24) repre* Fig. 24.
774 ASTRONOMY.
Theoretical sent the earth in four different positions of its orbit, n s
Astronomy, being its axis, and n and s its north and south poles re-
spectively. While the earth goes round the sun in the
order of the letters A, B, C, D, its axis ns preserves its
obliquity, and always continues parallel to its first direc¬
tion. At A the north pole inclines towards the sun, and
brings all the northern places more into the light than at
any other season of the year. But when the earth is at
C, the opposite point of the orbit, the north pole declines
from the sun, and a less portion of the northern hemi¬
sphere enjoys the blessings of his light and heat. At
B and D the axis is perpendicular to the plane of the
orbit, so that the poles are situated in the boundaries of
the illuminated hemisphere, and the sun, being directly
over the equator, makes the days and nights equal at all
Plate places. These phenomena are illustrated in fig. 25, which
LXXXI. represents the situation of the north pole with regard to
Pig. 25. the limits of illumination, in eight different positions of the
orbit. In this figure, M is the terrestrial equator, T the
tropic of Cancer, the dotted circle the parallel of London,
U the arctic or north polar circle, and P the north pole,
where all the meridians or hour-circles meet. The spec¬
tator is supposed to be placed at the pole of the ecliptic.
W hen the earth is at the beginning of Libra, about the
20th of March, the sun, as seen from the earth, appears
at the beginning of Aries in the opposite part of the hea¬
vens, the north pole is just coming into light, and the sun
is vertical to the equator, which, with all its parallels, is
divided into two equal parts by the circle which forms
the boundary between the dark and illuminated hemi¬
spheres, and therefore the days and nights are equal all
over the earth. As the earth moves in the ecliptic ac¬
cording to the order of the letters A, B, C, D, &c., the
north pole P comes more and more into the light, and
the days increase in length at all places north of the equa¬
tor IE. When the earth comes to the position between
B and C, or the beginning of Capricorn, the sun, as seen
from the earth, appears at the beginning of Cancer, about
the 21st of June ; and the north pole of the earth inclines
towards the sun, so as to bring into light all the north fri¬
gid zone, and more of each of the northern parallels of la¬
titude in proportion as they are farther from the equator.
As the earth advances from Capricorn towards Aries, and
the sun appears to move from Cancer towards Libra, the
north pole recedes from the light, which causes the days
to decrease and the nights to increase in length, till the
earth comes to the beginning of Aries, and then they are
equal as before; the boundary of light and darkness cut¬
ting the equator and all its parallels equally. The north
pole then goes into the dark, and does not emerge till the
earth has completed a semi-revolution of its orbit, or
from the 23d of September till the 20th of March. All
these phenomena will be readily understood from the bare
inspection of the figure; and it will be perceived that
what has been said of the northern hemisphere is equally
true of the southern in a contrary sense, that is, at oppo¬
site seasons of the year.
The only objection against the annual motion of the
earth, which at first sight creates some difficulty, is the
enormous distance which, on account of the want of an¬
nual parallax, that hypothesis makes it necessary to assign
to the fixed stars. Abstracting from the precession, which
in the region of the poles amounts only to about 20", the
axis of the earth, in every part of its orbit, appears to be
directed towards the same point of the starry sphere. It
is certain, however, that the radius of the terrestrial orbit
is upwards of 90 millions of miles; and therefore, when
the earth is at opposite points of this immense circle, its
pole ought to be directed to points in the heavens 18Q
millions of miles distant from each other. Suppose the Theore
sun to be at rest in S (fig. 26), the centre of the orbit Astrom d
Eab, and the earth to be at the point E. Suppose also A's^V v
to be the projection of S on the sphere of the fixed stars, Fig- 2f
and ty’ the first point of the ecliptic. The longitude of A.
as seen from E, is the angle AE^ ; but when seen from S,
the longitude of the same point is AS<v. This last is the
true longitude of A ; AE<y> is the apparent longitude, and
their difference is the angle SfY’E. Now, in the first half
of the ecliptic, the apparent longitude will be less than
the true, and in the second half greater; hence there
ought to result an apparent annual inequality in the sun’s
longitude. But as no such inequality is indicated by ob¬
servation, it becomes necessary either to abandon the
hypothesis of the earth’s motion, or to suppose the dis¬
tance of the fixed stars to be so great, that, in comparison
of it, the radius ES, which exceeds 90 millions of miles,
is altogether insensible; and that the whole orbit of the
earth, or the ellipse Eab, is a mere point in comparison of
a great circle of the starry sphere.
The most convincing proof of the earth’s motion is not
to be found in any circumstance of which the senses can
take immediate cognizance, but is afforded by the full de¬
velopment of the planetary system, and the mutual con¬
nection of all the truths of rational astronomy,—by the
clearness, simplicity, and coherence which this hypothesis
gives to the most complicated phenomena,—and can there¬
fore only be fully appreciated after an attentive study of
the whole series of facts which astronomy makes known.
There exists, however, one direct proof of the earth’s an¬
nual motion, in a phenomenon discovered by the accurate
observation and patient sagacity of Bradley, although it is
one which, we are almost tempted to think, ought to have
been perceived a priori, after Roemer’s discovery of the
progressive motion of light. It is known by the name of
the Aberration of Light, and is manifested in a small dif-Abem i|
ference between the apparent and true places of a star,°^%N j
occasioned by the motion of light combined with that of
the earth in its orbit.
To illustrate this effect, conceive a body to move in the
direction EE' (fig. 27), and another to impinge on it in Fig-27
the direction SE. To find the direction of the resulting
motion, take EC and EA proportional to the two velo¬
cities respectively, and, having completed the parallel¬
ogram EABC, draw the diagonal EB. The combina¬
tion of the two motions produces an impression on the
eye exactly similar to that which would have been pro¬
duced if the eye had remained at rest in the point E, and
the molecule of light had come to it in the direction
ES'; the star, therefore, whose real place is at S, will ap¬
pear to the spectator at E to be situated at S'. The dif¬
ference between its true and apparent place, that is, the
angle SES', is the aberration, the magnitude of which
is obtained from the known ratio of EA to Efe, or the t-
velocity of light to that of the earth in its orbit. Now,
we know from the phenomena of the eclipses of Jupi¬
ter’s satellites, that a ray of light describes a line equal
to the mean radius of the ecliptic in 8 min. 13'2 sec. or
493*2 seconds of time. But the arc described by the
earth in that time is found from the proportion
365d,256 : 493s-2 : : 360° : x,
whence x z=. 20"*25. It is evident, therefore, that when
the directions of the two motions are at right angles, the
star S always appears in advance of its real place, in a dh
rection parallel to that of the motion of the earth, by a
quantity equal to 20"-25. This quantity, 20"-25, is called the
Coristant of Aberration ; but as it has been obtained on the
assumption that the earth moves uniformly in a circular
orbit, it is evidently not altogether exact, and recourse
\
ASTRONOMY.
75
:iic»! must be had to observation to determine its precise
my-amount. Bradley supposed it to be 20"; Dr Brinkley,
from the mean of 2633 comparisons of various stars, has
deduced the value 20"*37. From a series of 2000 obser¬
vations of circumpolar stars, made for the purpose with
the utmost care at the Greenwich Observatory by Mr
Richardson, its value was found to be 20"‘302. On ac¬
count of the number and accuracy of these observations,
the constant of aberration may be regarded as one of the
best determined elements of astronomy. (See Memoirs
of the Astronomical Society, vol. iv.)
It is easy to see that, on the same principles, there ought
also to be a diurnal aberration; but the diurnal rotation
of the earth being sixty-five times less rapid than the or¬
bital motion, its effect in producing aberration does not
amount to more than 0s-0208, when reduced to seconds of
time. It is consequently altogether insensible in the ob¬
servations. . . 1 J
The magnitude of the angle of deviation SFb depends
on the relative directions of the earth and the visual ray,
and may have any value from 0 to 20",3. Suppose, for
example, we observe a star situated in the plane of the
ecliptic. When the earth is at that point of its orbit, be¬
tween the sun and the star, where the tangent to the orbit
is perpendicular to the visual ray (which, on account that
the star has no sensible parallax, always maintains a pa¬
rallel direction), the apparent place of the star will be
20"-3 to the eastward of its true place. When the earth
is in the opposite point of its orbit the same star will ap¬
pear to be 20"-3 to the westward of its true place; so that
it will appear to have an oscillatory motion on the ecliptic,
the range of which is 40"-6, and the period exactly a year.
Half-way between these two points the tangent of the or¬
bit is parallel to the direction of the ray of light, and con¬
sequently there is no aberration. When the star is not
situated in the ecliptic, it will suffer a displacement in
latitude as well as in longitude, lo render this still more
28. sensible, let FEE (fig. 28) be the ecliptic, E the earth,
and A the true place of a star situated at any altitude
above the ecliptic. In the direction EA take Ea to re¬
present the velocity of light, ab that of the earth, and in
a parallel direction, that is, parallel to the tangent to the
ecliptic at E; the line E6 will now be the apparent visual
ray, and the star will seem to be situated at B. Suppose the
earth to be placed at different points of its orbit; the lines
Ea will be all parallel to each other on account of the in¬
finite distance of the star A; the lines ab will vary little
in magnitude, because they are very small in comparison
of Ea, but their directions will undergo every possible
change, being always parallel to the tangent at E. At the
two points of the orbit where the tangent is parallel to E A,
the two lines Ea and ab coincide, and consequently there is
no aberration. Let us next suppose the star to be situated
in the pole of the ecliptic. In this case the visual iay is
constantly perpendicular to the direction of the earth s
motion, so that the star will always appear at a distance
of 20"-3 from its true place, or appear to describe a small
circle about the pole of the ecliptic. In all other situa¬
tions, out of the ecliptic, the star s apparent path w ill be
an ellipse, the major axis of which, parallel to the plane
of the ecliptic, is always 40",6, while the minor axis varies
with the latitude.
The cause of the aberration being known, we have two
methods of measuring its quantity, or the extent of the
apparent oscillations, viz. by calculating the angle of de-
;• 27. viation S AS' (fig. 27), the tangent of which is to radius as
AB to AE, that is, as 1 to 10313; or, by direct observa¬
tion, when the star is in opposition to the sun. The two
methods give exactly the same result, and the dimensions
of the ellipse described by any star not situated in the Theoretical
ecliptic, in consequence of the aberration, are found
be the same when computed from theory or determined
by direct observation. The motion of translation of the
earth, therefore, receives a mathematical demonstration
from this agreement; and the phenomenon of the aber¬
ration, otherwise unimportant on account of its minute¬
ness, thus becomes one of the most interesting discoveries
ever made in astronomy. The fact of the earth’s orbital
motion is, however, rendered so probable by other pheno¬
mena, that it must have been universally admitted, although
the direct proof had never been discovered.
Sect. IV.—Of the Measure of Time. Equation of Time.
The notion of time, or of succession, is generally said
to be acquired from the aspect of natural phenomena; but
from whatever source it may be derived, it is certain that
time itself can only be measured by comparing it with
something of which the senses can take cognizance. If
we have a series of events, such as the oscillations of a
pendulum, or the flux and reflux of the sea, uniformly suc¬
ceeding each other, then time may be measured by the
number of such events that have been observed. In like
manner, if a body move uniformly in a certain direction,
time may be measured by the spaces over which it suc¬
cessively passes. In strict language, motion and time, being
heterogeneous quantities, cannot measure one another;
but different times are compared with each other by
means of the motions that have taken place in those times
respectively; for the motions being supposed uniform,
equal spaces are passed over in equal times, or, which is
the same thing, the times are directly proportional to the
spaces described. If, therefore, we assume for unit the
time which is absolved while a certain uniform, motion
takes place, we may obtain, by a simple proportion, the
corresponding time of any other similar motion. In this
manner we find the ratio of one portion of time to an¬
other, although we can form no idea whatever of its abso¬
lute quantity.
In order that motion may be employed as a measure of
time, it is indispensably requisite that it be peifectly uni¬
form. The only motions having this property, with which
we are acquainted, are those of the rotation of the celes¬
tial bodies about their own axes. The motion of the sun
and planets in their orbits is irregular from various causes :
even the successive returns of the fixed stars to the me¬
ridian are rendered unequal on account of the precession
and nutation; but the diurnal rotation of the earth ap;
peat§ to be affected by no cause of irregularity whatever, t
Time, therefore, may be properly measured by this uni¬
form motion ; and the method of proceeding is as folloAvs.
The culmination of a star, or of a given point of the equa¬
tor, marks the instant at which the day commences, and
at any other instant its horary angle determines the por¬
tion of the day which has elapsed at the moment of the
observation. In order, therefore, to determine the time of
an observation, we must find the horary angle formed by
the meridian of the observed star with that which passes
through the given point where the motion is supposed to
begin”; in other words, it is necessary to determine the
star’s right ascension. This, however, when attempted
by direct measurement, is a determination attended with
difficulty, and liable to considerable uncertainty. Hap¬
pily the invention of the pendulum has rendered it
unnecessary; and astronomers, instead of deducing the
time from the right ascensions, determine, on the con¬
trary, the right ascensions by means of the time indi¬
cated by the clock. The clock, of which the motion is
supposed to be perfectly regular, is adjusted in such a
776 ASTRONOMY.
Theoretical manner that its index describes 24 hours, while a point tion of Hipparchus and Ptolemy, usually reckon the com- Theorij
Astronomy, of ^e equator describes an arc of 360°, or makes a com- mencement of the day from the instant of the sun’s culmi-Astrot ,»
^^^^^plete revolution. This is called a sidereal day. The nation, that is, from noon ; and count through the 24 hours j
sidereal hour is divided in the usual manner into mi- from one noon to the following. Thus 9 o’clock in the
nutes, seconds, &c.; whence the corresponding arcs are morning of February 14th is by astronomers called Fe-
easily found at the rate of 15° to an hour. The point bruary the 13th at 21 hours. The day thus determined
whose culmination marks the origin of time is arbitrary; is called the astronomical or solar day ; and being regu-
but astronomers have agreed to choose for that purpose lated by the true motion of the sun, the time which is
the equinoctial point of Aries, from which the right as- measured by it is called true or apparent time,
censions are reckoned, so that the hours of the clock and Astronomical or solar days are not equal. Two causes, Days
the degrees of the equator may commence at the same in particular, conspire to produce their inequality, namely!in lenF
instant. This point, it is true, is not, and cannot be, per- the unequal velocity of the sun in his orbit, and the obli-
manently marked by any star; but the right ascension in quity of the ecliptic. The effect of the first cause is suf-
time of any star whatever being the hour of its transit ficiently sensible. At the summer solstice, when the sun’s
over the meridian, the star will be in the plane of the me- motion is slowest, the astronomical day approaches nearer
ridian at the instant denoted by its right ascension in the sidereal than at the winter solstice, when his motion
time. On this account sidereal time expresses the actual is most rapid.
right ascension of the zenith ; or, as it is frequently termed, To conceive the effect of the second cause, it is neces-
the right ascension of the mid-heaven. sary to have regard to the motion of the sun in reference
We have already seen, that on account of the preces- to the equator. The sun describes every day a small
sion of the equinoxes, a star employs somewhat more time arc of the ecliptic. Through the extremities of this arc
than the first point of Aries in returning to the meridian, suppose two meridians to pass ; the arc of the equator,
It is therefore not without some violation of language which they intercept, is the sun’s motion for that day re-
that the interval between two successive transits of a given ferred to the equator, and the time which that arc takes
point of the equator over the meridian is called a side- to pass the meridian is equal to the excess of the astrono-
real day, which, in its strict acceptation, denotes the time mical day above the sidereal. But it is obvious that at
which elapses between two successive transits of the same the equinoxes the arc of the equator is smaller than the
star; but in this case the difference is so small as to be corresponding arc of the ecliptic, in the proportion of the
totally inappreciable. The annual precession in longitude cosine of the obliquity of the ecliptic to radius: at the
is — 50"-l, and that in right ascension is nearly the same, solstices, on the contrary, it is greater in the proportion
excepting in regard to the circumpolar stars, which, there- of radius to the cosine of the same obliquity. The astro-
fore, are not employed in regulating the clocks. This nomical day is diminished in the first case, and lengthen-
arc of SO"’!, converted into time, gives 3*3 seconds as the ed in the second.
time in which a star will pass the meridian later than the To have a mean astronomical day independent of these Mean
equinoctial point, at the end of the year; and this small causes of inequality, astronomers have supposed a second astroil‘*
quantity being distributed over the whole year, is altoge- sun to move uniformly on the ecliptic, and to pass overca^-1
ther insensible in short intervals of two or three days, the extremities of the axis of the sun’s orbit at the same
The successive transits of a star, therefore, if we abstract instant with the real sun. This removes the inequality
from the nutation and aberration, will mark the sidereal arising from the inequality of the sun’s motion. To re¬
day within the hundredth part of a second of time; and move the inequality arising from the obliquity of the
the sidereal year, though not immediately ascertainable by ecliptic, conceive a third sun to pass through the equi-
observation, becomes a quantity which may be easily com- noxes at the same instant with the second sun, and to move
puted. But the regularity of the motion of the stars is along the equator in such a manner that the angular
deranged by the effects of aberration and nutation ; so that distances of the two suns at the vernal equinox shall be
in order to measure time with the precision required by always equal. The interval between two consecutive
modern observers, it is necessary to be acquainted with returns of this third sun to the meridian forms the mean
the minute displacements of the stars. If they seem to astronomical day. Mean time is measured by the num-
return to the meridian after equal portions of absolute ber of the returns of this third sun to the meridian; and
time, it is only because our organs are unable to dis- true time is measured by the number of returns of the
tinguish the hundredths of a second. real sun to the meridian. The arc of the equator, inter-
The sidereal day is a measure of time which, on ac- cepted between two meridian circles drawn through the
count of its uniformity and the facility of observing it, is centres of the true sun and the imaginary third sun, when
excellently well adapted for astronomical purposes ; but reduced to time, is what is called the Equation of Time.
relatively to the ordinary wants of life it is not sufficient- This will be rendered plainer by the following diagram,
ly marked;—the culmination of the stars is an event Let Z<y>z=o= (fig. 29) be the earth; ZFR2: its axis; Fig- 2
entirely unconnected with civil occupations, and which, ahcde, &c. the equator ; ABCDE, &c. the northern half of
for any given star, is even invisible during a great part of the ecliptic from t to on the side of the globe next
the year. The proper motion of the sun causes the si- the eye ; and MNOP, &c. the southern half on the oppo-
dereal day to commence sometimes by day and sometimes site side from =0= to ty. Let the points at A, B, C, D, E, F,
by night, so that great confusion and embarrassment &c. mark off equal portions of the ecliptic, gone through
would arise from regulating time and civil affairs by the in equal times by the real sun, and those at a, b, c, d, e,
motions of the stars. On this account the diurnal revo- f, &c. equal portions of the equator described in equal
lution of the sun has been universally adopted as the mea- times by the fictitious sun ; and let Zcyz be the meridian,
sure of time. This is called the civil day, and denotes As the real sun moves obliquely in the ecliptic, and the
the interval of time which elapses between two succes- fictitious sun directly in the equator, any point between
give transits of the sun over the same hour-circle. Most cy and F on the ecliptic must be nearer the meridian
nations have agreed in reckoning it from the inferior semi- Z <y z, than the corresponding point on the equator from
circle of the meridian, so that the civil day commences <y to that is to say, than the point whose distance from
and terminates at midnight; but astronomers, in imita- <y is expressed by the same number of degrees; and the
ASTRONOMY.
T' keftieal more so, as the obliquity is greater; and therefore the
1; [jtjjomy. true sun comes sooner to the meridian every day whilst
If" lyi^-^he is in the quadrant ^F, than the fictitious sun does
in the quadrant fy f S for which reason the solar noon
precedes noon by the clock, until the real sun comes to
F, and the fictitious to f: which two points being equi¬
distant from the meridian, both suns will come to it pre¬
cisely at noon by the clock.
Whilst the real sun describes the second quadrant of the
ecliptic FGHIKL from Cancer to =Qr, he comes later to
the meridian every day than the fictitious sun moving
through the second quadrant of the equator from/ to =0=;
for the points at G, H, I, K, L, being farther from the
meridian, their corresponding points at g, h, i, k, l, must
come to it later ; and as both suns come at the same mo¬
ment to the point W, they come to the meridian at the
moment of noon by the clock.
In departing from Libra through the third quadrant,
the real sun going through MNOPQ towards vy at R, and
the fictitious sun through mnopq towards r, the former
comes to the meridian every day sooner than the latter,
until the real sun comes to It, and the fictitious to r, and
then they come both to the meridian at the same time.
Lastly, as the real sun moves equably through STUVW,
from It towards ty, and the fictitious sun through stuvw,
from r towards <y, the former comes later every day to
the meridian than the latter, until they both arrive at the
point <y, and then they make it noon at the same time
with the clock.
Having explained one cause of the difference between
true and mean time, we now proceed to explain the other
cause of this difference, namely, the inequality of the sun’s
apparent motion, which is slowest in summer, when the
sun is farthest from the earth, and swiftest in winter, when
he is nearest to it.
If the sun’s motion were equable in the ecliptic, the
whole difference between the equal time as shown by the
clock, and the unequal time as shown by the sun, would
arise from the obliquity of the ecliptic. But the sun’s
motion sometimes exceeds a degree in 24 hours, though
generally it is less; and when his motion is slowest, any
particular meridian will revolve sooner to him than when
his motion is quickest; for it will overtake him in less
time when he advances a less space than when he moves
through a larger.
Now, if there were two suns moving in the plane of
the ecliptic, so as to go round it in a year, the one de¬
scribing an equal arc every 24 hours, and the other de¬
scribing in the same time sometimes a less arc, and at
other times a larger, gaining at one time of the year what
it lost at the opposite; it is evident that one of these
suns would come sooner or later to the meridian than the
other, as it happened to be behind or before the other;
and when they were in conjunction, they would both
come to the meridian at the same moment.
As the real sun moves unequably in the ecliptic, let us
suppose a fictitious sun to move equably in a circle coin-
20 cident with the plane of the ecliptic. Let ABCD (fig. 30)
be the ecliptic or orbit in which the real sun moves, and
the dotted circle abed the imaginary orbit of the fictitious
sun ; each going round in a year according to the order of
letters, or from west to east. Let HIKL be the earth turn¬
ing round its axis in the same direction every 24 hours; and
suppose the two suns to start from A and a, at the same
moment, A and a being in the same straight line, and in
the plane of the meridian EH. Suppose also that the
real sun, when at A, is at his greatest distance from the
earth, where his motion is slowest. In the time that the
meridian revolves from H to H again, according to the
777
order of the letters HIKL, the real sun has moved from Theoretical
A to F ; and the fictitious sun with a quicker motion from Astronomy.
« to / through a larger arc: therefore the meridian EH
will revolve sooner from H to h under the real sun at F,
than from HE to k under the fictitious sun at f; and con¬
sequently it will then be noon by the sun-dial sooner than
by the clock.
As the real sun moves from A towards C, the velocity
of his motion increases all the way to C, where it is at
its maximum. But notwithstanding this, the fictitious sun
gains so much upon the real, soon after his departing from
A, that the increasing velocity of the real sun does not
bring him up with the equally-moving fictitious sun till
the former comes to C and the latter to c, when each has
gone half round its respective orbit; and then being in
conjunction, the meridian EH, revolving to EK, comes to
both suns at the same time, and therefore it is noon by
them both at the same moment.
But the increased velocity of the real sun now being at
its maximum, carries him before the fictitious one; and
therefore the same meridian will come to the fictitious
sun sooner than to the real; for whilst the fictitious sun
moves from c to g, the real sun moves through a greater
arc from C to G ; consequently the point K has its noon
by the clock when it comes to k, but not its noon by the
sun till it comes to l. And although the velocity of the
real sun diminishes all the way from C to A, and the fic¬
titious sun by an equable motion is still coming nearer to
the real sun, yet they are not in conjunction till the one
comes to A and the other to a, and then it is noon by them
both at the same moment.
Mean solar time and sidereal time being both uniform, ComparL-
it is easy to compare the one with the other, and assign and
the number of degrees, minutes, &c. which the sun and asj(jereal
star will respectively describe in a given portion of side-time,
real or mean solar time. In a mean solar day the sun’s
right ascension and mean longitude are increased by
59' 8"-33 ; consequently 360° 59' 8"-33 of the equator pass
the meridian in 24 mean solar hours. The sidereal time
corresponding to this period is 24 hours 3 min. 56*555 sec.;
therefore 24 mean solar hours are equal to 24 hours
3 min. 56*555 sec. of sidereal time; and 24 hours of side¬
real time are equal to 23 hours 56 min. 4*0907 sec. of
mean solar time, or to 24 hours minus 3 min. 55*9093
sec. This difference of 3 min. 55*9093 sec. is called the
acceleration of the fixed stars in mean solar time ; and the
preceding excess of 3 min. 56*555 sec. is the retardation
of the sun in sidereal time. Flence the one species of
time may be easily converted into the other; and the arc
of the equator passed over by the meridian in a given
mean time may be calculated. Thus,
360° 59' 8"*33
VOL. m.
24
= 15° 2' 27"*84708
is the arc described by a star in one hour of mean solar
time.
But the process of converting sidereal or mean solar time
into true or apparent time, or of computing from the in¬
stants of apparent time the corresponding mean solar and
sidereal times, is attended with much greater difficulty.
The reason is, that the interval between two successive
transits of the sun over the meridian, which, in apparent
time, measures the day, is a variable quantity; and hence
there cannot exist any constant ratio between true and
mean time, as there does between mean and sidereal
time. The correction or equation by which apparent
time is reduced to mean time, is technically called the
Equation of Time, and is composed of the aggregate of the
several variable terms which denote the inequalities of
the sun’s motion in longitude. Besides the eccentricity,
5 F
778
ASTRONOMY.
Theoretical the obliquity of the ecliptic, and the variations of that
Astronomy, obliquity occasioned by the nutation of the earth’s axis,
it is affected also by the small alterations of the sun’s right
ascension, which result from the effect of the planetary
perturbations on the earth ; and hence the equation of
time cannot be exactly computed without the aid of Phy¬
sical Astronomy.
It will be evident, from what has preceded, that the
equation of time expresses merely the difference between
the true and mean right ascensions of the sun, reduced to
time. Its different parts may be calculated numerically
Fig- 31. in the following manner. Let NA (fig. 31) represent the
mean motion of the sun during a given interval, then NA
is the sun’s mean longitude, N being the first point of
Aries. Let NA = M, and from this mean longitude sub¬
tract the longitude of the apogee, the remainder will be
the sun’s mean anomaly. From the mean anomaly let
the equation of the centre be found and denoted by E.
Take AB = E, then NB = M + E is the longitude cor¬
rected for the eccentricity.
Let us next suppose BC to be the small quantity by
which the sun’s longitude is increased in consequence of
the perturbations of the planets, and let BC = P; then
NC = M + E+ P is the true and exact longitude of the
sun. Through C let the arc CD be drawn perpendicular
to the equator; the point D will be that point of the
equator which passes the meridian at the same time with
the sun. Let R = NC — ND = the reduction to the
ecliptic; we have then the sun’s right ascension = M
+ E + P — R.
Let NF = NA, and F will be the place which the sun
would occupy in the equator at the same instant that he
occupies the point A in the ecliptic, if he moved uni¬
formly in the former circle; for NF as well as NA will
represent the mean diurnal motion of 59' 8"*33 multiplied
by the number of days elapsed in the interval between
the equinox N and the time of the observation. The
mean sun would therefore pass the meridian with the
point F, whereas the true sun passes it with the point D;
therefore, at the instant of true noon, when the sun C
and the corresponding point D are on the meridian, the
mean sun is at a distance from D expressed by the arc
FD=M + E+P — R — M—E + P — R. Now, the arc
of the equator FD measures the horary angle between the
mean and the true sun, or the angle at the pole between
the meridian and the hour-circle passing through D; it
is therefore converted into time by the following propor¬
tion :—
360° : FD :: 24 mean solar hours : time from true noon;
consequently the difference between mean and true noon,
or the equation of time,
FD X 24*
360°
= iVCE + P — R) = cTT.
But this equation is not yet perfectly accurate: it re¬
quires to be corrected for the effects of nutation. Now
it is known that the variation of the mean longitude of
the sun, arising from the unequal precession of the equi¬
noxes in consequence of the nutation occasioned by the
inclination of the lunar orbit, is expressed by the formula
18" sin. (360° — moon’s node) = 18" sin. N. This vari¬
ation, reduced to the direction of the equator, will there¬
fore be 18" sin. N cos. e (e being the obliquity of the eclip¬
tic). The difference between the two expressions is
18" sin. N (1 — cos. e) = 36" sin.2 sin. N = 1" *4887
sin. N, which, reduced to time, becomes 009925 sec. x sin.
N. This small correction, amounting to less than a tenth
of a second, was long omitted in computing the equation
of time. When it is included, that equation becomes
^T = /o (E + P — R) + 0-09925 sec. x sin. N.
The quantities E, P, R, and N, are to be computed se-Theorelj
parately from the astronomical tables; and it must be ob- h
served, that the result will be expressed in mean solar^V *
time.
The cosine of the obliquity, that is, cos. 23° 28', is
equal to -9173 = very nearly. Hence, since the equa¬
tion of time is equal to the sun’s true right ascension, di¬
minished by his mean longitude and the effects of nuta¬
tion in right ascension (= ND — NA =+= 18" sin. N cos. e),
it may, on denoting the true right ascension by A, be ex¬
pressed as follows:—
dT =■ A — M r+z 18" sin. N X
This is the form under which the equation of time was
expressed by Dr Maskelyne.
The equation of time is at its maximum about the 3d of
November, when it amounts to 16' 16"-7, and is subtrac¬
tive. At four different times of the year it vanishes,
namely, about the 25th of December, the 16th of April,
the 16th of June, and the 1st of September. These
epochs, however, do not remain constant; for, on account
of the change which the line of the apsides is constantly
undergoing in reference to the line of the equinoxes, the
difference between the true and mean right ascensions of
the sun—in other words, the equation of time—varies
continually in different years.
Sect. V.—Of the Spots of the Sun, his Rotation, and
Constitution.
The sun, the great source of light, heat, and animation,
when beheld with the naked eye, appears only as a lumi¬
nous mass of uniform splendour and brightness ; but when
examined with the telescope, his surface is frequently ob¬
served to be mottled over with a number of dark spots,
of irregular and ill-defined forms, and constantly varying
in appearance, situation, and magnitude. These spots
are occasionally of immense size, so as to be even visible
without the aid of the telescope; and their number is
frequently so great that they occupy a considerable portion
of the sun’s surface. Dr Herschel observed one in 1779,
the diameter of which exceeded 50,000 miles, more than
six times the diameter of the earth ; and Scheiner affirms
that he has seen no less than 50 on the sun’s disk at once.
Most of them have a deep black nucleus, surrounded by
a fainter shade, or umbra, of which the inner part, nearest
to the nucleus, is brighter than the exterior portion. The
boundary between the nucleus and umbra is in general
tolerably well defined; and beyond the umbra a stripe of
light appears more vivid than the rest of the sun.
The discovery of the sun’s spots has been attributed to
different astronomers. They appear to have been first
taken notice of in a work of Fabricius, the friend of Kep¬
ler, which was published at Wittenberg in 1611, under
the title of Joh. Fabricii Phrysii de Maculis in Sole Ob-
servatis, et Apparente earum cum Sole Conversione Nurra-
tio. It contains, however, nothing more than a few vague
conjectures respecting the spots, the phenomena of which
he could not have observed with any degree of accuracy,
inasmuch as he seems to have been unacquainted with any
method of protecting the eye by intercepting a portion of
the solar rays; for he recommends to those who should
repeat his observations, to admit into the telescope only
a small portion of the sun at once, till the eye should by
degrees become able to support the full blaze of light.
About the same time the discovery was warmly disputed
by the illustrious Galileo, and Scheiner, a German Jesuit,
professor of mathematics at Ingolstadt. The whole cir¬
cumstances connected with this dispute are narrated at
great length by Galileo in his work entitled Istoria e Di-
ASTRO
J rtfretical mostrazioni intorno alle JMaccMe Solari, e loro Accidently
^.nomy-from which it appears certain that he observed the spots
early as April 1611. In a letter published by him in
1612, he remarks that the spots are situated on the sur¬
face of the sun, or that at least their distance from it is
imperceptible ; that the time of their continuance varies
from 2 or 3 to 30 or 40 days; that their figures are irre¬
gular and variable; that some are seen to separate, and
others to unite, even on the middle of the disk; that be¬
sides these peculiar motions, they have also a common
motion, in virtue of which they traverse the disk in paral¬
lel lines. From this general motion he infers that the
sun turns on an axis from west to east; and he adds as a
curious remark, that the spots are confined within a zone
extending only about 28 or 29 degrees to the north and
south of the sun’s equator. Galileo illustrates all these
positions by mathematical reasoning, and by drawings of
the spots made on many successive days.
Schemer’s observations were first announced in Janu¬
ary 1612, in three letters addressed to his friend Marc
Yelser, a magistrate of Augsburg. In the first of these,
the date of which is November 1611, he says that he had
observed the spots seven months before, but that, having
a different object in view, he had given little attention to
them. He observed them again in the following October,
and at that time imagined the appearance was owing to
some imperfection of his telescope, till he was convinced by
repeated observations that it was necessary to refer it to
the sun. From these remarks it is pretty clear that Scheb
ner had formed no accurate notions respecting the spots
before October 1611, that is, six months after they had
been observed by Galileo. Scheiner made the observa¬
tion of the solar spots his whole occupation during the fol¬
lowing eighteen years, in the course of which he discover¬
ed the position of the solar equator, and formed a theory
much more complete than that of Galileo. The account
of his observations was published in 1630, under the title
of Rosa Ursina, sive Sol ex admirando Facularum et Ma-
cularum suarum Phcenomeno Varius, &c.
The discovery of the solar spots has also been claimed
for our countryman Harriot. Amidst these conflicting
pretensions it is perhaps impossible to arrive at the truth ;
but the matter is of little importance; the discovery is
one which followed inevitably that of the telescope, and
an accidental priority of observation can hardly be con¬
sidered as establishing any claim to merit.
The solar spots furnish an extensive subject of curious
speculation, but in an astronomical point of view they are
! chiefly interesting on account of their establishing the
fact, and affording the means of determining the period,
of the rotation of the sun. In order to obtain a precise
idea of the position of a spot, and the path which it de-
1® scribes, it is necessary to project that path on the plane
passing through the centre of the sun, and perpendicular
to the visual ray drawn from the earth to the sun’s centre,
j, 32. Suppose the diameter of a circle ASB (fig. 32) to be di¬
vided into as many parts of unity as there are seconds in
the apparent diameter of the sun. Let CP be taken
equal to the number of seconds contained in the differ¬
ence of the longitudes of the spot and the sun’s centre, and
the perpendicular PM equal to the number of seconds in
the latitude of the spot; then M will represent its posi¬
tion on the surface of the sun. By repeating the same
operation a number of days consecutively, a series of
points M M' M", &c. will be obtained in the apparent path
of the spot on the sun’s disk, or rather in the projection
of that path on the plane perpendicular to the visual ray.
This projection is in general an oval slightly differing from
an ellipse; and it is found that all the spots observed at
N O M Y. 779
the same time describe similar and parallel curves. They Theoretical
also return to the same relative positions in the same time, Astronomy,
and their period is about 27^- days.
The paths described by the spots undergo very consi¬
derable changes, according to the season of the year at
which they are observed. About the end of November
and beginning of December they appear simply as
straight lines Mm, MW, M!'m" (fig. 33), along which the Fig. 33.
spots move in the direction Mm, that is, they enter on
the eastern and disappear on the western edge of the
sun’s disk; and the points at which they disappear are
more elevated, or nearer the north pole of the ecliptic, than
those at which they enter. After a certain time the lines
Mm begin to assume a curved appearance, and form ovals,
as represented in fig. 34. During the winter and spring Fig. 34.
the convexity of the ovals is turned towards the north
pole of the ecliptic; but their inclination, or rather the
inclination of the straight lines joining their extreme
points, to the plane of the ecliptic continues to diminish,
and about the beginning of March disappears; so that
the points at which they seem to enter and leave the
sun’s disk are equally elevated, as in fig. 35. From this Fig. 35.
time the curvature of the ovals diminishes; they become
narrower and narrower till about the end of May or be¬
ginning of June, when they again appear under the form
of straight lines (fig. 36) ; but their inclinations to the Fig. 36.
ecliptic are now precisely in a contrary direction to what
they were six months before. After this they begin again pjate
to expand, as in fig. 37, and their convexity is now turned LXXXIT.
towards the south pole. Their inclinations also vary at Fig. 37-
the same time, and about the commencement of Septem¬
ber they are seen as represented in fig. 38; the points Fig. 38.
at which they enter and disappear being again equally
elevated. After this period the ovals begin to contract
and become inclined to the ecliptic, and by the begin¬
ning of December they have exactly the same direction
and inclination as they had the previous year.
These phenomena are renewed every year in the same
order, and the same phases are always exhibited at cor¬
responding seasons. Hence it is evident that they de¬
pend on a uniform and regular cause, which is common
to all of them, since the orbits described by the various
spots are exactly parallel, and subject in all respects to
the same variations. The simplest method of explaining
the phenomena is to suppose with Galileo that the spots
are adherent to the surface of the sun, and that the sun
uniformly revolves round an axis inclined to the axis of
the ecliptic. If the axis of revolution were perpendicu¬
lar to the plane of the ecliptic, the spots, supposing
them to adhere to the sun’s surface, would describe circles
parallel to that plane, which, seen from the earth, would
appear as so many parallel straight lines; but by supposing
the axis to have a suitable inclination, all the phenomena
become explicable in a very simple manner. While the
sun is carried round in his orbit, his axis, constantly pre¬
serving its parallelism, will successively assume different
positions relatively to the earth; and the planes of the
circles described by the spots, which planes are always
perpendicular to the axis, will consequently be presented
to us under different inclinations; hence the variations
of their apparent curvature. In two opposite points of
the orbit the visual ray drawn from the earth to the cen¬
tre of the sun is perpendicular to the axis of rotation.
In these two positions the poles of the sun, or the points
in which the axis meets the surface, are both visible at
the same moment, and the spots appear to move in paral¬
lel straight lines. But as the axis retains this perpendicular
position only for an instant, and declines from it very sen¬
sibly while the spot traverses the sun’s disk, the path of
780 ASTRONOMY.
Theoretical the spots over the entire disk is neither a straight line nor
Astronomy. an ellipse, one of which it would necessarily be if the
SUn, while revolving about his axis, did not change his
place in his orbit. When the axis is not perpendicular to
the visual ray, the path of the spots will appear to be a
curve of which the concavity is turned towards that pole
which is visible from the earth. This inclination of the
solar axis to the plane of the ecliptic also explains the
reason why the points of the disk at which the spots ap¬
pear are more elevated during one half of the year, and
more depressed during the other half, than those at which
they disappear. It will also follow from the same hypothesis,
that the curvature of the ovals must be the greatest pos¬
sible when the straight lines joining their extremities are
parallel to the ecliptic ; and, on the contrary, least when
the same straight lines are most inclined to the ecliptic;
all which is exactly conformable to observation.
The various appearances which we have now described
may be accurately represented by means of a common ce¬
lestial or terrestrial globe. Let the wooden horizon of the
globe, which is here supposed to represent the sun, be
placed horizontally in the same plane with the eye of the
spectator, and the pole be inclined about 7° from the zenith.
The wooden horizon will now represent the ecliptic; and
if the spectator walk round the globe, always keeping
his eye in the plane of the wooden horizon, the circles of
latitude will appear to him as ellipses of different inclina¬
tions and eccentricities: in two opposite points they will
appear as straight lines, and, in short, exhibit in their va¬
rious positions all the phenomena of the oval paths de¬
scribed by the spots of the sun.
The consequences deduced from the hypothesis of the
rotatory motion of the sun are so perfectly conformable
with observation, as to render the inference inevitable,
that the sun revolves from west to east, on an axis inclined
about 93° to the plane of the ecliptic. The plane which
passes through the centre of the sun, perpendicular to
the axis of rotation, is the Equator of the sun ; the straight
line joining the points in which it intersects the ecliptic
is called the Line of the Nodes of the equator. The Nodes
themselves are the two opposite points in which this
straight line, produced indefinitely, meets the celestial
sphere.
In order to determine the situation of the solar axis in
space, it is necessary to find its inclination to the ecliptic,
and the angle which the line of the nodes makes with
any given line on the plane of the ecliptic, for example,
with the line of the equinoxes. The requisite data for
the solution of this problem are three different positions
of the same spot, which must be obtained by observation.
Tig. 39. Let S (fig. 39) be the centre of the sun’s disk, AB a
parallel to the terrestrial equator, and M the place of a
spot, the co-ordinates of which, as referred to AB, are
SX and MX. In this figure the earth is supposed to be
situated in a straight line passing through S perpendi¬
cular to the plane of the paper, and it is to be recollected
that SX and MX are in fact arcs of the solar globe,
though so small when seen from the earth that they may
be regarded as straight lines. By comparing the times of
the transits of B, the border of the disk, and the spot M,
we shall find BX, from which, as SB the semidiameter of
the sun is known, we shall have SX the difference of the
right ascensions of the spot and sun’s centre. The line
CY, which is the difference of the declination of the border
of the disk and that of the spot, is measured by the mi¬
crometer. This will give MX the declination of the spot.
Now, tan. MSX — ~FyxF) and SM zr -(V, ; therefore
oA cos. MSX
SM is also a known quantity. Let EE be the ecliptic,
e — obliquity of the ecliptic, and © = the longitude of Theoret j
the sun. The angle BSE, which is technically called the Astronc..
Angle of Position, is the complement of the angle made by )
the ecliptic with the circle of declination passing through
the sun, and is therefore given by the formula tan. BSE
= tan. e cos. © : hence MSE (z=MSX — BSE) is also
given. On SE let fall the perpendicular M/w, then Mm
r= SM sin. MSE is the geocentric latitude of the spot,
and Sm = SM cos. MSE is the difference between its
geocentric longitude and that of the centre of the sun:
the object is now to determine the angles subtended by
these lines at the centre of the sun, that is, to convert the
geocentric into heliocentric latitudes and longitudes.
Suppose two straight lines to be drawn from the earth,
one to the centre of the sun, and the other to the centre
of the spot M, and let 0 be their inclination, which is
measured by SM, and is consequently known, being the
geocentric distance of the spot from S, the centre of
the sun’s disk. Let R distance of the sun’s centre
from the earth, r — semidiameter of the sun, p = the
angle made at the centre of the sun by the straight lines
drawn from it to the earth and the spot M, and let be
the remaining angle of the triangle formed by the lines
joining the earth, the centre of the sun, and the spot.
We have then r : R : : sin. & : sin. %)✓, whence sin. %}/ zr
— sin. 0. But R : r as radius to the sine of half the sun’s
r
true diameter; therefore sin. 4' zz —— .
sin. ijr sun s diameter
Now p zr 180° — 4 — consequently we have the num¬
ber of degrees, minutes, and seconds in <p, the heliocentric
distance of the spot from the straight line which joins
the centres of the earth and sun. Having thus obtained
the hypothenuse SM in parts of a great circle of the solar
orb, the sides Sm and Mm will be obtained in similar
parts from the common trigonometrical formulae for the
resolution of a right-angled spherial triangle. These for¬
mulae give
tan. Sm zz tan. SM cos. MSE,
sin. Mm zz sin. SM sin. MSE.
It will be remarked that Mm is the heliocentric lati¬
tude of the spot, Sm the difference of its longitude and
that of the earth ; and as the longitude of the earth is
equal to 180° -f- that of the sun, the heliocentric longi¬
tude of the spot will be 180° + © — SM if the spot is
behind or to the east of the centre of the sun, and 180°
+ © -|- Sm if it precedes the centre.
In this manner the heliocentric longitudes and latitudes Positiol if
of the spots are deduced from their observed right as-so^ara ’
censions and declinations. The next step is to show how
they are employed in determining the position of the so¬
lar axis. This problem is in practice somewhat laborious,
although the principles on which its solution rests are
sufficiently simple. The planes of the circles described
by the spots are parallel to the sun’s equator: if, there¬
fore, the position of one of them can be found, the posi¬
tion of the equator, and consequently of the axis, will be
found at the same time. Now, the position of a plane is
determined by three given points through which it is re¬
quired to pass; consequently, by three observations of the
same spot, we shall have three points in its plane, and
thence the plane itself. The problem is therefore one of
pure geometry, and may be solved in various ways. The
results of the most accurate observations make the in¬
clination of the solar equator to the ecliptic amount to
7° 19'23" or, 7°^ very nearly; and the heliocentric longi¬
tude of the ascending node, that is, the point in which the
equator of the sun intersects the ecliptic, in passing from
ASTRONOMY.
781
-metical south to north, 80° 7' 4". The position of the node seems
^.3[iomy. to undergo no variation, except such as may be supposed
y 40,
to arise from the precession of the equinoxes,
It has already been mentioned that the mean time in
which a solar spot returns to the same position, relatively
to the earth, is 27-3 days. This, however, is not the time
in which the sun makes a revolution about his axis. In
the interval of 27-3 days the sun describes in the ecliptic
an arc equal to 26°-91 (for 365d-25 : 27d-3 :: 360° : 26°-91),
and by virtue of this motion alone he exhibits every day
different points of his surface, the whole of which would
be successively shown to the earth in the course or a
year, independently of the motion of rotation. Hence re¬
sults an apparent annual rotation round an axis perpendi¬
cular to the ecliptic, and we must abstract the effects of
this optical illusion in order to arrive at the time of a real
rotation. This apparent rotatory motion will be easily
understood by referring to fig. 40, in which S is the sun,
E the earth, and C the point in which the visual ray ES
intersects the surface of the sun. Suppose the sun to
have advanced in his orbit from S to S', the visual ray
drawn from the sun’s centre to the earth will now meet
the surface in a different point and the angular distance
between C and C' will be found by drawing S'E' parallel
to SE ; for the point c in which S'E meets the surface will
correspond to C, and the arc C'c, or the angle ESE, will
be the apparent rotation, while the sun advances in his
orbit from S to S'. Now, the angle E'S'E is equal to
S'ES, or the apparent rotatory motion is equal to the an¬
gular motion of the sun in his orbit; hence, since the real
rotation is in a contrary direction, it is obvious that, if the
axis were perpendicular to the plane of the ecliptic, when
a spot appears to have made one revolution, it has in
reality passed over an arc equal to 360o + 26°*91, or
386-91 degrees. By a simple proportion, therefore,
386-91 : 360 :: 27-3 : 25-4;
and consequently 25-4 days is the real time of the sun s
revolution. This result is, however, not quite accuiate, on
account of its having been supposed that the axis of rota¬
tion is perpendicular to the ecliptic, whereas it differs
from a perpendicular to that plane by 7°^; but the cor¬
rection necessary on account of the difference is so small
as to fall far within the limits of the errors to which the
observations are liable ; it is therefore unnecessary to have
regard to it.
a- Observations of the spots, from which the elements of
as liable the sun's rotation are deduced, are attended with a very
uncer- considerable degree of uncertainty. The semidiameter of
the sun, which at the surface of the earth subtends an angle
of only 16', or 960", is equivalent to 90° at the centre of
the sun. Hence the error of a single second (and it is
impossible to answer for one or two seconds in observa¬
tions of this sort) corresponds to about 338", or 5' 38", on
the surface of the solar globe. An observer may, there¬
fore, notwithstanding the greatest care, be mistaken to
the extent of 10' with regard to the length of a heliocen¬
tric arc; and when to this we add, that the margins of the
spots are ill defined, and even changeable, so that their
centres, which it becomes necessary to observe, are not
always the same, it will not appear surprising that a con¬
siderable discordance exists among the results of different
observations. The uncertainty respecting the time of ro¬
tation amounts to no less than 10 or 12 hours. From a
careful discussion of a numerous set of observations, De-
lambre found the time of rotation to be only 25-01154
days, instead of 25-4 given above; and he remarks that,
in order to render the last-mentioned number admissible,
it is necessary to suppose either an error of 2° 22', which
is scarcely possible, or else that the spot has a proper mo¬
tion in the same direction as the motion of rotation of the Theoretical
earth and all the planets. _
From four different combinations of equations, derived
from eleven observations of the same spot, Delambre com¬
puted the following table of the elements of rotation.
Node.
80° 45' 7"
79 21 35
80 33 40
79 47 55
80 7 4
Inclination.
7° 19' 17"
7 12 37
7 16 33
7 29 4
7 19 23
Revolution.
25d O* 17w
Synodic Revol.
26d 4h 17m
Diurnal motion 14°-394
serva¬
nt/.
With regard to observations on the sun’s spots, Delambre
remarks that he attaches little value to them, first, because
it is impossible to make them well; and, secondly, because,
even if they were sure, they only lead to results of little
importance to astronomy. He discussed a hundred dif¬
ferent spots, each observed at least three times by Mes¬
sier, and deduced thirty different determinations of the
elements of rotation. The more he multiplied his calcu¬
lations, the more certain he became of the impossibility of
a good solution ; of which, indeed, there is no other chance
than in a compensation of errors, little probable on account
of their enormous magnitudes. These discrepancies render
it probable that the spots, besides partaking of the general
motion of the solar globe, have also proper motions either
of displacement, or occasioned by a change of form, which
may long prevent this part of astronomy from reaching a
greater degree of exactness than it has already attained.
From the circumstance that the sun is incontestably
endowed with a rotatory motion, Lalande concluded that,
according to the rules of probability, he ought also to
have a motion of translation in space. This idea was
adopted by Herschel, and is now generally received as
probable. It explains some, though not all, of thepioper
motions which have been supposed to be observed among
the stars. If, indeed, the stars are so many suns, revolv¬
ing like ours each on its own axis of rotation, it is ex¬
tremely probable that they have also motions of tiansla-
tion ; and thus, there being no fixed points in the heavens,
the problem of their proper motions becomes so compli¬
cated as to be altogether insoluble.
The only interesting fact which has been deduced from
the observations of the solar spots is the rotation of the
sun. The curious appearances which they exhibit have,
however, attracted great attention, and given rise to nu¬
merous theories respecting the constitution of that im¬
mense body which governs and vivifies the planetary sys¬
tem. We will now proceed to give a brief account of the ap¬
pearances, and mention some of the theories that have been
founded on them; premising, that after all that has been
written on this subject, we are not yet, and probably never
will be, in possession of any definite knowledge.
nature of the spots, and the physical constitution of the
sun, afford fruitful subjects of harmless conjecture and
speculation, but form no part of science. •
The phenomena of the solar spots, as delivered by Appear-
Scheiner and Hevelius, may be summed up in the foliow-ances o
ing particulars. 1. Every spot which has a nucleus, or^P015-
comparatively dark part, has also an umbra, or fainter
shade surrounding it. 2. The boundary between the
nucleus and umbra is always distinct and well defined.
3. The increase of a spot is gradual, the breadth of the
nucleus and umbra dilating at the same time. 4. In
like manner the decrease of a spot is gradual, the breadth
of the nucleus and umbra contracting at the same time.
782 ASTRONOMY.
Theoretical 5. The exterior boundary of the umbra never consists of
sharp angles, but is always curvilinear, how irregular so-
V-*'’v’'x“/ever the outline of the nucleus may be. 6. The nucleus
of a spot, whilst on the decrease, often changes its figure
by the umbra encroaching irregularly upon it, insomuch
that in a small space of time new encroachments are dis¬
cernible, whereby the boundary between the nucleus and
umbra is perpetually varying. 7. It often happens, by
these encroachments, that the nucleus of a spot is divided
into two or more nuclei. 8. The nuclei of the spots vanish
sooner than the umbra. 9. Small umbrae are often seen
without nuclei. 10. An umbra of any considerable size
is seldom seen without a nucleus in the middle of it. 11.
When a spot which consisted of a nucleus and umbra is
about to disappear, if it is not succeeded by a facula or
spot brighter than the rest of the disk, the place where it
was is soon after not distinguishable from the rest.
In the Philosophical Transactions, vol. Ixiv. Dr Wilson,
late professor of astronomy at Glasgow, has given a dis¬
sertation on the nature of the solar spots, in which he
mentions the following appearances. 1. When the spot
is about to disappear on the western edge of the sun’s
limb, the eastern part of the umbra first contracts, then
vanishes, the nucleus and western part of the umbra re¬
maining; then the nucleus gradually contracts and va¬
nishes, while the western part only of the umbra remains.
At last this disappears also; and if the spot remains long
enough to become again visible, the eastern part of
the umbra first becomes visible, then the nucleus; and
when the spot approaches the middle of the disk, the nu¬
cleus appears environed by the umbra on all sides, as al¬
ready mentioned. 2. When two spots lie very near to
one another, the umbra is deficient on that side which lies
next to the other spot: and this wrill be the case, though
a large spot should be contiguous to one much smaller;
the umbra of the large spot will be totally wanting on that
side next the small one. If there are little spots on each
side of the large one, the umbra does not totally vanish,
but appears flattened or pressed in towards the nucleus
on each side. When the little spots disappear, the umbra
of the large one extends itself as usual. This circum¬
stance, he observes, may sometimes prevent the disap¬
pearance of the umbra in the manner above mentioned;
so that the western umbra may disappear before the nu¬
cleus, if a small spot happens to break out on that side.
In the same volume, p. 337, the Rev. Dr Wollaston ob¬
serves that the appearances mentioned by Dr Wilson are
not uniform. He positively affirms that the faculae or
bright spots on the sun are often converted into dark
ones. “ I have many times,” says he, “ observed near the
eastern limb a bright facula just come on, which has the
next day shown itself as a spot, though I do not recollect
to have seen such a facula near the western one after a
spot’s disappearance. Yet, I believe, both these circum¬
stances have been observed by others, and perhaps not
only near the limbs. The circumstance of the faculse be¬
ing converted into spots, I think I may be sure of. That
there is generally, perhaps always, a mottled appearance
over the face of the sun, when carefully attended to, I
think I may be as certain. It is most visible towards the
limbs, but I have undoubtedly seen it in the centre ; yet
I do not recollect to have observed this appearance, or
indeed any spots, towards the poles. Once I saw, with a
twelve-inch reflector, a spot burst to pieces while I was
looking at it. I could not expect such an event, and
therefore cannot be certain of the exact particulars; but
the appearance, as it struck me at the time, was like that
of a piece of ice when dashed on a frozen pond, which
breaks to pieces and slides in various directions.” He also
observes, that the nuclei of the spots are not always in the Theoret
middle of the umbrae, and gives the figure of one seen onAstronc
the 13th of November 1773, which is a remarkable instance'
to the contrary.
The faculae, or bright spots, were observed with parti¬
cular attention by Messier, who frequently saw them en¬
ter on the eastern limb of the sun, disappear as they ap¬
proached the centre of the disk, re-appear on the oppo¬
site limb, and continue visible, as they had done at the
time of their first appearance, for about three days, till
they were carried off the disk by the rotation of the
sun. Spots frequently broke out in these faculae, and
when this did not happen, they were succeeded by spots
which generally became visible on the following day; and
from the regularity of this occurrence, he was enabled to
predict the appearance of a spot 24 hours before it en¬
tered on the sun’s disk. He observed, also, that the
magnitude of the spots was proportional to the brightness
of the antecedent faculae. Like the spots, the faculae are
generally confined to the equatorial regions of the sun;
but they have been occasionally observed by Schroeter on
every part of the disk.
To explain these singular appearances, numerous the-Theork
ories, more or less plausible, have been proposed, but allreganlii
resting on many gratuitous assumptions, and subject totllespo'
great difficulties. Scheiner imagined that the spots do not
belong to the sun, but supposed them to be inferior pla¬
nets revolving at no great distance from the central lumi¬
nary. Galileo, Hevelius, and others, have supposed them
to be scorim floating in the inflammable liquid matter of
which they imagined the sun to be composed. This opi¬
nion, although it accounts for the appearance of the spots
in the equatorial regions of the sun, to which such scoriae
would be carried by the centrifugal force resulting from
his rotation, cannot be reconciled with the regularity with
which the spots frequently re-appear on the eastern limb
of the sun. Dr Wilson, Laving observed that the spots
situated near the edge of the disk are narrow, and without
a penumbra on the side next the centre, and that only
the central spots are completely surrounded by a penum¬
bra (appearances which would be exactly represented by
a conical gulf or cavity presented to us under different
aspects by the revolution of the sun), was led to adopt
the opinion, that the appearances of the spots are occa¬
sioned by real excavations in the solar globe. He sup¬
posed the sun to consist of a dark nucleus, covered only
to a certain depth by a luminous matter, not fluid, through
which openings are occasionally made by volcanic or other
energies, permitting the solid nucleus of the sun to be
seen; and that the umbra which surrounds the spot is
occasioned by a partial admission of the light upon the
shelving sides of the precipice opposite to the observer.
It is evident that, in proportion as these excavations are
seen obliquely, their apparent dimensions will be dimi¬
nished ; one of the edges will disappear as it approaches
the sun’s limb, or come more into view as it advances to¬
wards the middle of the disk; when the spot is about to
leave the disk, the bottom of the excavation, or the nucleus
seen through it, will first disappear, but a sort of faint or
obscure spot will remain visible as long as the visual ray
penetrates the cavity. These appearances are all con¬
formable to the laws of perspective; but Dr Wilson,
wishing to give a still more palpable demonstration of
the accuracy of his theory, fitted up a large globe, into
which holes of the proper dimensions were inserted; and
this machine being placed at a distance, and made to
revolve, was found, when examined through a telescope,
to exhibit in the course of its revolution all the phenomena
of the solar spots.
ASTRONOMY. 783
Tifretical Dr Wilson’s theory was keenly combated by Lalande,
ypho adduced several observations of his own, and some
by Cassini, that could not be explained by means of it;
and urged with reason, that an hypothesis, founded on the
uniformity of appearances which in reality are exceed¬
ingly variable, was entitled to little consideration. La¬
lande himself supposed the spots to be scoriae which have
settled or fixed themselves on the summits of the solar
mountains; an opinion which he grounded on this cir¬
cumstance, that some large spots which had disappeared
for several years were observed to form themselves again
at the identical points at which they had vanished.
H^chel’s The late Sir William Herschel, with a view to ascer-
(itjfrva- tain more accurately the nature of the sun, made frequent
ti!5>' observations upon it from the year 1779 to the year 1 /94.
He imagined the dark spots on the sun to be mountains,
which, considering the great attraction exerted by the
sun upon bodies placed at its surface, and the slow revo¬
lution it has upon its axis, he thought might be more than
300 miles high, and yet stand very firmly. He says that
in August 1792 he examined the sun with several powers
from 90 to 500, when it evidently appeared that the dark
spots are the opaque ground or body of the sun, and that
the luminous part is an atmosphere, through which, when
interrupted or broken, we obtain a view of the sun it¬
self. Hence he concluded that the sun has a very ex¬
tensive atmosphere, consisting of elastic fluids that are
more or less lucid and transparent, and of which the lucid
ones furnish us with light. This atmosphere, he thought,
cannot be less than 1843, nor more than 2765 miles in
height; and he supposed that the density of the lumi¬
nous solar clouds needs not be much more than that of
our aurora borealis, in order to produce the effects with
which we are acquainted. The sun, then, if this hypo¬
thesis be admitted, is similar to the other globes of the
solar system with regard to its solidity, its atmosphere,
its surface diversified with mountains and valleys, its ro¬
tation on its axis, and the fall of heavy bodies on its sur¬
face; it therefore appears to be a very eminent, large,
and lucid planet, the primary one in our system, disse¬
minating its light and heat to all the bodies with which it
is connected.
Herschel supposed that there are two regions or strata
of solar clouds; that the inferior stratum is opaque, and
probably not unlike our own atmosphere, while the supe¬
rior is the repository of light, which it darts forth in vast
quantities in all directions. The inferior clouds act as a
curtain to screen the body of the sun from the intense
brilliancy and heat of the superior regions, and, by re¬
flecting back nearly one half of the rays which they
receive from the luminous clouds, contribute also great¬
ly to increase the quantity of light which the latter
send forth into space, and thereby perform an important
function in the economy of the solar system. The lumi¬
nous clouds prevent us in general from seeing the solid
nucleus of the sun ; but in order to account for the spots,
he supposes an empyreal elastic gas to be constantly form¬
ing at the surface, which, carried upwards by reason of
its inferior density, forces its way through the planetary
or lower clouds, and mixing itself with the gases which
have their residence in the superior stratum, causes de¬
compositions of the luminous matter, and gives rise to
those appearances which he describes under the name of
corrugations. Through the openings made by this acci¬
dental removal of the luminous clouds, the solid body of
the sun becomes visible, which, not being lucid, gives the
appearance of the dark spots or nuclei seen through the
telescope. The length of the time during which the spots
continue visible renders it evident that the luminous mat¬
ter of the sun cannot be of a liquid or gaseous nature; Theoretical
for, in either case, the vacuity made by its accidental re-Astronomy’
moval would instantly be filled up, and the uniformity of^-^^^
appearance invariably maintained. Herschel supposed
the luminous clouds to be phosphorescent.
It would be a needless waste of time to enter into any Uncertain-
discussion of a theory so entirely vague and fanciful, ty respect-
and so destitute of all solid foundation. Till we are bet-ing the
ter acquainted with the nature of light, fire, and heat,^®^ofthe
and have attained to the knowledge of every possible modegun>
in which these elements can be produced and propagated,
all hypotheses respecting the construction of the sun can
only be gratuitous and conjectural. Some interesting
questions, however, arise out of this subject. Whether
the inferior stratum of solar clouds is sufficiently dense,
as Herschel imagined, to protect the body of the sun from
the scorching effects of the surrounding regions of light
and heat, and render it a fit habitation for human beings,
is a question of no importance to man, or to any thing
pertaining to his planet; but it is interesting for him to
know whether the light and heat dispensed by the sun are
liable to any variation or secular diminution, either con¬
nected with the spots, or resulting from a decrease of the
sun’s volume.
Those philosophers who adopt the hypothesis of the Mass of
production of light and heat by the vibrations of an ethe-thesunun-
real fluid, consider the mass of the sun to be invariable.
Those, on the contrary, who attribute these effects to anminuti0n.
emanation from the sun, think his mass and volume must
be diminished by the incessant discharge of torrents of
luminous particles from his surface. During the two thou¬
sand years which have elapsed since the first astronomical
observations, no diminution of the sun’s volume has been
perceived; but it must be remarked that such an effect
may have taken place, though not yet sensible to our
instruments. The sun’s diameter is nearly 2000"; and at
the distance of 95,000,000 miles a second corresponds
to 460 miles. Now, supposing the solar diameter to suffer
a daily diminution of two feet, which may be considered
as enormous, considering the vast magnitude of the sun,
and the excessive rarity of light, the diminution would
amount to 800 feet in a year, and to 460 miles, or 1", in
3000 years. Thus, after thirty centuries, the diminution
would still be imperceptible, inasmuch as our instruments
are not sufficiently accurate to enable us to appreciate, in
an observation of this sort, so small a variation as one
second.
Some astronomers, after Herschel, have imagined that Connection
the existence of the solar spots has an influence on the ot the s?1*1'
temperature of the seasons. In 1823 the summer was’P° J _
cold and wet; the thermometer at Paris rose only to 23°-7 rature ot‘
of Reaumur, and the sun exhibited no spots; whereas in the sca¬
the summer of 1807 the heat was excessive, and the spots sons,
of vast magnitude. The relation, however, between the
temperature and the appearance of the solar spots is^ not
so uniform as to give much weight to this opinion. Warm
summers, and winters of excessive rigour, have happened
in the presence or absence of the spots. The year 1783
was remarkable for its fertility and the magnitude of the
solar spots; a dry fog enveloped the greater part of Eu¬
rope, and was followed by the earthquake of Calabria.
Another opinion entertained by Herschel was, that one
hemisphere of the sun emits less light than the other, so
that when viewed at a great distance he will resemble
some stars of which the brilliancy is subject to periodical
variations. „ , , . Sun sup-
By reason of the globular figure of the sun, his sur- J)osC(110
face towards the border of the disk is seen obliquely, jmveanat,
and therefore a much greater portion of it is comprehend- mosphere.
784 ASTRONOMY.
Theoretical ed under a given visual angle, than when the ray pro-
^^^•ceeds from his centre. Now, as every point of the sun’s
surface is supposed to emit an equal quantity of light in all
directions, it follows that the light ought to be much more
intense near the circumference of the disk, because #
greater number of rays will proceed from the larger sur¬
face, which forms the oblique base of the luminous cone.
Bouguer, deceived by some imperfect experiments, thought
the light more intense at the centre of the disk than to¬
wards the limb; a circumstance which could only be ex¬
plained by supposing the light to be diminished by some
cause which acts most powerfully with regard to the bor-
dei's of the disk. Such would be the effect of a dense
atmosphere surrounding the sun; for in this case the rays
which proceed from the border must traverse a much
greater extent of the solar atmosphere, and consequently
be absorbed in greater proportion than those which pro¬
ceed from the central parts and traverse it directly; just
as the atmosphere of the earth renders the light of the
stars at the horizon much feebler than at the zenith. It
has been found, however, that Bouguer’s experiments
were inaccurate, and that the light is equally intense at
the border and the centre. The existence of a solar at¬
mosphere cannot therefore be demonstrated in this man¬
ner ; but it is clearly indicated by the faint light which is
observable round the sun’s limb during a total eclipse.
Zodiacal Another very curious phenomenon connected with the
light. sunj js the faint nebulous aurora which accompanies him,
known by the name of the Zodiacal Light. This pheno¬
menon was first observed by Kepler, who described its
appearance with sufficient accuracy, and supposed it to
be the atmosphere of the sun. Dominic Cassini, how¬
ever, to whom its discovery has been generally but er¬
roneously attributed, was the first who observed it atten¬
tively, and gave it the name which it now bears. It is
visible immediately before sunrise, or after sunset, in the
place where the sun is about to appear, or has just quit¬
ted, in the horizon. In total eclipses it is seen surround¬
ing the sun’s disk, and resembling the beard of a comet.
It has a flat lenticular form, and is placed obliquely on
Fig. 41. the horizon, as represented in fig. 41, the apex extending
to a great distance in the heavens. Its direction is al¬
ways in the plane of the sun’s equator, and for this reason
it is scarcely visible in our latitudes, excepting at particu¬
lar seasons,’ when that plane is nearly perpendicular to
the horizon. When its inclination is great, it is either
concealed altogether under the horizon, or at least rises
so little above it, that its splendour is effaced by the at¬
mosphere of the earth. The most favourable time for
observing it is about the beginning of March, or towards
the vernal equinox. The line of the equinoxes is then
situated in the horizon, and the arc of the ecliptic SS' S"
Fig. 42. (fig. 42) is more elevated than the equator SEQ by an
angle of 231 degrees ; so that the solar equator, which is
slightly inclined to the ecliptic, approaches nearer to the
perpendicular to the horizon, and the pyramid of the zo¬
diacal light is consequently directed to a point nearer the
zenith, than at any other season of the year. For ex¬
ample, at the summer solstice, S"T, a tangent to the
ecliptic, is parallel to EQ the tangent to the equator, and
the luminous pyramid is in a plane less elevated by 23°l
than at the time of the vernal equinox.
Different Numerous opinions have been entertained respecting
opinions the nature and cause of this singular phenomenon. Cas-
regarding s;nj thought it might be occasioned by the confused light
caflDht*1* an innumera^e multitude of little planets circulating
k ’ round the sun, in the same manner as the milky way owes
its appearance to the light of agglomerated myriads of
stars. Its resemblance to the tails of comets has been
noticed by Cassini, Fatio Duillier, and others; and Euler Theoreti,
endeavoured to prove that they are both owing to similar As'ronoil
causes. Mairan, like Kepler, ascribed it to the atmo-^^^
sphere of the sun; and this hypothesis was generally
adopted, till it was shown by Laplace to be untenable for
the following reasons. The atmosphere of any planet, en¬
dowed with a motion of rotation, cannot extend to an in¬
definite distance: it can only reach to such a height that
the centrifugal force is exactly balanced by the force of
gravity. Beyond this height the atmosphere would be
dissipated by the superior energy of the centrifugal force.
Now the height above the sun at which the two forces are
equal is that at which a planet, if placed there, woul'd re¬
volve about the sun in the same time in which the sun
performs a revolution on his axis. But the orbit of such
a planet would be greatly inferior to the orbit of Mercury;
for the time in which Mercury makes a revolution in his
orbit is eighty-eight days, while the sun revolves about
his axis in twenty-five; it is therefore certain that the at¬
mosphere of the sun cannot extend to the orbit of Mer¬
cury. Now, the greatest elongation of Mercury does not
exceed 28°, and the zodiacal light has been observed to
extend to above 100°, reckoning from the sun to the apex
of the luminous pyramid. Hence the phenomenon cannot
proceed from the sun’s atmosphere. Laplace further re¬
marks, that the ratio of the equatorial and polar axes of
the solar atmospherical spheroid cannot exceed that of
three to two ; whence its form would not correspond with
the lenticular appearance of the zodiacal light. But to
whatever cause this luminous matter is to be attributed, it
is certain that it is of extreme rarity, inasmuch as it does
not intercept the light of the smallest stars which are seen
through it without any diminution of splendour.
On the subject of the solar spots and zodiacal light the
following works may be consulted:—Galileo, Istoria e
Dimostrazioni intorno alle Macchie Solari, ■ Rome, 1613;
Scheiner, Rosa Ursina, Bracciani, 1630; Hevelius, Sele-
nographia, Gedani, 1647; Reutschius, De Maculis et Facu-
lis Solaribus, Wittemb. 1661, 4to; Cassini, Nouv. Observ.
des Taches du Soldi; Hooke, Tractatus de Maculis Solari '
bus, et Lumine Zodiacali, in Oper. Posth. Lond. 1705;
Weidler, De Coloribus Mac. Sol. in his Observ. Meteorol.
1728-9, Wittemb. 1729; Boscovich, De Mac. Sol. Rom.
1736, 4to ; De Lisle, Memoires pour servir d VHistoire de
VAstr. Petersb. 1738; Bernoulli, Lettres Astronomiques,
1771; Wilson, Phil. Trans. 1774, vol. Ixiv.; Ibid. 1783;
Wollaston, Phil. Trans. 1774; Lalande, Phil. Trans. 1776,
Mem. Acad. 1776, and Astronomic, tom. iii. p. 277; Her-
schel, Phil. Trans. 1795 and 1801; Woodward on the
Substance of the Sun, Washington, 1801; Biot, Traite de
TAstronomie Physique, tom. ii.; Bohn, Disput. Astrom. de
Fascia Zodiacali; Cassini, Mem. Acad.Par. tom. vii. p. 119,
and viii. p. 193; Mairan, Traite Physique et Historiqtie
de VAurore Roreale, 1731; Lalande, Astronomie, tom. i.
p. 276; Laplace, Exposition du Systeme du Monde-, De-
lambre, Hist, de VAstronomie Moderne, tom. ii. p. 742.
CHAP. III.
OF THE MOON.
I
Next to the sun, the moon is to mankind the most im¬
portant and interesting of all the celestial bodies. Her
conspicuous appearance in the heavens, the variety of her
phases, and the rapidity with which she changes her place
among the fixed stars, have rendered her at all times an
object of admiration to the vulgar; while her proximity to
the earth, her physical effects on the ocean, the intricacy
of the theory of her motions, and the vast importance of
that theory to navigation and -geography, have equally
ASTRONOMY.
^£;;tical claimed the attention of the observer and mathematician;
j>tii omy. nor is there any other department of astronomy in which
their researches have been crowned with more triumphant
success, or been rewarded with more brilliant discoveries.
Sect. I.—Of the Phases, Parallax, and Magnitude
of the Moon.
The different appearances or phases of the moon were
probably the first celestial phenomena observed with any
degree of attention. When the moon, after having been
for some days invisible, is again seen on the eastern side
of the sun, and at a distance of 20 or 30 degrees from him,
she appears as a curved thread of silvery light; and her
form is that of a crescent, the horns of which are turned
towards the east. The breadth of the crescent increases
continually in proportion as she separates herself from the
sun, till, having obtained a distance of 90°, she appears
under the form of a semicircle. At this point she is said
to be in her first quarter. Continuing her motion to the
eastward, the line which terminates the eastern side of
her disk assumes the curvature of an elliptic arc, and her
visible portion continues to increase till she has attained
the distance of 180° from the sun, when she appears per¬
fectly round. She is then full, and is said to be in oppo¬
sition, rising as the sun sets, and consoling us by her pale
light for the absence of the great luminary. Having pass¬
ed this point, she begins to approach the sun; her western
side now takes the form of the elliptic arc, and her lumi¬
nous portion diminishes exactly in the same proportion as
it increased through the first half of her orbit. About
seven days after the full she again appears as a semicircle,
the diameter of which is turned towards the west, and she
is now at her third quarter, and at a distance of 90° from
the sun. The semicircle after this changes into a crescent,
and she continues to approach the sun, till, having advan¬
ced to within 20° or 30° from him, she again disappears,
being lost in the splendour of his rays. These phases
regularly succeed each other, and the time in which they
run through all their changes is about 291 days. When
the moon passes the meridian at the same time with the
sun, she is said to be in Conjunction. The two points of
her orbit in which she is situated when in opposition or
conjunction are called the Syzygies; those which are 90°
distant from the sun are called the Quadratures ; and the
intermediate points between the syzygies and quadratures
I are called the Octants.
A slight attention to the lunar phases during a single
revolution will be sufficient to prove that they are occa¬
sioned by the reflection of the sun’s light from the opaque
spherical surface of the moon. This fact, which was re¬
cognised in the earliest ages, will be made obvious by, the
help of a diagram. If the moon is an opaque body we can
only see that portion of her enlightened side which is to¬
wards the earth. Therefore, when she arrives at that point
F‘P. of her orbit A (fig. 43) where she is in conjunction with
the sun S, her dark half is towards the earth, and she dis¬
appears, as at a, there being no light on that half to render
it visible. When she comes to her first octant, at B, or
has gone an eighth part of her orbit from her conjunction,
a quarter of her enlightened side is towards the earth,
and she appears horned, as at b. When she has gone a
quarter of her orbit from her conjunction, to C, she
shows us one half of her enlightened side, as at c, and we
say she is a quarter old. At D she is in her second
octant, and by showing us more of her enlightened side
she appears gibbous, as at d. At E her whole enlighten¬
ed side is towards the earth, and therefore she appears
round, as at e, when we say it is full moon. In her third
octant, at F, part of her dark side being towards the earth,
VOL. in.
785
she again appears gibbous, and is on the decrease, as at^/l Theoretical
At G we see just one half of her enlightened side, and-A•st^onomy,
she appears as a semicircle, as at g. At H we only see a'v^^v^v^
quarter of her enlightened side, being in her fourth octant,
when she appears horned, as at h. And at A, having
completed her course from the sun to the sun again, she
disappears, and we say it is new moon. Thus, in going
from A to E, the moon seems continually to increase ; and
in going from E to A, to decrease in the same proportion,
exhibiting like phases at equal distances from A and E.
The magnitude of the visible portion of the moon’s disk
thus depends on the situation of the moon relatively to
the sun and the earth, and is easily determined geome¬
trically from her elongation or angular distance from the
sun. Let ADBC (fig. 44) be the projection of the lunar Fig. 44.
orb on the plane which passes through the centres of the
sun, moon, and earth; let S be the place of the sun, E
that of the earth, M the centre of the projection, and AB,
CD two diameters perpendicular to SM and EM respec¬
tively, and let EM meet the circumference in G. It is
evident that AGDB represents the hemisphere illumi¬
nated by the sun, and CAGD that which is visible from
the earth ; the whole portion of the visible disk, therefore,
is represented by AGD, or by AG and DG. Now, if we
conceive the moon’s surface to be projected on the plane
which passes through her centre perpendicular to the vi¬
sual ray, the illuminated portion of the disk DG will ap¬
pear as a semicircle, while the part GA will appear as
a semi-ellipse, the minor axis of which is to its major as
MF to MC, AF being perpendicular to MC. The eye at
E will therefore see the semicircle DMG, together with
the semi-ellipse GMA, and the visible part will be to the
entire disk as DF : DC, that is, as 1 sin. AME : 2,
or, as 1 + cos. <p : 2; p being equal to EMS the elonga¬
tion of the earth from the sun as seen from the moon.
The geocentric elongation of the moon from the sun,
or the angle MES = ■vj', may be substituted instead
of <p, when we know the ratio of the distances ES = r
T
and MS = R; for sin. 9 = sin* ^ whence cos. <p ~
1 —jp sin.2 4, and the above proportion becomes
DF : DC : : 1 + ^1 — ^ sin.2 2.
When the moon is in opposition the angle <p — 0, whence
1 -j- cos. <p = 2, and the whole disk is visible. At the
conjunction <p = 180°, and 1 + cos, O — 0; the moon is
consequently invisible.
The triangle EMS likewise furnishes the means of find¬
ing the distance of the moon when that of the sun is
known; or reciprocally, the distance of the sun from that
of the moon : but for this purpose it is necessary to ob¬
serve accurately the limit of illumination, which is not
easily done. Let ADBE (fig. 45) be the illuminated part Fig. 45.
of the moon ACBE. The distance between the cusps
A and B, measured by the micrometer, gives the major
axis of the ellipse ADB, and the semiconjugate axis DM
is found by measuring in the same manner the distance
ED, and subtracting EM, half the transverse AB. This
gives PY — cos. EMS (fig. 44); this gives the angle EMS
A1V1
or M; and from SEM, which is given by observation, we
have ESM or S = 180° — E — M; whence M and S are
given angles; and from the property of the triangle we
have EM = ES 4^4 or ES = EM The cal-
sm. M sin. 8
eolation would be greatly facilitated if the observation
5 G
ASTRONOMY.
786
Theoretical were made at the exact instant when the moon is dicho-
Astronomy. tomized, or in her first or third quarter, for the elliptic arc
then becomes a straight line and the angle EMS=90°; so
that sin. M = l. In this case therefore we have EM = ES
EM
sin. S zr ES cos. E, and ES = —which gives the
COS* JCj
ratio of the distances of the sun and moon. In this man¬
ner Aristarchus of Samos attempted to compare the dis¬
tance of the two luminaries ; and although his result was
extremely erroneous, inasmuch as he found the distance
of the sun to be only between eighteen and twenty times
greater than that of the moon, whereas it is actually 380
times greater, yet the idea was an ingenious one, and
the method perfectly accurate in theory. The error arose
from the inaccuracy of the ancient instruments, and the
impossibility of observing to within a few minutes the
exact time of the dichotomy. Besides, as the angle at
the sun is extremely small, a very slight error either with
regard to the time or the angle has a great influence on
the result.
Parallax of The moon’s absolute distance from the earth is obtain-
ihe moon. means of her parallax, which, on account of her
proximity, is very considerable, and can therefore be de¬
termined by the methods which were explained in chap. i.
sect. 2. On comparing her parallaxes observed at dif¬
ferent times, they are found to differ considerably in
value. Thus, according to Lalande, the greatest hori¬
zontal parallax at Paris is 6P 29'/, the smallest 53' 51";
and it assumes every possible value between these two
extremes. The horizontal parallax being the angle which
the earth's radius subtends at the moon, and conse¬
quently equal to the radius of the earth divided by the
moon’s distance, the perigean and apogean distances cor¬
responding to the extreme parallaxes are respectively
55’916 and 63-842 semidiameters of the earth. The ratio
of these two numbers, or of the extreme values of the pa¬
rallax, is lT4fl7, and denotes the greatest variations of
the moon’s distance from the earth. The ratio of the
corresponding quantities in the case of the sun is only
1‘034; hence the moon’s distance is subject to much
greater variations than that of the sun.
These differences in the value of the parallax arise from
the variations of the moon’s distance from the earth ; but
it is also observed to differ sensibly at different points of
the earth’s surface, even at the same instant of time. If
the earth were spherical, the horizontal parallax of the
moon, supposing her distance to be invariable, would be
the same at whatever part of the earth it might be ob¬
served. The case is, however, different; for, on account
of the spheroidal figure of the earth, the section made by
every vertical plane gives a different ellipse, no one of
which even passes through the centre of the earth, except¬
ing indeed the cases in which the place of the observer is
on the equator or under the pole; for in all other cases
the perpendicular to the surface of the earth does not pass
through its centre. Hence it is necessary, in speaking of
the horizontal parallax, to specify the place of the obser¬
vation.
Since the parallax of the moon is subject to incessant
variation, it is necessary to assume a certain mean value
of it, about which the true and apparent values may be
conceived to oscillate. This is denominated the constant
parallax. It is evident that it cannot be found by taking
the arithmetical mean of the extreme values; for by rea¬
son of the disturbing force of the sun, the eccentricity of
the lunar orbit, and consequently the perigean and apo¬
gean distances, are constantly varying; and as the quan¬
tity by which one of these distances is increased is not
equal to that by which the other is diminished, it follows
that the mean of the perigean and apogean parallaxes Theoreti
will not be a constant quantity, but different in succes-Astronof
sive revolutions of the moon. If we abstract from all theis-^V'
inequalities of the lunar orbit, and suppose the moon to
be at her mean distance and mean place, the constant pa¬
rallax will be the angle under which a given semidiame¬
ter of the earth is seen by a spectator at the moon in
such circumstances. According to Lalande, the following
are the values of the constant parallax :—
Under the equator  57' 5"
Under the pole  56 53*2
For the latitude of Paris  56 58-3
For the radius of a sphere equal in 1 ^ ^
volume to the earth J
The mean equatorial parallax being 57' 5", its double isMagni.
1° 54' 10", which expresses the angle subtended by thetudeof
diameter of the earth at the distance of the moon. Thelunaror
angle subtended by the moon at the same distance is 31'
26"; whence the diameter of the moon is to that of the
earth as 31' 26" is to 1° 54' 10"; that is, as *524 to P899,
or as 3 to 11 nearly. According to the tables of Burg,
the accurate expression of the above ratio is 1 : 0-27293;
hence the true diameter of the moon is 0*27293 diameters
of the terrestrial equator. The surface of the moon is con¬
sequently (0*27293)2=: 0*0744908 zz of that of the
earth, and its volume (0*27293)3 zz 0*0203308 zz
or, in round numbers, ^th of the volume of the earth.
Sect. II.—Of the Elements of the Lunar Orbit.
1. Nodes and Inclination of the Lunar Orbit.—A few sim¬
ple observations of the right ascensions and declinations of
the moon suffice to show that her path is confined nearly
to a plane, having only a small inclination to the plane of
the ecliptic. If her path were rigorously confined to this
plane, a single revolution would be sufficient to determine
its inclination ; but as numerous disturbing causes exist,
which produce inequalities in all the elements of the lunar
motion, it is only by taking the mean value of a great num¬
ber of observations that these elements can be astronomi¬
cally determined. In fixing the position of the plane of
the orbit, the first object is to determine the straight line
formed by its intersection with the plane of the ecliptic;
that is to say, to determine the line of the Nodes. This
would be at once accomplished if it were possible to ob¬
serve the instant at which the moon’s latitude is nothing;
for at this instant her centre is in the plane of the ecliptic,
and consequently her longitude is the same as the longi¬
tude of the node. But as the accuracy of modern prac¬
tice requires that all important observations be made in the
plane of the meridian, and as it could only happen by a
very rare coincidence that the latitude deduced from the
meridional right ascensions and declinations would be ex¬
actly zero, it is necessary to have recourse to a process of
calculation to find the precise place of the node.
Let LNL' (fig. 46) be a portion of the ecliptic, MNM'Fig. 4C
of the lunar orbit, N the place of the node, and ML zz: l,
M'L' — l' be two latitudes on opposite sides of the eclip¬
tic. The two right-angled triangles give, according to
Napier’s Rules,
tan. I tan. t
tan’ N ~ sin. NM ~ sin. NM' ;
therefore,
sin. NM _ tan. I
sin. NM'— tan. C *
whence,
sin. NM — sin. NM' _ tan. I — tan. I
sin. NM sin. NM'— tan. I -f tan. I ’
ASTRONOMY.
787
flmetical that is, by the trigonometrical formulae,
Astoomy
tan. |(NM — NM') _ sin. (I — l')
tan. l(NM + NM')“ sin. (I + /')’ .
or tan. J(NM - NM') = tan. £MM'. S£ ^1.
Having therefore obtained an expression for the differ¬
ence of NM and NM', and knowing also their sum MM',
which is the difference of the longitudes of the moon at
the time of the two observations, it is easy to deduce NM
or NM'; consequently the longitude of the node is de¬
termined.
The Ascending Node of the lunar orbit is that point of
the ecliptic through which the moon passes when she
rises above the ecliptic towards the north pole : it is dis¬
tinguished by the character Q. The Descending Node,
is the opposite point of the ecliptic, through which
she passes when she descends below that plane towards
the south, pole. The nodes of the lunar orbit were an¬
ciently called the head and tail of the Dragon.
The position of the nodes is not fixed in the heavens.
They move in a retrograde direction, or contrary to the
order of the signs; and their motion is so rapid that its
effects become very apparent after one or two revolutions.
Regulus, a star of the first magnitude, is sometimes
eclipsed by the moon; and as the latitude of this star is
only about 27' or 28', it is certain that when that pheno¬
menon occurs the moon is very near her node. Suppose
it to be the ascending node : the month following it will
be observed that the moon passes to the north of Regu¬
lus ; and every succeeding month she will pass farther to
the north of the same star, till at the end of four or five
years, when her meridional altitude will be about 5°
greater than that of Regulus. Having attained this ele¬
vation, her latitude begins to diminish; and, after a pe¬
riod of about nine years, Regulus is again eclipsed by
the moon in her descent to the southern side of the eclip¬
tic. The moon after this passes to the south of the star
for the following nine years ; and at the end of 18^ years
the nodes have returned to their first position, after ac¬
complishing a complete revolution. The same result is
found from the observation of eclipses, the magnitude of
which depends on the moon’s latitude; and therefore, if
the nodes remained fixed, the eclipses would always be of
the same magnitude in the same quarter of the heavens.
This, however, is not the case ; and it is only after about
181 years that they begin to return in the same order.
The mean retrograde motion of the nodes is found by
the comparison of observations made at distant epochs to
amount to 19° 19' 4<2"-316 in a mean solar year, and the
time in which they make a complete revolution is conse¬
quently 6798 days, 4 hours, 17 min. 43‘18 sec. Ihe
longitude of the ascending node on the 1st of January 1801
was 13° 53' 17"-7; hence its position at any other epoch is
easily deduced, since we know the rate of its mean motion.
The inclination of the lunar orbit may be determined
either by observing the moon’s greatest latitudes, or it may
tan. I ,
be computed from the formula tan. N = gjn ]yj’ wlien
her latitude and distance from the node are known. The
angle N, or the inclination, is observed to vary between
5° and 5° 17' 35". The mean inclination may therefore
be taken at 5° 8' 48".
The retrograde motion of the moon s nodes, as well as
all the other inequalities of the lunar motion, is occasion¬
ed by the attracting power of the sun, which varies m
intensity with the sun’s longitude, or distance from his
perigee. The principal inequality to which the inclination
of the lunar orbit is subject, is proportional to the cosine
of double the sun’s distance from the moon’s ascending Theoretical
node. In fact, the sun and earth being always in the plane Astronomy,
of the ecliptic, when the moon is also in that plane the's-^v-v^
action of the sun will have no tendency to increase or
diminish her latitude ; it will only affect her radius vector,
or distance from the earth. But if the moon is not in the
plane of the ecliptic, the sun’s attracting force will not
only affect her distance from the earth, but also tend to
bring her nearer to the ecliptic; and this action will be
greater in proportion to her deviation from that plane.
When the nodes are in the quarters, and the limits of
latitude in the syzygies, the inclination is 5°, as was found
by Ptolemy ; but when the nodes are in the syzygies, and
the limits in the quarters, the inclination is 5° 17' 35". It
has therefore a mean value of 5° 8' 48", when the nodes
and limits coincide with the octants. Denoting therefore
the greatest deviation from the mean values by x, this
deviation will pass through all its values between -}- x and
— x while the sun’s distance from the ascending node
varies from 0° to 90°. It may therefore be represented
by a function which varies as the cosine of twice that dis¬
tance, for the cosine of an angle runs through all its
changes from + 1 to — 1 between 0 and 180°. Hence
the equation which expresses the principal inequality of
the moon’s latitude is
(8' 48") cos. 2 Q’s distance from ])’s &.
The co-efficient 8' 48" is called, in astronomy, the Co-effi¬
cient of the Argument, the argument itself being the func¬
tion by which the inequality is represented.
This periodic inequality of the moon’s latitude was dis¬
covered by Tycho Brahe, from a comparison of the greatest
latitudes at different epochs with the correponding posi¬
tions of the moon with reference to her nodes. He ob¬
served that these latitudes oscillate about the mean value
of 5° 8' 48"; and as the greatest latitudes give immediate¬
ly the inclination of the moon’s orbit to the plane of the
ecliptic, it necessarily followed that the inclination is sub¬
ject to similar variations. The motion of the node ot the
lunar orbit is also subject to an inequality, depending on
the same angle as the preceding, but proportional to its
sine. Tycho explained these two inequalities by a very
simple hypothesis, similar to that by which we have ex¬
plained the oscillations of the terrestrial equator, namely,
a slight nutation of the earth’s axis. In the present case
it is only necessary to place the mean pole of the lunar
orbit at the distance of 5° 8' 48" from the pole of the eclip¬
tic, and to suppose the true pole to describe a small ellipse
about the mean pole in the same time that the sun occu¬
pies in making a semi-revolution with regard to the nodes
of the moon’s orbit, that is, in 173*309 days.
There are various other inequalities which affect the
latitude of the moon and the inclination of her orbit, to
correct which, no fewer than twelve equations are given
in the recent and most accurate tables. The greater part
of them are, however, only known from theory, and are so
small that even their accumulated effects are scarcely
perceptible to observation.
The inclination of the lunar orbit to the plane of the ter-Phenome-
restrial equator occasions considerable differences in the in-
tervals between the moon’s rising or setting on successive
days, and gives rise to the phenomenon of the Harvest
Moon. As the daily motion of the moon is about 13
degrees from west to east, it follows that if she moved in
a plane parallel to the equator, she would rise 50 minutes
later every successive evening, because her orbit would
then make the same angle with the horizon at all seasons
of the year, and the intervals between her consecutive
risings would be constant. For the sake of explanation,
we may here suppose the moon to move in the plane ol
788 ASTRONOMY.
Theoretical the ecliptic. Now, the time in which a given arc of’the
ecliptic rises above the horizon depends on its inclina¬
tion to the horizon. In our latitudes the inclination of
the ecliptic at different points to the horizon varies so
much, that at the first point of Aries an arc of 13° be¬
comes visible in the short space of 17 minutes, while
at the 2Sd of Leo the same arc will only rise above the
horizon in one hour and 17 minutes. Hence, when the
moon is near the first point of Aries, the difference of the
times of her rising on two successive evenings will be only
about 17 minutes; and as this happens in the course of
every revolution, she will rise for two or three nights
every month at nearly the same hour. But the rising of
the moon is a phenomenon which attracts no attention, ex¬
cepting about the time when she is full, that is, when she
rises at sunset. In this case she is in opposition to the
sun, and consequently, if she is in Aries, the sun must be
in Libra, which happens during the autumnal months. At
this season of the year, therefore, the moon, when near
the full, rises for some evenings at nearly the same hour.
This circumstance affords important advantages to the
husbandman, on which account the phenomenon attracts
particular attention.
It is obvious, that as this phenomenon is occasioned by
the oblique position of the lunar orbit with regard to the
equator, the effect will be greater than what has just
been described if the plane of that orbit makes a greater
angle with the equator than the plane of the ecliptic
does. But we have seen that the plane of the moon’s
orbit is inclined to the ecliptic in an angle exceeding 5°;
consequently, when her ascending node is in Aries, the
angle which her orbit makes with the horizon will be 5°
less than that which the ecliptic makes with the horizon;
and the difference of time between her risings on two
successive evenings will be less than 17 minutes, as would
have been the case had her orbit coincided with the eclip¬
tic. On the contrary, when the descending node comes
to Aries, the angle which her orbit makes with the hori¬
zon will be greater by 5°, and consequently the difference
of the times of her successive risings will be greater than
if she moved in the plane of the ecliptic. If when the
full moon is in Pisces or Aries the ascending node of her
orbit is also in one of those signs, the difference of the
times of her rising will not exceed one hour and forty
minutes during a whole week; but when her nodes are
differently situated, the difference in the time of her ris¬
ing in the same signs may amount to 3T hours in the
space of a week. In the former case the harvest-moons
are the most beneficial, in the latter the least beneficial,
to the husbandman. All the variations in the intervals
between the consecutive risings or settings take place
within the period in which the line of the nodes makes a
complete revolution.
2. Dimensions, Eccentricity, and Apsides of the Lunar
Orbit; and the Inequalities of the Moons motion.—Since
the moon moves in a plane orbit, the projection of her
path on the surface of the celestial sphere will be a great
circle. But the variations observable in the magnitude of
her apparent diameter, and in the velocity of her motion,
prove that if her orbit is a circle, the earth is at least not
placed at its centre. The numerous perturbing causes
which affect her motion render the exact determination of
her orbit a matter of great difficulty; but observation
shows that it deviates very little from an ellipse, of which
the centre of the earth occupies one of the foci. It has also
been found that the spaces passed over by the radius vec¬
tor of the moon are very nearly proportional to the times
of description; which is the distinctive character of the
elliptic motion.
In order to obtain a correct idea of the figure and posi- Theoretic
tion of the orbit, it is necessary to know its major axis, its Astrononf
eccentricity, and the position of its apsides. The major'-“'“VX*
axis is equal to the sum of the greatest and least distances,
and these have already been stated to be respectively 63-842
and 55-916 semidiameters of the earth; whence, suppos¬
ing the earth’s radius to be 4000 miles, the major axis of
the lunar orbit will amount in round numbers to 480,000
miles. It may be here remarked that the moon’s distance
is an element which may be practically determined with
great exactness. A variation of 1" in the parallax would
occasion an error of only about 67 miles in the determi¬
nation of the distance; therefore, since the parallax is
certainly known to within 4", the greatest error in the
distance deduced from it cannot exceed 280 miles out of
about 240,000 miles.
An approximation to the eccentricity of the orbit of
the moon is easily obtained from the variations of her ap¬
parent diameter. The moon’s apparent diameter is observ¬
ed to vary between 29' 30" and 33' 30" very nearly. Now,
let D denote the mean, D' the apogean, D" the perigean
diameter, and e the eccentricity. We shall then have
D'=-r1^--29' 30"
1 +e
D"=-^-rr33' 30",
1—e
D' 1—e 29'30"
D"“l + e“33' 30" ’
whence we deduce
33'30" —29'30" 4'
C~ 33' 30" + 29' 30" — 63' ~ °'0635-
This eccentricity corresponds to an equation of the
centre amounting to 7° 16', and is much more consider¬
able than that of the solar orbit, which, as we have before
seen, amounts only to 0°-0168. The result just given is,
however, only to be considered as approximative, and is,
in fact, considerably too large. In the best and most re¬
cent tables the value assigned to the eccentricity of the
lunar orbit is 0-0548442, and the corresponding equation
of the centre 6° 17' 12"-7. (See Astronomical Tables and
Formulce, by Francis Baily, Esq. London, 1827.)
The place of the apsides is likewise found from obser¬
vations of the moon’s apparent diameter, because at these
points of the orbit the apparent magnitude has its maxi¬
mum and minimum values. But as the apparent magni¬
tude varies very slowly at the apsides, it is preferable, as
Lalande remarks, to choose the points of mean distance
where its variations are most rapid. Having selected two
observations which give the same apparent diameter at
two opposite points of the orbit, we shall have two points
evidently at equal distances from the perigee, the longi¬
tude of which will therefore be given at the middle time
between the two observations. In comparing the posi¬
tions of the apsides thus determined at different epochs,
it is found that they have a rapid progressive motion,
that is, according to the order of the signs. In Mr Bai-
ly’s tables the motion of the perigee is stated to be
4069°-046278, or 11 revolutions -f- 109° 2' 46"-6, in 36525
mean solar days. Its mean motion in a mean solar
day is consequently 6' 41"; and in 365 mean solar days,
40° 39' 46"-36. Hence the time in which it completes a
sidereal revolution is 3232-575343 mean solar days. The
period of a tropical revolution of the apsides is 3231-4751
mean solar days = 3231 days, 11 hours, 24 minutes, 0*8
seconds, or nearly 9 years. This mean motion of the lu¬
nar apsides is, however, subject to periodic inequalities of
considerable magnitude, and therefore can only be deter¬
mined accurately by means of observations separated from
ASTRONOMY.
789
jheeeUcal each other by a long interval of time. In the tables just
isnr'omy. quoted, the epoch is the commencement of the present
century, when the longitude of the perigee was in
266° ICK 7**5. From this and the rate of the mean mo¬
tion, the longitude of the perigee at any other epoch may
be easily computed.
Ineiali- If the moon’s place in her orbit were not subject to the
tiesifthe influence of any disturbing force, her true longitude, or
tan orbit. d.istance from the apsis, would be found at any instant
from the theory of the elliptic motion, supposing her mean
motion, or the time of a return to the same perigee or
apogee, to be accurately known. Thus, supposing E to
denote the maximum elliptic equation, which, as we have
already stated, amounts to 6° 7' 12"*7, we should have the
true longitude = mean longitude + E sin. A, A being the
moon’s mean anomaly, and the longitudes counted from
Eqition the perigee. This first equation or correction of the mean
of t * motion results solely from the circumstance that the moon
cate* moves in an elliptic orbit, according to the laws of Kep¬
ler, in the same manner as the sun and all the planets.
Its argument is the mean anomaly A, and its period the
anomalistic month. But the moon’s longitudes, as deter¬
mined in this manner, are far from agreeing with observa¬
tion ; and several other corrections must be applied, the
accurate determination of which forms the principal ob¬
ject of the lunar theory.
Ewtion. After the equation of the centre, the most considerable
of the inequalities of the moon’s longitude is that to which
Boulliaud gave the name of the Erection. It was noticed
by Hipparchus; but it was Ptolemy who discovered its
law, and gave a construction which represents its general
effects with great accuracy. These effects are to dimi¬
nish the equation of the centre when the line of the ap¬
sides lies in syzygy, and to augment it when the same
line lies in quadratures. Thus, supposing the apsides to lie
in syzygy, and that it is sought to compute the moon’s true
longitude about seven days after she has left the perigee,
by adding the equation of the centre to the mean ano¬
maly, the resulting longitude will be found to be above
80' less than that which is given by observation. But if
the line of the apsides lies in quadratures, the place of
the moon at about the same distance, that is, 90° from the
perigee, computed in the same manner, will be found to
be before the observed place by above 80'; that is, the
computed will be greater than the observed longitude, by
more than 80 minutes. After a long series of observa¬
tions, astronomers have found that the inequality in ques¬
tion is represented with great exactness, by supposing it
proportional to the sine of twice the mean angular dis¬
tance of the moon from the sun, minus the mean anomaly
of the moon. In Baily’s tables, its maximum value is
stated to be 1° 20' 29"*9 ; whence, representing the angular
distance of the sun and moon by ]) — O, and the mean
anomaly as before by A, the correction due to the evec-
tion will be
(1° 20' 29"*9) sin. [2( j — 0) —A],
hjation. A third inequality of the lunar motion, called the Va¬
riation, was discovered by Tycho Brahe, who found that
the moon’s place, calculated from her mean motion, the
equation of the centre, and the evection, does not always
agree with the true place, and that the variations are
greatest in the octants, or when the line of the apsides
makes an angle of 45° with that of the syzygies and qua¬
dratures. Having observed the moon at different points
of her orbit, he found that this correction has no depend¬
ence on the position of the apsides, but only on the moon s
elongation from the sun. Its maximum value is additive
in the octants which come immediately after the syzygies,
where the elongation is 45°, or 180° + 45°, and subtrac¬
tive in the octants which precede the syzygies, where the Theoretical
elongation is 360° — 45°, and 180° — 45°. It vanishes al- Astronomy,
together in the syzygies and quadratures where the elonga-
lion is 0°, 180°, 90°, or 270° ; and on this account it was not
perceived by the ancient astronomers, who only observed
the moon in those positions. It will be readily perceived,
from the limits between which it varies, that it is propor¬
tional to the sine of twice the angular distance between
the sun and moon. Its maximum value, or the co-effi¬
cient of its argument, is 35' 41"'9; hence the correction
necessary on account of it is represented by the formula
(35' 41"'9) sin. 2 ( D — ©).
When this equation is added to the two preceding Annual
ones, the differences between the computed and observed eiillation*
places of the moon are brought within narrower limits; but
they do not yet disappear altogether except in the months
of June and December, and about the time of the equi¬
noxes they are found to amount to eleven or twelve mi¬
nutes. This inequality was observed by Tycho and Kep¬
ler, though neither of them determined its magnitude.
They supposed it to be an equation of time peculiar to
the moon; and under this form Horrox inserted it in his
tables, assigning its maximum value at 11' 16", which dif¬
fers only by four seconds from that which is obtained
from the most accurate modern observations. On account
that it is regulated by the seasons, and depends not on
the lunar orbit, but the anomaly of the sun, Kepler gave
it the name of the Annual Equation. By reason of this
inequality the motion of the moon is slower than the
mean motion during the winter months, when the mo¬
tion of the sun is most rapid; and, on the contrary, is
most rapid in summer, when the sun’s motion is slowest.
Hence its argument is the same as that of the equation of
the centre of the sun, but with a contrary sign. It is
therefore proportional to the sine of the sun’s mean ano¬
maly ; its period is the anomalistic year, and its maximum
value is found by observation to be 11' 11"'9; hence it is
expressed by the formula
(IF 11"'9) sin. O’s mean anomaly.
If we now collect these equations we shall obtain the
following corrected expression of the moon’s true place :
])’s true longitude = ])’s mean longitude,
+ (6° 17' 12"*7) sin. A
+ (1° 20' 29"*9) sin. [2( 5 —©)—A]
—( 35' 41"-9) sin. 2 ( ]) — ©)
—( IF 11"*9) sin. ©’s mean anomaly.
For the physical cause of the three last-mentioned ine¬
qualities, viz. the evection, the variation, and the annual
equation, see Physical Astronomy, sect. ii. par. 3/, 38,
and 39. They are the principal but not the only perio¬
dic inequalities which aftect the longitude of the moon;
for the profound investigations of modern science have
detected many others, which, by reason of their small va¬
lues, and the manner in which they are blended with one
another, would have eluded all attempts to discover their
period or their law by observation alone. Observation can
make known only the joint effect of the independent equa¬
tions, and thereby indicate their existence. In order to
separate them and determine their respective values, it is
indispensable to have recourse to the physical theory, from
which alone the various circumstances of the lunar motion
can be properly determined. Newton was the first who
attempted to compute a priori the inequalities of the
moon’s motion, and thereby led the way in a research
which was prosecuted with infinite ingenuity and Pro"
found analytical skill by D’Alembert, Clairaut, Euler, and
other illustrious mathematicians of the last century, and
which was only brought to a successful termination by the
labours of Laplace. The formulte given in the seventh
ASTRONOMY,
790
Theoretical book of the Mecanique Celeste, for a great number of new
Astronomy, inequalities derived from the theory of attraction, form
the basis of the lunar tables of Burg and Burckhardt.
It is to these theoretical researches that we are indebted
for the precision with which the moon’s motion is ac¬
tually known, and the great advantages which thence
result to geography and navigation. The recent ta¬
bles contain no fewer than twenty-eight equations of lon¬
gitude, all which may be regarded as corrections of the
mean values of the four which we have explained, and
which are themselves corrections of the mean motion. It
is thus that astronomy approaches nearer and nearer, by
every successive step, to the last term of a series which
would represent the orbits and motions of the celestial
bodies with absolute accuracy.
Accelera- The lunar inequalities which we have as yet considered
tion of the are all of aperiodic nature, are compensated in the course
mean mo- 0f a comparatively small number of years, and have passed
tionot the through many complete revolutions since the commence-
moon o %/ * x. t
ment of the history of astronomical observations. But
there are, as in the case of the sun, others of a different
kind, the periods of which are so long that, with reference
to the duration of human life, they may be considered as
permanently affecting the elements of the lunar orbit.
These are the Secular Inequalities, the most remarkable of
which is the acceleration of the moon’s mean motion.
On comparing the lunar observations made within the
last two centuries with one another, there results a
mean secular motion greater than that which is given by
comparing them with those made by Ebn-Jounis, near
Cairo, towards the end of the 10th century, and greater
still than that which is given by comparing them with
observations of eclipses made at Babylon in the years
719, 720, and 721 before our era, and preserved by Pto¬
lemy in the Almagest. These comparisons, which have
been made by different astronomers with the utmost care,
prove incontestably the acceleration of the motion of the
moon from the Chaldeans to the Arabians, and from the
Arabians to the present times.
The acceleration of the moon’s mean motion was first
remarked by Dr Halley, and mentioned in his Notes on
the observations of Albategnius, inserted in the Philo¬
sophical Transactions for 1693. It was fully confirmed
by Dunthorne, who was led by the discussion of a great
number of ancient observations of eclipses, to suppose
that it proceeded uniformly at the rate of 10" in a hun¬
dred years; a supposition which consequently gave him
a correction for the mean longitude of the moon propor¬
tional to the square of the time, or of 10" multiplied by
the square of the nuniberof years elapsed between 1700 and
the epoch of the calculation. This was the first attempt
to estimate the value of the secular equation, which had
hitherto been confounded with the mean secular motion.
By a similar discussion of ancient observations, Mayer was
likewise led to a secular equation proportional to the
square of the time, which, in his first Lunar Tables, pub¬
lished in 1753, he valued at 7" for the first century, count¬
ing from the year 1700, but which he advanced to 9" in
his last tables, published in 1770. Lalande found it to
amount to 9"*886, and therefore agreed with Dunthorne
in estimating the acceleration at 10" for the first century
after 1700. Delambre subsequently undertook to deter¬
mine accurately the actual motion of the moon in a cen¬
tury, from a comparison of the best modern observations.
He found it to amount to 307° 53' 9" (rejecting the cir¬
cumferences), while the most ancient observations agree
in making it less by 3 or 4 minutes. The equation,
which, in consequence of these comparisons, was empiri¬
cally introduced into the tables, has been confirmed by
the theory of gravitation; and the discovery of the phy-Theoretics'^
sical cause, and of the law of the acceleration, due to La- Astronomy'1
place, forms one of the most brilliant triumphs of mo-*
dern science. In 1786 Laplace demonstrated that the
acceleration is one of the effects of the attraction of
the sun, and connected with the variations of the eccen¬
tricity of the earth’s orbit in such a manner that the
moon will continue to be accelerated while the eccentri¬
city diminishes, but that it will disappear when the ec¬
centricity has reached its maximum value ; and when that
element begins to increase, the mean motion of the moon
will be retarded.
In order to take into account the effects of the accele¬
ration in the determination of the mean longitude, M. Da-
moiseau has given the following formula for the secular
variation ; 10"-7232 w2 + 0",019361 w3, where n is the num¬
ber of centuries from 1801; so that if L is the mean longi¬
tude of the moon on the 1st of January 1801, and m is the
secular motion at that epoch, the mean longitude will be
L + mn + 10"’7232 »2 + 0"-019361 r? after n centuries.
By means of this equation the tables satisfy the most an¬
cient observations, and may be extended to at least a
thousand years from the present epoch. It is only ne¬
cessary to observe, that, in applying the formula, n must
be taken negatively, if the epoch is anterior to 1801.
The same cause which gives rise to the acceleration of Secular ir
the mean motion, namely, the diminution of the eccen-
tricity of the earth’s orbit, also occasions secular inequal-oftliePer
ities in motion of the perigee and nodes of the orbit of^j^
the moon. These two inequalities are, however, affected
with opposite signs to that of the former; that is, while
the mean motion of the moon is accelerated, the motion
of her perigee and that of her nodes are retarded. They
were deduced by Laplace from theory, and the equations
by which they are expressed are connected with one an¬
other by a very simple ratio. If we take A to represent
the secular acceleration of the mean motion, the secular
variation of the perigee found by Laplace is — 4*00052 A,
and that of the nodes — 0*735452 A. From this Laplace
concluded that the three motions of the moon, with re¬
spect to the sun, to her perigee, and to her nodes, are
accelerated, and that their secular equations are in the ratio
of the above numbers. By pushing the approximations to
a great length, MM. Plana and Carlini, and M. Damoiseau,
in Memoirs which obtained the prize of the Academy of
Sciences for 1820, have found different numbers; those
of Damoiseau are 1, 4*702, and 0*612. These important
results of theory are all confirmed by observation.
The three secular inequalities which have been pointed
out will obviously occasion others ; for all quantities depend¬
ing on the mean motion, the motion of the perigee, or of
the nodes, must be in some degree modified by them. Thus
the mean anomaly, which is the difference of the mean longi¬
tude of the moon and the mean longitude of the perigee, is
subject to a secular equation equal to the difference of the
secular equations affecting the longitudes of the moon and
the perigee. The radius vector, the eccentricity and in¬
clination of the orbit, are affected by the secular inequa¬
lity of the mean motion, which, although too minute to
have been hitherto appreciable, will acquire sensible values
in the course of ages. The major axis of the ellipse is
the only element exempted from inequalities of this
sort. It is not probable, however, that the utmost efforts
of science will ever make us acquainted with all the irre¬
gularities to which the moon’s motion is subject. They
can only be developed by the complete integration of the
differential equations of motion; an integration which is
laboriously performed term by term, and which, when
attempted to be carried beyond a certain point, transcends
ASTRONOMY.
’91
Iheojical the limits of human patience and industry. What is most
Astro:my. essential is to select, among the multitude of terms,
such as may possibly acquire considerable co-efficients by
integration.
The following table exhibits in one view the different
elements of the lunar orbit. The epoch is th6 commence¬
ment of the present century.
Mean inclination to the plane of the
ecliptic  5° 8' 47"-9
Longitude of ascending node  12 53 17*7
Motion of node in 365 mean solar days 19 19 42 -316
Longitude of perigee  266 10 7 ’5
Mean motion of perigee in 365 mean
solar days  40 39 45 *36
Mean longitude  118 17 8 *3
Greatest equation of the centre  6 17 12 *7
Eccentricity  0*0548442
Mean distance from the earth in dia¬
meters of the terrestrial equator  29*982075
Sect. III.— Of the different Species of Lunar Months.
In treating of the sun, we took notice of three different
species of revolutions or years, namely, the mean solar
year, or the interval of time which the sun employs
in performing a complete revolution with regard to the
equinoxes; the sidereal year, or the time in which he re¬
turns to the same fixed star; and the anomalistic year, or
the time in which he returns to the same point of his ellipse.
In like manner, if we understand by the term month the
time which the moon employs to make an entire revolu¬
tion relatively to any given point, movable or fixed, we
shall have as many different species of months as there
are different motions with which that of the moon can be
compared. For example, if we estimate her revolution rela¬
tively to the sun, the month will be the time which elapses
between two consecutive conjunctions or oppositions.
This is called the synodic month, lunar month, or lunation.
If we consider her revolution as completed when she has
gone through 360° of longitude counted from the movable
equinox, we shall have the tropical or periodic month.
The interval between two successive conjunctions with
the same fixed star is the sidereal month. A revolution
with regard to the apsides of her orbit, that is to say, the
time in which she returns to her perigee or apogee, gives
the anomalistic month: and, finally, the revolution with
regard to the nodes is the nodical or draconitic month.
Of these different periods the most important to man¬
kind is the synodic month. It is also that which, by rea¬
son of the striking manner in which it is marked out by
the phases of the moon, would first offer itself to the at¬
tention of the observer; and when its period is accu¬
rately determined, the other months may be deduced
from it without difficulty, when the relative motions
of the sun and moon are known with sufficient preci¬
sion. The eclipses furnish a simple means of deter¬
mining the synodic revolution with a great degree of
accuracy* A few rude observations suffice to show that
the period of a lunation is very nearly 29^ days; and
with this knowledge we are in a condition to compare two
distant eclipses without running any risk of mistaking the
number of revolutions that have taken place in the inter¬
val. The most ancient observation recorded by Ptolemy
is an eclipse of the moon, which happened 720 years b. c.,
on the 19th of March, at 6 hours 48 minutes mean time
at Paris, according to Lalande. In order to make use o
this observation directly for the purpose of determining
the synodic revolution, it is necessary to compare it with
another of the same kind in which the moon occupied t le
same point of her ellipse, or the same position relatively Theoretical
to her apsides ; for as it is the true place of the moon Astronomy,
which is observed, and the mean motion which we are in^^^^
quest of, the equation of the centre ought to be the same
in both observations. Now, a similar observation is furnish¬
ed by an eclipse which happened in 1717, on the 9th of
September, at 6 hours 2 minutes, the moon’s anomaly
being very nearly the same as in the Babylonian observa¬
tion. In the interval between the two observations the
moon had therefore completed a whole number of revolu¬
tions, with regard to her mean as well as her true mo¬
tion. The interval between the eclipses is 2437 years
and 174 days minus 46 minutes, which expressed in days
is 890287*9680555... days. In this interval it is found,
from the approximate value of 29J days, that 30148 syno¬
dic revolutions had happened; hence the mean length of
x. v x. • 890287*968055 nn j
the synodic month is —  30148 = ^ ^
hours 44 min. 2*8497 sec.
To deduce the other revolutions, let N = the number
of days in a synodic month, n the number of synodic re¬
volutions in the interval between the two observations,
m the mean motion of the sun, and T the time of a tro¬
pical revolution. We shall then have the proportion
T : N : : 360° : w360° + m ; whence
T =
N*360°
w360° _j_ m
N
©
n-\-
n 1
360°
1 +
m
rc-3600
+
yy2—}•
w360° "r V?i*360c
Let S = the time of a sidereal revolution. The value
of S is immediately found from T ; for let p — the pre¬
cession of the equinoxes in the time T, we shall have
S : T : : 360° : 360° —p ; whence
_ T*360° T
S  
360° —p j
P
= x{
360°
1 +
P
360c
+
pM2+&4.
\360°/ ^ J
In like manner, if we represent by u the motion of the
apside, and by that of the node, in the time T, the
times of the anomalistic and nodical revolutions will be
respectively obtained by the substitution of u and — v
(the motion of the node being retrograde) in the last for¬
mula in place of/?. Instead, however, of proceeding in
this manner, it is better to assume as the basis ot the
calculation the mean motion of the moon in longitude
which is accurately known by the observations ot 2UOO
years, and thence to deduce the time of the mean tropical
revolution. . .
The mean motion of the moon in 100 Julian years, or
36525 days, is found to be 1336 circumferences + 307
52' 43"*5 ; or, by reducing the degrees, &c. to the fraction
of a circumference, 1336*85521875 circumferences. The
periodic month is therefore 5 dayS* In °rder
to reduce the denominator of this fraction to a smaller
number of digits, we may divide its terms by 3, multiply
them by 32, then divide them by 900, and there will re-
432*888... ^ denominator of which contains only 7
15*84421
digits in place of 12. On performing the division, we
shall find the periodic month or tropical /evolution _
27*321582388 days = 27 days 7 hours 43 min. 4*/183 sec.
792
ASTRONOMY.
Theoretical The mean motion of the moon in 36525 days
Astronomy. is 1336c 3970 52' 43V.5
that of the sun 100 0 45 45
hence the relative motion is 1236° 307° 6' 58"*5
= 445267-11625 degrees. The time of a synodic revolu-
360 x 36525 J .
days; or, multiplying nu-
tion is therefore
445267-11625
, , , . , CAn 10519200000
merator and denominator by 800, — —— ;
^ ’ 356213693 ’
whence the synodic month is 29-5305885391 days =
29 days 12 hours 44 min. 2-849778 sec.
In order to obtain the sidereal revolution, we subtract
the secular motion of the equinoctial points = 5010" =
1° 23' 30" from the moon’s tropical revolution ; the remain¬
der, which gives the sidereal motion of the moon in
36525 days, is 1336° 306° 29' 13"-5 = 481266-4870833
degrees. Hence the time of a sidereal revolution is
360 X 36525
days. On multiplying the terms of this
481266-4870833
c u omn v • , w 31557600000 .
fraction by 2400, it is reduced to y15 3039569 > which gives
27 days 7 hours 43 min. 1T544375
the sidereal month
sec.
In like manner, by subtracting the motion of the peri¬
gee in 100 years from the secular motion of the moon, we
shall find the anomalistic revolution to be 27 days 13 hours
18 min. 34-9488 sec.; and by adding the retrograde secu¬
lar motion of the node to the secular motion of the moon,
the revolution in respect of the nodes is found to be per¬
formed in 27 days 5 hours 5 min. 35-60769 sec.
The following table exhibits the different kinds of lunar
periods and motions:—
Days. Ho. Min. Sec. Days.
Synodic revolution....29 12 44 2-84 = 29-5305887
Tropical 27 7 43 4-71 = 27-3215824
Sidereal 27 7 43 11-54 = 27-3216614
Anomalistic 27 13 18 37-40 = 27-5545995
Nodical 27 5 5 35-60 = 27-2122176
Trr“-}"6728 * 43-18 = 6798-1789720
Sidereal   6793 6 59 15-34 = 6793-2911498
d’s mean tropical daily motion 13° lO7 35"*027
d’s mean sidereal daily motion 13° lO' 34"-889
d’s daily motion in respect of node 13° 13' 45"-534
According to Ptolemy, the synodic month is 29 days
12 hours 44 min. 3£ sec., which differs from the above Tl,eoRti
only by half a second. The same great astronomer madeAstronom
the tropical month to consist of 27 days 7 hours 43 min.
71 sec. which exceeds the true time by 21 seconds; an
error into which he was led by assigning too great a va¬
lue to the mean motion of the sun.
The ancient astronomers paid great attention to these
different revolutions, for the purpose of regulating their
lunisolar calendar, and of avoiding the calculation of
eclipses, which is attended with difficulties that to them
must have proved almost insuperable. Their object was
therefore to assign composite periods, after the revolution
of which the eclipses would again return in the same or¬
der. Now, it is easy to see that a period which will bring
back eclipses of the same magnitude and duration, on the
same day of the year and at the same longitude, must be
an exact multiple of the different lunar months. The
return of the moon to the same distance from her node
will give an eclipse, of the same magnitude; if she re¬
turns at the same time to the same point of her orbit, the
eclipse will also be of the same duration; and if, in addi¬
tion to these circumstances, she has also returned to the
same longitude, the eclipse will take place on the same
day of the year. But the numbers in the above table
being incommensurable, it is impossible to find any period,
however long, that will embrace all these conditions; the
ancients therefore formed periods of different lengths,
according as they aimed at satisfying the different condi¬
tions with a greater or less degree of precision. For an
account of some of the most remarkable of the ancient
lunisolar periods, see Calendar.
On account of the acceleration of the mean motion of
the moon, the ratios of the different species of months are
constantly undergoing alterations, and therefore the dif¬
ferent cycles, supposing them exact at the time of their
formation, cannot continue so for an indefinite length
of time. This circumstance is, however, little to be re¬
gretted ; for, in the present state of astronomical science,
they are not of any great use, inasmuch as we are in
possession of surer methods of predicting eclipses, the
calculation of which, from the ephemerides, is now a mat¬
ter of comparative facility. They are, however, interest¬
ing in an historical point of view, and their formation was
a principal object of the labours of the early astronomers.
(On this subject see Lalande, Astronomic, tome ii. p. 185;
Delambre, Astronomic ThcoriqueetPratique, tome ii.p.319;
Schubert, Traite dAstronomic Theorique, tomeii.; Wood-
house’s Astronomy, p. 665.)
END OF VOLUME THIRD.
792
A 8 T R O N O M Y.
Tueof -'i «.l Tfee mean motion o: u :«tn
Astron''»;\'.. js
>—tljat of the suv .... .
■ . a.ak i»:ying nu-
10; >19200000
hence the s , ,•
*1'' “dd ‘V«#0«= S602I3W'
henc* t s nodk: month is 29-5305885391 days =r
29 da\ 12 ha rs 44 min. 2-819778 sec.
i%,< : to obtain the sidereal revolution, we subtract
th. V. u. motion of the equinoctial points = 5010" =
1 . from the moon's tropical revolution; the remain*
v liich gives the sidereal motion of the moon in
''-••525 days, is 1386c 300° 29' 13"*5 — 481260-4870833
agrees. Hence the time of a sidereal revolution is
360 X 36525
days. On m fyjr : c terms of this
-0
481266-4870833
fraction by 2400. it is fedi .*  
‘•k-real r-omh r: "be min. 11-544375
, which gives
In ;e manner, 1 • ; ng the -• tion of the peri-
• i» i00 vea h - ■: .! ur no o of the noon, we
•' eor* t * i ■ 27 day*! 13 hours
retrogr. de secu-
■
-
Synodic rev/kntma,...^ i i
Tropical  lH
" idereal    :
Anomalistic  27 1;
h iical   27 5
Tropical revolu- y
tion of node j
Sidereal ....6793 6
■s o lunar
..6728 4
17
59
13 i
37-40
43-18
15-34
. ■ ■ • >i>S87
; 27-2J ■. ■
. 1798-1 ■
^ 6793*291 HAW
ican '.optc-* ciady? ipetton,..............io ,
otion jr • „t of node 13° 13 i *ryj-
;i'1 ■ Ptoleniyv. the synodic month is 29 tSys
< ;• < - - 44 min. 3$ sec., which differ? fa t :
• ir cond. The san>e real a*;
month to consist of 3. . > < ;
i exceeds the true time by 2^ ^
ich he was led by assignie e
j motion of the siin.
T* astiTi.oiners paid great u* e -
different .*• dons, for the purpose of rev nd
lumsoiar caleml r and of avoiding the t . i f
eclip-*3s, which i> .trended with difficulties
must have proved almost insuperable. Th, '
therefore to assign composite periods, alter rb> ^
of which the eclipse would again return u: ri
der Now, it is easy to see that a.period wim
bac eclipses of the same magnitude and j ; ^
same day of the year and at the came long;
an exact multiple of the. different lunar • > 1
return of the moon to the same distance from he*- tmd
will give an eclipse,of the same magnitude; si ^
turns at tire same time to the same point of < r ,» .
eclipse will also be of the same duration; ani it : /*■ |
tion to these circumstances, he has also retunol «• (
same longitude, the eclip e will take pi;-a o tb ■
day oi the year. But the numbers in the v.
being incommensurable, it is impossible to fins unj
however long, that will embrace all these c< adit
ancients therefore formed periods of differ*,' . '
according as they aimed at satisfying the differs
tions with a greater or less degree of precisie. ,
account of some of the most remarkable of tl. !
lunisolar periods, see Calendar.
On account of the acceleration of the mean ‘ j
the moon, the ratios of the different species of w
constantly undergoing alterations, and therefor |
f rent cycles, supposing them exact at the tim<
■ • ; tion, cannot continue so for t » indefisji
P ' 4; • if. •;..t present state of astronomies-’
•O'? »•; oi iuty great use, inasmuch a? v |
i •nessioo oi surer mt of predicting ec
sk ulav ion of which, from the ephemerides, is tu
ter of camparatiwe facility. They are, however,
mg i n historical point of view, and their fon
a sk < • d object of the labours of the early as
; O; * is subject see Lalande, Astronomie, tome
‘ Astronomu- Thcoi tqtu'et Pt <2i.que, i n’.
u s rt, Traiit dAntronormc Thmiique^ tome ii
h*.;• ■< Astronomy, p. 665.)
END OF VOLUME THIRD.
;•*
Eng?by 6-jliknuuv.EditiV
Eng*by O Aikm.ui£din
1
PLATE XXXVII.
/ < * ^ * .
Fut. 17. 1
Fi,i. Ifi.
Fig, 14
Eng4hv tiu-iUcnnuuEMn
anatomy.
Fig. 2.
n f t RA T IVh:
Fiu . .3.
/></. 18 ■
Fi9.8.
Fi<>. Z2.
Fig. 29.
PL A TE XXX/X.
Fist Q
Fig. 17.
Fig. Ifi.
Fig. 10.
Erut^by 6. Aiknum. Edtn T
m
A IV A T O Vf Y
uf a nrjp
anatomy.
Eng^by G ALknuzn.EcLinT
Fig.l.
A X A T O M Y.
VE GE TABLE.
PLATE XLI.
Engd-by OAiJmuxrvTdlnT.
t
Fig. 13.
Fig. 18.
Fig.40
'Fig .43.
Eng *by <J. A ikmun. Edi/v r
Shank
AXCHOR.
PLATE XLIV.
Fig. 16.
Engflry G.AUuruut. T.dinZ
Fig. 15.
Fig. 12.
Fig. 11.
Fig. 10.
IN GLING
PLATE XLV
Fit). 10.
Fig. 13.
Fig. 14.
Fig. 23.
Fig. 24.
r.
PLATE X1M.
Fig.4.
Fig. 8.
II.
PLATE XLVU.
Fu). 37.
Fix). 38. Fig. 33.
f
I
! i,s
i nv
PLATE MM//
aouedtjct.
I—I. 1 r 1—I . J. ^—I—. . ^— -1150 feet
Aqueduct of Pyruos near Constantinopef, .
Itomax Aqueduct.
Kfjnajns of AQUEDUCT in the Island of Myteeene.
Koman Aqueducts
Ground Plan.
En*]'i by o A ihnan?. Edin T
PLATE XLIX
i
PLATE XUX
AOUEDU r T.
AyrK])i (T or Pont <lu (>AuI> near Nismt.s
Chirk Aqueduct
Pont Cvsi'lte Aqcedict.
Mviude avimlaria
A RAC II XI ])ES
Mvgale lilvndii
Eyar of Mygalv m/ii/miied
Scytodo# Uwracuxv
Scorpio ocoitanus
Phrynus reniformis
Phrynus Uuuutts
Ojtwopus lautattir
Alypu.c sulzori
Epara/ duidema
Lyco.m tarentula
Thchphomis awdatus
PLATE L
M i a ale- ctenuntarixi
Dyj-denv eryfkrinw
Epeira amicauda
Eng 4 ly G.A Lbnaii.EdmT
AR ACHNIDES.
PLATE LI
AR ACHNIDES.
PLATE LI.
(nilroilfj anniemdes
Trombidium tinctorutn
odeums .lira
Mvmphpn grossipes
Clmi'ir aincroidps
Sirv rubens
Acorns scabiei.
Ammotkea caroHnensis
l/CU/Li
jycncponum Balcenarum
'amis p assert mis
BdeUa hmaieamis
Smaridia passerina
mopnitied
Hydrachna cruaita.
Ixodes reduvius
Am as refloats
Leptus autumnalis
Eylais extenders
s ep eta ns
magnified
E vdrai ima geopraphtca
Astcrma parasitica
Kiuid by c'. Aileman.KdinT
%
PLAli IM.
A R ( II.
PLATE LU.
fit/, s.
hq. ]!.
Fiq. I
Fig. 9.
Fiq. W.
Fig. 14.
\ K C II.
PLATE Ull
ARCHITECTURE.
VI.ATE LIT.
The Temple of. Mmerro Parthenon at. It hens.
Perth -west view.)
In Us present state .
ARCII IT E C TIT R E .
PLATE L\\
Etui* by 0 At Jorum. Edinr
ARCHITECTURE
PLATE LV1
Pian''SeCtU>n ofApoliinopoU?Magna
Fia.l
longitudmaTSection/orv thj>, Um A.A.cf
Eng? by G.Aikntan. Edin r
architecture .
PLATE LVII.
t luiik & Secti/) tuilsEIpA/atiotv of cv ur&lfy ]J oricsPerifiteralylc-Hj’pcethrcil/ Temple
(Sections oris they dolteds lines- of Flan belony
Fio 3.
■ 'O'liaual-hlhatMrn, et efe/Hnoftr rfa/RexasfcU /. / / <
Fu, l
//.
m
m
# n
m m m m m
# #
# ^ ' # # # #
rij
Fiq.2.
•SeoionaLElevation of thtPromws of cvHexastyfo-peripteraLTempU’.
Fuj. 10.
Fig. 9.
AR C HIT EC TURK
ni.Mi: i.vin.
Fia.l.
Front Elevation of a, Greek Doric Hexasttieytripural Temple,
Fig .12.
o O O O O'
o o o o o
o o o o o
O O O'O O 0[
o o o o o o
o o o o o o
Fig. 13.
Fig.11.
Fngflm o.Aiim.tr, eTinV
>ydky CrAih„an ,EJu
m
ty G-Aihnan.EJin*
.
PLATE LX
Bead
fry * tv G.Aikm.m. Fdin r
'' P H I ri"< P (T1 'T' JT T? F
I'LATE LXJL
ARC HITECTURE.
/‘LATE LXH.
<- diL'X- Kso VArch f
Ena* by G. Aikman,, Editir
7/
'
-
1
I*LATE LXW.
F.na* by G.Aikman.Eiliu*
■MMd|
I
f
“1
ittiHlMMHMNWiii
i
T T T
.
\
l
■.///.•.• f,y (A& J/,u/.r/on f/'///:''/.
xe/ti
Specimen of ite, mode, of or/utmen/uu? (Ac sider of rooms if/ Pc
cfa-Homan A/anrion in a.private- street
irom Pompeii.
sion. tvuA the houses, shops £ streets, surroundinp it,
from Pompeii.
'e. If ms/on {Pip. /J
ddcration to the street of the ahovejfansion. {H/p.
£nff‘* by G.AiAmadi, Edt/ir
-'*f - : ‘ ti -■%
'   
1
I
1
I
ARCHITECTURE.
/‘L ITE LXVTT.
Eng ^ by G.AiJzman. Edith r
V r < IllTKCTr K K
PL A TP LA V/// .
aiUUikLSfcUA
AR('HITE( TTTRE.
PLATE EAT///.
ST PETERS.
eas-e front elevation/.
'y.KsqT Archt
Emi* hy GulUnuvn. Eili*Lr
; HIT II (' TI
H K
VR (' ll ITKCT I'lv'l
I
n.ATi-; lxix
ST PAtJX'S
' South Flank Elevation
£
ST PETER'S.
(North Flank Elevation./
by GJl ihn/zn^Edifir
w
ARCHITECTURE .
PLATE
villa Capra
near Vic&izii.
Villa Giulia
near Jto me,.
LXX.
i> r *
JX •
A u t 11 i rr h' c 'r \" i? ic
Yl{< HITECTITRE .
PLATE LXX!.
JrcA
Eli/.
; E-X-^ —,'X. >>
-
^ ff/T A ‘
ff^dotr from, Surn/sm C/i/urf, SiLxsex.
mrnloH' from Stey/um, f/u/rcft, Hoor-vav from, Ifflev OuireA,. Doorway fh
Sussex. Oxfordshire-.
Iroe/i Zffioy O/u/rcfi . Ox/erds/ure
u
Fio. //.
h sW fromDythajoras's School. Wu/dows Dom, Darffextort charci/, lr„j, . *
■ O/rihrulye,. JCertt. ' Church, Hampshire. Um/low from, Ourhxxtrr Cathedral.
firc/tcx from fhrfifare ofShorcfmrn, Church,. Sussex
If., ielt
Arches from thcA mu’ of SaAshurj’ Cathedral.
Eng d by G^dikmaji, Edin,!'
/'/ .trs; f v i/n
A !.( U rr EC TIRE
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PLATE LX.XIV.
PISA CATHEDRAL.
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PLATE LXXY.
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Fig. 13.
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ARCHITECTURE.
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MATE LXXVI
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ARITHMETIC.
CHINESE SWAN-PAN
PLATE LAW
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THE ANCIENT CHINESE
MEXICAN XIr_MERALS
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YT.AR 1816.
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Rom ait htjmkrals
VA X l_r C M 00 CIO CI ID
y £ L £ M CIO Cl ID D CCI CClDD IDDD CCClDO
'‘OOO 10.000 AO, OOO 100.000
8oo Aooo
i.KRiuARY Numerals
\ /
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loop
tytcccxcwiV
14t)8
0 5 B <5 vwi 8 f ^2”/
^ ’ j 8 S t Q 0! ^ Sanscrit
V C1 ZSZ^cio ^
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JST17MER AL S
Trr'rVVVHH r’ll , Of Saxon 8 A,:,hie Numerals
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Oldest MSS
Caxtotv 14SO
Arabic
y ^ 6? o C ^>o
8 8 6 7 8 ft lo
Persic
Birman
PROGRESS of EUROPEAN NUMERALS
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12 ? 4 I j 6 A, S 9 10
i j> i O Shir wood 1482
) Z} (3 ^ J Old French
nz3i i<>7 8 $ i<y
1 2 3 4 S 6 l7 » g jo
Old English
variations of European numerals
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Fm. 12
Fit. 2
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Fig. 28.
Fig. 15.
Fig. 15.
Fig. 5.
Fig. 16'.
Fig. IS.
Fig. 31.
Fig. 3.
Fig. 30.
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fig. /.
Fig. 9.
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ASTRO NX) MY.
PLATE LA'AA.
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Fig. 16.
Fig. 18.
Fig. 'll ’
Fig. 11.
ASTRONOMY.
PLATE LXXXI
T.ngtby G.Ailmuirv.Edinf
>1/
\
ASTRONOMY.
Fig. 39.
PLATE LXXX 11.
Fig. 41.
Fig. 44.
Fig. 48.
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